#the friendship we didn’t know me needed

[illyrianshadow]

Lost in Shadows (pt. III)

Summary: After centuries apart, you see him again — Azriel, the boy who once kept you safe in the shadows of Windhaven.

But now he’s a stranger and you’re left wondering: does he remember? And is your connection, fated or forgotten, still strong enough to bring you together?

Warnings: none really, just two idiots sickeningly obsessed with each other, read at your own risk

A/N: Get ready for another lil' peak in to Azriel's mind. If you were thinking he couldn't become anymore tortured than he already is, think again. Always excited to hear your thoughts loves. x iz

Word count: 2K

Part 1 | Part 2

———

Azriel’s POV 

The Spymaster of the Night Court is freaking out. He’s having a full blown, existential crisis and he’s very glad his family are too wrapped up in themselves to notice. 

He looks at Rhys and Mor still bickering about god knows what. He’s glad for the distraction, it’s causing them to focus purely on each other instead of the Shadowsinger crumbling in front of them. He’s relieved they are no longer obsessing over his lack of focus. Busybodies. 

The last thing he wants is for his family to start asking him why he’s so lost in thought. How would he even begin to explain? 

He’s kept a huge secret from them for most of the time he’s known them, he’s not sure how they are going to react when they find out. If he was them, he would probably feel betrayed. At least for a little bit. 

What would he even say to them? 

When we were young I had a secret friendship with the daughter of one of the most brutal males Windhaven has ever known? She was everything to me, and days after I found out she was my mate she had to leave and I haven’t seen her in over 500 years? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again? 

Not exactly light conversation. Besides, Rhys and Cassian had absolutely despised Baric when he was still alive. Finding out their brother is mated to his daughter and hid it from them for centuries is probably not something that will go down well. 

It’s rare for a mating bond to present itself so young, but when it happened it hadn’t scared him. You were his safety net, his home. It felt right. 

He’d been building up the courage to tell you, planning on surprising you on your birthday and if the moment felt right, he would’ve told you then. When he arrived at your hiding spot and found your note it broke him. 

He became frantic, all of his instincts telling him to chase after you. He needed to find you, help you, protect you. It was his duty. You were his mate and now you were gone. Before he even got the chance to tell you. 

That’s when he sent one of his shadows after you to track you down, to make sure you were okay. 

When it found you in a harbour in Velaris days later and returned with the message that he needed to let you go, he promised himself that he would do everything it took to be reunited with you again one day. He’d never stop fighting for you, never stop looking. 

He threw himself into his training until it became all consuming. His brothers noticed something was wrong, but they assumed he was just dealing with his traumas. Everyone did. They didn’t know the training kept him steady, focussed. He was training so he could be ready in case he ever needed to fight to get you back. It was an outlet for his feelings, a way for him to feel useful. 

Azriel sighs softly, one of his hands rubbing the spot on his chest just over his heart where the mating bond has been lying dormant for centuries. He’s become so used to it, some days he can almost forget it’s there. Almost. 

It’s stirring now though. Your presence has awoken something primal that’s been suppressed and pushed down for longer than it should have been. 

He’s itching to go over to you, to reach out. It’s taking all of his control not to run to your side and take you into his arms. To fly you away from here to have you solely to himself. 

He’s becoming more restless by the second and even your presence nearby is starting to lose the calming effect on his shadows. 

That’s a first. 

They’re starting to swirl around him, behaving a bit more frantically as they try and break free to make their way over to you. It’s taking all of his willpower to not give in and let them do what they so desperately want. 

Touch. They whisper in his ear. Mate. Hold mate. 

He can feel one of them starting to move, slithering over the floor towards the bar. It’s the same one that once followed you all the way to Velaris. It’s always been drawn to you. He lets it go and prays you won’t notice its presence before he’s ready. 

Once again Azriel’s thoughts are rudely interrupted by his brother. 

Rhys slaps his hand down on the table in force. “On that note, I have to leave.” 

Azriel looks at him, puzzled by his sudden announcement. 

Rhys just rolls his eyes slightly when he realises his brother has not been paying attention to any of their conversations. “Duty calls. Nyx has had a nightmare. I’ll see you tomorrow brother, I’ll stop by the training ring.” He presses a kiss to Mor’s cheek. “Goodnight cousin darling. And behave.” With a last wink at both of them he winnows home. 

Now it’s just him and Mor left. 

Once this would have been all he wanted. 

When he first met Mor he was taken aback by how much she reminded him of you. Her strength and resilience. Her ability to make light of tough situations. Her unwavering confidence. The beauty radiating from her that makes people stop in their tracks. 

Frantic to have any part of you he could, even if it wasn’t real, he became obsessed with being around her. It was the closest thing he had of you. He knew it wasn’t healthy but he just couldn’t help himself. He thinks it was some ancient, territorial part of him that made him do so. Always looking for his mate, never resting. 

Mor looks at him, concern shining through in her eyes. She places her hand on top of his and gives it a small squeeze. 

‘Are you okay Az, you seem distracted?” 

He just nods, not ready to voice any of this just yet. He needs to speak to you first, see you first. 

“Yeah I’m good.” he mumbles. “I think I just need to be alone for a bit.” 

She gives his hand one final squeeze and gets up. “I’ll go and see if Amren and Nesta feel like going to Rita’s with me. Will you be alright?” 

Azriel gives her a small smile in response. He loves how she never pushes him to talk when she can tell he doesn’t want to. He just waves her off. “Go have fun. Don’t spend too much of Rhys’ money.” 

She grins and winks at him when making her exit. “Can’t make any promises there.” 

And then it is just him. He downs the rest of his drink and wills his shadows to stay by his side while gathering the courage to approach you. After a few minutes he gets up. 

He turns around and his eyes immediately fall on your form in the corner of the bar. You look absolutely breathtaking. You had always been beautiful but it seems like you have grown into your beauty even more. 

He tucks in his wings and starts walking over to you, a fake confidence in his steps. He’s hoping it will make him feel more prepared, maybe he can fool himself into believing he’s ready. That he’s not absolutely terrified.  

Just when he’s about to clear his throat and speak your name, you jump up from the stool and lose your footing. 

He reaches out to you immediately, scarred hands touching your waist , sending a jolt of electricity to his very core. 

You look up at him and that’s when he feels it. The bond in his chest roaring to life, finally answered by the one thing it’s been seeking for over 500 years. It can no longer lie dormant, be one-sided or suppressed. 

 His shadows start whispering again. Home. 

———

Reader POV

Mate. The word echoes through your head over and over again.

You’re suddenly hyper aware of the male in front of you. Being this close to him, his overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist and cedar fills your senses.

Cedar, like the forest surrounding Windhaven. The same forest that provided you a safety blanket before Azriel did. The smell of home. 

You feel dizzy from the overwhelming realisation of how right this is. Everything makes so much sense, you feel blind for not seeing it before. You and the male in front of you fit together like a puzzle, both of you tailor made by the cauldron to only fit each other. 

You watch him, his shadows hanging still around his frame and you wonder if he has come to the same realisation. Surely he must be feeling this too? 

You put your hand on top of his scarred one still resting on your waist. Your head is spinning and you are struggling to focus with the alcohol roaring through your bloodstream. 

This is not how you imagined this would go. 

When you were a child you had often fantasised about meeting your mate one day. You’d heard stories, both good and bad, but had always dreamed you would find that unconditional bond with someone. Hell, you had always hoped it would be Az when you got old enough to wish for those things. 

All you feel is the need to be closer to him. You want to wrap yourself around him, hold on and never let go. But since you haven’t seen him in 500 years and are in the middle of a crowded bar, you’re guessing that’s probably not the proper response. You wish someone had written a guidebook on how to do this. 

Navigating the mating bond for dummies, or how to confront your mate after 500 years 101.

You’re starting to think your approach of getting drunk might not have been the best decision. 

You try to bring yourself back to the present by focusing on the situation at hand. You find Azriel’s eyes and give him a careful smile. He looks at you, gaze soft mixed with a hint of concern and something else you can’t quite place. Is that recognition, or are you imagining things? 

You straighten yourself, placing one hand on the bar to keep you from toppling over. 

By the cauldron this is embarrassing. You are really regretting the amount of drinks you’ve had. 

“Thanks Azzie.” The nickname falls from your lips before you can help yourself. Your eyes go wide at your words as you cover your mouth with your hand in shock. 

You blame the current alcohol content in your body for your stupidity. 

You haven’t seen him since you were 18, clueless and in love. And you’ve just called him by his childhood nickname in the middle of a crowded bar. Your cheeks turn a dark crimson. You wish the floor would swallow you whole. 

He looks at you in shock, but you can read the amusement on his face. He probably thinks you are some foolish, drunk female getting too familiar with the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. 

You’be only been back in Velaris a couple of days but you had heard the whisperings. 

Females obsessed with the Night Court’s most “eligible bachelor” now that the High Lord and Cassian were taken. 

Azriel pulls a bar stool closer to him and gestures for you to sit down while he flags down the fae behind the bar. He gets you both a glass of water and settles down next to you. 

You take a few small sips, aware of his gaze still locked onto your face in shock. 

He clears his throat and you brace yourself for what comes next. You feel a soft pull on the bond in your chest, a cautious contact. Your eyes widen. 

His voice sounds thick with emotion when he speaks. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.”

taglist (comment/send me a message if you'd like to be added and I'll add you in x): @yesiamthatwierd @k-homosapien @mortqlprojections @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @a-courtof-azriel @greenmandm

[shy9-29]

Waiting For You ✶ [s.jy]

“I loved you in silence, while you kept running back to her.”

SOMAR𝒊O ─── A heartbroken friend silently suffers as the one they love keeps returning to the person who hurts him. 엔하이픈 제이크 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 3.7k ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, nicknames, jakes lwk an ass, cheating, heart break, not proof read 🔖 genre. romance, drama, angst, friendship, tragedy, unrequited love, emotional fiction

📕 a/n — omg I’m back after 500 years and yes I’m still writing lost in Seoul and I WILL FINISH IT I PROMISE.

Jake and you had been best friends for seven years, ever since that random high school orientation day where you two bumped into each other, both lost in a crowd of strangers. Since then, you’d seen the best and worst of each other—been there through every heartbreak, every triumph, every awkward phase. You were the kind of friends who knew exactly what the other was thinking, even when no words were spoken. He made you laugh when you wanted to cry, and you were the anchor he could always rely on when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

When Jake started dating Yunjin, you had seen the change in him. He was happier, more radiant. Yunjin seemed to be the perfect fit for him—smart, beautiful, and funny, with a sense of adventure that matched his own. Watching them together, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy—not because you wanted Jake for yourself, but because you could see how much he was in love with her. It made you wonder if you’d ever find that kind of connection.

But now, as you sat in your car on a quiet Wednesday night, your phone buzzing in your hand, you realized that your best friend had just been torn apart.

—

“Hey, you busy?” His voice came through the phone, sounding strained, like he’d been holding something in for a while. “Can you come over? I—I really need to talk.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You knew that tone in his voice. Something was wrong. You threw the car into gear, speeding toward his apartment.

When you arrived, the place was quiet, too quiet. The lights were dimmed, the kind of atmosphere that felt almost too heavy for a normal night. You opened the door slowly and called out for him, your voice echoing against the walls.

“Jake?”

He was sitting on the couch, looking smaller than usual, as if all the energy had been drained from him. His hair was a mess, and his usually sharp eyes were red and hollow, rimmed with exhaustion and something deeper. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Jake, what happened?” you asked, stepping into the room.

He didn’t answer right away, staring at his hands, then glancing up at you, as if he was seeing you for the first time in a while. His expression was empty, a ghost of the confident guy you had known for so long.

“Yunjin… she cheated on me,” he said quietly, his voice breaking on the last word.

You felt the floor drop out from under you, your body freezing. Yunjin, his girlfriend of more than a year? The girl who was always smiling at him, the one who made him so happy? It didn’t make sense. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it.

“Wait, what? How do you know?” You stumbled over your words, trying to make sense of the situation.

“I—I saw the messages. She was texting some guy, saying things… things that she shouldn’t be saying to anyone but me. I confronted her, and she didn’t even try to deny it. She told me it just happened, like it was no big deal. Like I meant nothing.”

The way he said it broke something inside of you. It wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt him. It was the way she had dismissed everything, made him feel like he wasn’t worth the effort. You wanted to say something—anything—to comfort him, but you couldn’t find the right words. How do you comfort someone who’s been told they’re not enough?

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you whispered, sitting beside him on the couch. “That’s… that’s awful.”

“I don’t even know what to do anymore,” he admitted, his voice hollow. “I thought we had something real. I thought she was the one.”

You wanted to say that she wasn’t the one—that someone who would betray him like that didn’t deserve him. But you kept quiet, letting him speak, because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t matter. He had already made up his mind. He was in love with her. No matter how much it hurt, he would never stop caring.

“I just feel… empty,” he said after a long pause. “Like everything I thought was real doesn’t matter anymore.”

You wanted to pull him closer, to take all that pain away, but you knew you couldn’t. You had never seen Jake this broken, and the thought of him like this, unable to fix himself, made your heart ache.

“Jake,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not alone. I’m here. I always will be.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes full of emotion. He didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel something shift in the air between you. It was subtle, like a crack in the foundation of everything you’d known.

—

The days that followed were a blur. Jake spent most of his time holed up in his apartment, brooding and distant. You would text him, check in, but every conversation felt like pulling teeth. He wasn’t the same person anymore. He was angry, hurt, and confused, and he was taking it out on everyone, including you.

But then, after a few days, he started calling more. The first time, you answered quickly, hopeful that maybe he was starting to move forward.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he said, his voice a little steadier than before. “I don’t think I can let her go. I keep thinking that if I give it one more shot, maybe… maybe things will be different.”

Your heart sank, and something inside you recoiled. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he was better off without her. That he was worth more than this constant cycle of heartbreak. But you couldn’t. He was your best friend, and you couldn’t stand to see him hurting, even if it meant he had to go back to her.

“You don’t have to do this, Jake,” you said quietly. “You deserve someone who loves you for you. Not someone who treats you like… like this.”

He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke again, there was a quiet, resigned tone in his voice.

“I know, y/n. I know. But I don’t know how to stop. I can’t just forget her. I don’t think I can move on.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue with him anymore. You could hear the pain in his words, and you knew he wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. Maybe, deep down, you knew that nothing would stop him from going back to Yunjin. Not yet. Not when his heart was still clinging to the idea of her.

A week later, you received a text from him: I’m going back to her. I need closure. I need to know if this is the end or if I can fix this.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to beg him not to go. But instead, you just typed out a quick response: If that’s what you think you need… I’m here when you’re ready.

And so, he went back to her.

It felt like an eternity before Jake reached out again. You hadn’t heard from him in days, and you were starting to worry. You knew he had tried to mend things with Yunjin, but something inside you kept telling you it was a mistake. That he was only setting himself up for more heartbreak.

Then, one night, you got another message from him.

“She did it again,” the text read. “She cheated on me. She left me for good this time.”

You felt your heart break for him. You wanted to reach out, to pull him into your arms, to tell him that you had been there all along. But instead, you just stared at the screen, tears filling your eyes. He had tried so hard to make it work, but in the end, he was left with nothing but more pain.

When you saw him the next day, he was a shell of the person you once knew. His eyes were empty, his posture slumped. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, like he hadn’t eaten. You wanted to tell him everything would be okay, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you wrapped your arms around him. He didn’t pull away. He just let you hold him, his body stiff and fragile against yours.

“I just… I don’t know what to do anymore,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I thought… I thought she was the one. But now, I don’t even know who I am without her.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely. This wasn’t fair. He deserved so much more than this endless cycle of heartbreak.

“You don’t need her, Jake,” you said softly. “You never needed her to be whole. You’re enough on your own.”

But even as the words left your mouth, you knew it wasn’t true. You knew that Jake wasn’t ready to hear that. Not yet. Not when his heart was still so tangled up in Yunjin.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, y/n,” he whispered. “I feel so lost.”

You held him tighter, but a part of you knew that no matter how tight you held on, it wasn’t going to be enough. Jake was always going to be searching for something that wasn’t there. He was always going to be looking for closure, for answers that would never come.

And you? You were always going to be the one standing in the background, waiting for him to see you. Waiting for him to realize that you were there, always there, even when he was too broken to see it.

But for now, all you could do was hold him, knowing that the person he needed most was never going to be the one he chose.

You loved him. But he would never love you the way you needed. And that was the hardest truth of all.

oh wow I never cried that bad while writing something! 200 notes for pt 2 | masterlist

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 17

˗ˏˋ reconnecting ˎˊ˗

"Fridays are not always the best day of the week, you can vouch for this one at least. It's Emma's birthday party and you're not sure you two still vibe together or not after all this time. And coming home... you don't expect Jungkook to be awake, especially not with your cold war going on. But he is."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 9,6k

content: begrudgingly gift-shopping, hidden treasures, old vs new friendships, reconnecting, pretty girls and the inability to discern whether it's flirting or polite talk, AM talks, actually listening (thank god, progress!), and vanilla kink striking again because jungkook in this fic has free will and i cannot control him

✧ author's note ✧

WASSSSSUPPPP my peoplessss!!

Okay so here’s Chapter 17—aka the chapter where all of you start collectively projecting your unresolved issues with your high school best friend, your fuckboy roommate, and your local pastel/goth lesbian duo. I say that with love.

Now LISTEN. I keep raising the bar for this story like but honestly?? That’s on YOU. You absolute feral gremlins with your “when’s the next update” comments like I’m a vending machine that dispenses emotional damage. (It’s fine. I thrive under fear and pressure. You’re welcome.)

About this chapter!! So my initial plan was for Nix to buy Jungkook an actual vinyl player… until I did the research and realized those bitches go for 150-300 bucks even secondhand. Be fr. They are NOT in a relationship. This man is her hot emotional disaster roommate who’s been beefing with her for three days and literally slammed a door at her. I would not spend a single euro on that man beyond what is legally required. Fifteen dollars for a John Mayer record? That’s the sweet spot. It says “I hate you but I know what music you like and I think about you when you’re not around and that makes me want to bite drywall.”

Also: if you know that Inside Wants Out is an early acoustic EP that’s kinda slept on but has a few gut-wrenching tracks about vulnerability and romantic ambivalence… well. Have fun.

Now shut up because I love writing female friendships and this chapter is my offering to the goddesses of sapphic chaos. Yeji and Irya being absolute queens??? We love. But also EMMA. Emma and that awkward tension of do we still fit? Did we ever really know each other or was it just proximity and hormones and being stuck in the same suburban hellscape? That shit is SO REAL. Reuniting with old friends is like a spiritual liminal space and I needed to capture that gnawing weirdness.

AND JIMIN. The eyeliner scene??? I almost CRIED writing it. I had to pause. That man is so soft it makes me want to shove him into a pillow fort and protect him from the world. He’s so good. He sees her, without wanting anything in return. You better analyze it or I’ll strangle every single one of you.

Now. Regarding the very tense bathroom cologne scene. I was actually going to drag the cold war out longer, truly. I had plans. But Jungkook opened his slutty little mouth and said, “No, actually, I’m feral and I’ve been suffering in silence and she smells like sex and nostalgia and I must act.” And what was I supposed to do? Argue? Please. I have 0 narrative agency here. That much is clear.

Also his birthday is coming. So like. I didn’t want to enter that subplot with them still fake-ignoring each other like divorced parents. You’re welcome.

ANYWAY. The next few chapters are slower paced but VERY important. It’s all those little moments where the characters start changing without realizing it. The kind of growth you only see in hindsight. The slow part of the slow burn. But I swear to god I’m obsessed with how it’s turning out and I just want to share it with you and roll around in the angst like a dog in grass.

Okay that’s all. I love you. Go scream in the comments or eat drywall. Or both! <3 Mwah.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Fridays aren't supposed to sneak up on you like a debt collector with something to prove.

Usually, you spend the whole week crawling toward Friday like it's an oasis in the desert of your existence. Monday is hell. Tuesday is hell's waiting room. Wednesday offers a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, the week won't actually kill you. Thursday is its own special brand of torture—so close to freedom you can taste it, but still trapped in the purgatory of obligation.

And then: Friday. 

Glorious, beautiful Friday.

Except this one. This one materialized out of nowhere, ambushing you with its presence and the sudden, horrifying realization that you have exactly zero hours to prepare for what's coming.

So here you are, somehow already standing in a flea market that smells like mothballs and questionable life choices, watching Yeji hold up a fishnet... something against her body while Irya coos over crystals that probably came from the dollar store.

"What do you think?" Yeji asks, draping the fishnet monstrosity over her shoulders. "Is it giving 'fashion-forward' or 'I found this in a dumpster'?"

"Definitely dumpster," you mutter, eyes scanning the crowded stalls without really seeing them. 

Because your mind? Your mind is elsewhere—specifically on the fact that you still need to find a birthday gift for your insufferable roommate.

Jungkook. 

Just thinking his name makes your jaw clench. 

It's been three days since your argument, and the apartment has been a cold war zone of pointed silences and aggressive door closing. 

He wants to be petty? Fine. You can be petty right back. Twice as petty, even. So you’re not talking to him either.

"Hello?” Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You've been staring at that old guy selling taxidermy squirrels for like, two minutes straight. Should I be concerned?"

You blink, refocusing. "What? No. I'm just... looking."

"For what exactly?" Irya appears at your side, a small purple crystal clutched in her palm. "You said you already got Emma's birthday present."

"Just browsing," you lie smoothly. "Flea markets are full of... treasures."

Yeji snorts. "Since when do you care about 'treasures'? Last time I dragged you to a vintage store, you said it smelled like 'dead people's closets.'"

“No I didn’t.”

"Right." Yeji doesn't look convinced, but she's already distracted by a display of chunky silver rings. "I'm gonna check these out. Meet you at the food trucks in twenty?"

You nod, grateful for the chance to browse alone. Not that you have any fucking clue what to get Jungkook. What do you buy for someone whose entire personality seems to be "brooding film student with inexplicably good taste in coffee"?

It is like an abandoned warehouse, this flea market—stalls crammed together in haphazard rows, hipsters and bargain hunters elbowing past each other, haggling over everything from antique doorknobs to hand-knitted beanies that look like they were made by someone's cat…

You wander aimlessly, passing stalls selling vintage cameras (too expensive), artisanal coffee beans (too obvious), and leather-bound journals (too pretentious, even for him). 

Nothing feels right. 

Not that it matters—it's just a stupid obligation gift. You shouldn't care this much.

But you do. And that's annoying as fuck.

Then, a rickety table stacked with milk crates catches your eye—or rather, the handwritten sign that reads "RECORDS $5-20" in faded Sharpie. 

The elderly man behind the table looks like he's been selling vinyl since before your parents were born, his weathered hands carefully flipping through a box as a customer asks about some obscure band.

You wait until they leave, then approach, trying to look like someone who actually knows something about records. The crates are dusty, disorganized, with no apparent system. Just hundreds of albums crammed together like sardines.

"Looking for anything specific?" the old man asks, voice gravelly from what you assume are decades of cigarettes.

"Just browsing," you say, already flipping through the nearest crate.

Most of the covers are faded, corners bent, some with water damage or mysterious stains you'd rather not identify. You recognize maybe one in ten artists—a lot of jazz, classic rock, some folk singers your dad probably listened to in college.

This is stupid. You don't know what you're looking for. Jungkook collects vinyl but doesn't even own a record player. What kind of pretentious bullshit is that? It's like buying books just to display them on a shelf without reading them.

You're about to give up when your fingers pause on a familiar name.

John Mayer.

The album cover is slightly worn at the edges, but otherwise in decent condition. 

"Inside Wants Out," it says in simple white letters against the picture of a dude (you guess it’s John) in the background. 

You don’t recognize it at all.

But Jungkook listens to him. His vynil collection is basically a shrine to him. 

So you ask "how much?", holding up the record.

The old man squints. "Fifteen."

Fifteen bucks. Okay, that’s... actually reasonable. Not so expensive that it seems like you care, but not so cheap that it looks like an afterthought. 

Just a casual, "hey, saw this and thought of your weird vinyl collection" kind of gift.

Perfect.

"I'll take it," you say, already digging in your bag for your wallet.

The man slides the record into a paper sleeve, takes your money, and hands you your change with a nod. 

Transaction complete. Gift acquired. Problem solved.

You tuck the record under your arm, feeling oddly satisfied despite yourself. It's just a record. Just a stupid birthday gift for your annoying roommate who thinks he knows everything about everyone, including your taste in men.

But as you weave through the crowd toward the food trucks, you can't help but wonder if he'll like it. If his face will do that thing—that brief, unguarded thing where his eyes light up before he remembers he's supposed to be all cool and detached.

Not that you care. You're just fulfilling a social obligation. That's all.

That's absolutely all.

"Did you actually buy something?" Yeji asks when you reach her, eyeing the record under your arm. "Since when are you into vinyl?"

"Just decoration. For the vinyl wall.”

Irya peers at it. "John Mayer? Isn't he like, your dad's music?"

"He's not that old," you find yourself saying, then immediately wonder why you're defending John fucking Mayer of all people. "And anyway, it was cheap."

"Whatever you say." Yeji shrugs, then holds up a small paper bag. "I got those earrings we saw last week. The ones that look like little daggers."

"Nice," you nod, grateful for the subject change. "I'm starving. Can we get food now?"

As you follow them toward the food trucks, you resist the urge to check the record again, to make sure it's not too scratched or damaged. It doesn't matter. It's just a record. Just a gift.

Just something to cross off your to-do list before Emma's birthday tonight and Jungkook's surprise dinner tomorrow.

Nearing the trucks, suddenly everything smells good. Too good. The kind of good that makes decision-making a fucking nightmare.

You slow your steps, scanning the options.

One truck’s got sizzling skewers of grilled meat, charred at the edges, dripping onto soft pita. Another is doing fresh arepas, the scent of melted cheese thick and indulgent in the air. A few feet away, some guy with tattooed knuckles and an unreasonably aggressive beanie is ladling out steaming bowls of Vietnamese pho.

And then there’s the birria taco stand—because of course there is—and the line is criminally long, people clutching Styrofoam trays of consommé like their lives depend on it.

Your stomach rumbles.

By the time you settle on something—one of those ridiculous but beautiful smash burgers, glossy brioche bun soaking up all that greasy, caramelized goodness—you barely get your wallet out before Yeji hip-checks you out of the way.

“I pay, I pay, I pay,” she announces, tapping her phone against the card reader with swift finality.

You blink. “Okay, what?”

Yeji grins, entirely too pleased with herself. “Well, I’m obviously paying for my beautiful girlfriend, and I kinda figured I’d put you in the package deal.”

You snort, giving her a shove. “Fine. But beers later on me.”

“Deal,” she says easily, tossing the receipt onto the counter like a Wall Street exec closing a million-dollar deal.

Irya latches onto your arm, steering you out of the way so Yeji can continue flirting with the guy behind the counter—some blue-haired, too-many-rings kind of guy who’s already leaning into it, smirking as Yeji compliments his “artistry” with the grill.

“She’s ridiculous,” you mutter.

Irya hums, but there’s amusement in her eyes as she grabs your food, balancing her own order on top of yours. “Just my type of ridiculous.”

You shake your head, leading the way toward a set of old picnic tables at the edge of the food truck lot. The wood is worn, graffiti-scratched and dented from years of use, but it’s clean enough. You drop into a seat, setting your tray down, and Irya follows, sliding in across from you.

She sets her elbow on the table, chin resting lightly in her palm, and smiles. A lock of blonde hair falls loose, catching the light, and she tucks it back behind her ear absently.

“So, Emma’s birthday tonight?”

You unwrap your burger, glancing up at her. “Yeah.”

She studies you for a second, eyes warm. “Excited?”

You hesitate. 

“Yeah,” you say again, but it comes out different this time. Not untrue, exactly, but not as sure as it should be.

Irya notices. Tilts her head slightly, patient, the corners of her mouth tugging into something knowing. 

“You don’t have to be.”

A breath of something close to laughter slips out of you.

 “I mean, I am excited,” you say, because you are. “It’s just—it’s been a while. We used to be really close in high school, but then, you know… life.”

Irya nods, thumb idly tracing the grain of the table. “She’s in Columbia, right?”

“Yeah. I stayed in-state for a bit before moving here. Different cities, different schools, different everything.” You shrug, picking at the edge of the wax paper lining your tray. “We tried to keep in touch, but it’s not the same when you’re not living through the same things anymore. And then you just… don’t talk as much. And then that becomes normal.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s in the city, and I guess we’re both trying to reconnect.”

“That’s good,” Irya says, and she means it. “It’s nice when people want to find their way back to each other.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, glancing down at your food, pushing a fry through the puddle of ketchup on your tray. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Irya watches you, quiet for a second. Then—

“She’s inviting a lot of people, right?”

You nod, grateful for the slight shift in direction. “Yeah. Told me to bring people, too, so I figured you and Yeji. Maybe Jimin.”

“Jimin would love that.” Irya grins. “He’s been in study-group hell all week. He deserves some fun.”

“You think?” You manage to say whilst chewing on the potato. “I thought I wouldn’t be doing him any favors. Like, he’s the type of person to say yes just out of obligation. And I didn’t want to pressure him into anything.”

Irya makes a soft sound of amusement, propping her chin in her palm. “Nah. If Jimin really didn’t want to go, he’d find a way to say no without actually saying no.”

You pause mid-chew. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’d do that thing where he apologizes like, three different ways in the same sentence, but somehow, you still walk away not totally sure if he said yes or no.”

You snort, swallowing. “Okay, yeah. That sounds about right.”

Irya grins, poking at her fries. “And anyway, he actually likes going out. He just overthinks it first.”

“You say that like you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” she says breezily. “I have classes with him. I watch it happen in real time.”

“Real time?”

“Oh, yeah. Like, someone invites him somewhere, and you can see him start to spiral. Like, ‘Okay, but what if I go and I regret it? But what if I don’t go and I regret that instead? But what if I go, but it’s not fun? But what if I don’t go, and it was fun, and now I’m missing out?’” She mimics his voice, exaggerated and tragic, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but that is a valid crisis.”

“It is,” Irya agrees, laughing too. “But the point is, once he actually gets there, he has a good time.” She levels you with a look, half teasing, half expectant. “So invite him.”

You sigh, reaching for another fry. “Fine.”

And then—

“I got us free dumplings.”

Yeji appears out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to Irya and dropping a white takeout box onto the table like she’s just secured a goddamn business deal.

You blink. “How?”

She shrugs, already reaching for a dumpling. “Wouldn’t take my money.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Irya hums, all faux-innocent. “Didn’t happen to have anything to do with that very long, very intimate conversation you were having with the guy behind the counter, did it?”

Yeji smirks around a bite of dumpling. “I dunno. Did it?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Men and their non-existent gaydars.”

“Right? Kinda sucks when she grabs all their attention,” Irya smiles, reaching for a dumpling of her own.

“Not my fault he was easy to entertain,” Yeji says, looking entirely unbothered. “Anyway, eat. They’re fresh.”

You don’t argue. The dumplings are good—warm, crisp at the edges, the filling rich with just the right balance of spice.

Yeji watches you for a second, chewing thoughtfully. “So what were we talking about?”

“Jimin,” Irya supplies.

Yeji groans. “Ugh. Tragic little academic. Is he still alive?”

Irya nods, popping a dumpling into her mouth. “Barely. But we’re dragging him to Emma’s party tonight, so he might actually remember what fun feels like.”

Yeji quirks an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “Emma?” She flicks a glance at you. “Your other friend? Birthday girl?”

You take a sip of your drink. “Mmhm.”

Yeji hums, tapping her chopsticks against the takeout box. “Bestie competition, then.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my god.”

Irya grins, delighted. “It is kind of serious. High school bestie versus new college besties.”

Yeji tilts her head, considering. “I don’t know, man. Legacy friends have an unfair advantage. History. Nostalgia.”

“Yeah,” Irya sighs, fake mournful. “How can we ever compete with the memories?”

You level them both with a flat look. “You’ve known me for a month.”

Yeji leans back. “It’s been a whole month already? Woah.”

“We’re joking. I’m sure we’ll get along.” Irya adds.

You snort, shaking your head.

Yeji watches you for a second, still smirking, but then the expression shifts—just a little. 

“Are you excited?”

The question catches you off guard. Not because it’s unexpected, but because it’s… genuine.

You pause, setting down your cup. 

“Yeah,” you say, slower this time. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in a while, so it’ll be—nice. A little weird, maybe. But nice.”

Yeji nods. “You gonna introduce us?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah?”

Irya arches her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You groan. “Oh my god, what is that supposed to mean?”

Yeji shrugs, reaching for another dumpling. “I mean, if she’s bestie material, we gotta vet her.”

“Shouldn’t she be the one vetting you two? She’s known me since I had braces and a regrettable side bang phase. Feels like she’s got seniority here.”

Yeji gasps. “Wow. So you’re saying we have no authority in this situation?”

“We really don’t.” Irya muses, almost singsonging.

“I don’t know,” Yeji muses, tapping a finger against her chin. “I feel like we bring some very important qualifications to the table. For example, we met Y/N when she was already in her fully realized, evolved form. We didn’t just settle for her because we grew up in the same town.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus.”

Yeji nods, completely serious. “Yeah, we got to make an informed choice. Handpicked, if you will.”

“Wow, lucky me.”

Irya grins. “So lucky.”

You shake your head, reaching for another fry. “Just… behave.”

“I always behave,” Yeji says, smirking. “You’re just afraid we’ll be better besties than Emma.”

You scoff. “That’s not even remotely the issue.”

“Then what is the issue?” Irya prompts, head tilting to the side.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud feels like giving it weight. Giving it power.

You exhale. “It’s just—there’s a difference between keeping in touch and actually knowing someone after years apart. And I guess I don’t know if we still… fit the way we used to.”

That quiets them for a beat.

Yeji tilts her head, watching you with something unreadable in her gaze. Irya rests her chin in her palm again, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

“That’s fair,” Irya says, voice softer this time. “It’s weird when people grow in different directions. Sometimes you come back together. Sometimes you don’t.”

You nod, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.

“But hey,” Yeji cuts in, voice as casual as ever, “if she sucks, at least you’ll have us.”

You huff a laugh. “So generous of you.”

She winks. “I know.”

And just like that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

You stare at your reflection, one eye perfectly winged, the other a smudged disaster—like your life, really: half put together, half absolute chaos.

You lean closer to the mirror, squinting at your uneven eyeliner with the kind of intense focus that FBI agents would reserve for defusing bombs or something. You've been at this for twenty minutes now, and your right eye is starting to look like it's been drawn by a five-year-old with a crayon during an earthquake.

"Fuck," you mutter, reaching for a cotton swab. 

Third time's the charm, right? 

Or maybe fifth. 

You've lost count.

From the living room, Griffin's thunderous purr competes with Yeji's animated voice. She's been trying to convince Yoongi to produce some track for her for the past fifteen minutes, her persistence almost admirable if it weren't so clearly futile. Yoongi's monotone responses barely register over the distance, but you can picture his expression—bored, unbothered, probably wanting to kill himself before engaging.

"Orange cats are literally the basic bitches of the cat world," Yeji declares loudly enough for you to hear. "Black cats have personality. They have depth. They're mysterious."

"Tell that to Griffin," Irya responds, her voice warm and amused. "He seems pretty content being basic on your lap right now."

"That's cats for you," Yeji sighs dramatically. "The least person who wants them is the one who gets them."

You smile despite your eyeliner frustration. Because it’s ironic—Yeji, who swears black cats are superior, is now trapped under Griffin's substantial orange weight. 

That's karma, feline edition.

You’re wearing a dress to the gathering—the same one from that night in January. You've worn it exactly once since buying it, and now it's making its second appearance. 

It's not like you planned it this way. It just happened to be the perfect outfit for Emma's birthday dinner. 

(At least that's what you tell yourself as you deliberately avoid examining your motives too closely.)

Emma. Your high school friend. Your only real connection to your life before college. 

Before this apartment. 

Before Jungkook. 

You haven't seen her in months (since that night in January), and there's a strange anxiety bubbling in your stomach that has nothing to do with your makeup struggles. 

You did vibe back then. But… was it a ‘we vibe because we are going out’ situation; or was it because you two actually connected?

People change. You've changed. The question hanging in the air is whether you've changed in compatible ways.

At least you won't be alone tonight. Emma said you could bring friends, so naturally, you are bringing them along.

You dab at your eyeliner again, smudging it further. Great. Now you look like you've been punched. Or crying. Or both.

A soft knock on the door interrupts your silent self-criticism.

"Come in," you call, not bothering to hide your frustration. It's not like anyone in this apartment hasn't seen you in various states of disaster before.

The door creaks open, and Jimin's face appears in the gap, his expression shifting from curious to sympathetic as he takes in your makeup situation.

"Having trouble?" he asks, stepping into the small bathroom. 

The space immediately feels warmer with him in it. Jimin has that effect—like a human comfort blanket.

"What gave it away?" you deadpan, gesturing to your face. "The fact that I look like I let a toddler do my makeup, or the fact that I've been in here for half an hour?"

He laughs softly, the sound gentle and reassuring. "It's not that bad."

"Liar."

"Okay, it's a little uneven," he admits, moving closer to examine your handiwork. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face with unexpected intensity. "Let me."

Before you can respond, he's taking the eyeliner from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief moment of warmth.

"You know how to do this?" you ask, surprised.

"I have sisters," he says simply, which doesn't really answer your question, but you don't push it. "Close your eye," he instructs, his voice soft but confident.

You comply, feeling the gentle pressure of his hand steadying your face. His touch is light, precise—and you can’t help but feel this is some sort of significant moment. 

"Stay still," he murmurs, and you can sense the smile forming on his lips.

The eyeliner glides across your lid with surprising smoothness. One stroke, then another. No hesitation in his movement. You're impressed and a little confused by his skill, but mostly grateful.

"Where did you learn to—"

"Shh," he interrupts. "No talking or I'll mess up."

You fall silent, letting him work. There's something about Jimin that's always made you curious. He's like a book with half the pages glued together—what you can read is beautiful, but you sense there's more to the story.

"Done," he announces after a moment, stepping back to admire his work. "Take a look."

You turn to the mirror and blink in surprise. The wing is perfect—sharp enough to kill a man, as Yeji herself would say. It matches the other eye exactly, creating a symmetry you couldn't achieve on your own.

"Jimin, this is..." you trail off, turning to face him. "How are you so good at this?"

He shrugs, a small, almost shy grin playing at his lips. "I just have a steady hand, I guess."

There's more to it than that—you can tell by the way he avoids your eyes, the slight flush creeping up his neck. But something tells you not to press further. 

Everyone has their secrets.

Private pieces they're not ready to share. 

You, of all people, know that.

"Well, whatever the reason, thank you," you say sincerely. "You just saved me from looking like a hot mess at Emma's birthday."

"Happy to help," he replies, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You look beautiful."

The compliment is simple, genuine, without the weight of expectation or desire that usually accompanies such words from men. 

It's refreshing. Because you feel like Jimin sees you—really sees you—without wanting anything in return.

"We should probably get going soon," he says, glancing at his watch. "Yeji's been threatening to leave without us for the past ten minutes."

"As if she would," you scoff, reaching for your lipstick. "She's too excited about meeting Emma and judging her worthiness."

Jimin laughs. "True. Though I think she's more excited about the free food."

"Priorities," you agree with a smile.

You apply your lipstick—a muted berry shade that complements your eyeshadow without being too dramatic. The final touch to your appearance. Not too casual, not too glamorous. Perfect for a birthday dinner.

You've always loved makeup, the ritual of it, the transformation. 

Not because you're trying to hide or become someone else, but because it's an extension of yourself—another form of expression. 

You're so tired of those cliché "not like other girls" characters in movies and books who supposedly wear nothing but mascara yet somehow have flawless skin and perfect brows. 

As if enjoying makeup somehow makes you shallow or less authentic.

The truth is, most girls you know love makeup to some degree. Some for the artistry, some for the confidence boost, some just because it's fun. And you're no different. 

That doesn't make you basic or vain—it makes you human. 

A human who happens to enjoy the satisfying swipe of a good lipstick.

"Ready?" Jimin asks, holding the door open for you.

You take one last look at your reflection. The girl staring back looks put together, confident. 

Whether she actually feels that way is another story entirely, but hey—fake it till you make it, right?

"Ready," you confirm.

You're halfway out the door when you pause. 

Something's missing. The final touch.

"Oh, wait. Cologne."

Jimin nods understandingly, already retreating toward the living room. "Don't take too long or Yeji might actually follow through on her threats this time."

You turn back to the bathroom counter, sliding open the narrow drawer where your collection lives. Four different bottles stare back at you, each with its own personality, its own statement. Your fingers hover over them, indecisive, until they land on one particular bottle.

Ember.

The golden liquid catches the bathroom light, glowing like trapped sunlight inside the crystal bottle. 

You haven't used it since... well, since that night in January. You've been saving it for special occasions, though what constitutes "special" has remained conveniently undefined.

You lift the bottle, turning it in your hand. You apply it to your wrists, your neck, your ears. And before you can overthink it, you bring it to your nose, inhaling lightly.

Memories unfurl instantly, blooming in your mind like clouds puffing up in a winter sky. They tumble through your consciousness, overwhelming and vivid, making it hard to breathe—though you're not entirely sure you want to.

His hands on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with just enough pressure to leave phantom marks that lingered for days afterward. 

His slicked chin when he smiled up at you from between your thighs, all smug and proud for making you cum with his tongue. 

His infuriating, satisfied smirk that somehow annoyed you, but also turned you on.

Rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, soft eyes in the aftermath. 

You distinctly remember that was the first time you had thought Jungkook looked cute. Not just hot or sexy, but genuinely cute in a way that had caught you off guard.

And you didn't even know his name then.

The door swings open without warning.

You nearly drop the bottle, fumbling to catch it before it shatters against the tile floor. Your heart leaps into your throat as you look up, startled.

Jungkook peers inside, and you both freeze, staring at each other like you don’t know which one of you should stay and which one of you should leave. His eyes flick from your face to the bottle in your hand, recognition dawning in his expression.

A long pause.

Your eyes drift down his torso, inevitably.

He's wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his frame in all the right places, hair rumpled and messy. His rainy-like scent envelops the cramped space, mingling with the lingering notes of vanilla on your wrist like they’ve always belonged together. 

His eyes drift too. Drop lower, taking in the dress hugging your curves, fingers tightening on the doorframe, knuckles whitening with the pressure. 

You watch the subtle movement, the physical manifestation of restraint, and feel an answering tightness in your chest.

You haven't spoken since Tuesday. Since the fight about Jason. Since he suddenly starting talking about vibes like he’s the type of guy to trust his gut.

And maybe he is. 

And maybe you aren’t.

"Sorry," he says finally, breaking the silence. "Didn't know you were in here."

He avoids your gaze.

You don’t know if that makes you angry or anxious. It’s hard to determine what’s crippling your chest.

"It's fine. I was just leaving."

Neither of you moves.

His eyes drift to the cologne bottle again. Recognition, desire, frustration. 

Then, he masks it. 

But you caught it. 

He remembers the fragrance.

And how could he not? When he constantly praised it that night, how it rested on your skin, how good it made you smell, how fucking good you tasted.

"Going somewhere?" he asks then, interrupting your conflicting thoughts.

"Emma's birthday dinner," you reply, voice tight.

He nods slowly, gaze returning to the dress. The dress from that night. The dress he peeled off you with those same hands now gripping the doorframe like it's the only thing keeping him anchored.

You should move. You should cap the cologne, put it away, walk past him and join your friends who are waiting. You should maintain the cold war you've established since your fight.

Instead, you find yourself asking, "Did you need something?"

He purses his lips. "Just needed to pee.”

"Right," you say. "I'll get out of your way."

You cap the cologne, and you just know his eyes are tracking your every motion. Because that’s Jungkook for you—when he’s focused on something, it’s obvious.

You move toward the door—toward him—and it’s like suddenly, the small bathroom feels impossibly smaller. Like there’s not enough space for both of you and all the unspoken words crowding the air.

You'll have to squeeze past him. There's no way to avoid it.

His grip on the doorframe tightens further, as if he's holding himself back. From what, you're not entirely sure. Touching you? Yelling at you? Both seem equally possible.

"Excuse me," you murmur.

He steps back marginally, not enough to clear the path completely. 

Like he’s hesitating. 

Like he doesn’t know whether he wants to move for real, or stay rooted in place.

“Jungkook,” you say, and his name feels strange on your tongue after days of not speaking it. “Move.”

“You smell like that night,” he settles for staying instead of moving, voice dropping lower, annoyed. “You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.”

Your breath catches. Heat blooms across your chest, up your neck.

“That’s not—” you start, but the lie dies on your lips. 

Because it is. Of course it is. You knew exactly what you were doing when you reached for that bottle.

You see his jaw work. His tongue peek against the inside of his cheek. His eyes lock into yours like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. 

“Have fun at your dinner,” is all he comes up with, stepping aside. 

The movement feels like it costs him something.

You move past him. Take a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Jungkook aside. 

Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about Emma, about reconnecting with a part of your life that existed before this apartment, before him.

But as you step into the living room, you can still feel the weight of his gaze on your back, can still smell Ember on your skin, can still hear his voice in your ear.

You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.

And the worst part is, you don’t know why or how—but maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.

The restaurant is too loud, too crowded, too New York—but Emma’s hug is warm, and that makes up for it.

“Finally.” She squeezes you tight, like she’s trying to merge your atoms together. “You took forever.”

Yeji, behind you, snorts. “Blame her eyeliner existential crisis.”

Emma pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Oh? We still doing that?”

“We are always doing that,” you deadpan.

She laughs—her laugh. It’s the same as it was in high school, loud and full, like she actually enjoys things instead of just tolerating them. That hasn’t changed. Neither has the way she looks at you, eyes scanning your face, taking you in like she’s checking if you’re still the same person too.

The answer? You don’t know.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you guys,” she says, looping an arm through yours.

You let yourself be pulled in—into the restaurant, into her world, into the crowd of fifteen fucking people all squeezed around a too-small table in the back corner. She moves through the chaos easily, hand on your wrist, steering you like she used to when you were seventeen and invincible.

“This is Yeji, Irya, and Jimin,” you say as you go, pointing them out like exhibits in a museum.

Emma grins at them, all effortless charm. “Your uni friends. I’ve heard so much.”

Jimin, ever polite, smiles back. “All good things, I hope.”

Emma does not confirm or deny, which says enough.

There’s a blur of names you won’t remember—Emma’s friends, classmates, people who probably have their lives together in a way you do not. Someone pulls her into another conversation, and you hover awkwardly at the edge of the group, watching her slip back into a world that isn’t yours.

It’s strange.

You used to know everything about her. Every inside joke, every dream, every late-night insecurity whispered over FaceTime. 

But now—now you’re an observer. 

A guest.

Still, when she sits, she grabs your wrist again and tugs you down next to her.

“So,” she starts, picking up her glass—red wine, something deep and rich. “Are you finally admitting that I was right, or are we still in the denial phase?”

You blink, thrown. “About what?”

She gives you a look. “Do I have to spell it out?”

Your stomach knots.

Jungkook. She means Jungkook.

You exhale through your nose, reaching for your water instead. “We are so not doing this here.”

Emma grins, but she lets it go—for now.

Instead, she leans back. “God, I forgot how exhausting socializing is. I swear, law school is turning me into one of those people who can only function in coffee shops and libraries.”

You snort. “You were already that person in high school.”

“True,” she concedes, tilting her glass toward you. “But now it’s worse. Now I actually enjoy tax law. Like, genuinely. It’s fascinating.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Swear on my life,” she says, amused. “You should see me in my internship. I get excited about deductions. I have a favorite tax loophole.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Emma just grins. “Give it time. One day, you’ll come to me, desperate for tax advice, and I’ll be your only hope. And I will lord it over you.”

“You wish.”

“Oh, I know.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your lips twitch. It’s easy, falling into conversation with Emma. Easier than you thought it would be, considering how much has changed since high school.

“So, what’s the plan then?” you ask, nudging your knee against hers under the table. “You still set on Seattle after graduation?”

Emma hesitates. Not in a bad way—more like she’s holding onto something, waiting for the right moment.

“Actually,” she says, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about Europe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Europe?”

“Yeah.” She leans forward slightly, eyes lighting up. “I did a summer program there—France, Italy, Greece, Spain. It was insane. I loved it. I don’t know, I just—” She exhales, shaking her head like she can’t quite put it into words. “Seattle was always the safe plan, you know? The practical one. But now? I keep thinking about the Mediterranean coast. The markets, the people. It feels like people there work to live, not live to work like they do here in America.”

You watch her carefully. Emma has always been a planner, a strategist. She doesn’t make decisions lightly.

And yet—she looks alive talking about this.

“So, what?” you ask. “You’re gonna become a tax attorney in Greece? Help rich expats avoid paying their fair share?”

Emma snorts. “God, no. If I go, I’d probably work with international firms, corporate law, maybe even consulting. It’s different over there, you know? Taxes, policies, loopholes—everything shifts depending on the country, the treaties in place.”

“You realize you sound even worse now, right?”

“Shut up,” she laughs. “At least I’m passionate about something.”

You hum, thoughtful. “So, Europe.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

But you can tell, just from the way she says it, that it’s more than a maybe.

It’s funny. The last time you saw her, she was talking about Seattle like it was inevitable. Now she’s talking about the Mediterranean coast with the kind of quiet certainty that makes you think she’s already half there.

People change.

You’ve changed.

And yet, it feels like nothing between you two has changed at all. 

Emma eyes you for a long moment, then smirks. 

“Your turn.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve barely told me anything about your life,” she says. “How’s English? Still planning on breaking the hearts of young, impressionable students as a professor?”

“First of all, no. That is not the plan. And second—”

“You can’t tell me you don’t look the part,” she teases. “The eyeliner? The whole vibe? You’d have students falling in love with you instantly.”

“I hate you.”

She grins. “I missed you too.”

You feel it, then—the warmth of familiarity, of friendship. It settles in your chest, light and unburdened, and for the first time in a while, you think:

This is nice.

Even with the changes, even with the time apart, even with the half-truths lingering at the back of your throat—this is still Emma.

“Come on,” Emma nudges your arm, eyes gleaming. “Let me introduce you to my favorite tax nerds.”

You groan, but let her pull you toward the other end of the table. “If I die of boredom, I’m haunting you.”

“They’re fun,” she insists, dodging between chairs and half-full wine glasses. “For tax people, anyway.”

The group is mid-conversation when you arrive—something about offshore accounts, corporate loopholes, and why the ultra-wealthy pay less in taxes than you probably spend on coffee each year. (Fascinating.) Chris and Max, two guys who both look like they were born wearing pressed button-ups, are deep in debate, hands gesturing, voices overlapping.

But the girl sitting across from you—Nina—just listens, quiet, observant.

She clocks you the moment you sit down. And you clock her right back.

Dark brown skin, black curls tucked behind one ear, a delicate gold necklace resting just above the collar of an oversized sweater. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal slender wrists, and she has the kind of presence that doesn’t need to fill space to be felt. 

There’s something measured about her. Something thoughtful. Like she only speaks when there’s something worth saying.

She’s pretty.

Really pretty.

But it’s more than that. She’s composed in a way that makes you hyperaware of yourself—your posture, the way you’re holding your drink, the way she looks at you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

“Hi,” she says, voice smooth, accent lilting ever so slightly.

It’s just that—simple. Friendly. Maybe.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

Emma gestures between you. “Nina, this is my friend from high school—the one I told you about?”

Nina hums like she remembers, tilting her head. “The one who thinks tax law is boring?”

You blink. “Emma told you that?”

“She warned me in advance,” Nina says, lips twitching. “Said you might try to stage an intervention.”

You shoot Emma a look, but she’s already sipping her wine, unbothered. 

“Well,” you say, turning back to Nina, “I was going to be polite about it, but now I feel like I have a responsibility.”

That gets a small smile out of her. Just a slight curve of the lips, like she’s amused but won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much.

You don’t know why that makes you want to push, just a little.

“So,” you continue, tilting your head, “what is it, then? The thing about tax law that actually doesn’t put you to sleep?”

Nina considers this. Takes a slow sip of her drink. And when she speaks, it’s not rushed—it’s careful.

“It’s not about the numbers,” she says, setting her glass down. “Not really. It’s about human nature. About how people behave when they think no one is watching. Governments set up incentives, and people react accordingly. It’s a game of strategy. A reflection of what a society actually values, not just what it claims to.”

You weren’t expecting that answer.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass. “So, what—you think taxes are, like, a moral compass?”

Nina shrugs. “Not a moral compass. But they show you what people are willing to bend the rules for. What they think is worth cheating for. And that’s… interesting, I think.”

You watch her, trying to get a read on her. She’s got this almost effortless kind of intrigue—the kind of person who could make anything sound poetic if she wanted to.

Emma groans. “Oh god, don’t encourage her. She’ll start talking about capital gains tax next.”

Nina lifts a brow. “It’s actually fascinating, if you—”

“Absolutely not,” Emma interrupts. “Nope. I refuse.”

You smirk. “I don’t know, Em. I kind of want to hear her out.”

Emma glares at you. “Do not encourage the tax philosophy.”

But Nina is looking at you again. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a way that screams I’m interested. But in a way that’s… present. Attentive. Like she actually finds this conversation worth having.

And maybe that means nothing.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure.

Which—God, why is this always harder with girls?

With guys, it’s obvious. But with girls—well. You think she’s enjoying this. But is she just enjoying it, or is there something else there? Is this just conversation, or is it something that, in hindsight, will feel like a moment?

You have no fucking idea.

The conversation shifts after that—Emma talks about her summer in Europe, Chris and Max start debating New York’s best pizza, someone brings up an upcoming bar crawl.

And then, at some point, Nina glances at her phone before looking at you again.

“You mind if I get your number?” she asks.

Casual. Easy. Nothing in her tone suggests it’s anything more than that.

“Emma talks about you a lot,” she adds, mouth twitching slightly. “I feel like I should probably fact-check at least half of it.”

Emma swats at her, but you barely register it, already pulling your phone out.

You’re not reading into it. You’re not.

But also—

You kind of are.

Still, you hand your phone over, watch as Nina types in her number, then passes it back. Just a name in your contacts now. Simple. Unassuming.

You have no idea if you just made a new friend or if this is something else.

And honestly?

You kind of like not knowing.

“Well, well, well,” Yeji drawls, sliding into the conversation without invitation. “Are we allowed to sit, or is this a tax-exclusive gathering?”

You exhale. “Jesus, Yeji.”

“What? We were getting bored.” She drops into the seat beside you, tossing an arm over Irya’s chair. “Jimin’s been overanalyzing the condensation on his glass for the past fifteen minutes, and Irya’s just been smiling at people like a lost pageant contestant.”

“I was being friendly,” Irya corrects, unfazed.

“You were being too friendly.”

“Networking,” Irya insists, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I love people.”

“You do,” Emma says, delighted. “It’s terrifying.”

Irya beams, pleased. Yeji just sighs like she’s accepted her fate.

Nina watches all of this unfold with quiet amusement, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You two are together?”

Yeji tilts her head. “That a problem?”

Nina meets her gaze evenly. “No. It’s nice.”

It’s a simple statement, but it rings genuine, like she’s not just saying it to be polite. Yeji studies her for a second longer before nodding, satisfied, and pulling Irya in to kiss her temple.

Emma turns to you, grinning. “Your friends are so much more fun than my law ones.”

You smirk. “That’s because they have souls.”

Chris, still lingering in the tax-law-heavy end of the table, lifts a hand in protest. “Hey.”

Yeji ignores him completely, waving to Nina instead. “So, you’re a tax philosopher?”

Nina looks faintly amused but nods. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Cool, cool,” Yeji muses, reaching for Irya’s wine and taking a sip before Irya can protest. “And do you also believe that money isn’t real?”

Nina tilts her head slightly, considering. “I think it’s real in the sense that it determines the way the world functions. But I also think it’s one of the biggest shared delusions humanity has ever committed to.”

Yeji brightens. “See? This is the tax conversation I want to be having.”

You roll your eyes, but Nina takes it in stride. She’s good at this, you notice—letting conversations unfold naturally, never forcing her presence but never fading into the background either.

Across from you, Jimin has settled into his usual quiet observation, sipping his drink slowly. He’s not uncomfortable, just taking it all in. He catches your eye at one point, a small look that says ‘you good?’

You nod, barely perceptible.

He doesn’t push. Just gives a small nod back and turns his attention back to the conversation. Just listening in.

Emma leans in slightly, nudging your arm. “I like them,” she murmurs.

You glance at her, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

She hums. “They make you lighter.”

It’s such an Emma thing to say—blunt in a way that doesn’t feel invasive, just observant. 

You don’t respond right away, but you don’t need to. 

She’s already grinning like she knows the answer.

The apartment is quiet when you finally get home, the only light coming from the TV screen where some game is paused. 

Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, controller resting loosely in his hands, looking like he's been there for hours. He glances up when the door closes behind you, expression neutral.

"It's late," he says, not quite a question.

You drop your keys in the bowl by the door. "Yeah."

"Had fun?" He unpauses the game, thumbs moving lazily over the controller buttons. His character on screen walks aimlessly into a wall.

"Yeah," you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh of relief. "Emma's friends are cool. We ended up at this bar in Brooklyn after dinner."

He makes a noncommittal sound, still not looking at you.

"Jason wasn't there, though, so don't worry," you add, unable to help yourself.

That gets his attention. His thumbs still, and he scoffs, a short, sharp sound in the quiet apartment. 

“You know I don't give a fuck about that guy, right?"

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, heading to the kitchen for water. "Because you seemed to have very strong opinions about him on Tuesday."

The controller drops onto the couch as he turns to face you fully. 

“Look," he says, voice tight with frustration. "I don't give a fuck who you fuck or who you date. Seriously. Not my business."

"Yup. Three rules," you start, unscrewing the cap on your water bottle.

"One, no one knows," he recites, cutting you off.

"Two, if somebody asks, we're just roommates," you continue.

"And three," he interrupts again, more forcefully, "no feelings. I know the fucking rules, Phoenix. I helped make them."

You take a long drink of water, studying him over the bottle. His hair is messy in a stupid endearing way, and there are shadows under his eyes. 

"So what was Tuesday about, then?" you ask finally.

He exhales slowly, jaw working. "I told you. The guy gives me bad vibes."

"Bad vibes," you repeat flatly.

"Yeah. Bad fucking vibes." He rubs a hand over his face. "Look, I know how it sounded, okay? But it's not—" He stops, frustrated. "It's not about you. Or us. Or whatever the fuck we're doing."

You consider him for a moment, then set your water bottle down and cross to the couch, sitting on the opposite end. 

"Explain."

"What?"

"Explain these 'bad vibes.' Because from where I was sitting, it sounded irrational."

"It's not—" He stops again, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget it. Not my problem."

"Jungkook."

He looks at you, surprised by the use of his actual name.

"I'm trying to understand," you say, softer than you intended. "So explain it to me."

He studies you for a long moment, like he's trying to decide if you're serious. 

Finally, he sighs. "He's fake."

"Fake how?"

"The way he talks. The way he looks at you when you're not watching. The way he touched your arm in the car." His words come faster now. "The way he asked about your schedule, your classes. The way he positioned himself between us. It's all... calculated."

You frown. "That's a lot to read into a few interactions."

"I know what I saw," he insists. "Guys like that... they start small. Compliments. Attention. Making you feel special. Then it's suggestions about what you should wear. Who you should hang out with. What classes you should take."

His tone is raw, really raw, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him talk like this. 

Like it’s personal.

“You're saying he's controlling."

"I'm saying he could be." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "Look, I've seen it before, okay? People who seem perfect on the surface but underneath they're just... manipulative. They make you think everything's your idea when really they're pulling all the strings."

You're quiet for a moment, processing. 

"This isn't just about Jason, is it?"

His eyes flick to yours, then away. 

"I told you. It's not about you or us."

"But it is about someone."

He doesn't answer, but his silence is confirmation enough.

"Mia?" you ask softly.

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay," you say, respecting the boundary even as curiosity burns through you. "But that's why you're worried about Jason? Because he reminds you of her?"

"Not of her specifically," he says after a pause. "Just... the type. The signs."

You pull your legs up onto the couch, turning to face him fully. "What signs?"

He looks at you for a long moment, like he's deciding how much to share. 

"The perfect act," he says finally. "The way everything seems rehearsed. The charm that never quite reaches their eyes." His voice drops lower. "The way they make you feel like you're the only person in the room, but it's not because they care about you. It's because they want something from you."

"And you think that's Jason?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. But my gut says something's off with him."

You consider this. "Your gut's been wrong before."

A bitter smile twists his lips. "Yeah. More than once."

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s like you’re both still processing the words exchanged.

"I'm still going on the date," you say finally.

He nods, looking away. "I know."

"But I'll... keep what you said in mind. Watch for the signs."

He glances back at you, surprise flickering across his face. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You shrug, trying to keep it casual. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't actually enjoy being manipulated."

"Could've fooled me," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it.

You kick his thigh lightly with your foot. "Asshole."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Brat."

Silence again. His forearms are resting on his knees, hands crossed together as his gaze remains unfocused.

"So," he says eventually, "how was the birthday girl?"

You're surprised by the question, by his apparent interest in your life outside this apartment. 

"Good," you say. "Different, but good. She's in Economics. Has a serious boyfriend. Wears a lot of beige."

"Sounds thrilling."

You laugh despite yourself. "It was actually nice. Weird, but nice. Like visiting a place you used to live but don't anymore."

He nods, understanding in his eyes. "Did your new friends play nice with your old friend?"

"Yeji, Irya and Jimin?" You smile at the memory. "They were on their best behavior. Well, Yeji's version of best behavior, which means she only made three inappropriate jokes and only drank half the table's wine."

He snorts. "Sounds about right."

"Emma liked them, though. I think." You pause, considering. "It's strange, bringing different parts of your life together."

"I bet it is," he agrees quietly.

You look at him, really look at him, sitting there in the dim light of the TV. For once, there's no smirk on his face, no challenge in his eyes. Just Jungkook, tired and rumpled and unexpectedly honest.

"Why were you still up?" you ask suddenly.

The question catches him off guard. "What?"

"It's 3 AM. Why are you still awake?"

He shrugs, defensive again. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd play for a bit."

You glance at the TV screen where his character has been standing in the same spot for the past ten minutes. 

"Right."

"What?" he demands.

"Nothing," you say, but you can't help the small smile that forms. "Just... nothing."

He narrows his eyes at you, but doesn't press.

"I should get to bed," you say, standing up. "It's late."

He nods, picking up the controller again. "Yeah."

You're halfway to your room when his voice stops you.

"Phoenix?"

You turn back. "Yeah?"

He’s staring at you, but it’s not the usual smirk. No. 

His eyes flick downward. To the floor, like he’s seriously considering his next words—or rather, if he should vocalize them at all. 

But then he looks up at you again, seemingly decided.

"You..." he starts, licking his lips like he’s trying to pull himself together. But he’s failing. "You know you smell fucking delicious, right? Like, it’s so fucking unfair."

Your pulse stutters. "Excuse me?"

"The cologne," he says, standing up. "You’ve been driving me insane the whole night. The whole apartment smells like you.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something hotter, heavier. "I didn’t wear it for you."

"No?” His lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite—like he knows exactly how full of shit you are. "The cologne from that night. The dress from that night. And I’m supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence?"

"It is," you snap back, defensive even as your pulse betrays you by speeding up.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—or maybe just like he can’t believe you.

“Fuck, Phoenix," he mutters, voice dropping into something rougher, more dangerous. "Do you have any idea how good you smell? How much I’ve been thinking about getting my mouth on you again?"

Your breath catches somewhere in your throat—an audible hitch that makes his eyes darken further.

"We’re fighting," you remind him weakly.

"Are we?" He steps closer, until there’s barely a whisper of space between you. "Because right now all I can think about is how wet you were for me the first time I smelled that shit on your skin."

You retreat physically; even though mentally you’re honestly already naked for him.

"Four days," he muses, tone dripping with frustration, almost needy. "Four days of smelling your shampoo in the bathroom, that stupid body lotion, and now—now you pull this shit. That’s fucking cruel, Nix.”

"You could’ve apologized," you point out dryly.

"For what?" He scoffs like the idea itself is offensive. "For telling the truth? For saying Jason gives me bad vibes?"

"There it is again," you say, crossing your arms over your chest like it’ll protect you from whatever energy he’s radiating right now. 

It doesn’t.

He exhales softly, eyes flicking to your lips before moving back up. 

“I’m being for real, Phoenix. Your vanilla shit drives me nuts,” he confesses bluntly.

Then llicks his lips, considering what he’s about to say 

But says it anyways. 

“I jerked off after you left.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

"Couldn’t help it," he continues. “The smell of your cologne... seeing you in that dress again... I couldn’t get the image out of my head."

"What image?"

"The first time," he says slowly, like he wants every word to sink into your skin and stay there forever. "In that room. The way you tasted... the sounds you made when I had my tongue inside you."

Your legs threaten mutiny.

"And now?" You force yourself to ask because silence feels dangerous—like it might give him permission to keep going without restraint.

"Now?" He repeats, almost hushed. "Now, I’m… really craving vanilla.”

You should walk away—should turn around and retreat into your room where things are safe and quiet and not vibrating with tension so thick it feels alive—but instead?

Instead, your feet betray you by staying planted firmly in place: "Eat some cookies.”

“I want to eat something else.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

He purses his lips. Tongue drops to lick the lower one. Gaze flickers to your mouth again before they come back to your pupils.

“You don’t?”

And the way he exhales it, like the mere idea of you saying no pains him—it melts through you. 

Especially when his hand finally finds its way to your waist (warm and solid and grounding despite everything else about this moment feeling anything but grounded).

All thoughts of resistance evaporate faster than they came.

"I do," you hear yourself reply. 

And when his lips brush against the sensitive skin just below your jawline?

You realize two things simultaneously:

One: You were never going to walk away from this moment no matter how much logic tried to intervene earlier.

Two: Logic doesn’t stand a chance against lust when Jungkook looks at you like this.

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[rottenherbs]

Love Within the Forrest

Pairing: F.W x Ravenclaw! Reader  Summary: A rule-following Ravenclaw finds herself swept up in Fred Weasley’s spontaneous adventure into the Forbidden Forest, where laughter, rain, and a little hand-holding lead to something unexpectedly magical. W/C: 3.5k A/N: CUTEEE. I almost did like a secret picnic in the Forrest but this seemed more on a whim romantic — i apologize for my love and over use of italics [masterlist] Much love, Saige

Fred Weasley had a habit of sneaking into your life like a well-placed prank—unexpected, disarming, and impossible to ignore.  

It started with small things. A teasing comment as he passed you in the corridors. A stolen seat beside you in the Great Hall. A ridiculous joke whispered in the middle of class, just to see if he could get you to laugh.  

At first, you had rolled your eyes at his antics, dismissing them as nothing more than Fred being Fred. But then the teasing had become something softer. The stolen seats turned into casual conversations that stretched on longer than they should. And the jokes? Well, they still made you roll your eyes—but they also made you smile.  

You weren’t sure when the lines blurred between friendship and something else, but they had. And lately, you found yourself waiting for those moments, for the warmth in his gaze, for the way his fingers would brush against yours just a little longer than necessary.  

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.  

But Fred had other ideas.  

---  

“You know, love, I think you secretly like me.”  

You glance up from your book, unimpressed. Fred is sprawled across the library table in front of you, completely unbothered by the glares from Madam Pince. His tie is loose, his sleeves pushed up, and his usual grin is firmly in place.  

You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”  

“The fact that you haven’t hexed me for interrupting your studying. That’s got to count for something.”  

You smirk, closing your book with deliberate slowness. “Maybe I’m just plotting something worse than a hex.”  

Fred gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Cruel! And here I thought we had something special.”  

You shake your head, but the smile playing at your lips betrays you. “Fred, why are you really here?”  

His expression shifts, just slightly—still playful, but there’s something else beneath it now. Something softer.  

“I think you need a break.”  

You huff. “I’m fine.”  

“Liar.”  

You cross your arms, and he leans in, resting his chin in his hand as he studies you. “You know, for someone so brilliant, you’re absolute rubbish at having fun.”  

You roll your eyes. “Not this again.”  

“Yes, this again.” He grins. “And lucky for you, I’ve decided to take on the noble mission of teaching you.”  

You narrow your eyes, but he just wiggles his eyebrows.  

Then, as if the universe is conspiring with him, a distant rumble of thunder shakes the castle walls. The rain outside begins to pick up, a steady drumming against the windows.  

Fred glances at the storm, then back at you, and his smirk widens.  

“Perfect.”  

You give him a wary look. “Perfect for what?”  

“For a bit of living.”  

Before you can protest, he’s on his feet, offering his hand.  

You hesitate.  

Fred watches you closely, the usual mischief in his eyes tempered by something gentler. “Trust me?”  

And somehow, against all logic—  

You do.  

With a sigh, you place your hand in his.  

Fred doesn’t hesitate.  

His fingers wrap around yours, warm and solid, and then you’re running.

Fred leads you through the castle with a determined kind of excitement, his grip firm but not forceful. Every time you hesitate, his thumb brushes absentmindedly over the back of your hand, like a silent reassurance that you can trust him.  

And the worst part? It works.  

The storm rages outside, the rain pounding against the tall windows as lightning streaks across the sky. You pass more students in the corridors, their heads turning as Fred pulls you along, grinning like a man on a mission.  

“Everyone is staring,” you murmur, trying to ignore the way your face feels like it’s on fire.  

Fred glances over his shoulder, completely unfazed. “That’s because you’re holding my hand, love.”  

Your breath catches. He says it so casually, like it’s just a simple fact, like it doesn’t mean anything. But it does—at least to you. And maybe, maybe to him, too.  

Before you can think too much about it, Fred slows to a stop, turning to face you. His hair is already a little damp from the misty air, the ends curling slightly, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.  

“Alright,” he says, still holding your hand. “Time for a shortcut.”  

You barely have time to ask what he means before he’s pulling you into a dimly lit passageway behind a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The space is narrow, the walls closing in slightly as the two of you squeeze through.  

It would be fine.  

Really, it would.  

Except that you’re still holding hands, and suddenly, you’re pressed closer than you have ever been to Fred Weasley.  

You can feel the warmth of him even through your damp robes, the scent of something undeniably *him*—cinnamon, something sweet, something warm—wrapping around you. Your heart stumbles over itself as you glance up, only to realize he’s already looking at you.  

Fred’s smirk softens just slightly, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s memorizing something.  

“Blushing already?” he teases, voice quieter now, lower.  

You scoff, though it lacks any real conviction. “It’s warm in here.”  

Fred chuckles, but he doesn’t call you out on the lie. Instead, his free hand comes up, his knuckles brushing against your cheek—so light, so fleeting, you almost think you imagined it.  

Your breath catches.  

And then—  

“We’re here,” he says, stepping back like nothing happened, like he didn’t just steal the air from your lungs.  

The passage opens into a small tower landing, the wind howling through the stone archways. You step forward, blinking against the sudden brightness as lightning flashes across the sky. The storm is alive up here, the rain sweeping across the open space, the castle grounds stretching endlessly below.  

Fred turns to you, eyes shining. “Told you it was the best place to watch a storm.”  

You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”  

“And yet,” he says, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something almost dangerous, “you’re still here.”  

You don’t know who moves first—if he leans in or if you do. But suddenly, you’re close again, and the space between you is so small it barely exists.  

The rain starts to blow in through the arches, dampening your robes, catching in your hair. You shiver slightly, and Fred immediately shrugs off his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders without a second thought.  

“Can’t have you freezing, now, can we?” he murmurs, fingers lingering at your collar.  

You swallow hard, your hands clutching the edges of the cloak to keep them from shaking. “Fred—”  

Another crack of thunder shakes the tower.  

And then, before you can think, before you can second-guess—  

Fred grabs your hand again.  

“Come on.”  

This time, he doesn’t run.  

He sprints.  

You barely have a moment to react before you’re being pulled into the rain, the icy drops soaking through your clothes as Fred laughs—a loud, joyful sound that echoes through the open air.  

You gasp at the cold, but Fred just spins you, hands gripping yours, eyes locked onto you like you’re the best part of the storm.  

Your hair clings to your face, rain dripping down your cheeks, but you don’t care.  

Because you’re laughing.  

You’re laughing, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this alive.  

Fred’s eyes soften as he watches you, his hands still wrapped around yours. “That’s the look I was hoping for.”  

You blink up at him, breathless. “What look?”  

“Like you just found magic outside of books.”  

Your heart stumbles over itself. The storm rages on around you, but all you can hear is him.  

Before you can think too hard about it, before fear can creep in—  

You squeeze his hands.  

And Fred Weasley grins like he’s won something. 

Fred’s grip tightens around yours as he pulls you down the winding staircase, out of the tower, and into the open air. The cold air rushes against your damp skin, the rain pouring heavier now, drenching you both completely. But instead of shivering, instead of protesting, you laugh.  

It bubbles out of you, unfiltered and raw, carried away by the wind.  

Fred looks over at you, his eyes crinkling with something soft, something undeniably fond. “See?” he shouts over the storm. “Not so bad, is it?”  

You shake your head, rain streaming down your face. “It’s mad!”  

“Exactly!” He grins, tugging you along the slick grass, dodging puddles with an ease that only comes from years of mischief. “What’s the point of living if you don’t go a little mad every once in a while?”  

You don’t have an answer. Not because you don’t want one, but because—for the first time in your life—you’re starting to think he’s right.  

The castle looms behind you, warm and golden in contrast to the storm. But Fred doesn’t slow. Instead, he glances sideways at you, mischief gleaming in his rain-soaked lashes.  

“If you really want an adventure,” he calls, breathless, “we could take this a step further.”  

You narrow your eyes at him, still running. “What are you planning?”  

His smirk is positively dangerous.  

And then you see where he’s leading you.  

The Forbidden Forest.  

Your heart lurches as the shadowy treeline comes into view, dark and swaying under the weight of the storm. The rain makes it look even more foreboding, the trees looming like silent sentinels.  

Fred slows slightly, still gripping your hand, still grinning. “What do you say?” he asks, voice playful but laced with something else—something daring. “You wanted an adventure, didn’t you?”  

You skid to a stop just before the edge of the trees, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The rain hammers against the leaves, dripping heavily from the branches, and for a long moment, all you can do is stare into the darkness beyond.  

Fred steps closer, watching you carefully, his thumb idly brushing against your hand. “We don’t have to,” he says, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing in his voice—just quiet reassurance.  

You swallow hard, heart hammering.  

Every instinct in you, every rule-following, well-behaved part of your mind is screaming no.  

But then you look at Fred.  

He’s standing there, soaked to the bone, eyes bright with something wild and alive. His hand is warm in yours despite the rain, steady despite the chaos.  

And maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s just him—but something inside you shifts.  

You exhale, grip tightening slightly. “You’ll keep me safe?”  

Fred’s expression softens, the storm forgotten between you. “Always.”  

And just like that, the last of your hesitation melts away.  

With one final glance at the castle—one final moment of who you were—you take a step forward.  

And Fred Weasley, grinning like you’ve just given him the best gift in the world, pulls you into the dark.

———— 

The moment you step past the tree line, the storm seems to soften. The thick canopy above catches most of the rain, breaking it into light drips that patter against the leaves. The forest is alive, breathing with the scent of damp earth and fresh rain.  

Fred still holds your hand, his fingers warm despite the chill, though now his grip is looser, more relaxed. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.  

But to your own surprise—you’re not hesitating at all.  

It’s different here. The wild hum of the storm fades into something gentler, something almost magical.  

You pause for a moment, tilting your head up. The rain clings to the branches in delicate beads, dripping slowly onto moss-covered ground. Everything glows, like the whole forest is wrapped in glass. Even the air feels clearer, crisper.  

Fred lets out a low whistle beside you. “Blimey,” he murmurs. “Would you look at that?”  

You follow his gaze.  

The trees, ancient and tall, shimmer under the weight of the fading storm. Droplets cling to every leaf, reflecting the soft midday light like tiny jewels. Spiderwebs between branches hold dewdrops like strings of diamonds, and the ground is covered in small puddles, each one rippling as the last few raindrops fall.  

It’s breathtaking.  

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. The Forbidden Forest has never felt like this before—no longer a place of whispered warnings and forbidden dangers, but something alive. Something untouched, something waiting.  

Fred exhales beside you, running a hand through his dripping hair. “Alright,” he says, “I might have only brought us here for a laugh, but—” He gestures vaguely at the glistening trees, the glowing mist that still clings to the ground. “—I think we just walked straight into a bloody fairytale.”  

You smile, shaking your head. “Hardly seems forbidden when it looks like this.”  

He hums in agreement, then looks at you with that dangerous glint in his eye again. “Think we should keep going?”  

You hesitate, but not because you’re afraid. The part of you that would have insisted on turning back is quiet now, overwhelmed by the beauty around you.  

Fred tilts his head, watching you carefully. “No pressure, love. We can head back if you want.”  

You bite your lip, looking between him and the path ahead.  

Then, feeling bold, you lift your chin. “Just a little further.”  

Fred’s grin is instant, full of delight. “Merlin, I knew there was an adventurer in you somewhere.”  

He takes your hand again—not pulling this time, just holding—and together, you step deeper into the glowing forest.

————

The deeper you go, the quieter everything becomes. Not eerily so—just peaceful, like the world is holding its breath. The rain has nearly stopped, leaving only the occasional drop slipping from leaf to leaf before landing softly on the forest floor.  

Fred walks beside you now instead of leading, his hand still wrapped around yours, warm and steady. He swings your hands slightly as you walk, like this is all perfectly normal, like this isn’t the first time you’ve willingly stepped into the unknown with him.  

“Alright, tell me the truth,” he says, breaking the silence. “You’re not actually a rule-following, library-dwelling Ravenclaw, are you? You’ve been secretly waiting for me to drag you into trouble all this time.”  

You scoff, but you’re smiling. “That’s ridiculous.”  

“Is it?” He quirks an eyebrow, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Because you don’t look like someone regretting a single thing right now.”  

You don’t. You know you don’t.  

Fred watches you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and Merlin, does he know what he’s doing. He slows his pace slightly, giving you more space to take it all in. The forest is still glowing with the remnants of the storm, the mist clinging to the air, the trees standing tall like they’ve been waiting for you both to come along.  

You turn in a slow circle, taking in every shimmering detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” you admit, voice quieter now.  

Fred hums, tilting his head as he studies you. “That’s a shame.”  

You glance at him, brow furrowing. “Why?”  

“Because,” he says, softer now, “you should see more things that make you look like this.”  

Your breath catches.  

You don’t even know what you look like, but the way he says it—the way he’s looking at you—makes your pulse stutter. His eyes are warmer than they’ve ever been, no teasing smirk, no mischievous glint. Just genuine—like he means it, like he wants this for you.  

You turn away before your face can betray you, pretending to focus on the trail ahead.  

Fred doesn’t let go of your hand.  

The forest shifts as you walk, the path widening slightly. A small clearing opens up ahead, bathed in soft golden light filtering through the branches. There’s an old fallen log near the center, its surface covered in moss, and a patch of tiny blue flowers blooming in the damp earth beside it.  

Fred tugs you toward it. “Here,” he says, sitting on the log and patting the space beside him.  

You hesitate—not because you don’t *want* to, but because something about this moment feels… different.  

Not reckless. Not chaotic. Just *yours*.  

You lower yourself onto the log, and for a while, neither of you speak. The quiet hum of the forest fills the space between you—the drip of water onto leaves, the distant rustle of branches shifting in the breeze.  

Fred leans back on his hands, tilting his face up to the canopy above. “You know,” he muses, “if someone had told me this morning that I’d be sitting in the Forbidden Forest in the rain with you, I’d have called them mad.”  

You scoff, nudging his knee with yours. “I could say the same. You do know I planned to spend my evening studying, right?”  

He grins, turning his head to face you. “Yeah, well. Look at you now.”  

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight your smile.  

Fred watches you for a moment longer, then shifts slightly, resting his elbow on his knee as he leans closer. “So,” he says, “what do you reckon? Worth breaking the rules for?”  

You exhale, looking around again at the glistening trees, the dew-covered flowers, the quiet magic in the air.  

Then, without hesitation—  

“Yes.”  

Fred’s grin is slow, spreading across his face like a sunrise. He lifts your joined hands between you, brushing his thumb over your knuckles in a way that makes your heart *trip* over itself.  

“Well, then,” he murmurs, voice soft and warm. “Guess I’ll have to find more rules for you to break.”  

And for the first time in your life—  

You want him too.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, hands braced against the log as you let yourself breathe—really breathe—in this quiet, enchanted world. The rain has nearly stopped now, leaving behind only glistening leaves and the scent of damp earth. The storm has passed, but something lingers in its wake.  

Something warm. Something new.  

You turn to Fred, who’s still watching you with that insufferably pleased expression, like he’s just won a bet you didn’t even know you made. He hasn’t let go of your hand, and now that you’ve noticed, you have no intention of letting it slip away.  

Instead, you shift, adjusting your grip so your fingers lace more deliberately through his. His eyebrows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—but he doesn’t protest. If anything, his grip tightens just a bit, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.  

You won’t.  

“Alright, Weasley,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze before standing. “I suppose we should start heading back before someone sends a search party.”  

Fred groans dramatically but rises to his feet, tugging you a little closer in the process. “Fine,” he sighs, “but only because I do have a bit of an appetite for supper.”  

You hum, turning with him as you both start back toward the castle. The walk is easier now, the fear of the unknown having melted away into something familiar, something almost comfortable.  

Your fingers are still entwined, swinging slightly between you as you navigate the damp trail. The air feels lighter, the quiet hum of the forest wrapping around you like an old friend.  

Then, with a sideways glance and a smirk creeping onto your lips, you murmur, “Seems like you’ve wanted to hold my hand this whole time.”  

Fred stumbles.  

It’s barely noticeable, but you notice. His step falters for just a second, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening as he turns to you with wide eyes—before narrowing them.  

“Oh, now you’re getting cheeky,” he says, recovering quickly, though the corner of his mouth twitches. “Next thing I know, you’ll be pulling me into adventures.”  

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe.”  

Fred slows his steps, looking at you fully now, like he’s re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about you. Then, to your utter delight, he lets out a soft, breathy laugh.  

“Merlin’s beard,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’ve created a monster.”  

You grin, feeling something light and warm bloom in your chest. “You love it.”  

Fred stops walking entirely, and before you can question it, he tugs you—gently but suddenly—closer. Your breath catches as you find yourself inches from him, your joined hands now pressed between you.  

His voice is softer now, his usual mischief tempered with something deeper. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I really think I do.”  

For a moment, you can’t breathe.  

Then, before you can process what’s happening, Fred steps back, resuming your walk as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just send your heart into an absolute tailspin.  

You exhale, regaining your footing, and after a beat, you tighten your grip on his hand, matching his pace.  

The castle lights are glowing in the distance, warm and inviting. Supper is waiting. The world is returning to normal.  

But you?  

You’re not sure you want things to go back to normal.  

Not now.  

Not when you’ve just discovered a whole different kind of magic—one that has nothing to do with books or spells.  

And everything to do with Fred Weasley.

[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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[sukunatoes]

No Strings Attached

Chapter 1

Nerd Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. However, for most of those years, you’ve been head over heels in love with him. Despite your one-sided feelings, you’ve successfully managed to keep your friendship strictly platonic. At least you had, until the day he asked you to hook up — with no strings attached, of course.

A/N: This story is intended to be a miniseries and for now is only planned for five chapters. However if there’s enough interest, I have enough plotted out to make this a full length fic. Updates can be expected once a week.

CW: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, creampie

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” You didn’t need to see your face to know how appalled you must look.

You and Satoru Gojo had been inseparable since childhood. From bandaging each other’s scraped knees on playgrounds to cleaning up one another’s vomit after drinking too much at college parties, the two of you had been through it all together. There wasn’t much you didn’t know about the other, yet nothing could’ve prepared you for what he had just said.

Satoru immediately averted his eyes down towards his picked-through dinner on the counter, moving the takeout rice around with a pair of disposable bamboo chopsticks. Blushing would be an understatement. A deep red hue stretched across the entirety of his face.

“I was wondering if, uh,” his voice began to falter as he was quickly losing confidence, something wildly uncharacteristic of him. “If, uh, you wanted to hook up with me.”

“Wh—“

“You know what, forget I said anything,” his flustered voice cutting you off before you could get a single syllable out. He tossed the chopsticks somewhere to the side before pushing himself off the barstool and began rushing back towards his room.

You immediately jumped up to follow him and practically had to run to catch up. Lunging forward, you latched onto his arm before he could cross the threshold to his room.

“Please, Satoru, just wait,” you pleaded with him. “I just wanted to know where this is coming from, that’s all.”

He still refused to make direct eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the hallway wall in your shared apartment. The tip of his left foot rapidly tapped against the tile floor. Though you couldn’t hear his heartbeat, you imagined it currently sounded much the same.

“It’s just I haven’t really dated anyone since we started university.” He reached his free arm up, scratching the back of his neck as his voice strained. “I kind of wanted to try getting back out there, and I’m just feeling a little, you know—“

“Inexperienced?”

He just nodded his head in response. Finally he peeled his eyes away from the wall and actually looked at you for the first time since bringing it up.

White eyelashes softly framed his remarkable cerulean eyes while his snowy strands gently fell down his forehead and grazed the bronze upper rim of his glasses. Satoru was truly one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen, and anyone who met him felt similarly. Everywhere the two of you went, girls had always relentlessly thrown themselves at him. However, it wasn’t shocking to you that he considered himself unexperienced in that area. Dating had always taken a backseat in his life, with the majority of his focus solely on school and his studies.

For the better part of a decade, you had harbored deep-rooted feelings for your best friend. You often brushed it off as nothing more than infatuation or a harmless crush, but you knew the feelings you had felt were something far more. All of your mutual friends figured it out long ago, but you had successfully pleaded with them to stay quiet. No matter how much you loved him, your friendship would always take precedence. The fear of possibly ruining what you two shared paralyzed you from ever attempting to take things a step further.

It took years for you to finally get over him, and it had hurt every single step of the way. You knew you shouldn’t even entertain the idea, yet you couldn’t stop yourself as you slowly lowered your gaze from his. Your eyes were now resting on his alluring lips.

“Anyways, can we please just forget I brought this up? I’m sorry if I made you feel—“

Every rational part of you screamed out to stop, but you knew that somewhere deep within was a part of you that never truly got over him and likely never would. It clawed and fought its way to the forefront as you pushed up to your tiptoes and crashed your lips onto his, stopping him before he could even finish his sentence.

He stumbled backwards, and you didn’t even need to open your eyes to know he was shocked at your sudden gesture. However, his lips never parted from yours. Within a few short seconds, he was slithering his arm around your back, pulling you in closer. His lips were soft and supple, slotting perfectly between yours like the two of you had been created solely for each other.

This exact moment had played through your mind a million times over throughout your years as friends. A culmination of almost a decade’s worth of longing and love, even if it had been one-sided. It was everything you had dreamed of and more. Even if it ended now and the fallout was one of flames, you don’t think you’d regret kissing him.

You gently broke the kiss and brought your hand up to his cheek, your breath ricocheting off his lips. “Shyness doesn’t suit you, Satoru.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

A gentle smile pulled up at the corners of his lips as he brought them back to yours once more, this time just a soft peck. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“If we go through with this, what would that mean for us?”

“Nothing would change, I promise,” he hurriedly reassured you. “No pressure, no awkwardness, no strings attached at all.”

It was the answer you needed to hear, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You felt like a piece of your heart splintered off at the stark reminder he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. It was obvious what you should do, apologize for the misstep and excuse yourself from the situation. However, no matter how much your heart ached, you couldn’t pull away.

“No strings attached,” you whispered back with an enthusiastic nod.

He slipped his hand into yours as he gently tugged you into his room. His nervousness, for the most part, had eased since you had agreed, but it was evident some remained. You gave his hand a soft squeeze as he led you towards his bed.

The soft white comforter creased underneath you as you sat on the edge. Satoru wasted no time as he crawled on top of you, his knee resting between your thighs. His lips reconnected with yours as he slid you further on the bed, softly laying you on your back. Every movement he made was slow and deliberate, like you were made of glass.

He slightly parted his mouth and began tracing his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened yours in turn, granting him the permission he was seeking. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, gliding up your abdomen. Your tongues rolled against one another as he edged his fingers up towards your chest.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He pulled away, asking breathlessly.

You locked eyes with him. “I want you, Satoru.”

That was all he needed. He leaned back, and in one fluid motion, his shirt was off and on the floor.

You traced every inch of his abdomen with your gaze. His muscular body looked like it had been hand-carved from stone. Every inch of him was truly a masterpiece.

“You must like what you see.” Your staring must’ve been apparent, as you could hear a teasing smirk in his voice.

Now that was the Satoru you were accustomed to. To think the confident, headstrong man you knew and loved was a blubbering mess just minutes prior. He must’ve taken what you said about his shyness to heart.

You didn’t reply, but instead leaned up and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it onto the floor. His eyes went directly to your chest, and now it was his turn to stare.

“Like what you see?” Your voice lightened as you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him back.

He quickly reached his arms around your back and unhooked your bra’s clasp.

“I do,” he purred as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he began sucking, his tongue encircling the hard tip. His hand slid up to your other nipple and began massaging it between his index finger and thumb.

You bucked your hips upwards into his. You were already embarrassingly wet and desperately seeking some sort of touch. The now noticeable bulge in his pants rubbed against you and pulled a loud groan from his throat at the contact.

Retracting both his mouth and hands from your breasts, he began sinking downwards. His lips left a trail of kisses down your abdomen as his nimble fingers sunk to the button of your pants. You lifted your hips as soon as he popped open the button, allowing him to free you from their confines with ease.

Your panties immediately followed, and without hesitation, he was spreading your legs wide. A single finger gently caressed your opening, gathering your slick before dragging itself up to your clit. You threw your head back into the pillow as his finger began stroking the bundle of nerves painstakingly slow. A string of moans and whimpers escaped your lips as he continued to stroke you.

“Satoru,” you called out, the whine in your voice betraying your desperation.

He instantly replaced the finger with his tongue. The muscle began lapping and circling your clit between gentle sucks. He slowly sunk a single finger in your entrance. Reflexively, you reached down and intertwined your fingers with his silky strands. A second finger slipped inside you, and he curled them both upwards, hitting just the right spot.

His name repeatedly tumbled off your tongue like a prayer between your moans. You could feel a pressure building inside you, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs began to tremble as you neared your climax.

You cried out his name one more time, followed by a string of curses as pure ecstasy coursed through your veins. He continued as you rode out your release, not pulling away until he was sure you were finished.

Satoru removed his fingers before climbing back up to you, planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “You sound so pretty,” he murmured before moving his lips down your jawline and onto your neck.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, gently pushing him back before reaching for his waistband. Stroking him through the fabric, you coaxed a low groan from him before sliding your fingers in front of the button. You popped it open, allowing him to kick off his pants, and his boxers immediately followed.

His hard cock sprung free, and you had to restrain yourself from physically reacting, because fuck, is he massive. A trail of soft hair, matching the alabaster strands atop his head, led down from his bellybutton to the base. A thick vein snaked its way up the center until it reached his fat, swollen tip that was leaking a bead of clear fluid.

You leaned forward, reaching for his erection, but he gently swatted your hand away.

“This is supposed to be me finding out what makes you feel good.” The words dripped from his mouth like honey as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Satoru gently pushed his tip in, pulling a soft cry from your throat. The feeling was intoxicating as he continued to sink himself into you. It was a smooth, slow movement, allowing your walls to stretch around him. As soon as the head kissed your cervix, he placed both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as he began rocking back and forth.

His pace was leisurely as he stared down at you, only breaking eye contact to pepper your face with the occasional kiss. The position was personal and far too intimate for what was happening. He wasn’t looking at you like a friend he just wanted to fuck. His face appeared to adorn a look of neither lust nor desire, but something else you couldn’t place.

You couldn’t bear to read further into the situation than what was actually there. Getting your hopes up for something like that would only cause you more pain down the line. You needed to remedy the situation quickly.

You reached up towards his hand and gently gripped it before dragging it down towards your clit. His thumb began stroking you once more, drawing tight circles counter-clockwise as he slowly pulled himself in and out of your sopping cunt. You reflexively arched into him before wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You feel so good, Satoru,” you whined, pushing your hips up against him repeatedly. He caught your hint and significantly picked up the pace, his thrusts growing quicker and rougher. His eyes no longer interlocked with yours as he tossed his head back, groans and moans tumbling from him repeatedly.

His second hand pulled from where it was next to your face and instead gripped down on your hip. A searing heat spread across your lower body as your second orgasm began to approach. His cock repeatedly hitting that sweet spot deep within you while he stroked your already overstimulated clit easily pushed you over the edge.

Your cunt throbbed around him, prompting him to curse under his breath as his movements began growing more erratic. He was close.

“Where?” Satoru choked out between breaths, his voice strangled.

“Anywhere,” was all you could muster up.

He thrust again, ramming his tip into your cervix as he buried himself as deep as possible. His cock began throbbing within you as warm, white ropes painted the inside of your cunt. His body shuddered as he rode out the remainder of his climax with a couple more lazy strokes.

Satoru collapsed on top of you, still not pulling out. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck for a brief moment before he angled his face to glance up at you.

“Any notes? Or criticism?” His voice betrayed his exhaustion, yet he managed to keep his tone light and playful.

You look down with half-lidded eyes, absolutely spent from what just occurred. “No, it was great.”

Reaching up, you gently ran your fingers through his hair, absentmindedly stroking as he continued to stare back at you. A soft smile grew on his lips, and that familiar look from earlier returned. You could feel your stomach drop at the sight, because you knew your feelings couldn’t come back from this.

At some point your face must’ve shifted, because Satoru’s smile fell and was promptly replaced with a pout accompanied by furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just exhausted.” You hoped your half-assed lie would be enough to get by.

“You look upset,” his pout grew. “Don’t worry about things getting weird between us. Remember, there are no strings attached.”

You could feel your heart ache as you forced a smile the best you could, returning his gaze. “No strings attached.”

You were fucked.

chapter index

[yarameijer]

Raimon GO Trio: Growth

So I was busy answering an ask for AR, and then realized I got super carried away with it and didn’t really answer the ask anymore. Yet I’m also having too much fun with this particular analysis, so I decided to make it a separate post!

The ask was originally about Raimon GO Trio headcanons, and moments in which Original Raimon Trio saw themselves in the GO Trio. Anyway, things happened, and… oops?

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The relationship of the GO trio is one based on growth, I think.

To start, I need to talk about the original trio. Endou, Kidou and Gouenji have always had a friendship based on equality and mutual respect. They were equals from very early on in the anime, if not the start, I think (it’s been a long time since I watched it so I’m a little skewed on the details). Kidou and Gouenji were both established as phenomenal soccer players from the start. Endou was not, but he was the captain and that gave him a certain, status, I suppose might be the word, as well. The three of them have always had this sense of equality to me that the GO trio lacked for a very long time.

As for mutual respect; Kidou started on a different side, but he has very clearly been impressed by Gouenji’s skills since before the first episode even started, specifically challenging Raimon to draw him out and face him in a match, and he was relatively neutral to Endou but eventually started to respect him even while they were rivals. With the exception of the first two, three, episodes, Gouenji has always had a friendly relationship with Endou and (as far as I can remember) never fought his authority as captain, and he’s had a friendly relationship with Kidou basically from the moment he joined the team. Despite some hostility at the start, Kidou and Gouenji have always deferred to Endou’s position as captain. And I think we all know Endou’s opinion. There were some bumps in the road but the three of them have always held mutual respect for one another, and their friendship has always had that respect and equality as its basis.

Shindou, Tsurugi and Tenma are very different.

From day one they were hostile to one another and that lasted for a very long time, and unlike the original trio they didn't even respect each other to balance it out. Shindou and Tsurugi considered each other enemies and just had a general bad opinion of the other; Tsurugi was cruel and sort of crazy, to be honest, and saw both Shindou and Tenma as an enemy, although Shindou was probably the bigger threat in his eyes (now I'm thinking, despite the Gouenji-Tsurugi parallels, it's also possible to compare Tsurugi and Kidou as they were both originally antagonists, but Kidou never seemed as bitter as Tsurugi to me (it's been a long time since I watched the originals, so I could be wrong)). Shindou seemed very self-absorbed in the sense that he took all the weight on his own shoulders, like he thought that he was responsible for everything and needed to solve all problems primarily alone. Tsurugi was a Seed and his enemy and Tenma a troublemaker and distraction.

Tenma here would be the exception, but that didn't matter because originally Tenma held the weakest position. New to a team, good at dribbling but horrible at everything else, younger than Shindou (which, especially with Japan's focus on age differences, really doesn't help the equality thing) and generally discarded by both Tsurugi and Shindou. Sure, he respected Shindou and he didn’t have the same hostility towards Tsurugi as many others, but it didn’t matter because he barely had a voice on the team. Sure, he talked a lot, and I mean a lot, but people didn’t listen.

The three of them were a mess no matter how you look at it. You couldn’t even refer to them as ‘the three of them’ because they had nothing in common, no relationship to speak of.

As we all know that eventually changed, and it kept changing. Tenma got through to Shindou, Shindou started treating Tenma, if not as a friend, at least as an underclassman - as someone he had a responsibility towards to care for. Tsurugi became a tentative ally to Raimon, and they had to put up with him, and eventually he switched sides completely (still kept to himself a lot though). Tenma gained more confidence in his place on the team. They struggled, they fought together, they had to encourage each other and that builds bonds. To be honest, I don't know when these three became friends, I'd have to rewatch the anime for that, but I think it took a while even after they initially set aside their differences. Even during the last match of season 1, Tsurugi still refers to Tenma as ‘’Matsukaze’’ in his head.

(Another fun thing that makes them less compatible compared to the original trio - their positions. Endou, goalkeeper; Kidou, midfielder; Gouenji, forward. Defense, bridge, offense. They’re spread out equally over the field. The GO trio, though, consists of one forward and two midfielders; mismatched.)

Anyway, their relationship is constantly evolving. From enemies, to (tentative) allies, to sort of friends. I mean, there’s an obstacle simply in the fact that Shindou is older and therefore put in the ‘senpai’ role (seriously, don’t underestimate how important age differences are in Japan). Then there’s Tsurugi being a pretty quiet individual. They might be on friendly terms, even call one another friends, but they wouldn’t be good friends.

Tenma’s and Shindou’s relationship in season 1, to me, never really seemed like friendship. Tenma very obviously respects Shindou and depends on him and thinks he’s great, but he also sort of puts Shindou on a pedestal. Shindou seems, eventually, very fond of Tenma, and to be honest I think Shindou is actually the one to call him a friend first; less of an age barrier for him, and Tenma is a bit too shy to declare his captain a friend first (seriously, it’s easy to forget but especially at the start of the anime, Tenma is very shy). But especially as long as the barrier of Tenma putting Shindou on a pedestal exists, they can’t really be friends in the deeper sense of the word.

Tsurugi and Tenma, on the other hand, have learnt to work together and depend on one another by the end of season 1. It’s not very pronounced but it’s obvious (especially when they use Fire Tornado Double Drive) how much Tsurugi really depends on Tenma (and accepts that!), while Tenma is just super friendly and nice towards Tsurugi. At some point these two became friends, but gosh don’t ask me when. (I want to add here: we see clearly in season 1 how much Tsurugi depends on Tenma, and while we don’t see that sentiment returned, I do believe it already exists at that point; at the very least, Tenma’s reaction to Tsurugi’s kidnapping in season 3 speaks volumes.)

I haven’t mentioned the friendship between Shindou and Tsurugi much before, but that’s because they’re really hard to pin down. The one thing that stands out to me is how great of a team they are together, even, or maybe especially, without Tenma. We don’t see the two of them interacting as much as we see either of them interacting with Tenma, but what interactions they do have often occur during matches - I can’t really pinpoint any examples but to me it’s always felt like there was no real need for them to talk so much. Tsurugi goes along with Shindou’s strategies always without ever asking for explanation; he’s got a healthy respect for Shindou’s mind, I think, and seems very good at picking up clues from him. Which, to Shindou, probably makes him the perfect ‘’pawn’’ in his strategies, since Tsurugi is 1) a real ace of the team and 2) really good at responding to him instinctively. They’re very quiet together, and a very good team. They didn’t respect each other at the start, but once they saw eye-to-eye? Hell yeah, and I think that defines them for the entire series. Shindou never treats Tsurugi like an underclassmen, not like he does Tenma. When did these two become friends? I don’t think even they know - actually, I think they might not have been friends if Tenma hadn’t been there to be the bridge between them, but when it actually happened? No clue.

Anyway! Then there’s the next big change: Tenma becomes captain.

It always stood out to me that Tenma didn’t stop calling Shindou ‘captain’ until Chrono Stone. I always wondered why Tenma was still captain in Chrono Stone, since Shindou was out of the hospital at that point and they never discussed the - what initially seemed like a temporary - captain switch in the anime. I mentioned in an earlier post that I headcanon that this switch happened because Shindou insisted on it, because Shindou didn't want to be captain and felt Tenma was better suited to the role. This conversation would've taken place somewhere between season 1 and 2, or potentially somewhere in the first episodes of season 2. That's also why Tenma switches from calling him ‘captain’ to ‘Shindou-senpai’, and that's the start of the newest change in their relationship. It quite literally forces Tenma into being on more equal footing as Shindou, as captain to former captain. Obviously this switch is gradual, as we see him doubting himself quite a lot in Chrono Stone and growing into the position as the season goes on.

Now I have to wonder how Tenma and Tsurugi's dynamic would've changed in response to Tenma becoming captain. I actually imagine that Tsurugi had a very easy time with it; he’d been following Tenma’s lead quite a lot in season 1 already.

Finally, season 3. It starts out pretty great, actually - their teamwork is great. One thing of note is that Tenma, at least, switched to calling Shindou ‘Shindou-san’ somewhere between season 2 and 3, I'm not certain about Tsurugi - he doesn't often call Shindou by name but I think he already called him that? Or switches multiple times? - but it shows that Tenma is much more comfortable with Shindou than before. At least, until the start of their disagreement over the Inazuma Japan team.

Season 3. Damn, what a ride.

I mean, I’m sure everyone remembers Shindou and Tenma in this. Pretty hard to forget, really. Shindou’s angry, frustrated, incredibly emotional and basically seems to revert back to how he was at the start of season 1. He seems to be taking it all out on Tenma and Ibuki; which while not fair is at least understandable. Tenma’s constantly disagreeing with him, someone Shindou believes should have the same opinion as him, whereas Ibuki keeps on challenging him. 

The funny thing is, this doesn’t affect their teamwork at all.

In the first episodes, it’s Tsurugi, Shindou and Tenma basically doing all the work during the matches, and it is their incredible teamwork that gets the team through the first stages of an intergalactic championship, which, damn, is pretty impressive if you ask me. They’re arguing but still in sync, and I love that. The three of them have always been a great combo when playing soccer, whereas outside of that they definitely weren’t - they’re perfectly balanced yet horridly incompatible. The contradiction is incredible with those three.

Something else I noticed is that, even after Tenma’s been captain for quite a while, he still follows Shindou’s orders without question, and Shindou still orders him around without hesitation. And yet Shindou doesn’t overstep; he’s very clearly not trying to be captain anymore, and in the instances Tenma thinks he’s wrong, Tenma is not afraid to disagree.

Tsurugi, during the early episodes of season 3, is really the eye of the storm. While Shindou seems to have a pretty short temper around Tenma, that’s not the case when he’s around Tsurugi, and there’s multiple instances where he asks for Tsurugi’s opinion. At the same time, Tsurugi doesn’t make it any harder for Tenma, either; he really stays out of it. Lmao he basically saw Tenma and Shindou fighting and went ‘’oh hell no I don’t want any part of this’’, so he’s really the neutral ground between them (and then he gets kidnapped pretty quickly, sooo…).

Of course everything gets turned upside down when they find out about the whole alien thing, and though Shindou doesn’t argue with Tenma anymore, he does put a lot on his shoulders.

He’s not wrong, per se, but way to put pressure on the kid! Which, fair, he is the captain, but Shindou, honey, c’mon. You know Tenma. You know how he’s gonna take this.

So yeah, I don’t think that Tenma at any moment in Galaxy beyond the first and last episode is actually happy. Even when he’s cheerful, he’s constantly trying to keep a team that’s falling apart at the seams together - do you see the parallels here with Shindou in season 1? - or gauging their mood, or dealing with internal conflicts, or arguing with Shindou (and to some degree Tsurugi), or dealing with the stress of being the captain that has to save the entirety of humankind. Even when he's laughing, there's no way he's able to let go of that fully, no way he can be carefree. Despite outward appearances, Tenma in season 3 is so fundamentally different from Tenma in season 1. There’s no freedom, no fun, no ‘wind of the revolution’ when that is exactly what his character has been about all along. He's restrained. He's pushed into a mold he doesn't fit into, by everything and everyone around him, and the ones who know him, who could've put a stop to this - they don't see it happening. An extra interesting detail is, Tenma rarely reaches out to his friends when it's about himself or his issues, it's only when they notice that something's wrong and confront him that he actually opens up. And Tenma, in season 3, has become a lot better at keeping up appearances - understandable, since the whole spiel is that he has to be the captain, has to keep everyone's spirits high, and he cannot allow them to see him hesitating and worrying. It's actually probably not a good thing that he learns that lesson, because it means it'll be even easier for him to smile and say he's fine and divert people away from the fact that he's struggling. And then to add to that, Tsurugi and Shindou, people he would usually depend on and let down the mask for, aren't there.

Y'see, in season 1, Tenma is never really alone - despite the rocky start, he’s got Shinsuke and Aoi. In season 2, he’s alone for a while before Fei comes and by the time Fei betrays him, he’s got Raimon with him again. In season 3, Tenma is cut off from Raimon, pushed away by Shindou and Tsurugi, not opening up to Aoi, surrounded by a team that expects things of him as captain that no one has before, and Tenma is alone. And he has to deal with that. Learn from it. Grow with it. Find himself again, and he does. And that is the growth Tenma goes through in season 3.

To be honest, all three of them have their own stories in Galaxy, kinda like in season 1 but whereas in season 1 it converges from separate places to the same path, in season 3 it’s the opposite - they come from the same story and then split up. Tenma with his learning how to stand alone; Shindou with letting go of his steadfast opinion; Tsurugi with, uh, getting kidnapped by aliens?

Not gonna lie, one of those three doesn’t quite feel the same as the others…

Seriously though, Tsurugi’s arc in Galaxy is a little less introspective than the others, I think. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it’s about stepping up more? Previously he just went along with Raimon a lot. He’s a relatively quiet character and happy to leave the decisions and speeches to Shindou and Tenma - to be honest, in Chrono Stone when he was acting captain for one of the El Dorado/Raimon teams against the Second Stage Children, I was a bit startled before remembering that canonically, Tsurugi was captain previously. He never seemed to care much for the position. Like I said, he’s always followed along with Tenma, and he’s always been easy with following Shindou’s commands as well. But in season 3 that switches - he’s left alone, but it’s very different from Tenma’s situation. He’s becoming much more proactive in trying to convince Lalaya that her planet sucks, that she doesn’t need no man to be Queen, and most interestingly to me - the whole development with him becoming captain of Faram Dite. He steps up in a way he doesn’t really do in the rest of the anime.

To be honest, Tsurugi’s a hard character to pin down because he’s so quiet and composed most of the time. One thing about him, though, is that he’s got a major guilt complex. Just look at the whole situation with his brother, the fact that he blames himself has driven him for years before the anime even starts. It’s the reason he’s with Fifth Sector. After Tenma and Yuuichi give him that much needed reality check, Tsurugi backs down a lot and stays quiet. I think, and mind you this is all speculation - I think Tsurugi is afraid. Afraid of making choices, afraid of speaking up, of speaking his mind out loud. He follows Tenma, and Raimon’s, lead a lot, and while I think he does agree with them and doesn’t hesitate speak up after they already did so, I also think for a long while he would not be the first one to openly speak his mind. He’s been through a lot. He’s made mistakes, big mistakes (coughcough-joining Fifth Sector-coughcough) that you can’t blame him for considering the situation and the fact he was a literal kid when he joined Fifth Sector, but with what we’ve seen with his guilt complex with Yuuichi, who’s to say Tsurugi doesn’t blame himself? It’s like he needs the confirmation from Raimon that yes, this is the right choice, before he decides to speak up.

And in Galaxy, that changes. He’s left alone, no example to follow, dealing with a girl who’s even more afraid of making mistakes than he is, and for good reason. Lalaya has the lives of an entire planet on her shoulders, and she reaches out to Tsurugi because she has no faith in herself at all. Kind of like Tsurugi has no faith in himself either unless an outside source - Tenma, Yuuichi, Raimon - confirms it. Suddenly this girl is looking towards him for his approval on her decisions, same way he’s always done, and she doesn’t see what he does - that she doesn’t need it, that she can stand on her own. And Tsurugi committing to helping her, making that his priority rather than getting back to the Earth Eleven - and then, of course, switching sides and joining Faram Dite, knowing Earth Eleven won’t understand, Tenma won’t understand, won’t approve, and doing it anyway. For the first time in a long while, Tsurugi makes a choice because he believes it’s right, regardless of what anyone else thinks. That’s his character growth.

This already is eight pages, but now I’m committed, lol. Two down, one more to go!

Shindou Takuto. Honey, what a mess you are.

I could talk for ages about the impact that his rich kid life and likely demanding family would have on him. He’d be one of those ‘’piano lessons, Chinese lessons, fencing lessons’’ kids that get so much pressure put on his shoulders at a young age, to be perfect, to be worthy of the family name. I don’t think his family’s necessary neglectful or bad or anything! He gets to play soccer a lot, and it’s clearly because he likes it. But I do think that Shindou is an incredibly intelligent kid, and he’s always been pushed to perform the absolute best in whatever he does. It’s why he cracks under the pressure in season 1, when everything is falling apart around him, when the one thing he’s got for fun, because he loves it - soccer - becomes just as stressful, or even more so, as everything else in his life.

Season 3’s interesting, because from every damn side, Shindou is told he’s wrong.

A team of amateurs, when from basically his first appearance in season 1 it’s so damn obvious how much the Raimon team means to him. It’s a disgrace, not to him but to his friends, and Tenma - who should by all means agree with him completely - doesn’t seem to care. His plans are denied, his ideas are denied, except during matches. And these amateurs are just trampling over everything he believes in, everything his friends have worked so hard for, everything he holds so dear and hurt for and cried for and they don’t even have the grace to care. No wonder he hates them. No wonder he hates Ibuki, because Ibuki doesn’t understand a single thing about it but still has the gall to pretend he’s worthy of the position of keeper. Ibuki tries but not because he gives a damn about what Shindou believes in, but because of spite (I don’t actually think this about Ibuki lol, but I think Shindou would, I’m writing this from his perspective). The Inazuma Japan team spits on everything Shindou and his friends have fought and cried and bled for and he’s told to suck it up. No wonder he’s angry.

But, of course, things get a little better when they do start trying, for real, and keep trying. And then the whole hahaha-hey-you’re-actually-fighting-aliens thing gets revealed, and, well, new priorities and all that.

But still, Shindou’s stuck in his own head. Still dealing with a team he may or may not even like (don’t recall tbh). And at this point, Tenma’s retreated into his shell again (which, fair enough! Shindou hasn’t exactly been supportive and Tenma’s insecurities are acting up! There’s no way he’ll be the first to reach out again if he’s not sure it’s welcome - but Shindou, at this point, has missed all of Tenma’s angst because he’s keeping it quiet, so Shindou doesn’t know to reach out either! Which is also fair!! But they’re just in a continuous spiral at this point, rip) and Tsurugi is kidnapped by an alien queen like five episodes into the whole space adventure, which I’m gonna say is a fair reason not to have great communication at the moment. Also, honestly, both Tenma and Shindou not realizing something’s wrong with Tsurugi is a bit questionable but they both have so much going on in their own heads, plus the pressure of, y’know, trying not to get the earth destroyed, so I’m gonna give them a pass for this one.

Anyway. Shindou is put in a situation where things are, to him, completely spiraling out of control. He never wanted any of this - in fact, he probably was super excited for the international tournament, to just have fun for once and now the whole Grand Celesta Galaxy mess happens, poor kid. He has an idea of how things should be, within the team, at least, and he has such a hard time letting that go. He’s bad at adjusting. He’s not like Tenma. He doesn’t see the good in people as easily as Tenma does, he doesn’t adapt as easily as Tenma does (the wind is adaptable, haha) to this situation, doesn’t go, ‘’okay, I’ll make the best of this’’. He’s prideful, and used to, while not everything going his way, at least knowing his place, about having a certain image of the world around him, good or bad, and for once it doesn’t match up to his expectations at all, and he can’t change it, can only get through it. I’m very tired right now so I don’t think I can explain it very well, my words aren’t working (I’ll probably make a separate character analysis for Shindou at some point where I touch upon this again), but I think that Shindou is a person who needs some sort of control. His whole theme is music, being a music conductor, the strategist, calling the shots, and in Galaxy that’s taken away and he doesn’t know the stage, or the players and that might be similar in a way to Chrono Stone - but in Chrono Stone he still has the majority of his team, his support system, and in Galaxy he only has Tenma and Tsurugi and I just discussed why that whole thing isn’t working out. All he can do is get through it... alone.

Isn't it funny how that's a reoccurring theme with all of them?

Y’know, now I’m reminded of his Kami no Takuto hissatsu. How he directs the entire team like it’s a play or an orchestra. They do exactly what he wants them to and maybe that’s lulled him into a false sense of security. It might even go beyond that - his family demands perfectionism, tells him that if you just work hard enough, you can get everything, be everything, you want. That life will work how you want it to. But it doesn’t. He can’t strategize the entire world to his liking, and that’s okay.

And the fun part about all this? By the end of Galaxy, these three haven’t reconnected.

Oh, it certainly seems like it, because they concluded their own respective arcs. Tenma learns how to be captain and how to be true to himself. Tsurugi learns how to make his own choices and stop being afraid. Shindou learns to be patient and let go of his preconceived notions. They learn their lessons but they never talk about this. They grow, again, as they always do throughout the entire series, and rarely if ever do they talk about it, but why should they? They were together for the entire journey, right next to one another, so why should they tell each other what happened when they’ve all witnessed it?

Except in Galaxy they don’t. They weren’t on the same path. They’ve missed things, and now they’re, sort of, still assuming that the others will just understand because it always worked that way, right? So they don’t talk. And by the end of the season, they haven’t talked, despite the misunderstandings and the hurts. And oh, that’s an opportunity for angst I’m having so much fun exploring in my stories😈

Okay, I got like, so carried away with this. How did this turn into a character analysis for the Raimon GO Trio?? How did it get so long?? This was never the intention. To quote AR!Tenma…

Oops?

[yuttikkele]

S2E1 Amok Time: AKA we finally get to learn more about the vulcans because spock's on his period. or he's going through heat. whichever terminology makes this synopsis funnier to you.

alright here we go. the episode i have been recommended to watch the most. could it possibly be gayer than "when i feel friendship for you, i'm ashamed." ?

OH MY GOSH. MOODY MUCH, SPOCK? Yelling, throwing the bowl at the wall, storming out of the room. Well, at least he didn’t overreact guys.

DID THE OPENING THEME CHANGE?? It’s gotten more EPIC. and VOCAL-LY. DEFOREST KELLEY MENTION

Theodore Sturgeon and Joseph Pevney, do you know what you’ve done?

The brattiness of Spock is transferring over to Jim. The repeat of “In all the years that I’ve known you” was despicable.

Spock pulling the “I am fine” card is so awful bro EVERYONE knows you’re not fine.

*spock gets called off of the bridge* Ooooo. Mr. Spock’s in troubleeeee.

Spock looks like an adult that has to go to the doctor alone for the first time.

WHY DID SULU LOOK SO WORRIED WHEN CHEKOV SAID HE WAS GONNA GET SPACE SICK BAHAHAHA

Well chekov I’m sorry to say I think we might be changing course again.

Why did Spock even wait this long to try and get to Vulcan

“No use to ask him, Jim, he won’t talk.” Watch him talk.

DOES SPOCK HAVE A DAUGHTER??? (yutti note. That was not his daughter that was younger T’Pring)

“It has to do with biology.” WOAH. REALLY SPOCK? I HAD NO IDEA! IT'S LIKE THIS WHOLE TIME WE'VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT YOUR BIOLOGY. /sarcasm

Well look at that. He talked.

I think this is supposed to be a comedic scene or something but the unfitting doom and gloom music over it somehow makes it even FUNNIER. Like the biology of Vulcans is REALLY scary guys… you better watch out..

The way Vulcans chose their mates ISN’T logical? Well color me surprised I wasn’t expecting that. (yutti note. it's not logical but they've set up traditions that make it logical. they done loopholed it into being logical)

Jim is really considering this. This Vulcan biology. He’s thinking hard about it.

I wanna know who thought, “Aw yeah, we need a whole episode dedicated to talking about Spock’s sex life.” that resulted in this episode existing.

what is this whole thing with nurse chapel and spock

“By tradition the male is accompanied by his closest friend.” D’awwww

DANG THAT WOMAN IS GORGEOUS (t'pring)

EVERYONE SIDE EYEING AND LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THOSE STANTWT MEMES WHEN SPOCK SAYS “my wife” BAHAHAHAHA

“Hot as Vulcan” yeah now I know what that phrase means too, McCoy (I have never heard that phrase before)

Arranged marriage at the ripe age of 7 years old? Ok I guess. whatever you say

*POINTS AT SCREEN* OH OH OH THAT’S THE HAND SIGN!!! 🖖🖖

T'Pau: “How do you pledge their behavior?” Spock: “With my life.” Kirk: *looks over at McCoy*. KIRK DO NOT CAUSE SPOCK TO DIE.

“What is it what happened?” Kirk says just like I do at football games.

That one Vulcan background guy (Stonn) is so funny why does he keep looking around like HE doesn’t know what’s going on.

I wanna know WHY she chose Kirk. Did she not want the other guy (stonn) no more? Is she just doing this for fun? Did she feel threatened by Kirk, so she wants Spock to kill him? “Oh? You like him so much? Kill him so I have your full loyalty." type beat?

Spock is managing to talk trying to protect Jim :00

Sorry to interrupt the mating ritual, but Spock’s hitting an insanely devious pose rn

Oh of course Kirk immediately gets a boob window

They're bleeding. His bibis are bleeding.

NO SPOCK. SPOCK’S MORTIFIED. SPOCK IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, IT’S VULCAN BIOLOGY.

spock were you jealous of ston just then??

Oh miss girl T’Pring had this ALL worked out. Not in Spock’s favor obviously. But a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do.

Did Spock just tell Stonn that having T’Pring isn’t as marvelous as it seems? With T’Pring right there?? BRO.

SPOCK WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE JIM awwww

MCCOY YOU GENIUS. I would’ve been saying bye bye to Kirk then and there. all "guess we'll have to find a new captain" and everything. good thing he's a doctor.

“When I thought I had killed the captain, I had lost all interest in T’Pring.” Gaywad.

ohhh ok so, Spock told Stonn having isn't as good as wanting not because he dislikes t'pring or dislikes having her, but because he got over his vulcan heat or whatever and no longer was drawn to her. ok that makes more sense. still a little bit of a diss to her but whatever. really can't possibly be worse than having to live married to a man who's never there

Ooo a new end credits too!!

ok. gonna be honest. my thoughts? i don't feel like this was entirely incredibly that gay. it was gay, but I don't think it was gayer than "when i feel friendship for you, i'm ashamed." and i might get yelled at for this deduction and told about how it is oh so gay and i might be like "oh i didn't notice that, that is very gay!" but i think one thing stays the same: there's just nothing gayer than yearning.

HOWEVER. upon a rewatch (because i decided to rewatch it without taking notes cause i felt like that was distracting me from the show), i realized something. now let me get this straight. spock went into heat. he very clearly stated that he must mate or die. he came out of heat not having mated or died but instead after fighting jim and thinking him to be dead. so, i feel it is not out of the question to think this implies either he was so shocked by killing kirk, the person he cared for most, that it snapped him out of his heat, OR his body registered that fight as sex. both equally gay options.

additionally, we already know jim is basically the most important person is spock's life, but this episode sorta puts it into perspective. spock says this whole quote about how "having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting." after he thinks he's killed jim, spock wants jim way more than he wants t'pring. which already in of itself shows how much he likes jim. but what more? when he finds out jim is alive, he's ecstatic. he no longer wants jim. he has him. and as we can tell by this being the happiest we've seen spock, it is a very pleasing thing to him. that is the most romantic part of this episode.

[hollywoodroses]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 (𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝔃𝔃𝔂 𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓽!𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂)

It’s the summer of love: reader gets lured into a cult.

izzy stradlin is a mysterious man, up to no good. after an intense love affair with a female college student, he starts a ‘family’ while hiding from the police.

song: i get around (mono) by the beach boys

warnings: mention of crime, heavy drug use, heavy smut and fem!slash, orgy, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mild choking!kink, breeding!kink, violence, use of gun.

‼️caution: this fic has extreme freaky/nasty smut, mention of kidnapping in a court-room scene. it’s an erotic story! ‼️

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽

“You promise you’ll be safe?”

“Yes, mom!” You replied with annoyance in your voice.

You had just graduated university and wanted to take a gap year before looking for a job. Deciding to take a road trip, you were nervous but excited of what your life lay ahead of you.

Once you are packed, you start your car and wave to your parents and little sister as you drove off into the sunset.

It had been a few days of a drive from Tennessee when your car broke down on the middle of the road just outside San Francisco.

“Fuck!” You whispered, hitting your hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

You move your car to the side of the road and pray that you’ll receive some help. It was the middle of the summer and 40 degrees outside. Worried you’ll be lost forever. You see a figure of a young woman walking on the side of the road with her hand out hoping to get a ride.

“Hey, need some help?” She asked.

“Yes, my car won’t start. Are you able to fix it? If you help me, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“If you are headed to San Francisco, I’m meeting my lover there. He has a family, you are welcome to join if you want.” She offered to you.

You agree and surprisingly it only takes her 20 minutes to fix your car. She was truly a lifesaver.

“My name is Trixie, let’s get this show on the road.”

You introduce yourself as you both get into your car and drive off. With the amount of questions you had for Trixie regarding her ‘lover’ she agreed to tell you the story about how they met.

“I met Izzy while I was in college. I was only 19 years old and shy. He was a student professor. We started having the sexiest love affair you can ever dream of. He gave me so many sexual awakenings, making me feel like a goddess. I literally worshipped his body.” She explained to you.

To say you were speechless was an understatement. You felt a wetness in your pussy as she described some of the sexual acts they did together. Even bringing another woman into their bedroom. Trixie said that Izzy believed in free love and exploration of sexual desires. You were a bit nervous to meet him.

A few hours had passed and you finally got to your destination, Golden Gate Park. Home of San Francisco’s Summer of Love. You park your car and follow Trixie to a small group of people who were listening to a beautiful young man give a talk about love and friendship.

The crowd is small but what surprised you was, everyone stopped to look at you when you got close to them. To say you were a little creeped out was definitely an understatement. You are shocked when Trixie walks up to the man and kisses him openly in-front of everyone. They just smile with a look of drugs in their eyes.

“Izzy, this is Y/N. She seemed lost so I brought her to you.” Trixie revealed.

“Welcome, my child. Please come and join us.” Izzy offered.

You look at him while speechless. Are you sure you want to get involved with this mysterious group? Yes, you were lonely, you even told your sister this. It seemed the universe worked wonders for you in the end.

You walk up towards Izzy, going to shake his hand. To your surprise, he pulled you into a hug and gave you an open mouthed french kiss. The family mumbled with each other saying how cute you were and how you looked perfect for Izzy. You really didn’t know what he was planning for you.

Trixie offers you a pink pill. You hesitate to take it so in order to give you reassurance she puts two pills in her mouth and kisses you deeply. You feel the pill get pushed into your mouth as you rub your tongue against hers, feeling yourself get wet. You giggle as you start to feel the effect of the medicine, suddenly having an LSD trip. Falling to the grass, you start to rub your body feeling excited. Izzy just smiles towards you with affection.

Once Izzy is close to you, he bends his knees as he watches you get lost in sexual bliss. Kissing you softly as you moan you can’t help but pull him into you. He puts his hand up your shirt, not caring that his family can see everything he is doing to you. Caressing your breast as you pant in excitement. That doesn’t stop him from literally rubbing you against your panties. You literally climax, getting your underwear dirty.

Yes, Izzy can’t wait to get you home

*****

When you finally made it home, you failed to notice a young man that seemed out of place. Unbeknownst to you, he was actually an undercover detective named Steven Adler. He was known to Izzy and the family as Michael.

You are being carried into a bedroom by Izzy as you had passed out from your drug high. You didn’t know that tonight would be your ultimate test of loyalty.

A few hours later, you wake up to an empty room. You start to worry but your worries fade as you see Trixie come and check on you.

“You took that drug kind of hard, don’t you think?” She asked with a laugh.

“Izzy loves you! He’s so proud of your confidence!”

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough…” Trixie smiled with a wink.

*****

Later that night after dinner, you are sitting on the floor with your new family.

Izzy comes into the room with some tea, telling all of you to take a mug. It seemed really gross and had a dirty mushroom flavour to it. You noticed that everyone happily took it but Steven chose to stay away from the whole experience.

You slowly start to drink the unappetizing tea. Once you are finished, you get this erotic sensation in your body. Soon you can see that Izzy’s family started to have an orgy right in-front of you. A woman you only knew as Trinity kissed you with an open mouth as you whimpered. You push her to lie down and you rip her dress open as you begin to feel her up. Licking her chest, you feel the strong effects of the mushrooms you took. As you play with her body, you feel your body become heated in embarrassment as a wetness drips from your pussy. You suddenly start to feel an attraction towards Izzy and you leave Trinity a hot mess on the floor as you crawl towards him with look of innocence in your eyes.

When you get to Izzy, you look up towards him like an obedient pet. You don’t realize that you let the feelings of your body take over your actions. You grab onto Izzy’s ankle and rub your panty covered pussy against his shoe, your eyes rolling back like a demon possession. You rub yourself so hard that you pull your panties to the side and squirt all over him. You look down curiously at the mess you made, rubbing it with your fingers and taking the liquid in your mouth as you moan.

Izzy is so turned on by your actions that he gets down to your level and puts his hand around your neck showing the others a sign of possessiveness towards you. He needs to get inside you, fuck a baby into your dirty womb. He slowly takes his jeans and boxers off as a way to tease you. Bunching your dress up, he wastes no time in ripping your underwear and he pushes himself inside you having the most beautifully erotic connection with you.

He literally fucks you all night long until you are lost for energy. Once he knows you have had enough fun, he carries you back to your bedroom to sleep the tiredness away.

****

The next day, you wake up to the bang of a door being broken down and a commotion in the living room. You walk to the door and see police officers everywhere chasing down your friends. You even noticed Steven tackle Izzy to the floor to put hand-cuffs on him.

Suddenly, Trixie runs into your room and grabs your hand. Closing and locking the door. You curl up together in each other’s arms as you softly cry. Trixie holds you close and whispers reassurance in your ears.

After an hour the noise stops and you leave your bedroom to look at the mess left behind. You hear a soft knock on the door and answer it. You see Steven with his partner as he explains what had happened.

“Ladies, Izzy Stradlin has been arrested on kidnapping charges. It seems that when Trixie ran off with him, her family called us to file a claim against him. We are taking Izzy to court and request that both of you make an appearance tomorrow morning at 10am.”

He leaves some legal documents with you. As he hands them over, he takes you in his arms and whispers, “it’s never too late to escape this hell-hole.” Trixie gets upset and wraps her arm around you as she glares at Steven.

“I knew you were a traitor.” She confesses.

“Izzy is innocent and I’ll stop at nothing to protect him and our family!”

Steven just gives you a soft smile as he turns to leave. You can’t bear to look at him as you hide your face in Trixie’s chest.

Tomorrow was going to be a chaotic day.

*****

It was the morning of Izzy’s trial. He enters the court-room with a female officer close to his side. sweet-talking her as she blushes, trying to hide her face in his shoulder. Just before he sits next to his lawyer, he gives the officer a soft kiss on the mouth as she has stars in her eyes. Making a promise that everything will go his way. Now you are probably thinking, does the court staff realize what is happening in-front of them? Well, not exactly. You see, they know how fucked up Izzy is, they just choose to ignore everything out of fear.

The judge enters the court-room as the crowd rises to show respect towards him.

“The People vs. Stradlin - Case #69CAL.”

“How does your client plea?” The judge asked.

“Not Guilty, your honor. It seems there is a misunderstanding here. The victim in question joined him willingly. There was so kidnapping here.” Izzy’s lawyer chuckled.

“How can you laugh about this? Clearly the victim was taken against her will!” The prosecutor shouted.

“Settle down, settle down.” The judge demanded as the crowd started to whisper with each other.

Izzy just smiled wickedly, he knew he would get out of this dilemma sooner or later.

While the trial was in full swing, you and Trixie are in a corner of the lobby as there was nobody around. She takes a gun out of her blazer and kisses you as she passes you the weapon.

“You know what to do, baby.”

You slowly walk towards the entrance, turning back one last time to look at her. She blows you a kiss as you take a deep breath, forcing yourself into the court-room.

As you enter, You shoot the gun towards the ceiling as everyone screams trying to hide from you.

Pointing the gun as a threat, speaking quietly with a tear in your eye. “Give me my man and nobody gets hurt, bitch!” You yell in shock.

You slowly walk towards Izzy and as you get closer to him, you encourage the female officer to join you. When you finally get to Izzy you take his hand and pull him out of his seat bringing him and the officer close to you. They both begin to kiss your neck as everyone is too frightened to show themselves.

You shoot Steven in the shoulder as he tries to stop you from leaving. He falls to the floor in pain causing his partner to fall to the ground with him, crawling to him to check on his injuries.

“okay, have it your way. Leave this place and never come back!” His partner screams at you. You laugh as you taunt her.

You take Izzy’s hand and run him to freedom going outside to meet Trixie in your car. Izzy goes into the front seat and drives off into the sunset. While you and your two girlfriends fool around in the backseat, sharing a three-way kiss as you touch yourself. Your love for each other fading into the distance as you leave your world behind, ready for new adventures.

the end

[mischiefmaker615]

Freak (1 of 2)

Summary: Infinity Stone mishap!

Rating: R

Song Request: Freak by Doja Cat

Requester: @Ellazaee (wattpad)

‘’again, I cant thank you enough for helping me out with this- money doesn’t exactly grow on trees’’ you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck while you followed along side Loki who continued to give you the tour.

He found your nervousness adorable, with how red your cheeks got and your almost uncontrollable laughter sometimes whenever you were around him. he had his nervous habits to, and he was sure you noticed them as well while he found himself rambling or over explaining when you clearly got the point at which room was which and its function.

Half the time, he would fall silent, in fear of saying something foolish and pushing you away. He didn’t wish to squash his chances at being your lover- he still was trying to figure out how to approach that situation; but he was absolutely not going to ruin this friendship.

You smiled while you busied your eyes elsewhere, noting how quiet he got and would mess with his hair pointlessly when his fingers got fidgety. Loki was your best friend, and you didn’t want to assume with how he had been acting the last few months that he had grown some attraction to you.. you didn’t want to give yourself that hope. So you told yourself you were content with how the two of you were now,.. it just seemed to get harder and harder lately, especially with how he dressed and acted in his leadership role. Sexy..

You would stare and tug at your sleeve mindlessly, hoping you wouldn’t already rip your new TVA uniform on the first day- but Loki being hot was prescribing that risk incredibly. Just friends.. and nothing more.. and you both didn’t even know the real feelings you had for each other.

‘’perhaps I could thank you over a cup of coffee? You’ve already done so much, even on top of your busy schedule and-‘’

‘’darling, you are a valued person in my life. Do not think that it is ever a bother or an inconvenience to my schedule when you are in need of aid.’’ Loki smiled, chancing a moment to look at you and his eyes may have lingered to long, having the both of you quickly look forward and clear your throats.

Gods.. did it sound like I friend-zoned her- ‘valued person in my life??’ Are you serious Loki! Come on.. think..

‘’Ah- and I’ll introduce you to more of the staff-‘’ Loki said quickly, hoping to find a way out from his awkward feeling by directing your way towards the computer desks, walking brickly while he glanced back at you excitedly. ‘’we have one special person here I know you could count on for anything-‘’

‘’okay..’’ you smiled, following behind quickly over to the crowded area of desks and computers.

Loki was standing next to a.. average, almost nerdy looking man who had his head damn near an inch of his computer screen and clearly absorbed in what he was doing without even noticing Loki on the other side.

‘’Casey?” Loki said, hinting his presence while you stood beside him.

‘’Casey.’’ He said a little dryer, clearly hating to repeat himself while he moved his jacket out of the way to place his hands on his hips.

‘’I think he’s in the middle of watching something..’’ you whisper while you leaned closer to Casey to look at the screen. Just as you swore you could hear something quite resembling a moan, Casey flinched and made you jump back by his quick movement, his arm having accidently swept some of the things on his desk, to the floor before you.

‘’oh shit- sorry! I don’t think I heard you- how long have you been there??” he said quickly with probably just as much nerves while he turned his computer chair to face you both.

‘’not to long, were we interrupting?” Loki asked casually while he glanced at the stuff on the floor between you both and the man fidgeting where he sat.

‘’no no- it’s just.. sometimes I take my breaks here rather than head to the break room and I catch up on my- oh it’s okay! I’ll get it!’’ he insisted while you had bent down to help pick up the small things that he had dropped.

‘’it’s okay, we’ll work on a better approach in the future.’’ You teased and picked up a few pens, a notebook and a glowing, small gold rock like thing. ‘’-what is this?” you asked while you raised your eyes to look at him, your whole body tensing to see that his eyes had been looking at your chest while you were kneeling down.

‘’it’s an infinity stone- paper weights, as we call them and er- use them..’’ Casey sheepishly laughed, his smile quickly wiping away from his face when his eyes reached your glaring ones and grabbed quickly for his things. ‘’s-sorry- I just- AH!’’ he yelped simultaneously with you, having grabbed for the gold stone next before it seemed to flash for merely a second and zap, causing both your hands to flinch away and his things fell back to the ground.

‘’oh for heaven’s sake-‘’ Loki huffed, eyes ripping away from trying to dissect what Casey had been watching and grabbed hold of the things on the floor.

Casey sat back in his chair, wide eyes while clutching his hand protectively and you having stood back up with a stumbling step.  

‘’are you alright?” Loki asked, giving you a quick glance before setting Casey’s things back on the desk, as if he hadn’t noticed what happened between the two of you.

‘’yes of course, perfectly fine.. shall we continue with.. the- er.. tour?” you asked, rubbing at your hand where it had been zapped while your eyes trailed off once they caught sight of Loki, lips parting as if mesmerized and dragging up his form to his awaiting- confusing eyes.

Casey sat tensely in his chair, almost waiting for you to kill him for having stared at your chest while Loki seemed preoccupied by turning quickly towards Casey after brushing his hands off together and clasping them behind his back.   

‘’that would be a good idea darling,’’ Loki noted while his gaze continued to bore into Casey. ‘’watch that Midgardian rubbish elsewhere, and mind where your vision decides to settle or you’ll find yourself without any.’’ He said almost to sharply, having apparently caught Casey’s wondering eyes and Casey quickly nodding with a quick spin of his chair to click away at a few tabs on his computer.

‘’yes sir- right away-‘’ he stuttered but already noticed Loki turning away while you stiffened to try to look normal as possible.

Loki wrapped an arm around your shoulder and ushered you away towards the halls. ‘’I’m really sorry about him- I promise he won’t be any trouble when you are working here, he’s in a whole other department anyway..’’ he explained while you let him lead.

You felt strange, your skin feeling tingly and warm- especially where Loki’s arm and hand was lingering to help guide your way. what had happened.. what was that zap.. and why the hell do these people have infinity stones handy like it’s normal? ‘’Loki i- I’m kinda feeling funny..’’ you admitted, a hand coming to your throbbing temple while Loki released you to turn your body by your shoulders to look at him.

‘’what do you mean- are you alright? Was it what happened back there?? I swear I will write a report on what he did the minute we-‘’

‘’no no it’s not that-‘’ you shook your head, fingers fiddling with themselves while you looked up shyly at Loki and felt your eyes widening at how he looked now.

He’s always been beautiful, cheekbones practically have been sculpted by angels but-.. every single inch of him seemed to have increased tremendously in.. attractiveness. He wasn’t even standing that close but his smell filled your senses like a drug, picking up pine and masculinity that had your eyes damn near fluttering shut. Your skin was warm, making you pull at your shirt collar and shift in place. His hands were slender, gentle on your shoulders and you resisted the urge to look at them and fantasize where else you’d like to feel them.

A throbbing had appeared between your legs, making you shift even more in place and embarrassingly made it almost look like you had an urgent need to use the restroom. You were so.. horny..

‘’darling- I think you should sit down a moment..’’ Loki said gently, his speech almost sounding like it was a little deeper and slower- much like in the movie scenes when someone had been drugged.

Drugged! No- it had to be the infinity stone.. which color was yellow again? Casey might have used it accidentally on you in his nervous wreck state- what had he been thinking about in that moment?

As your mind spun and tried coping with how your body began to increase in wants and needs, Loki had gently taken your hand and pulled you into the next room. It looked like a small meeting room, simple with a large table in the center and a couple chairs.

‘’alright darling, just sit right here and I can go fetch you a cup of water..’’ Loki offered, almost talking to you like you were a child while you felt yourself staring blankly forward and lowered yourself backward.

Loki quickly took your waist and last minute guided you to a chair before you had the chance to fall on your ass in your blank state. But no.. there was so much more going on..

‘’water would be.. nice..’’ you nodded, looking up at him from there you sat and your shoulders slumped, an almost sleepy smile came to your lips while your eyes remained half lidded.

Loki didn’t move for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion and worry before his hand slowly rose to press against your forehead. ‘’..you seem warm.. would you like help taking off your jacket before I fetch the water?’’ he asked, his voice having gotten quiet and you could see he took a hard swallow when you began rubbing your legs together to try to relieve some of the pressure between them and your hands grasped the arms of the chair with white knuckles.

‘’its so hot in here..’’ you breathed, your eyes falling closed while you leaned forward in your chair. ‘’so.. bloody.. hot..’’ you whispered.

While your eyes were closed, your hands left the armrests slowly and rested at both your knees, traveling up your thighs before running up your waist, higher, then gripped your jacket in the middle of your chest. your thighs had slowly spread open as soon as your hands had left them before your head fell back and a sigh left your lips. Slowly you pulled the jacket apart, it falling down your shoulders and pooled at your waist- like one of those fancy wraps one would wear with a dress.

Your head lifted again, slowly.. everything slowly until you were looking back at Loki, opening your eyes to reveal how their color now held the same as the Infinity stone’s.

‘’ You want a good girl that does bad things to you?”

‘’P-Pardon?” Loki stuttered, blinking to finally come back to reality after being sucked into your seductive spell.

He had paused when you had moved, watching your hands glid and travel amongst yourself with numerous wants and wishes for it to be his own hands. His lips had parted, speech caught in his throat while you slowly had taken off the jacket and spread your legs. It was as if he were witnessing a lap dance- chair dance? Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t you, something was clearly wrong- but the selfish part of him couldn’t bring himself to stop you until he saw your eye color.

Why were they- what happened.. what was happening??

You smirked, your mind lost and your body seemed to take over as your eyes dropped down to his bulge, seeing how it twitched while you looked back up at him. “I ain't afraid of a little pain..’’ you purred, watching how he shifted to relieve some of the pressure in his pants and rest on a hand against the table.

‘’Y/N this- I don’t know what’s going on here but.. clearly something happened..’’ he almost seemed to convince himself than you while the other hand rested on his hip and he took a breath to calm himself. ‘’your being very-‘’

‘’honest?” you challenged, a smirk came to your face when he looked at you once more and you shrugged, sitting back in the chair and crossing a leg over the other seductively. ‘’perhaps I’ve finally come to realize that I don’t wish to hide my true feelings for you Loki. I’ve had enough, and I know what I want. I’m done playing this game.’’ Your eyes began raking over his body. ‘’I know how you feel about me..’’

Loki’s cock twitched, a hand coming up to run through his hair while his fingers white knuckled the edge of the table he was leaning on. Gods she’s so beautiful.. so seductive.. he could smell how much you wanted him, and he was going crazy while he fought with himself to focus. ‘’Y/N..’’ he started, not exactly sure on what he wanted to say, but his eyes were on everything, but yours. ‘’we.. need to get you checked out..’’

You sighed, giving a light wave of your hand before you uncrossed your legs and sat straighter, hands coming to grip at your chest. ‘’so be it then.’’ You agreed before tearing your button down apart, buttons clicking to the floor while your chest exposed itself and pillowed in your lacey black bra.

‘’Y/N!- that’s not what I..’’ he trailed off, his eyes having caught sight of your chest and instantly gawked, his cock at full attention through his pants while he stood with his arms at his sides. ‘’gods.. your just..’’ he breathed but his words stopped as soon as you stood up, letting your shirt and jacket fall behind you while you seemed to slink over.

‘’This can go one of two ways..’’ you offered, hips swaying as you walked closer before your hands raised, coming to drape over his shoulders while his body stayed still, breath hitched and his eyes fell down to your cleavage. ‘’we could flip a coin. I could be your slave..’’ your voice got quieter with do-me-eyes and his instantly lifted to yours, almost widening at your offer while your hand trailed to grip his tie. ‘’or, I could tie you down and tease until you hate me.’’ You smirked, having walked backwards and he obediently followed until you sat yourself on the table.

You pulled him closer, your legs spread so he was standing in between them and you yanked him forward so his palms slapped flat onto the table on either side of your body. ‘’what’s it going to be Loki?” you purred. ‘’you going to spice up your life and come get a freak?”

‘’d-darling.. what has gotten into-‘’

‘’you could.’’ You flirted, raising a brow while a hand dropped to grip his belt.

His hand quickly went to rest on yours but he didn’t pull it away. ‘’g-gods what are you- fuck..’’ he groaned, your hand having left the belt to move down and rub him through his pants.

“Just wait until you get a taste..’’

‘’I..-‘’

Suddenly there was a zap, causing you to yelp with Loki immediately looking you over for injury, sitting up just enough for you to sit up and not headbutt him.

‘’what-.. what happ-‘’ you trailed off as your hand went to your forehead, rubbing slightly the throb away before blinking to clear your vision. Your eyes were back to normal, widening to see Loki an inch away from your face with just as widened eyes.

‘’yeah I knew my instincts were right- I fixed it.’’ Casey’s voice cut into the room, making Loki turn sharply to see him standing at the door with the Infinity stone proudly in his hand.

‘’what are you talking about??” Loki nearly barked, quickly moving his body between you both while you froze on the table.

‘’so a.. it must have sent her to a state of my mind- what I was watching must have been heavy in thought and it sent it over as a command to her when we both picked up the stone’’ Casey shrugged, his smile slowly fading to see Loki’s almost unreadable yet deadly look on his face.

‘’what were you watching?”

‘’-romantic movies..’’

Loki picked up on a lie that made him rotate his shoulders a bit and crack his neck, shaking it off before he cleared his throat. ‘’we’re going to have a long discussion tomorrow. Go home for the day.’’ He said carefully, earning a confused look from Casey until his eyes widened and he grew pale.

‘’ohhh- so sorry.. I’ll just.. yeah-‘’ the door shut quickly just as Loki tensed a muscle to lunge at him. he would have probably allowed himself to storm over if he hadn’t turned his eyes back to you and caught sight of your reddened cheeks, causing him to quickly turn his body so his back was to you.

‘’Y/N I’m sorry-‘’

‘’it wasn’t your doing..’’ you said quietly, sitting up a little and hugged yourself by the temperature in the room. ‘’I kind of had hints of what happened- I just didn’t do anything in time and.. well- I don’t exactly remember the rest.. but I can probably piece things together.’’

‘’I swear, if you want him fired, I can-‘’

‘’it all was an accident- but do talk to him about taking hints and his manners.’’ Your voice wasn’t angry. To be honest, you should be embarrassed, mortified, but perhaps that was the remnants of the stone’s power.. your confidence must be slowly fading away- and he saw you like this anyway. ‘’..did we?.. you know..’’

‘’no.’’ Loki said quietly, keeping his hands at his sides and his back to you. His eyes were closed, squeezed shut as he kicked himself for not having stopped himself from the beginning. ‘’….would you have been disappointed?” he whispered, his mouth faster than his ability to stop his thoughts and held his breath for your answer.

‘’..no.’’ you said and blushed. Perhaps there would be no better time than now.. you reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder, a gentle nudge hinting for him to slowly turn around and he did, keeping his eyes raised and you stopped yourself from laughing. ‘’Loki, it’s okay.’’

Drawing in a breath, he looked back down, keeping his gaze on yours while you placed your other hand on his other shoulder. Your face was calm, which surprised him a lot and he felt his heart flutter by seeing the Y/N he knew.

‘’I didn’t exactly think it would happen this way.. but I’ve been hoping to tell you the truth that i.. have feelings for you.. I have for a long time.. and not just..’’ your eyes glanced down at yourself and bit your bottom lip, fingers clutching Loki’s shoulders more. ‘’sexually..’’

Loki’s hands were shaking, using all the power of the gods to stop himself from reaching forward while his heart fluttered and a smile tugged at his lips. ‘’gods Y/N.. I’ve been meaning to tell you the same thing..’’ he shifted a little, rubbing his hands on his pants upon realizing he was still standing between your legs. ‘’I wish it was under better circumstances.. but do know that you are the most beautiful creature I’ve laid my eyes on..’’ he whispered, making your own heart flutter and your cheeks reddened bashfully.

‘’what exactly happened.. earlier?” you asked sheepishly, not sure if you wanted to know.

Loki drew a breath, clearly the thought of Casey at the moment making him not so pleased while he looked towards the door. ‘’he must have knocked the stone off his desk and-‘’

‘’no..’’ you said quietly, a hand moving to his chin and turning him back to face you. ‘’after..’’

Loki’s cheeks went to a light hue of red, his hand raising slowly and took hold of yours, his movements always slow and ready to pause if you so much as uttered the word. By you maneuvering your hand to lace your fingers with his instead, had his body noticeably relax and an exhale released.

‘’well.. the stone was all based off honest.. and um.. apparently you were making quite the sinful offers and remarks i.. didn’t quite think you- you know.. I just never thought that-‘’

‘’you never thought I could be so.. bold?” you finished for him, blushing while he gave a gentle nod and a sheepishly look. ‘’when I am highly comfortable with someone, all walls drop and I am more.. well, comfortable.’’

Loki raised a brow a little. ‘’aren’t you comfortable with me from the amount of time of us knowing each other?”

‘’well yes but.. I mean sexually.. being highly comfortable with someone is one thing, but moving to the bedroom can have you back to being as shy as a school girl..’’ your eyes lifted and returned his own sheepish look. ‘’once the shy barrier is down.. I tend to.. take the lead on things..’’

Loki’s brows raised and you could have sworn you saw movement in his pants if you both weren’t in the middle of a staring match to withhold respect since you were almost naked. ‘’well.. I like you.. you like me, perhaps it’s something we could explore in the future, but I am more than ready for these baby steps.. if you’ll have me..’’ he whispered, taking hold of both your hands now in his and looked down at you lovingly while your thumbs rubbed against his skin.

‘’I will have you Loki, because I want you..’’ you bit your lip and glanced down at your hands. ‘’in every.. single.. way..’’

Loki’s grip tightened every so slightly as he watched you. ‘’..are you certain darling?” there was a hint of excitement in his voice and you confirmed the movement in his pants before you quickly moved your eyes up.

‘’well..’’ you glanced down at yourself and shyly smiled. ‘’we’re half way there..’’

Note: Sorry i did Casey dirty here, just needed a side character and he was the closest one in my reach LOL

~DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing @westwindrhapsody @lulubelle814

[witchygagirlwrites]

Ace-Part 3

Jay Halstead x Reader x Hailey Upton (reader nicknamed Ace)

You admit your feelings to Jay and Hailey which prompts them to admit theirs

You laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You missed Jay and Hailey. You hadn’t quite realized how much time you spent with the two of them until you stopped. No wonder lines got crossed that never should have ever been approached. It was your fault, you never should have been intruding on a married couple like that. How dare you?

You rolled over and tried to get comfortable against your pillows. You just needed a little sleep. That was all, then you could roll into work tomorrow and keep your head intact about continuing to act like they were just your coworkers. You would always have their backs on the job but that was the extent of what you could do. Any further and you didn’t trust that more lines wouldn’t be crossed and you couldn’t do that to yourself. 

You closed your eyes and couldn’t stop thinking about Hailey’s eyes or Jay’s smile. You groaned and pulled your pillow over your head. You were falling for your best friends. A fucking married couple. If you couldn’t get over them, you’d have to transfer out of intelligence and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Hailey rolled over and nuzzled into Jay’s neck when the alarm went off “That thing is so freaking loud” she groaned and he laughed lightly “It’s not that loud” and hit the button. She cut her eyes up at him “Think she’s finally going to start back talking to us today?” he shrugged “She talked to us yesterday?”

“Baby, do you have the witness statements isn’t talking compared to how we used to be with her” he nodded slowly “I know but I don’t know what else to do here Hails. I’m afraid if we push closer it’ll make her push further away” she sighed “I know, I’m just worried about her up and deciding to leave”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. It was a fear they both shared, had both discussed since the night you told them your friendship was now work only. If you decided you could no longer work with them, what would that mean? “Maybe we should try a different approach? One on one? Let her see it’s an equal dynamic, not some power play thing?” Jay suggested and Hailey smiled before pulling him into a kiss “You’re a freaking genius”

He rolled over on top of her as he deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue into her mouth and his hands roamed lowered “Definitely not a genius but I’ll take it” he teased with his lips still against her. She grinned “I love you so damn much” he pressed another kiss to her lips before moving to kiss across her jaw then down her neck “I love you too”

You pulled into the parking lot of the precinct and spotted Jay’s truck. There was an empty spot next to it or one three places down. You took the one three spaces down. You’d rather some uniform ding your door.

You grabbed your stuff and climbed out before heading inside. At least you were partnered with Kev, that meant if you didn’t want to talk about what was obviously bothering you he wouldn’t push and god you loved him for that.

When you walked in you took a deep breath when Hailey was at the front desk talking to Trudy. “Morning Ace” Trudy greeted and Hailey turned around with a small smile. “Morning Trudy, Hails” you greeted as you headed for the palm scanner.

“Hold the gate please” Hailey called so you held the gate open once it popped and she stepped into it next to you and thanked you. “Of course” you muttered as the two of you continued up the stairs. This was the closest you’d allowed yourself to either one of them without it being a complete accident in days. “How are you?” she whispered and you nodded “I’m good” 

“Ok, if you need anything…” she started to offer and you cut her off “I appreciate it Hailey, I really do but I’m good” by then the two of you had made it to the bullpen so you headed for your desk while she headed for hers. You couldn’t get into the “If you need anything call me” crap right now. That reeked of desperation on your end and pity on hers. Neither of which you wanted coming into the equation here.

You caught her and Jay both watching you out of the corner of your eye but you couldn’t do that. The job needed your full attention, like it or not. 

“We gotta back fifty one on what appears to be an arson case. Lets roll out” you were a bit ashamed at just how thrilled you were to have a case roll in. You hoped no one was hurt the moment the thought occurred to you that at least you wouldn’t be stuck in the bullpen across from Jay and Hailey any longer. 

You stood and grabbed your jacket, falling in behind Kevin. He looked back at you “We taking my ride?” you shrugged “Sure, you know I’m good with you driving” which pulled a smirk to his face “You just like having a damn chauffeur you little diva” you winked at him “You know me so well Atwater” 

______________________

Everyone headed down to the parking lot and their separate cars to head to the address Voight had given all of you. It was across town so a few minutes drive and then an active investigation. Enough to keep your mind busy. “Something up with you Ace?” Kevin asked once it was just the two of you in his suv. You slowly shook your head “No, why?” he shrugged “You ain't been hanging with Jay and Hailey like you used to, aint hit mollys the last couple times. Just making sure”

“Naw, I’m good Kev. You know I’d talk if I needed to” he smiled “I’d hope so” about that time all of you pulled up to the scene so you hooked your badge around your neck on the chain then climbed out the suv. Everyone followed behind Voight who was headed for Chief Boden, technically this was their scene and all of you were just playing backup. 

Jay and Hailey went in with Voight to walk through the scene, Kim and Adam were headed to the hospital to talk to vics so that left you and Kevin to canvas the block to see if any witnesses might have seen anything.

“What exactly do people get out of hurting each other? This damn long on the job and I still don’t get it” you muttered and he laughed lightly “That’s why we’re the good guys Ace” you smiled slightly “Someone’s gotta be” 

_______________________

From what they could gather it was a targeted thing with collateral damage. One of the victims had an ex husband with a restraining order and a history of violence. You and Kevin found a couple witnesses who confirmed a man in the area in the early morning hours that matched the exe’s description. 

That would be all it would take for a judge to sign a warrant. The only thing was if he had already been willing to set one apartment building on fire to try to kill his ex wife, what would he be willing to do to stay out of prison? 

Boden offered the truck to be on standby should all of you run into an emergency they were more equipped to handle when you went to serve the warrant. Voight thanked him so everyone double backed to the precinct to gear up while you waited for the warrant to get signed and the exe’s location to be narrowed down.

Everyone was in roll up, gearing up and Voight was going over the pre-raid plan. “We don’t know what we’re walking into with this guy. He already put four people in the hospital just trying to take out his ex wife. He’s ducking an attempted murder charge now.  Watch each other’s backs, take no chances. Got it?”

Everyone nodded. All of you knew just how serious this was. You slipped your vest over your head and reached to adjust the straps but felt Jay’s hands move first and instead of moving away you let him. You had to get used to him and Hailey again. You looked over your shoulder at him “Thanks” he nodded “You’re all set” 

You shot Hailey a small smile and walked over next to Kevin, taking your long gun from him. You didn’t want to leave the unit, you didn’t even want to turn your back on Jay and Hailey. You just felt so much more for them than you should but that was something you had to deal with. If Kevin was noticing a difference you couldn’t chance anyone else. You had to reel in your emotions, eat them and deal with them later. That was the only option.

____________________

“CPD FREEZE!” you had the guy in the sights of your gun. He held up his hands and went down to his knees. Jay slid around the corner. “You got me?” he asked and you nodded “Cuff this asshole” he’d taken all of you on a foot race for the better of seven city blocks. 

Jay cuffed him and read him his rights before snatching him to his feet. Kelly pulled up in squad three and Jay shoved the guy into a patrol car “You two need a ride back to your unit?” you grinned “I’ll take it” you and Jay had already radioed back and everyone else was pretty much circled up to the cars.

You hopped onto the truck and Jay slid in behind you, leaving the two of you hip to hip. “So all of that was because his ex got tired of being his punching bag?” Kelly asked and you shrugged “Not all men are good men Kel” and he nodded “Oh I know sweetheart it just still makes me sick to see it” 

___________________

When Kelly dropped you and Jay off with the rest of the unit Jay hopped out first then offered you his hand so you took it. Hailey eyed the fact that you took his offered hand with a smile. You hoped they realized it was you offering a friendship olive branch. Nothing more. You’d meant what you said.

Voight nodded to you and Jay “You two good?” “Yes sir” “Yeah, we’re good” “Then everyone head back. This asshole doesn’t even need to confess for us to have him”

You were sitting on the edge of Kim’s desk talking to her when Kevin tossed a balled up piece of paper your way “Yo partner, you hitting Mollys tonight or being a homebody?” you rolled your eyes “Guess I’m coming since you been giving me hell about it Kev” 

He grinned “Good, I’ll buy you a drink” you laughed “Well damn then I’m definitely coming” 

Jay and Hailey were watching the way you were interacting with the rest of the unit and trying not to combust from jealousy. “So, Mollys?” Jay whispered to Hailey and she nodded “Definitely” you were talking to them again, so that was something right? They just wanted to get a few minutes off the clock to talk to you. That was it. 

______________________

You walked into Mollys and spotted the unit in the corner, most of them were either in a booth or at a table. That wasn’t anything new. The lot of you had a habit of hanging tight when you went out, just like fifty one hung tight. You waved when Kim looked your way then headed to the bar to grab a drink. 

“Good evening gorgeous” you greeted Stella and she winked at you “My favorite detective. What can I get ya Ace?” you shrugged “Just a beer lovely” she nodded “Coming right up ma’am” and grabbed one, popping the top off and handed it to you “I’m on the understanding your first drink goes on Atwater?” you nodded “Yes ma’am”

“How’d you manage that?” she asked and you shrugged “I haven’t came out the last week. The unit missed me I guess” she laughed “That’s a new one. Duck out and get your drink paid for” “Well hell I would’ve paid for your drinks” you heard a voice say and turned to see Dylan, one of the surgeons from Med walk up to you and you grinned “Nice to know. You do have all that doctor money after all” 

He laughed “Good to see you Ace, especially since I’m not currently digging a bullet out of you” you gasped “That was one time!” and he nodded “Still doesn’t mean it didn’t leave an impression” 

__________________

Jay glanced up and damn near cracked the beer bottle in his hand. Hailey clocked his posture change and followed his line of sight to see you talking to Dylan Ryley. A Surgeon from Med. You were leaned back against the bar and he was way too close to you for her comfort. “That son of a bitch” she muttered and Jay cut his eyes at her “Nothing we can do, if she wants him we can’t intervene”

They watched, waiting and hoping for some damn inclination you weren’t interested. Give them a reason to back Ryley off. “Fuck it, let’s get another drink” Jay spoke low to her then raised his voice “I’m buying next round. Everybody want one” everyone spoke up so him and Hailey stood to head to the bar, directly towards you.

________________

One minute you were talking to Dylan about a case he’d seen the next, Hailey was sliding onto the barstool next to you while Jay was bodily putting himself between you and Dylan to ask Stella for another round.

You glared at Jay first then cut your eyes at Hailey “Dylan, I believe you know Jay and Hailey. Two of my coworkers from my unit” he nodded “I met them when I was working on you last year” Jay gave him a tight lipped smile “Yup, thanks for that too. You saved our girl” you noticed the emphasis he put on the word our and the way him and Hailey both looked at you. Jesus they could not be doing this right now.

You slid off the barstool and smiled at Dylan “Intelligence is a tight knit group. Can I join you in one second? I just need to talk to these two about something?” Luckily it didn’t seem like he’d caught on to anything because he just nodded “Of course” and headed for the other end of the bar where Will, Crockett and some nurses were.

You watched him go then looked back at the two of them “What was that?” Stella came back about that time and put the drinks down then walked off because she was getting waved down. “What?” Hailey asked innocently so you scoffed “Ok, I’m walking outside. Either you two can follow or I’ll be leaving. You have five minutes”

You finished your beer and headed for the door while they headed for the table. You had to nip whatever this was between you and them. It had to end. 

You were leaning back against the cool brick wall of Mollys when the door flung open, Jay and Hailey damn near knocking a nurse from med down. You shook your head when their eyes landed on you “Forty seconds to spare”

You tilted your head towards where your truck was parked “Let’s talk” they both nodded and followed you. Once you were sure the three of you were far enough you turned to face them “You two were jealous I was talking to Dylan” “Yeah” Hailey didn’t try to deny it and you didn’t try to stop the urge to laugh in their faces.

You grabbed both of their left hands to show them their rings “Are you forgetting that you two are married? You do not want me! It does not happen that way”  “So we don’t know what we want now?” Jay asked and you raised an eyebrow “What?”

He waved a hand between himself and Hailey “We have talked about this. We know what we want and we’re looking at her. Yeah we love each other, we’re in love with each other but when we look at you?” “It just feels right too” Hailey finished and you sighed, running a hand down your face and shook your head “I’m going home. Tell Kev, I got sick”

You turned to climb in your truck and they both grabbed a hand “Baby please” Jay spoke first and you froze. He didn’t use that on you, he used it on Hailey. He only ever called you sweetheart. “Don’t call me baby” you whispered. “Please talk to us baby” Hailey begged and you turned to face her “What?”

She smiled “We don’t want to hurt you Ace. We care about you” you nodded slowly “I know you do Hailey. I never once doubted that, I just can’t let myself have a piece of you two then in turn give you all of me just to get broken” you hadn’t realized you teared up until she raised a hand to wipe the tears away “What can we do to prove to you?”

“Let me go” you whispered and she nodded “Ok” and dropped your hand. The broken look in her eyes and Jay’s made your heart crumple in your chest. “I can’t stay in the unit, I’ll ask for a transfer monday. At least temporarily until I can sort through the fact that I allowed myself to fall in love with two of my best friends” you admitted and they both swallowed hard “What?” Hailey asked and you smiled sadly “Sorry, I never meant for it to happen. I think it was happening before that night and that just pushed it over the edge”

“And it’s so hard to believe we could be falling for you?” Jay asked and you froze, looking from him to Hailey “What?” she smiled looking up at him then back at you before shrugging “We are” you shook your head “No, you’re not. We had a night of amazing sex, yeah. We’re friends, yeah. You two are not wanting me to leave the unit, yeah but there is no way you two are falling for me”

“How do you know?” Hailey asked and you waved a hand at them “Look at you two! You’re fucking gorgeous and amazing and married! And I’m just me” Hailey pulled you to her, crashing her lips against yours. You gasped lightly as her tongue flicked into your mouth, you could taste the mixed drink she’d had earlier and knew she could taste your beer. You moaned lightly when she pulled you even closer, never breaking the kiss until she absolutely had to “Please don’t leave the unit”

You nodded slowly, her hand was still gripping your hip “Ok but where does that leave us?” Jay grinned “Give us a chance? We’ll prove we don’t want no damn unicorn. This would be an equal dynamic in every way. We just want you” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth “One chance, if I feel like that once I'll walk away and I mean it. I’m not throwing an ultimatum at either of you but I’d rather walk away then either of us end up hating each other”

They both nodded and Jay grinned “So do I get a kiss too? Or just Hailey?” she laughed and pressed another kiss to your lips “I think he’s jealous” you grinned “I think so” he rolled his eyes “You two are mean” you raised an eyebrow “Oh we’re mean?” his eyes widened “Nope, you’re angels” you laughed and reached for his hand “Come here”

He stepped closer, one hand going to your hip and the other gripping your chin before his lips claimed yours. You couldn’t help but a light whimper fall from your lips when he deepened the kiss, tilting your head in the direction he wanted it. When you were forced to pull away to get air he smiled at you and pressed another quick kiss to your lips “We’re not gonna try to jump into bed with you but we would like to spend time with you”

“Please” Hailey added and you nodded slowly “We’ll figure something out” 

@desimarie12

[nachiah]

I really enjoyed chapter 15. More backstory being slowly unveiled while more crumbs are dropped along the way. There was something Zenji said that brought a thought that was lingering in the back of my mind for awhile. (IFYKY). I'm not sure of the exact timeline of when Yuri left Frostheim, but I've been wondering about why he's immune to Jiro's stigma. What if it's a matter of trust? With Jiro's VERY logical nature, I don't think he was a transfer. He fits the description of Mortkranken too well to go anywhere else - especially given his strong drive toward academics. In his affection lines, he's alluded to the fact that he taught himself much of what he knows. “What’s the purpose of educational facilities like this? You can learn everything you need through self-study.” “I read books every day, not just in the fall. I like medical journals best. I don’t remember what made me start reading them.” “I attend classes every day since Yuri does, but sometimes they mark me as absent. I’m supposed to reply when they say my name? I didn’t know that.” Anyway - that was a long way to say I strongly believe he was not a transfer. Back to my point: It's possible Jiro struggled quite a bit after the clash. I'm sure if he had anyone in his life (Zenji aside) before he "sent general students and ghouls alike to the infirmary" (I don't remember the exact quote of the rumor), they'd be scared of him after that. Then you have Yuri, who was betrayed by his own house (according to him, but we don't know the whole story). He comes to Mortkranken where another betrayed, lonely soul resides. For all we know - since they both are medical practitioners to some degree - they might've worked together before. What if all they had was each other? Then at some point, either an experiment goes awry and Jiro accidentally poisons himself to near-death, or it's a deliberate attempt. Why wouldn't Yuri take every risk to save him? But because of the trust he has in Yuri to not hurt him, the effects of his stigma are nullified? With the way it works, I have every reason to believe he wanted those that hurt him to hurt just as much - and in the same way. If there's no fear they'll hurt him, perhaps it wouldn't trigger? But I think it needs to be to a point where there's not a shadow of a doubt. If Zenji were alive, he'd probably be immune as well. I plan on writing more about these two - spanning from blooming friendship and more. (At this rate, I'll need to make an AO3 account or something so they'll be easier to find. I have every written work backed up on a personal Discord server, so it wouldn't be too hard.)

[yuta-nakamots]

have yourself a merry little christmas - q.kun (teaser)

Pairing - Kun x Reader

Genre - Fluff, Single Dad!Kun

Warnings - None? Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary - What started as a simple favor, turned into an unexpected friendship with Kun, a devoted single father new to town. Between playful bickering kids, chance encounters, and quiet moments filled with warmth, you begin to wonder if this holiday season holds more than just Christmas magic.

Teaser Word Count - 498

Estimated Release - Sometime next week idk

Taglist - (leave a comment or send me an ask/message if you'd like to be tagged when the full fic comes out!)

A/N - This was inspired by the song Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Michael Bublé. It is also a rewrite of a previous piece that I did about two years ago

When you had told your best friend, Lina, that you’d pick up her son from preschool, you thought that you’d just pop in and get the kid, that’s it. You didn’t know that you had signed yourself up to be the referee at a mini MMA fight.

“Sakuya, put the toy down,” you commanded the four-year-old you were supposed to be signing out. He was currently fighting over a little dragon figurine with a young girl who appeared to be near his age.

“No! I had it first!” He cried out. “Get your own dragon!” 

“Sakuya, give her the dragon, we’re going home,” you stated firmly. 

He refused to give up the toy and started whining even louder, prompting you to pull the toy out of his grasp. “You need to learn how to share,” you scolded before turning to the little girl he was fighting with, “I’m sorry about that sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Mei,” you were surprised when you heard two voices, one from the girl in front of you and another from behind you. Turning around, you saw a handsome young man, who you assumed was Mei’s father from the resemblance she bore to him. “Her name is Mei. Sorry about her, she can be a bit possessive about toys.” 

“Oh, it’s alright, Sakuya here needs to learn how to share things properly,” you motioned over to the said boy who still had his eyes on the little dragon in your hands, “I can’t believe he’s nearly five years old and doesn’t know what sharing is.”

“Mei’s the same way. It must be an age thing,” the man said with a chuckle, “Is he yours?”

Your eyes widened as you hurried to explain your relation to Sakuya. “He’s not mine, I’m just here picking him up for my friend. She has her hands full being a student and all.” 

“Ah, I see,” he remarked as he picked up Mei, “this little rascal is mine. I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.” 

You felt a tug on your shirt and looked down to see Sakuya still eyeing the toy. “No, Sakuya. Mommy is waiting for you at home. I can buy you a little dinosaur if you want one so badly, how about that?” The boy broke into a smile at your offer. 

“Oh, can you recommend some good kid’s stores in the area? I just moved here so I’m not too familiar with everything just yet,” the man informed you. 

“At least you had the sense to come at the beginning of the school year, I pity the kids who are just thrown in during the middle of the school year,” you commented, “but the toy store I normally take this little guy to is the one near the end of this street, it’s in the little shopping center.”

“I’ll try taking Mei there once we get a little more settled in, thank you. My name is Kun, by the way. You are?”

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 7: Stellar Crossroads

Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try. Pairing: Female MC x Caleb Rating: Explicit 18+ Spoiler Alert: Potential spoilers for Caleb's Myth as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers. Warnings: Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic (I cannot bring myself to break any of their hearts, so you could consider this an AU with only Caleb in this timeline.) MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times. Slow Burn. Explicit Smut (eventually). Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour. Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals. Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship. Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions. More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

The golden crown of dawn is just cresting over the horizon when I finally make it home. My body aches, and I clutch at my bruised ribs, discarding my backpack on the floor as the door to my apartment clicks closed. I take a moment, leaning on the door and rubbing my tired eyes.

A floorboard creaks. Instinct jolts through me, and my gun is in my hand before thought catches up, finger poised on the trigger.

Caleb glares at me from my dim living room, his violet eyes gleaming in the half-light like a sky caught between night and morning—too dark to be safe, too bright to be ignored.

His uniform is still crisp, except for the cap tossed carelessly onto my couch, and his hair is mussed, strands sticking up at odd angles, the telltale sign of fingers raking through it one too many times.

“What the fuck, Caleb!” I bark, shoving my gun back into its holster, half-irritated, half-shocked. “I could have shot you!”

“Where have you been?” His voice drops, deep and gruff, the kind of tone that sends a warning straight through my bones.

Fuck.

My heart stumbles, slamming against my bruised ribs as it sinks deep into my stomach. I can’t tell him the truth. If he knows I’m looking for answers, he will try to stop me.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s kept me locked up in Skyhaven under the pretence of keeping me safe. But I can’t exactly say I was just out for a casual stroll, either. Not with my clothes ripped, bloodied, and reeking of smoke.

“I was on a mission,” I lie.

“Bullshit,” he growls, flicking on the light.

The sudden brightness stabs at my eyes, and before I can protest, he’s on me. Not in an attacking way—more like a storm closing in. His hand catches my wrist, turning it palm-up, exposing the bruises, the raw scrapes from crawling through debris. His jaw clenches, his fingers tightening just enough to make a point.

“I called your captain directly. She confirmed you didn’t have any assignments. So, I’ll ask you again—where have you been?”

“Out,” I snap, yanking my hand free.

I step around him, needing space and air. Pain lances up my leg, my ankle rolls, and the floor rushes up to meet me. I barely have time to swear before Caleb catches me, arms locking around my waist.

“You’re hurt.” The sharp edge of his frustration softens, shadows retreating from his expression.

In one smooth motion, he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. My arms snap around his neck on reflex. My body presses flush against his, warm and solid and—

Oh.

Oh no.

This isn’t new. Caleb has carried me more times than I can count. Across playgrounds, through burning wreckage, out of so many bad decisions. This is basically standard procedure, so why is my brain sparking like a half-plugged-in appliance?

Why am I suddenly hyper-aware of the way his arms tighten around me, the way his body heat seeps into my skin, and the way his heartbeat thrums steady and strong against my side?

This is fine. This is normal. This is—

“Are you blushin’?”

“No,” I snap.

He smirks. Smug bastard. Mercifully, he deposits me onto the kitchen counter before I can combust, stepping between my knees with the kind of effortless confidence that should not be affecting me right now. His hands move to my boots, unlacing them with that same infuriating efficiency he applies to everything.

“I can do that myself,” I grumble.

“You’re injured,” he counters, not even looking up. “And, evidently, prone to bad decisions.”

“You’re a bad decision,” I mutter under my breath.

He makes a low, amused sound. “Funny. You were saying somethin’ different last time you got drunk.”

I groan, raking my hands down my face. I should be more concerned about the whole interrogation thing. About the fact that he knows I’m hiding something. But all I can focus on is how my pulse refuses to settle.

I am developing a certifiable problem.

The second my boot comes off, his breath audibly stalls. The bruising is already creeping up my ankle, deepening into ugly shades of violet and blue. Swelling distorts the shape, stretching the skin taut.

Caleb’s jaw flexes, his expression carved from stone. He tugs his gloves off, tossing them onto the counter without care, then presses two fingers against the worst of the swelling, feather-light but firm enough to test the damage.

I hiss through my teeth.

He makes a displeased tsk. “This is not fine.”

I could argue. Instead, I stare at his eyes. They shift like a spinning galaxy—violet with threads of pink and orange, a nebula caught in motion. The kind of colours that belong to the liminal space between day and night, between stars collapsing and new ones being born.

He’s too close. Or not close enough.

Damnit, Inara!

I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the weight of his focus pressing down on me. His hands are on me, and I should not be noticing how broad they are, how they completely engulf my ankle, or how his touch—despite the pain—is careful.

Stars help me.

“You have a first aid kit?” Caleb asks, voice still tight.

“Bathroom,” I say, forcing the words out past the spiralling mess in my head. “Cabinet under the sink.”

He nods, grabbing my discarded boot as he goes. His movements are mechanical, like he needs to be doing something with his hands before he puts them through a wall.

I let out a slow breath, watching as he disappears down the hall. The moment he’s gone, I press my palms into my thighs, squeezing tight. Get a fucking grip.

Caleb returns a moment later, first aid kit in one hand, my boot in the other. He tosses the boot unceremoniously to the side, pops open the kit and pulls out the bandages.

“I have been callin’ you for hours,” he declares with a voice like flint striking steel. “Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?”

I reach into my jacket pocket and yank out my phone. The screen is completely wrecked, spiderwebbed with cracks, the device itself dark and lifeless. I toss it onto the counter beside me with a dull clatter.

“I dropped it,” I say flatly.

Caleb’s gaze flicks between me and the phone, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He exhales sharply through his nose, fingers tightening around the roll of bandages.

“Right,” he sneers, voice edged. “Just dropped it.”

I shrug.

He shakes his head as he starts wrapping my ankle. His touch is gentle, but there’s tension in his movements, a barely-contained frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“What the hell were you actually doing, Inara?” he demands.

I tilt my head. “Out.”

“Out where?”

I smirk. “Out out.”

His eyes narrow. “Pip-squeak—”

“That’s me.”

Caleb exhales through gritted teeth. “Inara—”

“Caleb,” I mimic, saccharine as syrup.

His fingers flex against my ankle, and I know I’m pushing him, but I don’t care. The more I keep him chasing circles, the less chance he has of backing me into a corner. I flash him a quick grin. He scowls, tugging the bandage a little tighter than necessary.

I hiss. “Sadist.”

“Brat,” he shoots back.

His lips press into a thin line, but the corners twitch—just slightly. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I wouldn’t have noticed. Unfortunately for him, I do know him, and I know I’m winning.

Uh, for now.

Caleb doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He continues wrapping my ankle with that same sharp, controlled focus, like if he lets himself think too hard, he’ll lose whatever grip he has left on his temper.

I, however, positively thrive on pushing buttons.

“You know, if you wanted an excuse to hold my foot, you could have just asked,” I tease.

He doesn’t even blink. “I will break your other ankle.”

I let out a dramatic gasp. “Violence? Against your poor, injured best friend?”

He secures the bandage with a final, slightly aggressive tug and glares up at me. “Now you’re my best friend?”

I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t?”

“Hard to say. Best friends don’t make each other hunt them down for hours and find them half-dead.”

“Please. I’m not half-dead.”

He lifts a finger and flicks my bruised ribs.

Pain explodes through my side, and I nearly double over. “Caleb!” I wheeze, clutching my ribs. “You ass—”

He doesn’t look remotely sorry. “Half-dead,” he repeats. “Try again.”

I groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “You are the worst.”

“Yep. And I’m not done with you.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “Figured.”

He crosses his arms, eyes cutting into me. “You’re still avoiding my questions.”

I give him my best, most innocent smile. “Am I?”

He exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I swear to God, I have never wanted to strangle someone more in my life.”

I grin. “That’s the spirit.”

“Not a compliment,” he grumbles.

I shrug. “Sounds like one.”

He presses his hands to his temples, muttering under his breath—probably counting to ten, praying for patience, resisting the urge to shake me.

Finally, he sighs. “Fine. If you’re not gonna tell me, then at least tell me—are you done with whatever this is?”

I hesitate for just a fraction of a second, but Caleb sees it. His entire stance shifts, tension rolling back over him. His eyes darken, the swirling colours of his irises dimming, sharpening into something dangerous.

I hate how easily he can read me. How effortlessly he can pick me apart, see through my bullshit, and strip me down to the truth even when I don’t say anything.

I swallow. Force a smirk. “I’m always up to something,” I say lightly.

Caleb doesn’t smile.

Doesn’t move.

Just watches me.

Like he’s already figured out the answer, and he’s already planning how to stop me.

He leans against the counter beside me, arms crossed, and tilts his head just so, that signature smirk playing at his lips.

“You know,” he muses, voice utterly casual, “I couldn’t help but notice you left somethin’ interesting in the bathroom.”

I can feel the blood leave my face. “What.”

His smirk widens. “I mean, really interesting. Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”

Oh, God. Fuck. Shit. My stomach drops straight through the floor. I rack my brain, scrambling through the contents of my bathroom. I don’t leave anything weird in there—do I? Do I?

I don’t get a chance to think too hard about it. My body moves on instinct, panic taking over, and I launch myself off the counter.

Or—I try to.

Caleb catches me immediately, both hands gripping my waist as I nearly topple straight into him. He chuckles, deep and smug. “Relax, pip-squeak. I’m kiddin’.”

My face ignites with heat. I scowl and swat at his chest, but I can still feel his laughter rumbling under my palm.

His grin is downright insufferable. “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

I huff and cross my arms, looking anywhere but at him. My traitorous heart is still hammering from that split second of terror, my stomach definitely not flipping from how close we are. 

Nope. Not at all.

He lets go of my waist, unfastens his long coat, and shrugs it off, tossing it onto the counter. Then, he rolls up his sleeves. “C’mon. Let’s wash your hair before you pass out on me.”

I blink. “Uh. What?”

He jerks his chin toward my tangled, blood-matted hair. “You’re not plannin’ to go to bed like that. Are you?”

I gape at him. “I can wash my own hair, you know.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Yeah? With your ribs like that? Your ankle?”

I shut my mouth. He smirks, triumphant, and reaches out—before plucking a crumpled leaf from my hair and flicking it aside.

I groan. “For fuck’s sake—”

“Yep. Exactly what I thought,” he says breezily. “Now, are we doin’ this the easy way, or do I have to drag you to the bathroom?”

I consider my options. One, fight him on this, lose, and waste energy I really don’t have. Two, accept that he’s a stubborn bastard who won’t let me get away with anything.

I exhale sharply. “Fine.”

Caleb helps me off the counter, his arm slipping securely around my waist as I lean into him. I have to focus intensely on not noticing how gloriously solid he is under my hands.

We make it to the bathroom, and before I know it, I’m perched on the edge of the tub, Caleb crouched beside me.

He used to wash my hair all the time when we were kids—mostly after I got into fights, scraped myself up, and tried to avoid dealing with it. Back then, it was nothing.

So why, exactly, does it feel entirely different now?

One hand braces my back as the other takes the detachable showerhead. The first stream of warm water rushes over my scalp, and I shudder.

His hand presses a little firmer against my back, steadying me. “Too hot?”

“No,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “It’s fine.”

It’s too fine.

His fingers slide through my hair, gently working through the worst of the tangles before he reaches for the shampoo. He’s always been careful, but this is careful in a way that makes my stomach do weird things and an annoying ache to settle where it really should not be. 

I squeeze my thighs together and try to think of anything else. War strategies. Battle formations. The time I saw a grown man get his foot stuck in a storm drain—

Caleb’s fingers massage my scalp, and every thought in my head disperses instantaneously. I definitely don’t grip onto his shirt.

Yes, I do.

His breath ghosts against my neck. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, my voice way too high-pitched. I clear my throat. “I mean—yeah. Totally fine.”

I feel him smirk, like he knows what he’s doing to me. By the time he’s rinsing the conditioner out, my thoughts are a tangled mess, my heart an absolute traitor.

This isn’t weird, right? 

When he helps me sit up, his hands firm on my waist, his breath warm on my shoulder—

I think I might be fucked.

Caleb rubs the towel over my head like he’s trying to buff the water out of my skull.

“Ow. Do you mind?”

“Not really,” he says cheerfully, switching tactics to be slightly less aggressive.

I huff, arms crossed, as he continues. “This is unnecessary.”

Caleb hums noncommittally, like he’s pretending to listen, and keeps drying my hair. When he finally deems it passable, he picks up my hairbrush from the counter and starts brushing it.

I turn to scowl at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He smirks. “Maybe a little.”

“I hate you.”

“I think you mean, thank you, Caleb,” he corrects, mimicking my voice. “Now sit still, pip-squeak.”

I grumble under my breath as he gently works through the worst of the tangles. Then, he starts braiding my hair.

“Okay, no,” I protest, trying to twist away. “Absolutely not.”

He tightens his hold on the braid, keeping me still. “Oh, come on. You used to beg me to do this when we were kids.”

“That was different,” I argue. “I was, like, ten.”

“And?” He ties off the end with a hairband he must have stolen from my counter. “It’s practical.”

I’m too exhausted to fight him on it, so I just curse to myself as he leaves me to change. Which should be easy. It’s just clothes. Normally, I’d throw on a T-shirt and underwear and call it a night. But Caleb is here. I stare into my dresser like it holds the secrets of the universe.

Pajama pants with little unicorns all over them? Absolutely not. I don’t need him mocking me for the next ten years.

Shorts? Too short.

Sweatpants? Too sweaty.

I go through my entire wardrobe, tossing clothes left and right, spiralling into the dumbest crisis of my life to date.

Caleb knocks on the door. “You need help in there?”

I freeze. “NO.”

Silence. Then, “…Okay?”

Eventually, I settle on an oversized shirt that drops past my thighs and the shorts I discarded earlier.

And then. Then.

The bra problem. I stare at myself in the mirror, jaw clenched. Sleeping in a bra is awful. But if I take it off—will he notice? Would he even care?

I scowl at my reflection. “What is wrong with you?” I growl, but that doesn’t stop me from standing there, overthinking way too hard about something that should be simple. Eventually, I yank it off and throw it across the room. 

Screw it.

I limp out of my room, trying to act normal. Caleb arches an eyebrow but—thankfully—doesn’t comment. He helps me to bed, grabbing extra pillows and carefully propping up my ankle. The second my head hits the pillow, my body betrays me. I can barely keep my eyes open.

Caleb chuckles softly. “You’re dead on your feet, pip-squeak.”

“M’not,” I mumble into the blanket.

His fingers brush against my forehead. “Get some sleep.”

I barely register it before I’m gone.

I wake up to the midday sun cutting through the curtains, painting golden lines across my blanket. I blink blearily at the clock on my bedside table. 1:07 PM.

Groaning, I shove the blanket off and attempt to sit up. My body protests immediately, stiff and sore from yesterday’s disaster. But it’s my ankle that really makes its presence known. The moment I try to put weight on it, pain shoots up my leg like a live wire.

“Shit,” I hiss, immediately shifting my weight onto my good leg.

Caleb is nowhere to be seen. There’s no note, no message, nothing.

I hobble toward the kitchen and scavenge the fridge for anything remotely edible. I settle on a leftover sandwich from god knows when and shove it into my mouth while making coffee because I absolutely need coffee before I attempt any kind of thinking.

Once my mug is in hand, I limp over to my bag, rummage through it, and pull out the diagram. The paper is a mess. Torn in a few places, some edges scorched, and there are dark smears—blood, probably—along one side, but it’s mostly intact.

I spread it out on my coffee table, smoothing the wrinkles as best I can.

It looks like an anatomical diagram, the kind you’d see in a medical textbook. The body is divided into sections, limbs marked with different colours—blue for the arms, hands, and feet. Orange for the legs. Red for the lungs and eyes.

Handwritten notes litter the page in cramped, messy script. Some are half-faded, smudged, or written so erratically they barely look like words. I squint, trying to make sense of them.

“Connection unstable—test phase delayed”

“Regeneration rates inconsistent—unknown factors?”

“Nerve integration successful in some subjects—rejection in others”

“Conscious recalibration—sensory interference noted. Next steps: remove—”

The rest of that sentence trails into a smudge. It must mean something. I just don’t know what yet. The moment I hear the beep outside my door, my stomach plummets. 

Shit. 

I scramble, shoving the diagram under the couch as fast as my injured ankle will allow. It crumples slightly, but I don’t have time to worry about that. 

Just as the lock clicks, I throw myself into what I can only assume is the most unnatural, casual pose ever attempted. One hand props up my head, elbow bent at an awkward angle, while my other arm drapes across my knee. I stretch my lips into what I hope is a relaxed smile.

Caleb steps inside, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. He barely glances at me before shutting the door with his foot. Then, after a beat, his head tilts, violet eyes narrowing. "What—what are you doin’?”

"Sitting." My voice comes out weirdly high-pitched. I clear my throat and nod, as if that will make me sound more convincing. "Just… sitting. On the floor. As one does."

His lips twitch. I see it—the restrained smirk, the amusement dancing in his eyes like he’s already rehearsing a dozen ways to mock me. "Uh-huh. Well, enjoy that."

He strides past me, drops the takeout bag on the coffee table, and then crouches to hand me the shopping bag. I grab it, a little too eager for the distraction. My fingers curl around a sleek box, and as I pull it out, I realize what it is.

A new phone. 

"You—?"

"You needed a new one," Caleb declares simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "So, here."

I stare at the box, then at him. Then back at the box. My heart does some strange manoeuvre in my chest, an almost imperceptible stutter, and I internally tell it to shut up. This isn’t a big deal. He’s just being practical. It’s not like he—

I shake my head, cutting off the thought before it can finish. 

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this," I say, turning the box over in my hands. "I could’ve gotten one myself."

"Yeah? When?" Caleb leans back, arms crossing over his chest. "You were just gonna hobble your way to the store? Maybe crawl there on your hands and knees?"

I scowl and open the box with a little more force than necessary. It’s a really nice phone. Better than the one I had before. Which makes it harder to say anything snarky about it.

Caleb settles in, digging into his food like this is just another normal day, like my stomach isn’t doing flips and my hands aren’t suddenly too warm holding this stupid phone. I try to focus on the takeout, but my brain won’t stop its nattering.

Why does everything feel different now? Why is he so annoyingly casual while I’m over here malfunctioning like a broken android? I just need to act normal. Be normal.

…Whatever the hell that means right now.

Caleb sits on the couch, tossing one arm over the backrest as he watches me with a raised brow. "So, what was that little pose about? Tryin’ to impress me? Because I have to say, sitting on the floor like a weirdo isn't your most flatterin’ angle."

I scowl at him, crossing my arms. "I was stretching."

"Stretching," he repeats, voice flat. "With a sprained ankle?"

"Yes."

His lips twitch, and I know he's trying not to laugh at me. I busy myself with unwrapping the food he brought because if there's one thing I can count on, it's that stuffing my mouth will prevent me from saying anything idiotic.

For a few minutes, it's easy, the same back-and-forth we've always had. Caleb teases, I deflect, he smirks, I roll my eyes. It's comfortable.

But then his expression shifts. The humour drains from his features, and he rubs the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor. “Listen. About before. When you found that room. I— I lost my temper. I shouldn't have reacted like that. Did I hurt you?”

I swallow my bite, setting the food aside. “You scared me," I admit. ”But I'm fine. You didn’t hurt me."

His jaw flexes, and he exhales slowly. "Still. I shouldn't have—"

"Caleb," I interrupt, giving him a pointed look. "It's done. Just... don’t do it again."

His violet eyes flit to mine, searching, before he gives a small nod. A muscle still tics in his cheek, but he lets it drop.

I lean back on my palms, watching him carefully. "Are you going to tell me what that room is now?"

His gaze sharpens. "Are you going to tell me what you were doin’ that got you hurt?"

I tense. So does he.

A stalemate.

My fingers curl against the floor. I see the resolve in his expression, the same quiet, unmovable determination I’ve come to recognize over the years. He’s not going to budge.

But neither am I.

The weight of all the secrets between us settles onto my shoulders, pressing down like a phantom hand. I hate it. The not knowing. The space between us where there used to be none. 

More than that, I worry. Because if I'm keeping things from him, then he's keeping things from me. And whatever he's hiding? 

I have the sinking feeling it's worse.

Thank you to everyone who's read, reblogged, or left comments! Your support keeps me inspired. 💕

[parrish-the-thot]

What if in season three Janet and Yuri become a science duo? Yuri has shown knowledge and interest in science, plus janet having someone who sees her an an equal in the partnership, perfect science duo

[gumy-shark]

on one hand never trust how you feel about yourself as a person after the sun goes down, especially if you have a known pattern of catastrophizing your own behavior into you somehow being a secretly evil Bad Person. on the other hand night time is when i do my best introspection