#they have done nothing wrong in their lives ever

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[00kittenz]

── homie hoppin’ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) ּ 𓂅⋆ 📙

๑ Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some “mystery girl” that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions you’ve been hiding all along.

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but she’s sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesn’t happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything 😴, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857

thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldn’t have done it without them frfr. also here’s a silly little preview of what’s to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. he’d rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anyway— most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyone’s mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasn’t anything good that was being said about the girl he’s been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.

“oh you know about y/n? isn’t she the one who’s always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldn’t trust her around my man even for a second..”

“didn’t she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, she’s always messing around with different guys..”

“wasn’t she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.”

he couldn’t believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you weren’t a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two weren’t exclusive but you’ve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that you’d always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.

you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went you’d turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts you’d always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didn’t need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.

it wasn’t until heeseung began hearing more about his friend’s sex lives that he’d grow more suspicious of what’s really going on. he usually zones out and doesn’t really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasn’t all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy they’d get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the ‘most life changing head’ he’s ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.

heeseung wasn’t adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe he’s just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. there’s no way. he’s sure there’s plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isn’t the only one that you’re sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he were to find out that happened..

his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him what’s so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says it’s nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that he’s going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now he’s really starting to overthink at this point. there’s absolutely no way you’re actually fucking all of his friends and he doesn’t have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isn’t that stupid. he’s probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence… right ?

just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

[patricia-taxxon]

i was reminded of this anemic post by a reblog, and i wanna emphasize, this is the neurodiversity version of when someone immerses themselves in an online community of outsiders for too long without engaging with normal society until they're saying "but we shouldn't shame women for wanting to be housewives" and thinking its a hot take. if someone "pathologizes their behavior" it is likely the first time they have ever done so in their lives, if a neurodivergent person legitimately tried to use their condition as an "excuse" towards you it is because they trust you more than any other human on earth and the maddening refusal to acknowledge this is nothing short of terminal entitlement.

there are endless reblogs and replies who seem to be trying to convince me this post says something it doesn't. there is nothing compassionate about telling disabled people to forever concede that their behaviors are indistinguishable from a neurotypical person who simply sucks and is wrong all the time.

Sick list of symptoms bro. Now try humanizing your behavior instead of pathologizing it.

[camzeecorner]

Promiscuous 18+

Working for Mr. Sturniolo always seemed straightforward. He was often away, and even when he was home, our paths rarely crossed. Despite his youth, he maintained himself impeccably, and I admired that about him. Our interactions were limited to polite greetings, nothing more. I’d been his maid for three years, having taken over after he fired the previous one for stealing. A year into my employment, he invited me to live with him, a gesture of trust that I accepted without hesitation. At 22, living alone, the prospect of some company was appealing.

Living with him was uncomplicated. His demanding schedule kept him out of the house most of the time. I established a routine, ensuring I worked around the times he entertained guests. The house was expansive, requiring significant time and effort to maintain. Yet, I enjoyed my work. Mr. Sturniolo wasn’t difficult or strict. He had an air of mystery and sophistication that intrigued me, and I found myself looking forward to the rare moments our paths did cross.

“Valoree? My office, please.” Mr. Sturniolo's voice echoed down the hall. He only ever called me to his office when he had important information to share. Walking quickly, I approached his large door, knocking three times before hearing his voice granting me entry.

“Sir, you called for me?” I asked, stepping in. I stood a solid five feet away from his desk, knowing he didn’t like hovering. He cleared his throat, shutting his laptop before readjusting his blazer.

“Yes, I did. How’s your day?” he asked calmly, his face a mask of professionalism.

I offered him a warm smile. “Very good, sir, thank you for asking. And yours?” I returned the kind question.

“It’s uh...” he glanced to the side, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not too bad. Very slow, if I’m honest.” He smiled softly at me, a rare sight that made my heart skip a beat.

I nodded, acknowledging his words, and stood still, waiting for his next move. His eyes lingered on my small frame, making me feel both exposed and intrigued. “Valoree... the reason I called you in was because...” He paused, looking at me with an intensity that made my palms sweat.

I began to shift on my feet, growing increasingly nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and my heart started to race. Had I done something wrong?

“Don’t be so nervous, doll... just sending an invitation your way.” He smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth, and chuckled lightly. My shoulders slumped in relief, and I exhaled a sharp breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Oh! How wonderful to hear. Thank you, sir,” I replied, my voice tinged with excitement.

“No problem, Val. I’ll have everything you need to know emailed to you before 7. Don’t worry about any preparations; it’s all on me. My treat.” His words were reassuring, and I couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” I said, nodding enthusiastically.

He smiled back at me, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Valoree. You’ve been good to me and my home. I wanted to return the favor with a nice dinner.”

My heart warmed at his words, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. He was a true charm, and he knew it. “Thank you, sir,” I replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

“You’re welcome, doll.” His voice was low and smooth. He always called me doll, saying I resembled one. I found it both corny and cute, a charming quirk of his. Just then, his phone chimed, signaling an incoming message. “I’ve gotta take this, shut the door on your way out,” he instructed.

As I left his office, I couldn’t help but think about him. Back in my room, I lay on my bed, thoughts of Mr. Sturniolo swirling in my mind. I couldn’t deny that I found him incredibly attractive. He was undeniably handsome, and the fact that he had two identical brothers only added to his allure. I had met his triplet brothers briefly, just enough for a bit of small talk, but nothing more.

I often imagined what it would be like if Mr. Sturniolo and I were friends. My interactions were mostly limited to his coworkers who came over in the mornings before heading out on business trips with him. I knew my life was small and lonely, but sometimes I thought it was better this way. It kept things simple, even if it meant longing for something more.

A small knock echoed at my door. I pulled myself off the bed and hurried to answer it. Opening the door, I was surprised to find my boss standing there. "Hey, I’ve gotta run somewhere really quick. Get dressed and I’ll meet you out front," he said hurriedly before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

He had never invited me to join him on his errands before. Excitement and curiosity bubbled up inside me as I quickly shut the door and walked to my closet. I picked out a nice sundress and my white pumps. The white dress contrasted beautifully against my smooth brown skin as I slid it on, carefully straightening the bottom to ensure it looked perfect.

I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric one last time before grabbing my purse. My heart was racing with anticipation. What could be so urgent that he needed me to come along? I stepped out of my room and made my way to the front of the house, where he was already waiting by the car.

He glanced up as I approached, a small smile playing on his lips. "You look nice," he remarked, opening the car door for me. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I thanked him and slid into the passenger seat.

As he drove, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. His focus was on the road, but there was a certain intensity in his eyes that made me wonder what was on his mind. The silence between us was comfortable, yet charged with unspoken words. Finally, he broke the silence. "I hope you don't mind me dragging you out like this. I just thought... it might be nice to have some company for a change."

His words caught me off guard, and I found myself smiling. "I don't mind at all," I replied softly. "It's a nice change of pace."

We continued driving, the cityscape giving way to more open roads. I couldn't help but feel a sense of adventure, not knowing where we were headed but trusting him completely.

We arrived roughly about 13 minutes later, stopping in front of a tall, imposing warehouse-like building. Mr. Sturniolo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door with a swift, confident motion. "I’ll be back in about 3 minutes, just sit tight. If someone approaches you, just say you work for me," he instructed, his voice firm yet reassuring as he began to walk away. I smiled and nodded at his words, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "Yes, sir," I replied calmly, watching him disappear into the shadows of the building.

As I sat in the car, the minutes seemed to stretch on longer than they should. The dimly lit surroundings and the eerie silence of the warehouse district made me feel uneasy. I glanced around, trying to distract myself, but my mind kept drifting back to Mr. Sturniolo's instructions. Suddenly, I noticed a figure approaching from the corner of my eye. My heart rate quickened as the person drew nearer. Remembering his words, I took a deep breath and prepared myself to say I worked for him, hoping they would pass by without incident.

The figure continued to approach, and I could now make out more details—a tall, burly man with a stern expression. He stopped right next to the car, peering inside. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice gruff and suspicious.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "I work for Mr. Sturniolo," I said as confidently as I could muster. The man scrutinized me for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"Alright," he finally said, stepping back. "Just making sure. This area isn't safe for strangers."

With that, he walked away, and I let out a sigh of relief. Moments later, Mr. Sturniolo returned, a small, satisfied smile on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked as he got back into the car.

"Yes, sir," I replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and excitement.

When we arrived back home, Mr. Sturniolo parked the car and turned to me. "Remember, dinner is at 8 PM. Everything you need to know has been emailed to you," he reminded me before heading inside.

I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

I went straight to my room, eager to see what awaited me. As soon as I opened the door, my eyes were drawn to the beautiful dress laid out across my bed. A note was placed delicately on top, reading, "For tonight - Mr. Sturniolo."

I picked up the dress, admiring its elegance and the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. With a smile, I started getting ready for what promised to be an unforgettable evening.

As the clock ticked closer to 8 PM, I finished getting ready, carefully putting on the dress Mr. Sturniolo had left for me. It fit perfectly, making me feel more confident and excited for the evening.

I made my way downstairs, where Mr. Sturniolo was already waiting. He looked up as I entered the room, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "You look stunning, Valoree," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than usual.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

We headed to the dining room, where a beautifully set table awaited us. The ambiance was perfect, with soft lighting and a hint of music playing in the background. As we sat down, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation for what the night would bring.

Throughout dinner, Mr. Sturniolo shared the information he had mentioned earlier, discussing various topics and plans. The conversation flowed easily, and I found myself more drawn to him with each passing moment. Dinner began with a light appetizer, and as we started eating, Mr. Sturniolo poured us each a glass of wine. He raised his glass, and I followed suit.

"To a successful evening," I echoed, clinking my glass against his. The wine was delicious, and it wasn't long before I felt its warmth spreading through me.

"So, Valoree, tell me more about yourself," he began, his tone casual but genuinely interested. "We've worked together for a while, but I feel like there's still so much I don't know about you."

I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease with the alcohol loosening my nerves. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. I grew up in a small town, always dreamed of coming to the city. I guess you could say I'm still adjusting to the fast pace of it all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "The city can be overwhelming, but it has its charms. What's been the biggest adjustment for you?"

"Probably the noise," I admitted with a laugh. "Back home, it was so quiet at night. Here, there's always something happening. It took me a while to get used to it."

"I can imagine," he said, refilling our glasses. "But you've adapted well. You're doing a great job here."

"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. "I really appreciate that."

"Please, call me Chris," he insisted, a playful smile on his lips. "We're off the clock now."

"Alright, Chris," I said, testing the name on my tongue. It felt strange but good. "What about you? What's your story?"

He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "Oh, where to begin? I grew up here, in the city. Always knew I wanted to go into business. It's been a long journey, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Any regrets?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Not many," he said after a moment. "But if I had to pick one, it would be not taking enough time to enjoy the little things. Life moves fast, and sometimes I forget to slow down."

We continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily as the wine continued to flow. We shared stories, laughed, and learned more about each other. I found myself drawn to his confidence, his intelligence, and the way he seemed to genuinely care about what I had to say.

As the night wore on, we both became a bit more relaxed, our words slurring slightly as the alcohol took its toll. At one point, he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "I'm really glad we did this, Valoree," he said softly. "It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much."

"Me too," I replied, my heart racing at his touch. "It's been a wonderful evening."

We continued to talk, our voices growing softer as the night deepened. The connection between us felt stronger with each passing moment.

“Why don’t we go to my room. It’s much more comfortable in there” He spoke suddenly breaking off my thoughts.

“Oh- okay,” I giggled slightly, the alcohol in my system making me giggle more than usual. I got up, stumbling over my feet a little. We headed into his room through the wide, large doors. He stepped aside, letting me enter first. His room was simple yet inviting, decorated in shades of grey, white, and black. It was casual, just like him. The bed was neatly made, and the floor was spotless. A warm, comforting scent of burning wood filled the air, wrapping me in a sense of coziness.

"It's not often we're alone together," he began, moving beside me to catch a glimpse of my profile. "I've had a fantastic evening with you. It's been a while since I could just relax and have some fun."

I turned slightly to face him. "I'm thrilled you enjoyed your time as much as I did. Dinner was incredible," I beamed. "I didn't know you cooked." He chuckled softly. "I don't. Not often, really." I nodded.

"You look stunning as well." He gazed into my eyes, a fiery passion lighting up the room. I glanced down, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. I nervously bit my lip, a telltale sign of my unease.

"Thank you. You've got great taste," I playfully replied. He stepped closer, sweeping my curls over my shoulder. I observed his face as he inched nearer to me.

"I couldn't picture anyone else in this dress but you. A true doll," he whispered, leaning in by my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

He pulled me closer to his body, wrapping his arm around my torso. “But you’d look much better…” he trailed off, his fingertips delicately tracing the edge of my ribbon. With a swift, practiced motion, he undid the knot, letting the dress flow as it slipped slightly. “With it off.”

I gasped as the cold air kissed my back, making me shiver. I jumped slightly, instinctively clinging to his warm body for comfort. His hands found my bare back, gliding down with a gentle but possessive touch.

“Just as I imagined. Even more beautiful.” He leaned his head back, locking eyes with me, his gaze filled with admiration and desire.

I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but the room was met with silence, too shocked to form words. I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts. “Chris…” I began, my voice barely a whisper. Maybe it was all the alcohol he had consumed moments before that made him feel so powerful.

“Hm?” he questioned, his eyes dark with intent. His lips met my neck, quickly tracing kisses down to my shoulder. His lips were soft and delicate, treating my skin as if it were fragile paper. Carefully caressing me, he massaged my skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. I gasped from the sensation, his lips tracing around me, igniting a fire of pure lust within.

I pulled my body towards him, caught in the intensity of the moment. It was unprofessional to kiss your boss, I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself. My heart raced as I found his face, gently pulling it closer.

I kissed him lightly, our lips brushing softly. “Was that okay?” I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation. “Sweetheart, that’s all I’ve been wanting all night,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

I pulled my body towards him once more, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. A soft moan escaped me as our tongues danced together, a fiery sensation enveloping us. Lost in the intensity, my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently. His hands explored every inch of my body, tracing my curves with a burning desire.

Slowly, I began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, careful not to damage the delicate fabric. As I slipped it off, I couldn't help but admire his perfectly toned chest, the faint outline of a six-pack and the alluring V-line peeking from his trousers. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

I looked up at his face again, my eyes tracing every detail of his striking features. His chiseled jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a gentle smile—all of it captivated me. I couldn't help but smile back at him. "You're very handsome," I whispered, my voice barely audible. His smile widened, and he brought his hand to my cheek, his touch gentle and warm. "Thank you," he murmured, before pulling me in for another kiss.

Our lips met, moving in perfect harmony, each kiss deepening our connection. Suddenly, I felt his hands slide under me, lifting me effortlessly. I gasped, caught off guard by his strength and the sudden movement.

He carried me effortlessly, his strength evident in the way he held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. He walked us to the bed, gently laying me down. His eyes never left mine, filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I want to make this moment unforgettable." His words sent shivers down my spine. As he began to explore my body with his hands and lips, every touch felt electric, igniting a fire within me. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, lost in each other.

He began trailing light feather like kisses down my body. Placing each kiss with love I couldn’t help but feel the wetness between my legs. I bit my lip suppressing the sound.

He placed a kiss right above my heat, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His fingers moved slowly, teasingly, towards my folds. I couldn't help but thrust my hips slightly, desperate for any touch. "Be patient, doll, okay? Can you do that?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire. I nodded eagerly, my breath hitching. "Yes, I can," I replied, my voice trembling with anticipation. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, savoring every sensation he bestowed upon me. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me crave more.

He slowly pulled my legs apart, his eyes never leaving my face. I could feel the intensity of his gaze, a hard stare that made my heart race. Not daring to look at him, I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. Suddenly, I gasped as I felt his mouth attach to my lips, the sensation overwhelming. "Oh—Chris... mm," I whimpered softly, the sound barely escaping my lips. It had been so long since I felt this way with a partner. Life had kept me so busy that I never had time to find someone, and now, every touch, every kiss, felt like a rediscovery of forgotten pleasure.

"Does that feel good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. I nodded, barely able to form any words, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I felt his hair brush against the inner part of my thigh, tickling me slightly and adding to the overwhelming sensations. My body twitched, overpowered by the intensity of the feelings. His tongue lapped up every drop that pooled from me, making it nearly impossible to keep my composure. His tongue moved at a fast pace, expertly working its magic. I sighed deeply, the pleasure coursing through me like a wave, each stroke of his tongue sending shivers down my spine.

I felt his fingers enter into me slowly. Gasping at the feeling i exhaled loudly. “Oh my.. Chris please. Please don’t stop.” I begged and whimper pathetically. I tugged on his hair as he sucked at flicked at my clit. His fingers pushing in and out of me like a machine.

He rubbed my clit slowly in small circles. As he began working his fingers I felt small kisses being placed on my thighs. We were truly making love.

I was so close to coming undone, I was sure he could tell by the way my legs shook slightly. As I felt my legs begin to close instinctively, he grabbed me with his free hand, firmly forcing them to stay open. A whimper escaped my lips, my mouth hanging open as I struggled to hold back. The tension in my body built up, every nerve ending on fire, as his touch drove me closer to the edge.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," I chanted his name over and over, my voice growing more desperate with each repetition. My breaths came heavily and hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Suddenly, I felt the inside of my stomach explode with a rush of intense pleasure, the sensation radiating outwards. Every ounce of tension that had built up within me released all at once, leaving me trembling and breathless, my body finally succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy.

I sighed, beginning to catch my breath. I sat up slightly, resting my body on my elbows. I looked at Chris as he licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Tastes sweeter than I imagined, doll," he chuckled. I smiled at him and wiped my forehead. "I'm glad you enjoyed that as much as I did." I gazed into his eyes, which sparkled with charm as he smiled at me. He pulled my face closer to his and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "I'll go run you a bath. When you're out, I'll have a change of clothes laid out. Sleep in here with me tonight," he explained.

I couldn't help but smile, truly grateful for him and every experience he had shown me tonight. "Thank you, you don't have to do all that. And I can stay in my room, it's totally fine." He shook his head in protest. "No, I want you here with me. I just want to make sure you get a good rest and feel better."

I walked to the bathroom and sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop me completely. The soothing soap bubbles caressed my skin, and I felt every muscle in my body relax. I had never been the type of girl to go crazy over love, but Chris had shown me something different. His gentle and caring tenderness made me realize how wonderful it feels to be treated with such love. As I lay there, soaking in the warmth, I couldn't help but feel grateful for him and the beautiful moments we shared.

𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous

[yallthemwitches]

Whispers in the Dark

“And—I dunno. They’re barking mad but I love them. I’m an only child so I imagine you understand now why I’m like this.” He makes a rare self-deprecating gesture towards himself, something the James from a year ago would never have done. It makes Lily break into a real laugh.  “And this,” Lily mirrors his gesture, “meaning…” James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. “This meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other people’s personal lives.” 

When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing. But if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught? Oneshot, Rated T--- AO3 Link Here

Fifth Year 

By the time Lily was awarded her badge, James Potter was already bestowed a nickname among the prefects: The Shadow. 

“Don’t you think that's a bit too ominous for a git who just mucks around all night?” Next to her, Remus snorts but keeps his eyes low. 

“You won’t understand until you have your first patrol—it's like he just…disappears.” The way the Head Boy says it, it makes James sound like some sort of spectre plaguing the corridors, not some untidy haired knob trying to explode the toilets. Lily’s eyes sink as Remus covers a cough that suspiciously sounds like a laugh. 

“Care to elaborate on your mate then, Remus?” She flashes him an innocent smile. Even under the newfound pressure he doesn’t straighten, rather pulling a pack of muggle cigarettes out of his cloak and tapping it on his knee. 

“Nothing to say,” Remus replies cooly, shooting Lily an equally saccharine grin, “just that you better hope he never hears about his little nickname if you don’t want him to be even more incorrigible.”

“Why? I thought you boys dug little nicknames.” She narrows her eyes, accepting the challenge to get him to respond with anything other than collected nonchalance. 

“Trust me on this one—he will be unbearable.”

* * * * *

The worst part of it all is that the senior prefects weren’t wrong, he really would just be there. 

“Alright Evans?” 

She whips around, wand already poised. The corridors leading to the dungeons are more shadowed than the rest of the school, but her eyes have already adjusted to the dark and from what she can tell, she is alone. 

“Potter—I’m not in the mood.” 

There’s a shuffle and she hears a boy's voice murmur ‘when is she ever’ before a round of clipped laughs trickle in the darkness. She turns again, trying to find the source. 

“You gits—I know you are here and I'll give you detention whether I can see you or not.”

She turns again and lets out a small gasp. James stands at the far reaches of her wand light, eyes dancing with mirth behind the reflection of his glasses. 

“Congratulations on the ah…promotion,” he grins and she feels the bristle of anger pull at the hair on her neck. 

She wants to prove herself as the only muggleborn prefect—and what better way than to catch this so-called Shadow. She takes a cautious step forward, worried he will skitter away like a wild animal if she moves too quickly. James just continues to grin, a hand grasping something shimmery behind his back. 

“You’re not supposed to be out.” She takes another step and he eyes her warily. 

“Oh, is that right?” He makes a show of looking around, brow furrowed in confusion. “Wow–sorry about that! Guess I got the time confused.” Another round of muffled laughter comes from behind him.

“C’mon, I’m escorting you back to the tower.” She moves to grab his arm but he jumps backwards, running into something that she can’t see but an oof and hey! ring out from the shadows. 

“As much as I’d love a romantic stroll with you Evans, I’m actually late to another engagement,” he tuts, his smile turning into a sly grin. The hand that has been behind his back lifts up and a portion of his arm disappears, then the rest of his body until his face hovers completely detached in the dark. 

“Raincheck though?” His grin hangs in the air for a second longer before the darkness takes him, but his presence still lingers. Nothing remains but the cold feeling of being watched. 

* * * * *

She’s still not used to it. The random appearances, the floating grins, the whispers in the dark which make her feel like she is living in a rabbit hole rather than a castle. It’s no wonder the prefects leave catching him up to Filch these days—he haunts them. 

“Hey Evans—”

She hopes that wherever he is hiding, he doesn’t see her jump. Turning towards the sound of his voice, he appears just a couple of steps away, hand already running through his hair. 

“I’ll make you a deal Potter, if you fuck off and don’t talk to me, I won’t give you detention.”

She expects him to consider it, but he doesn’t. His eyes are missing the glimmer they usually have when she runs into him at night. Instead, he keeps his head bowed, a frown weighing down his features. 

“I came to talk…to apologize for today.”

She doesn’t want to hear it. Turning on her heel she stalks off in the other direction but he catches up easily. 

“I don’t want some fake apology. I want you to leave me alone.”

Of course he doesn’t listen. He keeps her stride, angling his face to catch her eyes with his.

“It’s not fake–I really am sorry,” he gasps out, “ I was a git and never expected for Snive–Snape to say those things about you–.”

She stops dead in her tracks, her whole body contracting in anger. 

“Sorry? Are you sorry for all the other times you have bullied him too? Sorry for all the other shite you do to everyone around you? I don’t want your apology from you or from him–and I especially don’t want to rehash it with you right now.”

James doesn’t coil back, eyeing her with a brooding pain that feels out of place on his features.

“I know he was your friend. He shouldn’t say those things to you–friends don’t do that.”

It catches her off guard. She certainly isn’t looking for friendship advice from Potter, but he also has hit the nerve that’s been plaguing her all day. 

“I know I’m an arsehole–especially to Snape...but I’d never say something like that to my mates…or to you.”

Her eyes start to sting but the thought of crying in front of him feels like the most incorrigible thing that could possibly happen. She jerks away, stumbling in the direction they had come from. 

“Leave me alone—please.”

He doesn’t follow her like last time and she forces herself forward, rubbing the tears from her eyes. At the end of the corridor, she turns around, expecting to see him standing where she left him and some sick part of her hopes for it. But he has listened for once: he is gone—actually gone. 

* * * * *

She wishes she could disappear as easily as he could right about now. 

“Uhm… Evans?” James leans against the trophy case, a wet rag hanging at his side on his pointer finger. 

She calculates the possibility of turning around and pretending she never entered. Zero to none. On the table, a detention slip sits idly. A scratchy hand reads:

James Potter, Gryffindor, 5th year

Offense: Hexing and physical altercation with Slytherin boys ( 5th and 6th years)

Punishment: Trophy polishing—2 hours

She sighs, placing the paper down and settling her bag on the floor. “Filch is out dealing with a hinkypunk—I’m surveilling tonight.” She doesn’t look at him, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. “So, go on—I’m told you have some trophies to polish.”

James’ eyes remain wide as he nods, turning back to the case. With his back to her, she steals a moment to take him in—his shoulders are squared and there is something more wooden about his movements than she remembers. They haven’t spoken since she told him to leave her alone and she wonders if that’s the reason she hasn’t been seeing him as often. She hates to admit it, but patrols have become boring without him. 

Too busy deciphering his body language, she doesn’t catch him pulling his wand out of his pocket. With one swish, all the trophies gleam. 

“Hey! That’s not the punishment.”

 He turns, an eyebrow cocked upwards. “Yes it is, you said to polish the trophies… So I did.” 

Arrogant little shit. She hates when he’s right—which unfortunately is more often than she wants to admit. She sits on the ground and starts to fish through her bag, pulling out a transfiguration textbook and a parchment.

“Fine, fine. Then just be quiet over there—I have to get this essay finished.”

But she’s a fool to think that he will follow directions. He makes it about thirty seconds before he is up off the ground, coming to lean down and read over her shoulder with his head tilted downwards.

“It’s pretty good so far but you mis-characterized the difference between illusionment and deflection charms.”

She looks up with an insult already poised on her lips but is stopped short by the proximity of his face. Leaning down, his glasses are slipping off and she can see a small bruise blooming on his cheekbone just under his rims.

“Did a Slytherin give you that?” 

He pokes at the bruise curiously, also just noticing it. 

“Ah bugger.” He sits down next to her, splaying his legs in front of him while leaning on his hands. “Mulciber’s work I think. He’s fine at dueling but shite at punching—surprised he even got a decent hit.”

“So what, you’ve moved on to physical violence for fun?”

He whips his head around. For once, his eyes are absent of anything other than seriousness. 

“No actually. Just sticking up for my friends.” His stare is so intense she has to look away.

“I think Black can stick up for himself fine.”

“Yeah, Sirius can, but Remus can’t—not always.”

Now it’s her turn to stare. She had been curious as to why Remus hadn’t been on patrols earlier. It was hard to imagine him in a real argument, much less a physical scuffle. 

“Is he ok? Remus I mean.” The worry in her voice softens his gaze a bit, shoulders relaxing. 

“Yeah—he’s…he’s going to be fine.” James teeters off, something hidden behind his words. 

“Well–I’m glad.” She means it, though it feels understated. Her mind wanders to how often Severus would theorize about Remus’ absences and pushes away the idea that he could be behind the fight. 

“Do you want something? I mean for the bruise?” She rummages around in her bag again and pulls out a vial of white liquid. Handing it to him, he eyes it warily before opening the bottle and giving it a sniff. 

“It’s Mountain Arnica. I made it myself—heals cuts and scrapes pretty well.” 

James pulls his glasses up to his forehead and uses the pad of his finger to dab some onto the bruise. She makes a subconscious note that his eyes are much clearer without the glasses covering them. 

“You getting into a lot of tussles to warrant a bottle of this?” He flashes her a sly smile, warming back into form. 

She shrugs. “In second and third there were some Slytherins that liked to bother me. I guess I got used to carrying it.”

All amusement drops from his face, eyes flooding with concern. “But I thought you were mates with Snape.”

“Yeah well,” she sighs, “we’ve both seen Snape’s track record for sticking up for me.”

She waits for a cutting jab at Severus’ expense but he gives none. 

“Thanks for this,” he says and reaches the vial back out.

“No, you keep it.” She doesn’t know what compels her, but she gives him the first genuine smile in years, “I’m sure you can find better use for it.”

The smile he offers back feels warm, real. 

“Thank Evans,” he says as he slips the vial into his pocket.

“Remus will love it.”

* * * * *

For once, and unfortunately so, she finds him completely visible.

“Ah don’t be such a puss Evans. James was just escorting me back to my dorms.” 

She finds the two walking down past the kitchens, easily detected by the way Olivia’s voice bounces off the cold stone of the corridors.They weren’t touching when she caught sight of them, but as she approaches, Olivia clasps onto James’ limp arm, giggling with a coy smile.

“Don’t know if you can read a clock, but whatever you could have possibly been doing to need an escort was already past curfew.”

James shifts his weight, being more silent than she has ever seen him in five years combined. Olivia gives another high pitched giggle, tightening her hold on his arm. 

“Sorry Evans, we were just busy. Lost track of time y’know?” Lily can feel her dinner resurfacing in the back of her throat.

“Well, I don’t care to know about your extracurriculars,” she turns her head, hoping to mask the flush she can feel on her cheeks, “it’s still twenty points each and a round of detention.”

James raises his head and eyes her with a curiosity that she is unwilling to acknowledge. Beside him, Olivia feigns a pout.

“Ah, bugger. Well, I guess that means we will be seeing each other again, right James?” 

Lily’s eyes flick over to him. His curiosity has settled into a tense stare, eyes blown out and focused solely on her. 

“Er, probably not,” he says with a wooden tone. Olivia’s eyes narrow, her fingers uncurling slightly from his bicep but not letting go. 

As per protocol, she escorts them the short distance to the Hufflepuff dorm which they do in silence. Olivia keeps herself attached to James’ arm, but he gives no reciprocation, letting it swing loose at his side. At the entrance, Olivia casts another hopeful glance at him, expecting some form of goodnight, but he remains distant, pulling his arm away from hers like removing an annoying arm brace. With a huff, Olivia ducks into the common room without as much as a goodbye. 

With Olivia gone, it’s business as usual and Lily escorts James back to the tower like she’s done so many nights already. But instead of the teasing, the idle small talk, the quippy banter, James remains quiet, their steps echoing through the halls. 

Even in the silence, even with James’ new pensive behavior, Lily feels lighter with Olivia gone. She steals a glance at him and she can see there is red blotching under the rims of his glasses, eyes focused only ahead at the darkness. A sick part of her wants to demand what he was doing with Olivia– wants to hear it even if she knows her stomach will fill with bile from the answer.

“I really was just walking her back.” His voice cuts through the silence, clear and firm. 

So maybe he is a mind reader now. 

Like him, she doesn’t stop walking. “Bad luck Potter. Maybe next time choose a snog partner who can be a little quieter.” She means to tease, but her voice is cutting, filled with a malice she didn’t realize she was holding. 

He stops and she feels fingers curl against her elbow. For the first time that night, their eyes lock. 

“I wasn’t going to snog her.”

She ignores the feeling that her heart is about to take flight and searches his face for a glimmer of sarcasm.

“Coming from you, a serial liar, it's hard to believe.” She snorts.

“But I’ve never lied to you.”

She doesn’t know what to say. Suddenly, the corridor becomes very hot, the hand still holding her by the elbow now constrictive.

“Whatever, just drop it Potter, It’s really none of my business.”

And he does drop it, letting go of her elbow and taking a few strides in front of her. She rushes to catch up, wondering who is leading who back to the dorms now. 

Their newfound silence and the change in power dynamic makes something like anger take form, twisting her guts into a perilous place of recklessness. 

“Y’know, you could do a lot better than Olivia Gueresso.” She waits for a physical reaction but nothing comes. 

“Well it’s not like you're interested.” He says. His voice is so low and so quick she almost misses it. Almost.

“Potter–” she warns, but James is already bounding through the portrait, hand passing through his hair. She follows him down the tunnel, footsteps echoing around them.

 She doesn’t know what else she wants from him, but if they reach the firelight of the common room it will be too late. 

“Hey, Potter,” she calls louder and the sound bounces. He turns quickly on his heel and Lily runs straight into him, ricocheting back against his chest. Two calloused hands steady her by her shoulders. 

“You know Evans, you’re really lovely in the candlelight.”

It’s that look again. His eyes glazed on her like there is nothing else in existence. It’s the second time he has touched her that hour but this time it feels familiar, perhaps even welcome. 

“What are you—”

But the light of the fireplace takes him. He lopes away up to his dorm, not even giving a goodnight. 

* * * * *

Sixth Year

He wants to be caught. 

Like normal, he steps out of the shadows but it no longer jars her like it did back in fifth. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him at the welcome ceremony but now she can see he has grown over summer. His body is somehow more lean and muscular all at once; his hair wilder, curling farther down his neck. Instead of his typical urge to immediately run a hand through it the second he spots her, his arms stay casual by his sides. 

“Trying to be awarded the first detention of the year, Potter?” She says cooly, but her heart is already betraying her—something it’s been doing more and more often as her thoughts drifted to him over the summer. 

“If it’s from you, it would be an honor.” His grin grows, his dimple more pronounced. 

Lily attempts to scoff, but finds it much more bearable to avert her eyes. Maybe he had stumbled into some good candlelight, but the longer he remains in front of her the more it’s clear what’s so different about him: he is now infuriatingly fit. 

“Ok–so where’s the gang? Might as well give it up since you are getting detention no matter what.”

His smile doesn’t waver. “No gang-–I’m solo tonight.”

She dares to look him in the eyes, ignoring the whooshing feeling in her chest. He’s telling the truth. 

“Alright, so what? You gonna get early revenge on the Slytherins by yourself?”

He makes a humming noise and his cheeks start to take on a bit more color. 

“No– actually I just wanted to see you.”

It stops all of her thoughts dead. Something about how a small blush colors his cheeks makes her heart beat a bit faster.

“And you couldn’t see me at dinner or in the common room like a normal person?” 

“Yeah well, it’s not like any of our mates would act normal if I tried to ask about your summer over the welcome feast,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair, now clearly a move of anxiety more than arrogance.

She takes a small step towards him. “That’s really what you want, Potter? You broke school rules on night one to ask me about my holidays?”

“I mean—-yes?” He rubs a hand through his hair again, eyes starting to shift away. A rush of something that resembles pride takes over her. James Potter is feeling sheepish because of me.

She lets him stew for a minute, mostly to take in the rare power she is wielding before giving him a smirk. 

“So do it.”

“Do what?” James gives her an incredulous look, face now so red he could have been slapped. 

“Ask about my summer—or did you already forget that’s what you are here for?” 

It takes a second, but a grin breaks out on his face, returning him back to form. “Alright Evans—how was your summer?”

Lily hums clasping her hands behind her back. “Well my dad died so—”

“Bloody hell,” James runs both hands through his air, all facial features frozen in complete shock. “I mean, Godric, Evans I’m so sorry–that’s…that’s…”

Lily waves a hand in dismissal to distract from any emotion that could be peaking on her face. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. He was a raging arsehole anyways.”

He looks at her, eyes wide and fixated. “Yeah but still—is your mum ok?”

She looks down the hall, trying to stay nonchalant. “Yeah, I mean she’s fine—seeing as she’s been dead since fourth year.”

“Godric Fuck.” He does a quick spin on his heels, taking a step away from her with his head in his hands before turning back.

“I’m– shit--How did I not know this?”

Lily frowns at him, tilting her head. “What do you mean? It’s not like we’re close or anything.”

Something about saying that feels false but she pushes the thought away.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we’ve been in the same class, same house since we were eleven. I reckon I’d at least know something—something like that.”

She finds it quite endearing that he reels from this—that they could cohabitate in the same space for so long without knowing the most basic facts about the other. He continues to rub his face in his hands, looking more tortured by the second. 

“Well, to be fair, I don’t know anything about your family either.” She offers.

He straightens up a bit, sensing her attempt to level the playing field. A glimmer of discomfort still sits in his eyes and despite her being the one newly orphaned, she feels a pull to comfort him. 

“Well go on,” she prods, hoping to shift attention away from her, “Tell me about yours. I know they are purebloods…”

He raises an eyebrow, wary to move away from her loss, but letting her take the lead. 

“There’s not much to say—”

 Lily bats her eyes, urging him forward. He sighs.

 “They are still together and disgustingly still in love, which I guess I should appreciate.”

It makes her giggle, thinking about some old wizarding couple making kissing faces while James feigns puking in the corner. His shoulders relax further, leaning into her amusement. 

“And?” 

“And—I dunno. They’re barking mad but I love them. I’m an only child so I imagine you understand now why I’m like this.” He makes a rare self-deprecating gesture towards himself, something the James from a year ago would never have done. It makes Lily break into a real laugh. 

“And this,” Lily mirrors his gesture, “meaning…”

James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. “This meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other people’s personal lives.” 

It is a sentiment she would have agreed with a thousand times in the past, but hearing it from him now makes her reconsider. It might have been true a year ago, but the boy standing in front of her is decidedly changed—for one she likes standing next to him in the dark corridor. 

But she can’t say that.

“Your words.” She doesn’t elaborate but she offers him a real smile, not one with any edge to it and he returns it. 

“Yeah,Evans. My words.”

* * * * *

It starts a sort of friendship between them.  

He learns her schedule quickly, finding her in various places of the castle on any given day. She questions him about how he does it: disappears and reappears, knows exactly where she’s going to be despite intentionally changing her route to confuse him— but he never answers more than a teasing finger wag. “I’ll never reveal my secrets–you know that Evans.”

He no longer hides from her but hides from the others to get to her. Once found, he appears as usual but with conversation already on his lips. He asks about her life, about the muggle world, about music and films and anything that he can think of—making good on all the lost time in the past six years they have been so close but knew nothing of each other. In turn, she does the same: she finds out that Sirius moved in with the Potters, that his dad is celebrated for a hair taming potion that miraculously doesn’t work on his own son (“I swear, it’s my genes Evans, it openly rejects the stuff—I can’t help it.”), that he likes autumn and quidditch in the rain and the color green…

And she is surprised how much she starts to look forward to it. Time has treated him well, the looming war knocking more sense into him than previous years. Instead of being arrogant and self serving, he listens intently, hanging on her every word. They talk passionately about the rising conflict with blood purity and their shared disdain for the dark arts, life after school, their fears for the future. They have more light-hearted moments too: he charms the corridors to play music, daring to take her hand and dance down the hall, brings her a bit of warm bread with cinnamon and sugar from the kitchens, and consistently offers her silly anecdotes that make her laugh harder than she thinks she ever has in her life. Even the silence is comfortable—warm and encompassing like she imagines his physical touch would be if one of them just made the move…

“God, I love Halloween.”

 They sit inside a bay window in the charms corridor, pulling out candy from a plastic bucket shaped like a grinning jack-o-lantern.

“Alright Evans, what in Godric's green potion is this bloody candy?” He holds up a package of candy corn and she giggles, snapping it out of his hands. 

“Don’t act like you’re too good for muggle candy—we both know how disgusting the wizarding stuff can be.”

James feigns aghast, clenching his chest. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t like bogey flavored sugar beans–how could you Evans? An outrage!” 

She lets out a real laugh, one that makes her head tilt back. He’s been making her do that more with each meeting and every time she does the same look crosses his face: one of triumph mixed with something tender.

“Here, just try one—I swear it can’t be worse than anything you’ve already tasted.”

His eyes squint in a mischievous way, turning his head back and forth like a baby refusing a spoon. 

“Nope, no way.” 

She leans over more, encroaching into his personal space to poke his tightened mouth with the tip of the candy. 

“C’mon Potter? Where’s your courage? Your sense of adventure? Your—”

He opens his mouth, sucking in the piece. Her hand falls to his lips, feeling the warm press of his tongue on the pads of her fingers. 

She jerks back, her face blazing hot. Something burning and raw takes over her senses, flooding all vision. 

“Sorry,” he sputters, trying to not choke through his flustering, “I didn’t–”

She doesn’t wait to talk herself out of it. She leans back in, pressing the soft line of her lips to his. His mouth immediately molds into hers. Eager and warm, he tastes like sugar and something unmistakably him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says when she pulls up for air, “ I just wanted to know…we don’t have to—,” but a calloused hand cups her cheek, pulling her mouth back to skim over his. 

“I don’t want your apology,” he whispers and the heat of his breath makes the room spin, “but I would like you to kiss me again.”

Her mouth is already opening, slotting into place with his. He sighs into her and she can’t think of a more wonderful sound in the world. 

“Alright Potter, I’ll allow it.”

* * * * *

“Are you sure they can’t see us?” It comes out more as a pant than a sentence. James’ lips are working down her neck, hands taking advantage of her open shirt to explore undiscovered skin. 

He hardly lifts his mouth and her body reacts to the heat of his breath, arching forwards into him for more. 

“We can go somewhere else...”

Her mind is screaming a loud, resounding yes, but the clock is telling her she still has an hour of patrols. She forces her eyes open. Looking past the hazy screen of James’ cloak she can see the portraits sleeping soundly as though they never existed. Between the discovery of an invisibility cloak and the feel of James' body against hers, it's too much for her to take in at once. 

He lets out a sigh and she feels the words so lovely being mouthed into her skin. Everything is crackling around her, the world disappearing besides him and his hands and his tongue now dragging lower…

“Tomorrow,” she gasps. “Find me tomorrow right when I get off patrol—-then take me anywhere you want.”

James detaches his mouth and looks up at her, his swollen lips hung open in wonder. 

“Does that mean we need to stop today?”

He tries to pull back, but she grips onto him, not ready to lose the hard line of his body against hers just yet. There’s still an hour left of patrols, but is it not still patrolling if she can see the corridor?

She pushes up on her toes to capture his mouth again, their lips slanting together in hot melding kisses. 

“No–never stop.”

* * * * *

It turns out James Potter can actually follow directions. The next night he shows up with only five minutes left of patrols to spare and they don’t waste a second to slot together, making good on the promise to go wherever he pleases.

Over time her speculation of his invisibility cloak lessens, almost preferring the danger of it to the dingy passageways and small alcoves that he pulls her into each night. But she will take whatever she can get—waiting impatiently through her patrols for that moment when he slides out of the darkness to pull her back in with him. 

In the safety of the cloak or the darkness of some secret hiding spot, she feels a hunger she has never experienced. It’s almost pavlovian in nature—the second the clock nears eleven, her body vibrates at the thought of him, prickling under the anticipation of his touch. When reunited, they wedge together like two pieces of the same stone, hands and mouths frantic and roaming, words coming out in soft sighs and quiet pants that rise into the air like smoke. 

Patrols are no longer enough and nights feel achingly short for the amount of desire they have for each other. Their meetings start to seep into the daytime— ending up in the same passageways and closets but now with the added danger of roaming students and curious friends. During classes, they steal glances and sometimes dare to sit beside each other to let hands travel deliciously out of sight. When no one is looking, they pass notes between classes, trying to convey all the sweeping emotions into tiny phrases like I can’t wait to see you, I need you, you are so lovely, you make me so happy.

It stays like this for days, then weeks. Him always coming to find her, her letting him take the world away. Their time together always a sure thing.

Until it isn’t. 

A quarter past eleven and he hasn’t shown up. She stands in the hall, one of the many recurring places he has found in her the past couple weeks. Her body still vibrates on cue, hungry to feel the scrape of his hands on her, but mentally she knows that something seems wrong.

Would it be impossible for him to not come?

Hearing a noise echo down the hall she turns on her heel, excitement flooding her cheeks, but instead of James loping out of the shadows, someone else stands there, face twisted like a predator hunting prey. 

“You look happy to see me.” Antonin Dolohov purrs out, his eyes scanning down her body with a salacious grin.

“It’s past curfew Dolohov. That’s 20 points and two days detention.” She doesn't let his lewd gaze affect her, keeping her chin high while her hand hovers over her wand pocket. 

“Detention,” he tuts, “I much prefer doing the detaining if you catch my drift, but I’m interested in how a mudblood like you plans to go about it.”

He takes a step forward and Lily pulls out her wand, pointing it straight between his eyes. 

“Enough.”

His smile twists again, nonplussed by the threat. “ I see why Snape has always had such a hard on for you, Evans. You are a pretty girl for a mudblood. Why don’t you be a good little girl and get on your knees for me like you do to keep old Slughorn—

“Stupefy.”

She doesn’t even blink. The proximity of her wand to his forehead makes him knock back and he lands with a thud on the ground. The anger and fear that has been mounting since he appeared boils over and rushes out of her, her wand hand moving on its own accord. She can hear herself as though through a tunnel, hitting Dolohov’s motionless body with spell after spell, each one landing and sizzling into him like a lightning rod. Tears fall hot and globbing on her cheeks. 

Lily! Lily!

She feels strong and familiar arms wrap around her, pulling the wand out of her hand and throwing it to the ground. She makes heaving noises, pushing away from James as he wrestles her in his arms, trying to reach her through the fury. 

“Lily, that’s enough, You have to stop.”

But something inside her doesn’t want to stop. Her time with James has been a good distraction, but she is tired. Tired of the blood purity talks, tired of the endless bullying and spiteful words, tired of forever being a freak no matter what she does and no matter how much she tries to prove herself. Her prefect badge, her good grades, her perfect transitions from one world to the next will never be enough, because people like Dolohov won’t let it. 

 Her legs give out, letting the tears fall in choked sobs. James collapses on the ground with her, pushing her head into his chest, letting his shirt become soaked through.

“You didn’t come…” She cries out. It’s the smallest of the things on her mind, but it’s the only one she can accurately put into words. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just coming to find you—-Sirius’ mum had sent him a howler and–”

“So now you're selfish too,” she hisses to herself. Pushing herself into him more, she tries to calm the animal noises that keep spilling from her mouth. From behind them, Dolohov groans, some of the hexes starting to wear off. 

“Lily, I need you to breathe. We need to get out of here—did he touch you?” He pulls back to surveille her.

She is still taking ragged, shallow breaths, eyes burning from the salt of her tears. Sounds echo from down the corridor and James quickly scrambles to pull her into his arms, hoisting her into a cradle against his chest. 

Like always, they disappear together, this time behind a tapestry where there is enough room for them to spread out—though they don’t.

“It’s alright–I’m right here.”

She clings to him, and he continues to whisper comforting words, caressing her hair, her ears, her neck. Finally, she drifts off to sleep, the smell of him and the rhythm of his breathing the only thing tethering her from some sort of madness. 

* * * * *

Seventh Year

“Lily, please–”

But she keeps walking down the corridor, actively looking in directions that are anywhere but at him. 

“I’m not going to give up. Why did you stop answering my letters? Everything was so—so perfect…”

It had been. The summer days were spent writing letters back and forth, exchanging photos, filling in for time spent apart. At first they had to come up with creative excuses to see each other without anyone finding out (“Oh, well I was just thought a quick run to Diagon Alley would be nice.”) before Dumbledore gifted them with the greatest excuse of all (“Sirius, you’ll be at your Uncle’s, yeah? Lily is popping in to do some Heads’ planning—don’t worry, it will be more of a chore…”).

The days they spent that summer bouncing between each other’s houses were some of the best she had ever experienced. Safe from the wandering eyes of classmates, they held hands openly, caressed each other without shame, and spoke admiringly for the first time in normal speaking voices. They snuck into the other’s house at night, crawling into the other’s bed unable to wait the days or hours to press together again, unable to bear wasting another second without their breaths intertwining, bodies always unimaginably hungry for the other’s touch. 

But then there was silence. 

“Is it about the sex? Because we can go back to taking things slow I don’t–”

“Of course it’s not about the bloody sex,” she spits out, unable to contain her shock. “That—that was incredible but–”

“But what? Lily, I’m going mad. Ask Sirius–I've nearly burrowed a path into my sitting room floor from all the pacing I did in the last week.”

She doesn’t want to look him in the eye because she knows if she does he will see it all: Snape coming to her door, warning her about the Dark Lord’s rising, his plan to kill anyone who is a traitor to his cause…

If I did something, I will fix it, I swear,” his voice cracks, tears on the brink of falling, “I just…really need you back. I miss you.”

This time it’s her turn to disappear. She continues walking down the hall, snuffing out her wand light so he is left in the dark. 

* * * *

He isn’t looking for her, but he gravitates towards her anyway.

He was lucky he didn’t miss her entirely. Way up in the highest rung of the stands, the light of the stars betray her by reflecting auburn hair like a beacon. He knows it’s only self-sabotage at this point to approach, having spent exactly two weeks now with no communication whatsoever, but he does it anyway because he can see her shivering from all the way down on the pitch—and because he has never been able to resist her, even now. 

“It’s too cold to be out here like that.” 

He takes off his quidditch cloak and offers it to her, but she doesn’t even look at it, staring off into the distance. 

Taking her silence as an invitation, he sits, leaving enough distance between them to show his caution. Just like in the candlelit corridors, the light from the stars mingle with the color of her eyes, making them glimmer like jewels on her face. It takes everything in his body not to reach for her, fearing that the sparkle will subside the minute he does. 

“There’s a war out there,” she says, her voice hollow and cold like the wind. 

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

There’s silence again. The wind cuts through the stands and brushes her hair up into the air like fire dancing. 

“The potions master I applied to apprentice under owled back today—he says he won’t accept my application because I’m a mudblood.”

His head jerks in her direction. He has never heard her say that word before. Instinctively his hands clench at his sides, anger like waves in his chest. 

“Then he doesn’t deserve you, the tosser—-People should be lining up to work with you, you’re bloody brilliant.” He means every word, and he can tell she knows he means it too. A small, pitiful smile tugs at her lips. 

“Bloody brilliant doesn’t change my birth—might as well revert back to a muggle at this rate…”

He doesn’t want to hear anymore. He stands and forces himself in front of her and she looks up at him with a deep, pained look.

“What has gotten into you? The Evans I know wouldn’t say shite like this. The Evans I love wouldn’t—”

He stops cold, watching her catch the word before he does. Love. The Evans he loves. 

“You don’t want to love me,” she whispers, tears falling hot now against her cheeks. 

“But I do—” It comes out as a gasp, the suffering of two weeks without her pouring out of him like a broken dam. “Is this what it’s all about? That you’ve decided you aren’t good enough?”

“I’m not though,” her voice rises, face twisting into a sob. “I’m not good enough for the bloody wizarding or muggle world, not good enough to find work after school, not good enough for you.” 

The last word comes biting out and James freezes in place, feeling as though he has been stunned. 

“Lily, what are you talking about? When have I ever, ever said you aren’t good enough for me.”

Her eyes dart around, hands thrashing to remove the tears that keep coming. 

“You don’t have to say it. You’re a pureblood—I’ve heard the talk. The death eaters will come to your family eventually and ask for support. If I’m with you…” a sob cuts off her words. She stands up, preparing to bolt but he grabs her by the forearm, holding her there with the wind tugging at her hair. 

“If you’re with me than fuck them.”

The tears make her eyes glimmer but not in the way he wants to see them. He expects her to try to run again, but she doesn’t. 

“Lily, I don’t care. I don’t care. You could be half troll and I would still want to be with you. Don’t you see? This is what they want, for you to be afraid—to give up.”

He takes the chance to slide a hand onto her cheek, wiping away some of the tears she has failed to stop. 

“I–I love you, Lily. And if you don’t want that because you don’t feel it back, then I will disappear. But if you don’t want it because you are scared then…then I won’t accept that.”

He searches her eyes, wondering if he is making the biggest mistake of his life by pushing her. She looks back and even with all the pain he can’t stop thinking about how absolutely lovely she looks in the moonlight. Her hair, her eyes—even the tears. He burns the image into his memory, knowing that even if it’s the last night next to her, at least he will have her beauty in this moment forever. 

“I don’t want you to disappear.” 

The wind carries her voice and places it right into his beating heart, suddenly as warm as sunlight. 

“I don’t want you to disappear, because I love you too.”

* * * *

Now, they disappear into each other. Instead of dimly lit corridors, he pulls her into a kiss the second she leaves class. Whispers and hidden notes are replaced with laughter and shrieks of joy as he lifts her up and spins her after a quidditch game, not caring to even glimpse at the house cup. In the sunlight by the lake they tangle together, studying, laughing, snogging–especially snogging, making up for all the lost time in the weeks they were apart and for all the other years they could have been together. The night becomes a special place—one of nostalgia and hope. Instead of meeting in grimy alcoves, she follows his lead to his bed where they slot together like two pieces if a whole, trying to meld back as one. 

He was always a beacon of light in the darkness, but in the sunlight he is breathtaking. Always a presence of comfort and joy and love. So much love that she wonders if she had ever felt it before—not even the love of family could compare to what  he is capable of showing her. She gives it back tenfold, keeping him impossibly close and hoping she will never have to let go. 

“James–you can’t just hide.”

It’s odd to see the shimmering movement of the cloak in the daylight. A muffled voice calls out from where he was just next to her, sheepish and frantic.

“Don’t mind me—just completely turned to dust from embarrassment.”

A smile cracks on her lips, her heart makes fluttering beats in her chest.

“You don’t have to answer me today—-or at all. We could just pretend it never happened.”

She reaches out towards where his voice is coming from, but hears his feet move back on the grass. 

“James,” she sighs, “ I was going to say yes.”

It hangs in the air. She can practically feel his heartbeat from whatever distance away he stands hiding. 

“So, if you would stop freaking out–” she adds, cheeks filling with pink, “I’d really like to kiss my new fiancé.”

His head pops out, floating detached in front of her. It would remind her of the first time she ever caught him past curfew, but instead of a mischievous grin, his face is flush and eyes blown wide. 

“I’m not freaking out,” he murmurs, “But—just to be sure, did just call me your fiancé?”

She moves quickly, grabbing hold of the cloak and pulling herself under into his arms. She can feel his body buzzing against hers, fingers moving in shock to wrap around her body. 

“Yes, I did,” she says, pressing her lips into his. “And yes, I will marry you.”

If the cloak falls away, they don’t notice. He picks her up and she wraps herself around him, the warmth of his skin and the May sunlight working in tandem. His shock has worn off and he kisses her in earnest, and she is more than happy to reciprocate. 

They could have stayed like that for hours, days—it didn’t matter anymore. With him, everything else disappears. 

[emilynyaesmp]

Ok so heres my idea for the “does everyone remember the life series or is it just the winners?” Debate/theory

Everyone remembers small bits of the seasons but only the winners and the canary remembers the seasons in their entirety (unless they didn’t die first in a season).

Why does the canary remember it? Well, the watchers feed off of negativity, right? So they’d want the canary to remember that they’ve died first again and again and again, over and over and over again and that this time is no different. So Jimmy remembers past seasons, all except Secret Life because Lizzie was out first.

Speaking of Lizzie, let’s explain her. In her newest episode she mentions “when I invite people to things, they don’t show up”, she mentions Secret Life, she actually talks about her failed birthday party but since neither Scar nor Jimmy even went to it (or heard of it, i think??? Idk I don’t watch their POV’s) they don’t really react, Jimmy, because he wasn’t the canary that season and he CERTAINLY wasn’t a winner and because his seabling’s birthday party was so insignificant to his POV, he doesn’t remember it, Scar, although he remembers SL since he’s a winner now, didn’t even hear of it (if he had I think he’d have gone but idk, correct me if I’m wrong) so he doesn’t react. As for Last Life, Lizzie remembers just as much as a loser would, since she’s not a winner or a canary in Last Life.

Basically, if ur a loser but not the canary, you only remember small glimpses of the past life games. like Lizzie for instance would only remember her teammates in LL, what happened when she was the boogie, the Big-b betrayal, Cleo leaving, basically any big event in her POV, but nothing more. Which is why she says “I feel safe with you guys” around Cleo, because she doesn’t properly remember what Cleo did, she remembers the fire, just vaguely. (Though I think she’d say that anyway, but that might just be my shadowrot shipping mind talking).

This even explains the Flower Husband stuff. Scott’s a winner, the first season, the last one before he won, was 3rd life, the season Jimmy was his husband. He’s attached to that (Jimmy is too guys TRUST 🙏🙏), he knows Jimmy remembers and he wants him to at least acknowledge that they loved eachother, that they were married, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because it hurts to much to remember, because he’s worried of dying first again, because if he dies first, he’d leave Scott alone again and he doesn’t want that. (Flower husbands is canon guys!! Please!! I’m desperate!!)

Jimmy acts a bit careless this season, dying to a creeper even though like five seconds before he was laughing about how close he was to dying, he didn’t take it seriously, not until then I don’t think. For the rest of that session Jimmy is terrified that he’ll die, he’s paranoid and worries any time anything remotely dangerous comes near him. Before that session, before episode 3, i think Jimmy was completely convinced that the canary curse was gone, he believed it with his whole heart, because, well, last season he came third! Third! That’s the best he’s ever done! And what’s this new season? Wild life, where anything can happen, and they all have six lives, so it’s not like Last Life were he was given 2 lives, this time he has a chance!

Uh, yeah that’s basically my theory/idea. Also, for Cleo, since RL wasn’t a season and just one episode she only remembers the entirety of RL but the other seasons is just what a loser would remember.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Girl At The Rock Show Part 5

Characters: Jensen Ackles (xreader). Mac(o.c), Jared Padalecki. Val (o.c). Phil (o.c)

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Talk of abusive/controlling relationship. A hint of PTSD from an abusive relationship maybe. Let me know if I forgot any. 

Summary: Getting dragged to that live show might have been the best thing that ever happened to you. Now you are falling. Falling fast.

Word count: 6.268 words

A/N: Part 5 Y'all. I am having so much fun with this story. Thank you all for the kind words and the inspiration to keep writing.🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Hope y'all enjoy it. 💗

Please don't copy my work and post it elsewhere.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You plopped in your bed with a heavy sigh. You lay there replaying the day in your head.

“Hey, do you still need a ride to the dealership tomorrow?” Mac asked from your doorway.

“Not necessarily, I can Uber if something came up.”

“It’s not that. I just didn’t know if you wanted Jen.”

“No.” You cut her off. “Sorry, that came out bitchy.”

“You, ok?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do I need to hurt him?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed again. Just then your phone buzzed. It was a picture from Jensen. “Well, shit!” you said opening the message.

“What?”

“I forgot about my cowboy hat.” She laughed at your pouty face.

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He put your bags in the armchair then threw his keys on the coffee table as he slumped onto the couch.  Somehow his house seemed even more empty tonight. He slid his phone out of his pocket debating whether to send you a picture of him in your hat. Fuck it. He jumped up and tossed his hat. He got the angle and his smile just right then snapped the picture.

As he waited for a reply, he figured he had better call Jared. It only rang once.

“Finally, I was just about to call in a search party.”

Jensen chuckled. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing just hanging out.”

“Yea. What are Gen and the kids doing?”

“Jensen!”

“What?” Jensen asked laughing.

“Tell me about her.”

“Like I said earlier. She just moved to Austin. I met her at the show last night and I showed her around Austin today.”

“And?”

“She smells like caramel and sandalwood, likes Garth Brooks, plays pool better than me, likes Zeppelin, has great banter, and she’s fun. And she’s smart J.P. She went to Columbia. She’s a Cowboys’ fan adjacent.”

Jared chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“Her mama was a Cowboys fan.”

“So, you like her?” He could hear the smile in Jared’s voice.

“No, I just take random girls all over the city and spend the whole day with them.”

“Sarcastic answer. So, you really like her.” Jensen sighed heavily. “What’s so wrong with that?” Jared asked.

“24 hours Jared. I’ve known her for 24 hours.”

“Dude, the first time I met Gen I knew there was something special about her.”

“Yea well, I don’t have the luck you do.”

“Eh. Maybe you’re luckier than you think Jensen.”

“What if.” There was a beep. “Hold on.” He tapped the speaker phone option and opened the text.

Y/N: I expect that hat back in the same exact condition I left it in Jensen Ross.

Jensen chuckled.

“What?!” Jared asked. Jensen explained about your hat and read the message out loud. “Middle naming you already huh?”

“I guess so.”

“When are you gonna see her again?”

“Not sure. She’s supposed to call me tomorrow after she gets her car.”

“Listen Ackles, you can sit around all day and play that what-if game. It’s a waste of time. I’m not saying hop on a plane and head to Vegas, but obviously, you like her. So stop being scared about it and just take it one day at a time.”

“You’re right, but it’s easier said than done my friend.”

Jared chuckled. “Which part?”

“Both.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He stopped mid-bicep curl when “call from (y/n)” came through his earbuds, a smile spread across his face when he heard her name.

He sat the dumbbell down and tapped his earbud. “Well, hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hello, Mr. Ackles.” His smile got bigger when he heard her voice. “Are you at a club? Sir, It’s 10 in the morning.”

He chuckled. “I’m at the gym.” He started walking toward the door. “Hold on a sec”

“Wanna call me back?”

“No.” He stepped outside. “Better?”

“Yes.  So, the gym huh?”

He smiled. “Yep.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing…”

“I’m gonna need proof.”

Throwing his head back he let out a laugh. “How’s your morning going?”

“Pretty good. I got my car and called Erica.”

“Well?”

“I have an interview tomorrow.”

“That’s exciting! Congrats.”

“Thank you. Still a wee bit nervous though.”

“Don’t be you will crush it.”

“Speaking of crushing it, do you wanna finish your workout?”

“Gimme 20 minutes?”

“You don’t have to rush.”

“I was almost done anyhow.”

“Ok then. Talk to you then.”  

He smiled. “Lookin forward to it.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

Mac sat down in your car as you said goodbye. “What no argument on who hangs up first?” She said, smiling at you.

You rolled your eyes, “Which coffee shop would you like to go to?”

“Ghoul. You will freaking love it.” She put the address in your maps app. You started following the directions. “So, you called him?”

“I called him.” You confirmed.

“And?”

“And nothing. We talked for a few minutes, teased a little, and he was at the gym, so I told him to finish and call me later.” You said following the curve to E St Elmo Rd.

She nodded and turned the volume up as Burin’ For You by Blue Oyster Cult started to play. The two of you jammed for 3 more songs before making it to the coffee shop.

“Well, that was fun.” You admitted as you parked on the street.

“Just like old times.” She said opening her door.

“This is cute.” You said as you walked past the picnic tables to the coffee truck.

“I knew you would like it.”

You looked over the menu. Mac ordered her drink and then looked at you “Maple boob butter please.” The barista gave you the total and you handed her your card.

“(Y/N)!!” who the hell is yelling my name in Austin you thought as you turned around.

Mac didn’t even have to turn around. “Is Jared Padalecki really yelling your name right now?”

“Babe, I hate to tell you this, but if you know their voice without a face, you may have watched the show too many times”

She turned around, “No such thing!”

“Well, well, if it ain’t the O.G Dean.” You said as Jared approached you making him chuckle. “How are.” He cut you off with a hug. Making you let out a small gasp.

“I’m good,” he said releasing you. “How are you?”

“Good.” You told him and Mac cleared her throat.

“Jared. This is Mckinnley. My Supernatural and everything about Jensen and Jared obsessed best friend.

He smiled. “Howdy, Mckinnley.” He stuck his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mac, call me Mac.” She shook his hand

“Mac” he repeated, and she giggled “How come you haven’t got her to watch Supernatural yet?”

“I have been trying. James was a stupid.”

“Mac!”

“Shit I’m sorry.”

The barista called out your order and Mac turned to grab your drinks.

“Should I ask?” Jared asked you.

“Long story short. There was a thing, but the thing is gone now. I have every intention of watching it.”

“A thing?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

“Yea. He was a jealous, manipulative, controlling douche. I wasn’t allowed to watch Supernatural.”

“And he can rot in hell,” Mac said holding your coffee out to you.

“Look, I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sor”

“Jared it's ok.” You took a drink. Damn, it was good. “Jensen knows.”

“Not my business.”

“Yes, it is. He’s your best friend.”

“Jared, you want your usual?” The barista asked him.

 “Yes, please.” he walked to the window and handed her his card. “Hey,” he turned back to you. “I have an odd request.”

“Hit me, Padalecki.”

 He got out his phone and tapped a couple of things.  “Here.” He handed it to you. The screen was set up to FaceTime Jensen. “Just hit the green button.

“Jared,”

“Oh, come on. he’ll be so confused,”

“Ok.” Jared chuckled as you tapped the icon.

Jensen answered but all you saw was sky. “Hey bud, can I call you back, I promised I would call...”

“Me?”

He looked at the phone when he heard your voice. “Hey!”

“Hi.” You giggled.

“Um got a question for you sweetheart.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you have Jared’s phone?”

“I pick-pocketed him last night and his phone is just way better than mine.”

Jensen, Jared, and Mac all laughed.

“Why do I hear his dumb laugh then?”

“Hey, buddy.” Jared leaned into the screen.

“What’s up?’

“Hanging out, Grabbing some coffee.”

Jensen nodded. “So, you guys hang out now?”

“Well yeah didn’t you hear?” you asked, and Jensen raised his eyebrows “I’m Jared’s new best friend.”

“Sorry, Bruh” Jared teased

“Alright, I’ll take Mac.”

“Um, the hell you will.”

“You can’t have both of them. That’s just not fair.”

“Well doll face, sometimes life just isn’t far.”

Jensen laughed. The barista called out Jared’s name and he went up to the window.

 “Hey Jared, I’m not stealing your phone. Just going to sit down.” Jensen laughed again.

You and Mac went over to a table and sat. Jared joined you after he grabbed his coffee.

“So, how’d you end up hanging out with Padalecki?” Jensen asked.

“Mac and I wanted coffee. So, we came to Ghouls, and guess who we ran into?

“Oh my gosh. Who?”

“Jared freaking Padalecki!”

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“True story.”

“Hey, can I call you right back?”

“Sure.” He puckered his lips and hung up.

“Ok then.”  You said disappointed.

“I got a 10-dollar bill that says he will be here soon,” Jared said.

“I’m not taking that bet,” Mac said.

“So, (y/n) how was the rest of your date?” Jared asked you.

“Good.”

“That’s all I get? Where’d you go after Paperboy?”

“Wimberly Zipline Adventures.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did he really not tell you about it?”

“Well, we didn’t really focus on the activities.”

“You gonna tell me what that means exactly?”

“Nope,” he pretended to lock his lips.

You rolled your eyes. “So, Where’s Gen? How are the kiddos?”

He chuckled. “Gen is working today. I dropped the kids off at school earlier.” He took a drink and smirked. “What’s new with you? Where’s your boyfriend?”

“On his way.” Mac chimed in.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yet.” Mac and Jared said at the same time.

You sighed. “I do have an interview tomorrow though”

 “Where’s your interview at?” Jared asked

“Pediatric Associates of Austin.”

“You’re a freaking doctor?”

“Not technically. I would be a physician assistant. I dropped out my second year of residency.”

“Close enough (y/n)” Jared said.

“That’s what I said.” Mac agreed.

“Can I ask why you dropped out?”

Mac looked at you. “it’s ok. My mama got sick and didn’t make it. I lost motivation for medicine,”

“I am so sorry (y/n)”

“Thank you. It was a while ago.” You took another drink. “After debating with Mac, soul searching, and a talk with Jensen I decided I wanted back in.”

Jared looked up and you followed his gaze. You saw a big black Chevy drive by.

“Speak of the devil,” Jared said and you looked at him with furrowed brows. “That was Jensen.”

“In the Silverado?”

“Yes.”

You whipped out your phone.

------------------------------------------

Y/N: What do you want to drink?

Jensen: I’ll get it.

Y/N: Stop being stubborn and tell me.

Jensen: Iced Americano with cream, please.

Y/N: Was that so hard?

------------------------------------------

“I’ll be right back.” You walked up to the window and ordered his drink. You turned around and your knees went weak when you saw him walk around the corner. It baffled you how someone could look so stunning in gym clothes, but he did. He would look in anything or nothing. You shook the dirty thoughts out of your mind. He nodded at Jared as he walked past him. Your heartbeat quickened with every step closer. “Hey there cowgirl.” He said when he got to you.

You chuckled and grabbed his face, bringing his lips down to yours. His arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground as he kissed you back.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Ackles.” You said when the kiss ended. He smiled his dazzling smile, and he put your feet back on the ground.

“Here Jensen.” The barista said smiling at you guys as she held his coffee out the window “Thanks, Val. “He unwrapped one of his arms and took the coffee. “And thank you.” He kissed your cheek.

“No problem.”  You guys turned to your friends who were in a debate about something.

Mac looked up and saw you walking back over. “Shh,” she told Jared. “But this isn’t over.” he nodded. You sat back in the same spot and Jared scooted so Jensen could sit in front of you.

“So, (y/n) I hear you’re a pool shark.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Yep.”

“From which one?” He pointed a finger at Jensen.

You squinted your eyes at Jensen. He looked up “Look. A cool-looking bird.” Jared looked up, You and Mac started laughing.

“Jensen, did (y/n) tell you she has an interview tomorrow?” Mac asked

“She did,” Jensen said

“Did she tell you where?” Jared asked.

“No, she didn’t.” He looked at you

“Pediatric Associates of Austin.” You told him.

“Dude, that’s you take your kids.” He turned to Jared.

“I know.”  Jared finished his coffee.

“Why didn’t you say that when I told you?” you asked Jared.

“Well, I was caught off guard. Jensen said you went to Columbia, but he didn’t say anything about med school.”

You raised your eyebrows and looked at Jensen. He looked at the sky and pointed. You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jared. “Yep. Pre-med, med school, Internship, and the year and half of residency I did was all through Columbia.”

“Damn. So, you’re like a genius.”

“I wouldn’t”

Mac cut you off. “Yes, and don’t even bother with any trivia game.”  

Your cheeks turned pink. “She’s over-exaggerating.”

Mac shook her head and mouthed no I’m not at Jared and Jensen, they chuckled.

“Well, kids. I gotta get this shit done.”

“Aw come one Padalecki.” Jensen teased.

“Dude, Gen will kill me.”

“Yea… I wouldn’t risk it.  Coffee for the road?” Jensen asked.

“Sure.”

“You ladies want anything else?”

“None for me. Thank you though.” Mac said. Jensen looked at you.

“I’m good. Thanks.” He winked at you.

They guys walked back up to the coffee truck.

“So, I introduce you to Jared Padalecki and you fight with him? What the hell?”

She laughed. “We were not fighting. Just a little debate.”

“A heated debate.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

“So, Mac let something slip before you got here and (y/n) told me about her ex,” Jared confessed. While they waited in line.

Jensen pressed his lips in a hard line. “I’d love 5 minutes in a room with him.”

“Seems like you both have been through some rough shit.”

“Her more than me.”

“Jensen. Having the girl, you loved give up because of something you couldn’t control is not easy.”

“It was a mutual decision.”  He said as they moved up.

“Still not easy.”

He sighed “Padalecki, get to the point.”

 Jared continued. “Look I’m just saying I understand your hesitation now. I don’t think it’s necessary, but I understand it.”

“She is pretty great huh?” a smile spread across his face.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you smile this much in years.” They moved up “Does she know you’re going to Vancouver tomorrow?” Jensen’s smile faded.

“I mentioned it yesterday.” He signed “Full disclosure, I’m not looking forward to it.”

“I know, but 2 weeks really isn’t that long. And it's not like you won’t be texting and Facetiming whenever you can.”

“Good point.” He sighed again.

“Trust me Ackles. I got a good feeling about this.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

Jensen and Jared made their way back over to the table.

“Mac it was nice meeting you. We will finish that discussion next time.” He held his hand out

“Yes, and you will see my side.” She teased and shook his hand. He chuckled.

You got up as Jared walked over to you. “Einstein.” He opened his arms.

“Sasquatch.” You said opening yours.

“Always a pleasure.” He said as he squeezed you.

“Same, Next time bring the wife. K?” you said sitting back down.

“Will do.”

“Love you buddy.” Jensen put his fist out.

Jared bumped it with his own “Love you more.”  He said turning to walk away.

“So, what are you ladies doing today?”  Jensen turns towards you and Mac.

You turned to Mac. “Uh not sure yet. Maybe hit some shops, or maybe just ride around and jam out.”

“Oh, yeah I wanna see this car.”

“Ok.” You picked up your empty cup and then grabbed Mac’s.

“Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.” You said as you stood up and headed for the trash can. You could hear them talking, but they were talking too low to make out the words. You threw the trash away and turned back around. You gave them a silly grin when you found both looking at you.  

“Y’all ready?” you asked when you got back to the table.

“Yep,” Mac said getting up. “I’m gonna grab a water. Go ahead. I’ll check up.”

“You sure?” you asked. She widened her eyes at you “Alright.” You started walking toward the street. Jensen wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Is it the Camaro?” He asked

“How did.”

“45-day tags kind of gave it away darlin’”

“He’s pretty huh?”

“He?”

“Yes, he. I’m still not sure of a name yet though. He smirked at you. “no.”

He chuckled. “You don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Yes, I do, and no.”

“Fine.” He teased. “I still get to drive it right?”

You clicked your tongue, “Well I guess. 2 outta 3 ain't bad”

“Um, What?”

“Well, you played with my hair, and you do the nose thing, but”

“Really?!” you shrugged and raised your eyebrows. He stopped and spun you to face him. He slid his hand onto your cheek, “Baby you are so beautiful.” In a silly over-dramatic tone.

“Jerk!”

“Bit.” He stopped himself and pressed his lips in a tight line.

You gasped “What?!”

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. “I’m sorry. It’s a Supernatural thing between Sam and Dean. Sam calls Dean a jerk, and Dean calls Sam a bitch.” He rambled on  “I really wasn’t trying to call you a bitch, it’s like a reflex. I…”

“Jensen. I know about the bitch, jerk thing.” You cut him off “Mac and Zoey do it all the time. I’m sorry I was trying to mess with you.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry.” You brought your hands over your face. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey.” He said as he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Burying your face into his chest You inhaled the scent of Oud Wood. He tightened his arms, and you could feel the tension in your muscles melt. He sighed in relief. “I thought I really fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in his chest.

“Sweetheart, stop apologizing. I’m just glad you didn’t punch me and walk away.” His chest vibrated on your face as he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but joy in.

“But ya know something Ackles,” you said as you looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows “You’re pretty cute when you ramble.”

He laughed and squeezed you into his chest again.  

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

“Hmm, I don’t know I’m gonna have to check my schedule.”  You teased.

“I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“sounds good.”

He kissed your forehead then your lips. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

“Looking forward to it.” He chuckled as he headed for his truck.

Mac stepped beside you “You don’t happen to have a sexy dress for a fancy dinner, do you?” you gave her a blank stare. “Alright, let’s go.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You could hear Mac cackling from the other side of the fitting room door.

“Aw poor Jensen,” She tried to check her breath.

You stepped into the lavender dress and opened the door. “Zip me?” you said as you turned your back to her. “I know I felt so bad.” Mac got up and zipped the dress. You looked at yourself in the big 3-way mirror, “I don’t think this one is it boo.” You said posing trying to like it.

“I like the black one better,” Mac told you.

“Me too, but it's so low cut.” You sighed. You walked back to the open fitting room door. Turning around you asked “Hey Mac you think I took it too far? Do you think it will cause..."

“No (y/n). I think you are overthinking this. It will be fine.” You sighed.” Stop he’s not like that and you know it.” You nodded and went back into the fitting room.

“Hey, how’s it going?” the sales lady asked as she walked up to Mac.

“I didn’t like the lavender one. I like the black one, but didn’t like how low cut it was.” You told her as you wiggled into another black dress. You didn’t like this one either.

“Maybe dresses just aren’t for me.” You said, opening the door.

“Oh, I like that one,” Mac said. “But you don’t. Ok next.”

“How many am I going to try before we give up?”

“We are not giving up!” The sales lady chimed in “I have an idea.” She started towards the front of the store.

“She is determined,” Mac said playfully making you smile. The sales lady made her way back to you.

“Alright, Try this one.” Then she handed you a white vintage western-looking dress. You took it and headed back into the dressing room.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “Oh my gosh,” you said pulling the belt around your waist and buckling it. “Oh my gosh, you repeated.”

“Did we find it?” Mac asked.

You came out of the fitting room and twirled. “I love it.”

“Babe!” Mac said, smiling. “That is it. And your boots will go great with it. Aw, and he always calls you cowgirl.”

You giggled. “Well, how could I say no now.”

“Oh, wait right there. We got a necklace the other day that would look great with this.” She went and grabbed it. You lowered your head for her to put it around your neck. “Aw, you look incredible.”

“Thank you. I’ll take ”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped out of the shower.  He made his way across the bedroom floor hurrying to get to his phone before it went to voicemail.

“Jay-rod.” He said after hitting the green icon.

“Hey buddy, I have some bad news.

“What’s wrong?”

“We think Odette has an ear infection. The only time the pediatrician was available was 2. Gen stayed in Houston they have another random acts meeting tomorrow.  What time do you have to be at the airport?”

“2:30, but dude don’t worry about me. Is she ok?”

“Yeah, I gave her some Motrin. It helped with the fever and pain. She’s sleeping now.”

“Ok, I hope she feels better, give her lovins for me.”

“Will do. You could always ask (y/n) for a ride, ya know.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna ask her to be my taxi. And I don’t know what time her interview is.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“No.” he turned on his hair trimmer and started trimming around his beard.

“Whatcha doin'?”

“Getting ready for my date.”

“Oh. I’ll let you finish. Have fun bud, Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You looked in the mirror when Mac finished your hair. “Oh, I love it.” She did a half-up going back in braids look and curled the hair that rested on your shoulders.

“Good. Now sit down and let me do your makeup.”

“Nothing too.”

“Yes, I know nothing too fancy. Plus, you have neutral colors on anyway.”

“Alright love,” she said as she finished. “You look freaking stunning!”

You stood up and looked in your bathroom mirror. “Mac you are a miracle worker.”

“Please. You’d be gorgeous without it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“What time is it?” you asked sliding your boots on.

Mac looked at her watch “5:45. At least you’re not freaking out this time.”

“Yeah, not on the outside.” You heard the doorbell. “Early again.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” She said walking out of your room to go get the door.

You took one last look in the mirror and headed downstairs.

You heard Mac and Jensen in the living room. You took the back stairs to walk out of the kitchen. You stopped mid-step in the living room doorway when you saw him. His shaggy brown hair framed his face. That black suit jacket with brown accents and a black button-up shirt underneath. Black slacks that hugged his hips. You swallowed hard as your heart raced. He licked his lips, and a smile spread over his face.

“Well look at you cowgirl.” He said as he started walking towards you. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Me? Have you looked in a mirror, Mr. Ackles.?”

“I’d rather look at you,” he said with raised brows. Your cheeks turned pink, and he smirked. “You ready?”

“Yep.” He gestured for you to go first. You started walking towards the door and he followed.

“Do you wanna take my truck or your car?”  He said shutting the door behind him.

“Depends, can you drive a stick?” He gave you an unamused look and you giggled. “We can take Beau if you want. I did tell you that could drive him”

He chuckled. “Beau?”

“Yeah, Mac gave me the idea.” He smiled when the realization showed in your eyes. “Motherfucker. Let me guess, one of your characters.”

“Yeah kinda.”

“Dang it. I really liked Beau.” You admitted walking to the car.

“What Beau were you thinking of?”

“Well, Duke of course.”

He came around to the passenger side and opened your door. Then he made his way to the driver’s side. He sat down and readjusted the seat and mirror. “Why do you have to change it?

“Because it’s lame to name him after one of your characters. Don’t you think?”

“No, and technically you didn’t name him after Beau Arlen.” He started the car. Beau’s engine purred. “He sounds good though. What year is it?”

“He is a 2019 Zl1 6-speed with a V8 and 650 horsepower.” He smiled at you. “Yeah, he’s badass.” Your phone connected via Bluetooth and Teardrops on My Guitar starts to play. He looked at you “What? It’s a cute song. If you have a problem with Taylor Swift, I don’t think this will work Ackles.”

“I didn’t say anything, I just didn’t peg you for a swiftie.”

“I don’t think I’d be considered a swiftie, but I like her music.”

He nodded as he put the car in reverse and backed onto the street.

“Don’t stall him now.” He squinted at you. He rolled along without any problems. He turned right onto Nuckols Crossing Rd and then right again onto Teri Rd. You stayed silent watching him drive. He caught you and chuckled. He Turned right onto N Interstate 35 Frontage Rd then merged all the way left to take the ramp onto I-35 N.

Once on the highway, he put the cruise control on. Butterflies came to life in your stomach when he rested his hand on your bare thigh. You took a deep breath.

“What no car games tonight?” He said, smiling. You couldn’t form words. All you could think about was his hand sliding up under the hem of your dress... “Babe?” His raised voice snapped you out of your dirty thoughts.

You answered with pink cheeks. “Yea?”

“You alright over there?”

“Yep. What’s up?”

“Whatcha thinkin' about?”

“Nothing. Just enjoying the ride.” Oh, and you sure would enjoy that ride. You relax when he downshifted to slow down for traffic and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

“You sure you’re, ok?”

“Yep, never better.”  Just thinking about how much I wanna jump your bones. No big deal. Traffic started to go. He got back on to the speed limit and set the cruise again. Your leg tensed this time when he laid his hand back on your thigh. Trying to stop your thoughts you took a deep breath.

“Does my hand on your thigh bother you?”

“No.”

He looked at you with a malicious grin on his face. “Oh really?” he slid his hand up an inch. Your leg muscles tense harder as your core twitches.

“Really.”

He slid his hand another inch up, stopping at the hem of your dress. “You know I can feel your muscles tensing up right?”

“And?”

“And so, I know you’re lying.”

“No. You asked if it bothered me.”

“Yeah.”

You smirked at him “That's not the adjective I would use.”

He chuckled as he downshifted to slow down for exit 234B then got into the left turn lane at the light. Heaven by Bryan Adams started to play. He started singing and the butterflies came back.  He slowed down for the next light. You sighed and looked at it at him. He smiled and kept singing. The light turned green, he grabbed your hand and held it around the shifter as he shifted into first gear. “Oh, once in your life you find someone. Who will turn your world around. Bring you up when you're feelin' down” Your heart melted as he sang along.

He hit the next 3 lights green and slowed for the fourth turning his right blinker on. “I should have brought your hat. It would look good with that dress.”

“Am I ever going to get my hat back?”  you teased.

“Eh maybe. I’ve grown quite fond of it.”

“It’s just a cowboy hat there sweetheart.”

“Yeah well, it reminds me of you.” Your cheeks turned pink again and he smiled.

“Well, can you at least tell me where to find it? So it's easier for me when I break into your house to retrieve it after you leave?”

His head raised as he let out a laugh. “It’s in my bedroom.”

“Hm. Maybe I should break in before you leave.”

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “That could be fun.” You giggled.

He turned as the light turned green and then left at the next light. He slowed down and pulled into the valet lane.

“Really? You’re gonna let some valet drive my Beau?” you teased.

“He will be fine.” You crossed your arms. “if anything happens to him I will buy you a new one.”

“Shh, you will hurt his feelings. You can’t just replace him.”

He chuckled. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You shrugged and started laughing. The valet came over and opened your door for you. “Thank you.” You said as you took his hand to get out.

Jensen handed the valet the keys and slipped him some cash. “Take good care of him ok?”

“Yes sir.” The man said handing Jensen the valet slip.

Jensen held his elbow out. You slipped your hand into it. “There. That make you feel better?”

“A little.” You said as the two of you walked to the front door. The sign read Dean’s Italian Steakhouse. “Really?!”

Jensen chuckled. “What? They have the best steaks here.” He said opening the door for you. You rolled your eyes and walked in. With the soft lighting and the chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, this place was so pretty.

His hand found the small of your back walking to the hostess stand. “Mr. Ackles. Your table is ready for you. She eyed him up and down. Well, I guess I’d have to get used to that. “Right this way.”  You followed the hostess to a table in the back corner with 4 chairs around it. Jensen pulled a chair out and gestured for you to sit down. He scooted you up and sat in the chair beside you.

“Pulling out all the stops tonight are we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grinned.

“Phil will be right with you.” She flashed a flirty smile at Jensen, but he didn’t notice. You had all of his attention.

“thank you.” He said. She walked away annoyed. You chuckled. “What?” he asked.

“You really didn’t notice?”  you said as you found the wine list.

“Oh, I did. I’m just not interested.”  He said, making you smile.

“Hello. My name is Phil I will be your waiter this evening. Would you like to start with some wine or a cocktail?”

“I’ll have a glass of Riesling please”

“And for you sir?”

“Scotch and soda please.”

“I will be right back.”

Jensen leaned back in his chair. “You really do look amazing tonight.”

You looked up from the menu and smiled at him. “thank you. So do you.” He smiled back. “You don’t need a menu?”

“Nope. I already know what I want.” He winked at you

Phil came back with your drinks. “Do you need more time?” he asked.

Jensen looked over at you. “Go ahead.” You told him. You debated between 2 dishes. You made your mind up and ordered after Jensen was done.

“So, I have a question,” Jensen said. You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Where did you live before New York?”

“How do you know there’s a before New York?”

“You say y’all, you know the Dukes of Hazzard, and you like country music. I’m thinking somewhere south.”

“So, I can’t be a Yankee and like those things?”

“Also, you said you talked your mom into moving to New York after your dad passed.” He chuckled. “And you just used the term Yankee.”

“Wow look at you Ackles, you paid attention. I grew up in a very small town in Michigan. So, no I’m not from the South, but I inherited the mannerisms and taste from my mama.”

“Let me guess. Texas?”

“Did ya think she was randomly a Cowboys fan? We had planned to move back down here once I got my surgical licenses and certifications.”

“Was she from Dallas?”

“No, Canton.” You took a drink of your wine.

“So how did you meet Mac?”

“Oh, she’s from Saugatuck too.” He gave you a confused look. “That very small town in Michigan I mentioned.  I really didn’t think I had a shot at Columbia, so my mom’s college was my backup school. Mac and I both got accepted at Texas University. She understood that I couldn’t say no when I finally got my acceptance letter from Columbia.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You took another drink, “Your turn.”

“Oh, darlin’ I really ain’t interesting.”

“Right.” You said in a sarcastic tone.

He chuckled. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything.” His cheeks turned pink as a grin spread on his face.

“Miss your Seafood Risotto and your New York strip. Would you like another glass of wine?”

You looked at Jensen. “I can drive if you wanna drink babe.”

“You sure?” Jensen nodded.” Yes please.”

“Coming right up.”

You were looking at his steak as he cut it. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“Nope.” You looked back at your plate. “Just looks pretty tasty.”

He chuckled. “Ya know you’re lucky you're cute.” He said as he held a bite in your direction. “I usually don’t share my steak.”

“Aw, how sweet. Thank you for letting me put your meat in my mouth.” You took the bite, and he threw his head back laughing. “Damn. That’s a good steak.”

“Probably the best meat you’ve ever had in your mouth huh?”

“I don’t know haven’t had it yet.” He laughed again.” Oh, you meant the steak. Yes, it’s delicious.”

“Yet being the keyword there.” He smirked. “What did you get again?” You fed him a bite. “That’s pretty damn good too.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

“Hey, what time is your interview tomorrow?” He asked as he sat down in the driver’s seat of her car.

“8:30. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Should I ask her for a ride? He debated

“What time is your flight?” she asked.

“I have to be at the airport at 2:30.” Or would it be harder to leave?

He pushed the clutch in as he shifted the car into first and gave it gas. “Is Jared taking you to the airport?” she asked.

“Well, that was the plan, but his youngest has an ear infection and Gen ended up staying in Houston. So, he’s gotta take her to the doctor.” He explained stopping at the red light.

“Do you need a ride?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Jensen. It’s not a problem. Mac has to work tomorrow. So literally the only thing I have planned is my interview.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers around the gear stick again.

“Like I said. Not a problem.” He heard her take a deep breath, “So any more plans for tonight Ackles?”

“Maybe. Did you have something in mind?”

“Maybe. Is your place far?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Um..” Really? He was at a loss for words. “N- no, not too far.”

His body tensed as she leaned towards him. “Good.” His breath hitched when he felt her warm breath on his ear. She leaned back in her seat smirking. “Because I’d like my hat back.”

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@perpetualabsurdity

[kaleidoscopiodeluz]

Imagine you are in your lowest point ever in life, you live alone in a nice house, but you're extremely lonely and sad. One day, a cat appears in your backyard. He's clearly malnourished and hurt, and he's unconscious when you find him. You can see that he actually has a collar with a nametag, but no phone number. You know he has a family, a home somewhere, but you can't really take him there and you also kinda think you can take better care of him. You actually pour all your ability to love onto this little fur ball, and you do save his life, so who cares if sometimes he cries while looking out the window? You know he's safe inside, you are doing everything in your power to make him happy and safe because you love him, he gave your life meaning. You buy him the best food and toys and a comfy bed, everything. About a year goes by and then, out of the blue, someone comes to your house and tells you that you have to let the cat go because he wasn't yours to begin with, he misses his family and has to get back home. What's more, they tell you that you can't take him there, that he has to face all those dangers that first brought him to you in the first place all by himself. You cry, you are angry and frustrated, you don't understand why this little baby doesn't want to stay with you when all you ever did was love him. But you let him leave. And now everyone hates you because you kept him from his home, and yes, maybe it was a mistake, and maybe it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong at the time, you had the power to give him a great life, so why would you think he would choose the risk?

This is about Calypso in Epic: The Musical btw. She was definitely wrong for keeping Ody in the island, but she is a fucking goddess, in her logic it was within her power so why wouldn't it be within her rights? Again, she's definitely in the wrong, but Odysseus himself has done worse in the name of love and yet he's just a mere victim? That's not fair. Calypso is as complex a character as he is, she is very lovable and naive, and deeply wishes for Ody to love her and be thankful that she saved him and gave him everything he could ever want or need. She could make him immortal, she would do anything for him. She believes him wanting to go home to his wife is just a human whim that will go away once he sees everything she's willing to give him. And seven years is nothing when you're immortal, so she can wait it out patiently.

Also, Ody knows how pure of heart Calypso really is. He knows she hasn't done anything worse than the lengths he would go for Penelope, and it's been seven fucking years. Of course he loves her, not romantically, but he does love her. For the last seven years of his life she has been his everyday, she's been comforting and sweet and offered him love and luxuries. He loves her and he still sees her as an antagonist and that hurts them both. Leaving definitely wasn't easy for him either, but he had one goal in mind. One.

Also if someone comments anything about Calypso SAing Odysseus, NO SHE FUCKING DIDN'T. Even if the song didn't make it to the final version, Apetite shows us that she never actually forced him!

Anyways if you actually made it this far, I hope you have an amazing day, and remember: if you hate a morally grey character when is a woman of color but love it when is a white dude maybe the problem is not in the morality of the character. Ok, love you! Thanks for reading, byeeee

[fanganfessions]

All of the DT girls are amazing and have done nothing wrong ever in their lives.

"But what about--" God forbid women do anything!

.

[mochipatch]

Something to Prove and Nothing to Lose

Ricky: YES YES YES! This is a masterclass, Carlos, good job!

Carlos: Yes! Yes! Thank you! Ahh, this feels so good! Forza Ferrari!

It was the perfect weekend. It is the ideal weekend.

He had been feeling it since the end of the month-long break. This uphill climb in 2024 is the hardest thing he has fought in his racing career, losing a seat to a seven-time world champion, scrambling on his feet to get back up and find a team that will welcome him with open arms (a top team is a bonus), where he could find a new home. With the second break coming to an end. He started to feel it. He can feel it thrumming in his veins. 

He felt it at COTA. He had it on hand. First, on FP1, Sprint Qualifying could have gone better, but he gritted his teeth, taking in on every opportunity. Ultimately, it was P2, which was good but not good enough. Qualifying felt good until a red flag aborted his run, which could have been pole. He had a good start, but the squabble between Max and Lando caught him in a bind, which was not the same with Charles, who got away smoothly and led laps to victory while he ended in P2. He always said he wanted another win before leaving Ferrari in his interviews. Time is running out with six races left, and he is P2. Frustrated, he could have done better but was a victim of circumstance. The racing gods whispering in his head - No, not yet. 

The celebration of the team in their motorhome felt like the start of a goodbye. Maybe this is what it all could be - a podium but never a win. So he tried to soak it all up, disappointment emanating from every pore in his body but trying to be happy because he would not be a person to rob off a good celebration for a team, the team that he has bled red for ever since his childhood dream team opened its door to him, much less a teammate that he considers a good friend and a good motivator to be better. 

We will go and start again is his mantra. 

Mexico is always a lively affair with all the pomp and circumstance. He never finished on the podium in this circuit, but the free practices felt promising, placing him in the top 3 every time. Qualifying was nerve-wracking in Q1 and Q3, but something clicked in Q3, and he got two lap times that ensured him pole position on both occasions. He savors the high, the adrenaline rushing through him. He is giggly and all joyous, as if he is already on the podium. Everything felt right. A thought ran through his head - Is this my time? Asking the voice in his head, which denied him COTA. No one answered.

It’s lights out, and away we go.

He is off to a good start, but Max is even better. He tried his darndest to defend, but Max got the upper hand; he had nothing to lose now, but crashing was not an option, so he chose to run to the grass and give back the position. Is this your answer to my question? He asks again. A safety car allowed him to be closer to Max, but it was only until lap 9 that he decided to take charge. Damned be the racing gods, he will take charge. He overtakes Max, but Max isn’t going down without a fight. But by the skin of his teeth, he takes the lead and defends the overtake. He manages his tires, looking for every variable that could go wrong. He won’t be comfortable until he crosses the checkered flag. He has hunted, and the 19 drivers behind him will hunt him down to take his place if a sliver of opportunity arises. As lap 71 nears, he grows more and more confident. He knows Lando is catching up with the gap closing into 4 seconds, but he knows that the laps will not be enough to catch him. It's the last lap; he aims to go to their side once he sees the pit wall. He spots a pit board and the people in red climbing the fence, raising their fists and yelling, never mind that the roar of the engines drowns out their voices. He crosses the checkered flag, and his mind blanks for a second. He did it. He did it. 

HE FUCKING DID IT. 

He hears Ricky's radio, and he answers on autopilot. Thanking Ferrari, thanking the team that let him bleed red even if it left him feeling nothing, for letting him walk through the doors of history, of legacy. He parks his car in front of the P1 sign board, and it takes him a second to process what happened. He gets out of the car, and there is something in the crowd's layout that feels like this win was just made for him. The mechanics pull him into a hug, and he hugs them just as fiercely, hoping his hold conveys his gratitude to them. 

It was tradition for the winner to wear a sombrero while being lifted off the platform; he just wanted something simple for all the fanfare he had gone through this weekend. He opts out of the sombrero and just holds his helmet because it all boils down to this: he and his car. He raises his helmet to the crowd, pointing at his number, and takes in the crowd once more. Once the Spanish National Anthem plays out, everything comes to a head: the euphoria of the win in front of the Mexican crowd and his family on the audience, the tiredness from the season that has brought him, and the bittersweet feeling of what would have been. Before he knows it, he feels a prickle in his eyes and cheeks. 

Oh. 

He is crying. 

The Italian anthem plays next when he hears a voice in his head. You did it. Your time has finally come once more. 

He took charge and the racing gods granted his wish; he waited, and he finally had it. 

[jinxkiramman]

"Never thought mine would orphan kids" Jinx has only ever killed combatants and oppressors ._. Vi and Caitlyn and the writing want us to take Jinx's actions as morally wronf but she literally has not intentionally killed any innocent person.

Jayce killed a child unintentionally and Vi's like "Welcome to the Lanes, Piltie" like girlie you are trying so hard to make Jinx into this villain when she's literally not done anything wrong. Piltover is the enemy you, fool!

It's just, like, nothing we have seen of Piltover can justify why Zaun has to live in a perpetual hell. Jinx and Vi and Ekko and all the children of Zaun have to adapt to the idea that their lives don't mean anything to Piltover. What GOOD has Piltover shown us, what morally nuanced stances do they have that could ever justify a victim of police brutality and Piltover's oppression joining the Enforcers. Wielding the same violence that tore your life apart, and using it on your neighbors!

We see beauty and community and struggle and dependency and despair and hope in Zaun. And we see opulence and naivety and bigotry in Piltover. The only speck of morality came from Caitlyn and Mel. Mel is MIA and Caitlyn is showing how the hooks of privilege and status have never truly been removed from her thinking. Because she's calling Zaunites animals, she wants to think Vi is "one of the good ones" 😭 please Vi, open your eyes, Piltover is NOT worth saving and it will NEVER accept you.

[this post is made by a Caitlyn coochie muncher]

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

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Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!” your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not. 

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself. 

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

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At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

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At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

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You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

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*Flashback*

1 year ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

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At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it. 

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.” 

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt. 

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.” 

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom. 

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?” 

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from. 

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it? 

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to. 

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.” 

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze. 

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.” 

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

[icarusredwings]

At first he ignored it.

The jealousy piling up in his stomach.

He first noticed it when Wade electrocuted himself while changing the lightbulb in the kitchen to a mucb softer purple color instead of the harsh yellow that "made his skin look terrible" and lit the good candles. The ones that were new and smelled good, not from the dollar store and smelled like your grandma- No offense Althea.

Sure, Wade has done those things for him too- well... not change the light but he's lit candles and made him a mediocre dinner that would score a solid 5.5 out of 10 if he were to rate it. The extra 1.5 was from sheer love alone. He could taste it when he ate the food- so why did it seem like he loved her more?

He was trying so hard for her. For everything to be perfect. And it was like this almost every time, even if they were off and on, everything was always perfect.

Yes, He did something similar for him when they first got together a few times, but.. after that, it dialed down. He stopped changing the light. He stopped lighting the good candles. He swapped the homemade dishes for takeout. Sure, Wade danced with him in the kitchen but this wasn't the same.

Yeah, Wade gave him preformances while making breakfast or cleaning the house, but this felt more personal. Rehearsed. Reserved for someone who wasn't him.

Now, don't get me wrong, he loves Vanessa. No where near as much as Wade but she was genuienly a good person, caring, understanding, very pretty, and a bad ass for being able to put up with Wade for so long- without any regeneration powers. How the hell did he even bag her??

He wondered how long it took the stab scar on her arm to heal. How many times Wade break down apologizing for becoming spooked. How long until he would allow himself to sleep in the same bed as her again, punishing himself for hurting someone he loved.

When he saw him take the spoon, he couldn't help but watch as Wade put on one of the cringest performances that he's ever witnessed. Like a 20 year old frat boy who was trying to get a girl to let him hit, except the look in his eyes was genuine. He loved her more then life itself. And he knew it.

He acted so young around her. Suddenly, he was barely old enough to drink and fell in love with the first stripper he met at the club. Like T-Pain falling head over heels for a bartender, so excited and infactuated with her simply for treating him with human kindness.

God.. It reminded him of how he was with Kayla..

He watches as he holds her wrist, putting his chin on her crossed legs for a moment and slid down to his knees like the little weirdo he was. It made her giggle. Hell it made HIM giggle.

He wasn't sure how or where Wade got all this charm, but it worked a bit too well, but the smile on Vs face, looking at him as if she could tell how he was feeling, how her eyes invited him to join them but he was far too nervous. This was THEIR date afterall. He was only here because he lived here and had nothing else to do tonight.

Not like Wade minded, but he felt like he was intruding for being here.

"-Guilty feet have got no rhythm!"

Logan snorted, speaking before he could even catch the words on his tounge. "You never had any to begin with!" He teases.

At first, he worries Wade will be upset with him. Will scold him for ruining their date. Would tell him to leave.. but he didn't.

He only sprung up, giving him a sassy hand on his hip as he waved the spoon. "ExcUSE me!?"

Logan smiled, that small bit if jealousy going away, burning up like paper in the house fire of his heart that was lit ablaze by the playful attitude.

Oh, he missed this more than he realized. Starting trouble, play fighting with someone who matched his energy without becoming too upset by his growly demeanor.

"I can do more than waltz, you know." He tells him, glancing to Ness for consent to bud in. She gives him a quick nod as he takes Wades attention from her, attempting to try to dance with him but he pulls his hand away.

Right. Wade didn't dance with anyone else to this song. This song was Nessys. And he was okay with that.

"Oh, yeah!? Like what? Square dance?!"

"What's wrong with square dancing!?" His head tilts, furrowing a bit. Since when was square dancing outdated? Man, he really needed to catch up to the decade. Everything changed so fast that he never knew what was acceptable and what wasn't anymore. What dances were considered "too old" and which were "cool"

He lets go of him for a moment, letting Wade change the song, Madonna's 'Like a Prayer' "Wolvie! It's our song!" He squeals, waves his hands happily, shoves the pasta spoon back into the pot then took Logan's hands.

Yeah. Their song. A happy grin comes to his face as he's grabbed.

"Can you swing?"

"S-swing??"

After struggling, swinging around, and Wade getting his toes broken a couple of times, Logan took the lead, deciding to spin him instead, smiling as Wade giggled, only to scream when dipped.

"Don't drop me!!"

"Im not going to drop you!" He reassured him, about to cover his mouth when he heard Vanessa laugh, uncrossing her legs and dropped down.

"Not infront of Nessy!"

"Oh shut up, i'm not going to embarrass you infront of Vanessa-" he turned to her, whispering "I so am"

She laughs again in the way that makes him grin like a little kid, the way her eyes looked at him as if asking to but-in their sorry excuse of a dance, but he wasn't sure who she wanted to dance with until she smiled at him.

"Neeeeesssyy this is supposed to be OUR date! Logan!" He whines drimatically on the like between playful and serious.

"What? It's not my fault your game is weak." Logan teases him, giving her a playful nod, putting his hand out for her to take "Ma'am."

And that's how he got here. In the kitchen, brow raised while Wade snatched V back from him, holding her with a pout. One not so playful.

At first he worries that he messed up. That he flirted a bit too much, made Wade uncomfortable, became the third wheel...

Again.

The third that they wanted to play with but not actually love together.

Logan was used to that. Used to being played with and then scolded by the other partner when they found out about their playing.

So he stands there. Waiting to be yelled at. Waiting for Wade to tell him to stay away from Vanessa.

But it never came. Instead, Wade held her waist, tight, putting his chin on her shoulder, giving an upset look to him. "I thought you wanted to dance with me?"

"...What?"

"We were dancing, and I wasn't done with you!" He complained, now squeezing Vanessa a little more. "And you! You have to wait your turn! He's mine." He tells her, making V laugh, snorting, giggling from the hand placement on her sides.

"Yeah, okay, tough guy. He's yours. And you're mine. So I get seconds, don't I~?" She coes, reaching a half up to hold his cheek with that sexy smirk of hers and pretty siren eyes.

Swallowing, Wade noded quickly. "Yeah- Anything you want- I mean.. Of course... j-Just-" he glances between the two of them. "Stay here. I have to go make a fool of myself."

"Don't you do that already?" She sighs, happily leaning against the counter as he comes to Logan. "You know it, baby!! Hit it Christiana!!"

Ness can't help but laugh when Logans eyes widened, a deep blush coming to his face.

He says, as next on the playlist proceeded to play "Genie in a bottle" by Ms. Aguilera.

Yeah. He wasn't jealous anymore...

Thinking about Wade is having a stay-in date night with Ness, and this means the kitchen light is traded for a colored one, candles, half burnt pasta, cheap wine, and Careless Whisper blasting throughout the appartment complex.

He starts off with some cringy dance while V is up on the counter, rolling her eyes and smiling, but she can't help but feel like there was something different about Wade. Yeah, she knew this dance. She knew the routine of his 'serenade' and his littlw two step slow dance he had going on, making backup sound effects for Mr. George Micheal and eventually grabs the pasta spoon, singing into it.

This is not new, but.. something was. She couldn't put her finger on it but she knew her boyfriend. She knew him well enough to become engaged to him, break up with him, and start dating again.

It was like he was glowing.

But why?

"Tonight the music seems so loud! I wish that we could lose this crowd-" His non existsnt eyebrows wiggle, and Vanessa can't help but to almost spit out her wine.

"Maybe it's better this way, We'd hurt each other with the things we want to say!" He shouts into the pasta sauce covered spoon, leaning into her a bit as she rolls her eyes again, looking up at the ceiling. She knew what Wade wanted. He wanted to "earn" her with his performance.

God.. he really is her peacock, wasn't he?

"We could have been so good together! We could have lived this dance forever!" Taking her arm, He pulls her waist closer to him, connecting their foreheads with those pretty heart eyes of his beaming into hers with such love struck gleam.

"But now who's gonna dance with me? Please staaaayy~" He sings loudly, letting her go enough for V to notice that Logan is now staring too, the same lop sided love struck small smile on his face.

"And I'm never gonna dance again- Guilty feet have got no rhythm!!" He says, dropping onto his knees and arching his back, using her hand to keep his balance.

"You didn't have any to begin with!"

She hears, looking up to see Logan smirking as Wade jumps to his feet. "ExcUSE me!? My bad, not everything is a waltz, old man! Like seriously, when's the last time you could do anything but a simple one two three? Lincoln's wedding!?" He calls over the counter and Logan grunts, his joints popping as he gets off the couch.

Wades eyes widden with dangerous excitment as he turns to her. "Oh now, im in for it!"

"Damn right. I can do more then Waltz, you know."

"Oh, yeah!? Like what? Square dance?!"

"Whats wrong with square dancing!?"

Then it clicked.

Him.

That's what was different about Wade.

Logan had changed him. Unconsiously, for the better. He was so... Happy. He was like a missing puzzle piece to complete Wades purpose of being, mirroring what Wade needed, even if that meant insulting his dancing skills mid date.

Grinning widely like a moron with a crush, he changes the song- Wade was serious. He would never dance with anyone else except V to that song ever again- Pushing next on their shuffle only for Madonna to come on.

Squealing, he waves his hands, shoving the pasta spoon back into the pot then took Logan's hands. "Can you swing?"

"S-swing?- Woah!! Hey!"

"You wanted to dance so were dancing!"

"I didn't say that!"

As she listens to them bicker, she laughs as she watches Logan awkwardly step on Wade's foot multiple times.

"Ouch!! Hey! I'm regenerative, not indestructible! You're like 400 pounds!!" He teases, and the blush on Logan's face is something she wants to take a picture of, watching as he tries to teach Wade how to 'properly dance', spinning him around, holding his wasit and dipping him at certian parts.

"Ahh!! Don't drop me!!"

"I'm not going to drop you, Stop screaming!"

"Ness!! He's gonna drop me!"

She giggles, giving Logan a playful finger wag. "Hey do you mind? He needs all the braincells he can keep!"

"Yeah! Cancer already ate half of them!"

"Oh, sssuurree, just the cancer, definitely not how many times youve made me shove my-"

"Lo-Lo!!! Not in front of Nessy!!" He whines, being spun again.

"Oh shut up, i'm not going to embarrass you infront of Vanessa-" he turned to her, whispering "I so am"

"I HEARD THAT!"

"What? It's not my fault your game is weak." Logan teases him, giving her a playful nod, putting his hand out for her to take "Ma'am."

She laughs, hearing Wade suddenly complain that he wasn't supposed to be stealing his date.

"Maybe she wants to dance with a real man-" Logan coes, gently taking V and spinning her too... Vanessa could see why Wade liked him.. he was quite strong. And a gentleman.

"My gender blindness has NOTHING to do with this!" Wade whined in a high-pitched tantrum like sound, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him instead.

Oh great. And now they were fighting over her.

Gosh... Maybe she has two Peacocks...

[hotwaterandmilk]

Series: GOGOGOGO-GO-GHOST! Artist: Hiruzuka Miyako Publication: ‘GOGOGOGO-GO-GHOST!’ manga volume #1 (01/2022) Details: TSUTAYA Exclusive Bonus Illustration Card Source: Scanned from my personal collection

[thanks--for--listening]

defending the marvels online isn’t enough I need a sword

[sentient-egg]

she is not happy about this

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