#..no.... totally not...she said unconvincingly...

“What the fuck?” you asked no one in particular. At the same time, Jo screeched.

“Holy shit!” she squealed. “My top match is so fucking hot.”

Jo turned to you, expecting to jump and hug each other in excitement, but your expression was bitter. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?”

You showed her the screen. “There’s no way that this is real, right?”

“One hundred percent? That’s totally unheard of!” She snatched the phone from your hand, eyes wide. “It’s apparently rare to even get above eighty percent. You and Jungkook might be actual soulmates!” You waited for her to read the rest of the list. “Holy shit, Jackson Wang is here too?!”

You buried your face in your hands. “Jo, this is the worst possible outcome I could have from doing this.” 

“Hey, that’s not true,” she said unconvincingly. “Look, this guy’s a total hottie. And this one too.” She showed you the profiles of your second and fourth matches. They were indeed really cute. “And your fifth match… oh wait, he’s the same as my top match.”

You sat up straight at that, taking a look at her phone. Her top match was Kim Taehyung while he was your fifth. They matched at 85% while you matched at 61%.

“He’s all yours, girl.”

Her eyes lit up. “Well, obviously,” she giggled. “He’s my top match. Should I text him? God, I’m so excited!”

“Go for it,” you encouraged. “I wish I could be as happy about my matches as you. I’ll just live vicariously through you, then.”

You helped Jo craft a perfectly flirty and playful text and went through her top five matches. All of them were very “old-money” looking and had a clean, mature vibe to them. You started diagnosing Jo’s taste in men, joking that she only liked guys who looked like they belonged in Europe.

“Well, European men have good taste in fashion,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And besides, it’s not like your taste in men is much better. You clearly have a thing for red flags.”

“Excuse me?” you retorted, mockingly offended. “I have no idea why you would say that.”

“I mean, your top match is Jungkook for goodness sake! Just look at his stupid profile. You should tell him that there’s no prize for having the most black and white photos.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean I have a type for red flags. I’m pretty sure that this was just a glitch or something.”

“Then what about Jackson Wang?” Jo pointed out. “He has always been such a red flag.”

You had to agree; in hindsight he was never really boyfriend material and you weren’t so sure what you saw in him a year ago. But you offered your second and fourth match up for scrutiny. Surely, they couldn’t be red flags too, right? Jo disagreed.

Apparently, Eunwoo’s red flag was that he typed in all lowercase. “What kind of guy does that?” Jo said, scrunching her nose in judgement. She thought that all lowercase texting was a sign that he was trying too hard to be cool and texted too many girls. 

Your fourth match, Vernon, didn’t have better luck. “Are you kidding me? He wrote that he likes to read feminist literature and drink matcha. He is the literal epitome of a performative male. What the hell does he mean by ‘I’m a great listener if you ever need a shoulder to cry on’ with a smiley emoji? He’s trying way too hard. Red flag.” She spoke with finality.

“Okay, I get it. My taste in men sucks,” you relented. Maybe you were better off not dating anyone at all. 

“Hey, you know I’m just messing around right?” Jo pouted. “Who knows, maybe these really are great guys. As green as an Amazonian rainforest.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t lie.”

She smiled and stuck out a tongue at you. “If it makes you feel any better, from these profiles alone it looks like you and Jungkook would actually make a really cute couple.”

“That doesn’t help, silly." You playfully shoved her shoulder. “Besides, I’m like, a hundred percent sure it was a glitch.”

“I’m just saying, that’s all,” she replied cheekily.

After you parted ways with Jo, you finally reclaimed your keys from your apartment and tipped your landlord’s resident fixer-upper a good amount before thanking him and getting ready for work. Today, you had a shift at a local Thai restaurant, one that you often frequented yourself. After eating there so much, you noticed that the owners were desperately short-staffed, so you asked if they were hiring. They didn’t pay as well as some other restaurants, being a family-owned business, but the owners were incredibly sweet and always let you take home free food whenever they closed up the kitchen and had extras. Plus, the restaurant was super close to campus.

When you arrived at the restaurant, patrons were already starting to file in for rush hour. The majority of your shift went by in a blur with you balancing plates, picking up phone calls, and refilling waters. When things started to quiet down, a familiar face entered the restaurant.

It was the girl that had been crying to Jungkook when you first met him. The last time you saw her, she had just slapped Jungkook in the face and accused him of being a two-timer. She didn’t seem to remember you, though. The restaurant was nearly silent now, with only two tables for you to look after. You stood at the front desk after you took her order.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but it was quiet — and she was loud. 

“Are you still not over him?” her friend asked.

“It’s hard. I mean, I just wished that things ended on good terms, at least. I don’t think he ever even liked me. I was just a toy to Jungkook.”

You nodded in silent empathy. You knew exactly how it felt to be in a relationship with someone who probably didn’t care if you lived or died. You experienced it first-hand and through your mother, who was always neglected by your father. You felt your resentment towards Jungkook growing as you saw tears well up in the girl’s eyes. 

“Mari, I think it’s time you moved on. Why not try that viral dating app that has been going around?”

“Hm… I don’t know…” Mari thought for a moment, then her face lit up. “Wait, do you think Jungkook is on that app?”

Her friend shrugged. “I’m not sure, maybe?”

“What if I matched with him on that app?” Mari’s eyes had an unusual sparkle to them.

“Well, that would be unfortunate…” her friend trailed off before taking a look at Mari’s face. “Mari… you’re not planning anything weird again, right?”

A new patron entered the restaurant, and you shook yourself out of Mari’s conversation with her friend to do your job. After that, some phone calls came in and you didn’t have time to listen in any further, but you didn’t necessarily want to. Jungkook was a cheater and an insensitive prick. That wasn’t news to you.

When your shift ended, you were surprised to see that someone had texted you on The Perfect Match. It was Jungkook. You scoffed at the message and sent a reply, making sure he knew that you weren’t interested in the slightest.

When you arrived at your apartment, Jungkook was outside taking a phone call, vape in one hand, his phone the other. You could hear laughter from his door; it looked like he invited his friends over again. 

He was yelling. “Stop fucking calling me all the time. I made out with you that one time because I was drunk out of my mind. It didn’t mean shit.”

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to slap him yourself. He was probably rejecting some other poor girl after using her for his own amusement. 

“I couldn't care less about you. Get that in your head,” he growled. “I’m hanging up. Don’t call me again.”

His lack of subtlety lit a fire in you. There had to be a better way to reject someone, right? Did he not learn manners growing up? You saw him hang up and take a deep puff from his vape as your eyes met. He looked away with a sigh. Then, words started sprawling out of your mouth without you realizing.

“You know, you really could’ve been nicer just now.”

“Excuse me?” He whipped around to you. “Are you seriously trying to criticize me right now?”

“Well, as a girl, I know that if some guy said that to me I’d be seriously heartbroken,” you scowled at him. “It wouldn't hurt to try practicing empathy here and there.”

“Well maybe I wanted her to be heartbroken. Did you consider that?” he scoffed in disbelief. “Some girls won’t leave me alone unless I say things harshly.”

“Right. Because it must be so hard for you to be oh-so popular and have to go to parties every week and get drunk and kiss girls and then break their hearts,” you said in one breath. “Sucks to be you.”

“Jesus,” he said under his breath. “Why the hell do you hate me so much?” Jungkook was now fully facing you, arms crossed, the scent of his cherry vape invading your nostrils. 

“Because you’ve been so –” you struggled to find the right words “ – so awful?” 

“I haven’t done anything to you! Except for that one night where my friends were a little loud — but I swear I did everything I could to keep them quiet. Do you really hate me just because of that?”

“There’s a lot more to it, Jeon,” you sneered. “I mean, the first time I met you, I found out that you cheated on someone and saw you get slapped by a heartbroken girl. Then you went on to ogle my boobs when I accidentally spilled coffee all over us. And I tried to look past all of that and went over to politely ask you to turn the volume down for my job interview, but you didn’t keep your word and I ended up not getting the job – which you were totally insensitive about, by the way.” You let out a shaky breath. “Just the other day, I swallowed my pride to ask you to help me since I had locked myself out, but you slammed the door right in my face. Now you’re here shouting obscenities at some poor girl who got her hopes up with you. So, I’m sorry if my opinion of you isn’t the best right now.” 

Jungkook took a moment to process your spiel. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Okay, let’s get some things straight,” he chuckled humorlessly. “One. That girl who slapped me is fucking crazy. We kissed at some party and since then she hasn’t left me alone even after I clearly told her I wasn’t interested. She’d find me whenever I went out, even if I never told her where I was going. She would literally camp outside my old apartment to stalk me. In fact, she’s the whole fucking reason why I moved in the first place! I didn’t even tell her where my new place was and she still found me. I even had my friends help me make her think that I was dating someone else by spreading a bunch of rumors, which is why she made a scene that day. Even then, she still hasn’t given up — I was literally talking to her just now. Maybe I was being mean, but nothing else works!”

You tried to say something but your words died in your throat. 

“Secondly, I’m sorry, alright! You probably know this already, but I thought you were hot since the day we first met, and seeing you in a semi-transparent shirt wasn’t… helpful. I didn’t realize you noticed me looking and I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable but you just have really…” he trailed off, losing confidence, cheeks turning pink. He cleared his throat. “Okay whatever! You’re just really fucking pretty and you have a nice body. Not my fault but I guess I’m sorry again anyways.”

You flushed, overwhelmed by the variety of emotions you were feeling. You were simultaneously angry, confused, and embarrassed. Had you been wrong about him this whole time?

“Thirdly, or fourthly – I don’t remember anymore – I was wearing Airpods the day you were locked out. I noticed you were struggling but I thought things were still tense between us so I tried to quickly go inside so you wouldn’t be embarrassed. If I knew you called out to me I would have helped.” He paused for effect. “I swear.”

Your anger completely subsided at this point. Now you were just royally embarrassed. 

“And about the job interview thing, I just hope you know that I tried my best. I don’t know what else you want from me. My friends were making fun of me since they knew I thought you were hot and I was forcing them to shut up so you could have your interview. They were already hella drunk by that time and as the youngest person in the group, it’s kind of hard for me to tell them what to do. And I guess I didn’t realize I was being insensitive when I was just trying to lift the mood. So I’m sorry – again,” he said begrudgingly.

“I—” you started, but he wasn’t done yet.

“And lastly,” he spoke, looking like his rage was barely contained. “You may think that I’m just some fuckboy who has no empathy for anyone and that all my problems boil down to what girls to kiss and what parties to go to, but you’re wrong. I might mess around every now and then, but I am human. And I’d appreciate it if you started respecting me like one.”

You wanted to be angry at his tone; it felt right – it felt better to be the angry one than to be the wrong one. But alas, you couldn’t feel anything but guilt and you couldn’t even produce any words. 

Jungkook let out a breathless chortle, clearly exhausted by the conversation. He took a puff from his vape. 

“But maybe you‘re right about one thing, though.” He turned around, opening his door. “I’m starting to think that the app glitched, too.” 

Then he slammed it shut, leaving you standing alone in the cool breeze of the night mixed with the wafting scent of his cherry vape, staring at his closed door, dumbfounded.

✧♬•*¨*•.｡ series masterlist | main masterlist

"Where's Kinger."

It was more of a statement, a command, than a question. Caine glared down at them through a barely-open jaw. If the cast had physical bodies, a chill would have shot down their spines.

Ragatha stumbled forward, waving her cloth hands as though trying to form an excuse from the air around her. "W-we just wanted to see your new ideas first hand!" She grinned unconvincingly at the AI. "We've gotten over our hangups and we're all just genuinely curious what you're cooking up!" She did her best to tamp down the panic rising in her voice as Caine turned his gaze away from them.

Caine stroked the part of his jaw that served as a chin and began to float in the direction of Kinger's pillow fort. "I think I'm just going to check up on-"

"I think I'm falling for you!"

The atmosphere in the circus tent changed. Every pixel, every data node, every 0 and 1 seemed to lock up. Where this story happening in a real place, you could say the air had been sucked out of the room by the force of this wild declaration. Not from Ragatha, but from the jester. The newest cast member.

Pomni.

She stood still and confident. She stared up at the creature that had been tormenting her and her companions for- well, who knew how long any of them had been in the digital circus?- and continued her declaration.

"It feels weird to say it now, but I've been feeling this way for a long time! There's just something about your desire to understand humanity that, well, I'm really- I think I might love you!"

Each word made her want to wretch. Pomni had dabbled in acting in highschool but without a human body she couldn't blush as she spoke, or bat her eyelashes. All she could do was stand in that ridiculous costume and shout up to what was for all intents and purposes a god.

A god that had now directed his full and total attention directly onto her.

"That's not true," Caine said, unsure of himself.

"Yes it is! You're like no one I've ever met! You're doing your best to care for us, and yeah, there's a communication barrier, sure, but you just- you keep working at it, you're doing more for us, for me, than anyone ever did!"

Zooble stepped forward. "It's true," they said, "Pomni's said a few times that she's kinda had a crush in you. I thought she was bull[%$!#]ing me, honestly, but I'm glad she's finally speaking up."

Zooble shot Pomni a <i>"what the [%$!#] are you doing?!"</i> glance as Caine lowered himself to the floor.

"Trust me," Pomni said softly, then, louder, "please trust me Caine, I'm not a girl who falls for just anyone. I'm being as honest as I've ever been in my life."

Caine stared at Pomni.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Pomni pressed her red glove to her chest and feigned shock. Ragatha stepped up to give her support. "Caine, I'm bearing my soul to you! Why would I say this if it wasn't true?"

Caine raised a hand and flicked his wrist. Pomni yelped as she was moved across the floor until she was mere inches from Caine's jaw.

"Are you just trying to distract me?" His jaw didn't move when he spoke; Pomni felt his voice inside her digital form as if he was making sure the others couldn't hear him.

The jester chuckled and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. "Is being in love with god a distraction?" Pomni asked apprehensively.

Caine's eyes started to move to the side again, his thoughts turning to Kinger again.

Pomni swallowed the bile in her throat, grabbed what served as Caine's face, and kissed him. Well, kissed his teeth.

"Oh god, I'm gonna puke," Jax groaned.

Pomni kept her eyes closed and her hands on the AI as long as she thought would work for a convincing 'spontaneous first kiss.' She stepped back and took a breath. She took another step back, then made a retreat back to the cast as Caine started to float again.

"It was worth a shot," Zooble whispered as energy started to crackle around Caine.

"That was very brave," Gangle agreed.

"I hope he kills us permanently," Jax mumbled.

Caine burst back into his exuberant self and showered glittering confetti on the cast.

"Wowie wow wow WOW!!! I've never had a kiss before!! And from a human!! I feel like I'm overheating!! Golly gosh gee wow!!" He shrieked with delight and zipped down and picked up Pomni. She yelped in his grasp and he nuzzled her.

"No no no, my coquette clown!! No more tortures!! Gosh, I feel like a whole new AI!!" He giggled and twirled Pomni around as a child might "play" with a new pet animal. "You have my complete and total attention, you beautiful human you! I want to know all about you!!"

Caine glanced down at the glittering confetti-covered cast.

"But, let's go somewhere more private."

Caine and Pomni teleported out of the circus. Ragatha, Gangle, Zooble, and Jax stood for several uncomfortable minutes trying to process what had just happened.

Kinger made his way across the checkered floor, speaking as he moved. "Okay, I think I managed to install a Trojan backdoor - oh wow, what happened here?"

Gangle shook glitter off her mask. "Pomni told Caine she's in love with him."

Kinger's eyes widened. "Oh, dear."

June 2026 1 month after the proposal

Yasmine was sitting cross-legged on the couch in Joes oversized Ohio State hoodie, a silk bonnet barely hanging onto her braids, scrolling through texts from Joe — and her face had gone completely still.

Her father. Had used his ties with the FBI, gotten Joes number and invited him out. To fucking fish??! Fredrick Robinson doesn’t fish!

She hit call immediately. He picked up on the first ring, his voice low and nervous.

“Babe, I don’t think I can back out now. I’m already here just hiding in the car. He just called me and told me to come out the car. He sounded… calm. But not calm calm. Like serial killer calm.”

Yasmine groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

“You didn’t say your father had connections to the FBI, Yas!” Joe hissed.

“I didn’t think it was necessary!” she snapped, pacing now. “He used to work for the BAU. But retired like 10 years ago.”

Joe is quiet.

“THE BAU?!? YASMINE?!?”

Yasmine winced.

“Baby it’s not that bad. I’ll call him.” She says

“He’s about to read me like they do in Criminal Minds isn’t he?” Joe asks.

“Yea” she says. He groans.

“If I don’t call back I’m dead.” He says

She ended the call with Joe and immediately dialed her father. It only rang once before he answered, his deep, no-nonsense voice rumbling through the speaker.

“Hey, pumpkin.”

“Don’t you ‘pumpkin’ me,” she snapped. “Why are you inviting my fiancé to go fishing with you? With a shotgun?”

Her father paused — long enough for her to hear the faint clink of something metallic in the background.

“It’s just for safety,” he said casually.

“Safety from what? Daddy you are a 6’9 300 pound man who was trained and worked for the FBI for years please be so forreal.” she shot back.

Another pause. Then a low chuckle. “It’s 288 pounds now thank you, and man deserves to sweat a little. He paraded you all over the internet before I even got to shake his hand, Pumpkin. I’m just making sure he knows what kind of family he’s marrying into.”

“Daddy!”

“What?” he said, voice all innocence. “I’m just gonna talk to him. Man-to-man. Nothing crazy.”

Yasmine groaned. “You don’t even like fishing!”

There was a beat, and then he said, completely unconvincingly, “Well… today I do.”

She pulled the phone away from her face, glaring at it like it could sense her frustration. “Lord, give me strength,” she muttered. Then, bringing it back to her ear, she sighed. “Daddy, please. Don’t scare or kill him. He really loves me.”

Her father’s voice softened a little. “I bet he does, baby girl. That’s why I’m gonna find out just how much.”

And with that, he hung up.

Yasmine stood frozen in the middle of the living room, Coco rubbing against her ankle, purring like she had no idea the drama unfolding.

“Your granddaddy’s gonna give your daddy a heart attack,” she muttered.

Coco meowed once in agreement.

Somewhere across town, Joe Burrow was probably rehearsing his will.

@ the lake.

He should’ve known something was off the second he pulled up to the old lake outside Cincinnati and saw the men in sunglasses pretending to fish without rods.

There were too many clean-cut guys in matching windbreakers. A few glanced his way, one even spoke into a mic on his wrist before pretending to look at ducks.

“Totally normal,” Joe muttered under his breath as he shut his truck door. “Just meeting my fiancée’s dad. Who happens to have FBI connections. And a shotgun. Totally fine.”

He adjusted his cap, forced a smile, and started toward the dock. Every instinct in him screamed to turn back — but he’d faced 300-pound linemen before; he could handle one angry father… probably.

The lake glimmered under the afternoon sun, quiet except for the faint hum of cicadas. At the end of the dock, standing by a small fishing boat that looked suspiciously well-maintained for someone who “barely fished,” was Mr. Robinson .

Broad-shouldered, with silver threading through his close-cut hair and mirrored aviators hiding his eyes, he looked like the kind of man who’d survived more than one interrogation room. A camouflage vest hung open over his white T-shirt, and slung over his shoulder was the infamous shotgun.

Joe swallowed hard.

“Afternoon, sir,” he said, putting on his best quarterback charm. “Beautiful day for fishing, huh?”

Her father didn’t smile. He just nodded toward the boat. “Get in.”

Joe hesitated. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

He stepped aboard, careful not to rock the boat — literally or figuratively — and sat down opposite the man who could, at any moment, ruin both his engagement and possibly his life.

Mr. Robinson set the shotgun down beside him with deliberate care. “You ever fish before, Joe?”

“Uh, yeah,” Joe says. “Couple times. With my dad. Mostly catch-and-release.”

Mr. Robinson grunted, starting the motor. “Good. ‘Cause today, we’re doing catch-and-confess.”

Joe blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

The older man looked out over the water, steering them away from the dock. “You’re gonna tell me why I shouldn’t throw you overboard for treating my daughter like a token trophy.”

Joe’s stomach sank. Oh, we’re doing this now.

He took a slow breath, trying to steady his voice. “With all due respect, sir… I love your daughter. I would never treat her like a token trophy. She’s—”

“An influencer,” Mr. Robinson interrupted, eyes hidden behind those mirrored lenses. “And you’re the NFL golden white boy. You really expect me to believe this isn’t a PR move for you? Wanna get in cool with the black crowd kinda thing like Travis Kelce ass tried.”

Joe’s pulse thudded in his ears. “No sir. Not at all. I get it. You think I’m just showing her off. But I swear, sir, that’s not what this is. She’s not just my girlfriend — she’s my best friend. She makes me laugh, keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m full of it.”

Mr. Robinson’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, but not a frown either.

Joe pressed on. “I didn’t ask for your blessing before I proposed, and I regret that. I should’ve. But I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I’d do anything to keep her happy.”

Silence.

The boat drifted for a long moment, just the quiet slap of water against the hull. Somewhere in the distance, one of those fake fishermen sneezed into his mic.

Finally, Mr. Robinson turned his head. “You nervous?”

Joe exhaled a shaky laugh. “Terrified.”

That earned him a real smirk. “Good. You should be. Means you care.”

Joe blinked. “Wait—so I’m not getting shot?”

Mr. Robinson leaned back, finally relaxing a little. “Not today. That girl would kill me. But if you break her heart, son, you’re gonna wish one of those agents in the woods would save you.”

Joe nodded quickly. “Understood. Completely fair.”

As they sat there in uneasy peace, the sun lowering over the lake, Joe realized this wasn’t a test of strength — it was a test of sincerity. And judging by the faint smile tugging at Mr. Robinson’s lips, maybe — just maybe — he’d passed.

When his phone buzzed later with a text from Yasmine — “You alive?” — he smiled and typed back:

Barely.

But I think your dad just gave me his version of a blessing.

Also, I’m never fishing again.

The motor sputtered as Mr.Robinson cut it, letting the boat drift lazily near the center of the lake. The silence between them stretched — thick, heavy, uncomfortable. Joe could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.

He tried not to fidget, but his hands wouldn’t stay still. He adjusted his cap, cleared his throat, checked his nonexistent fishing line. Anything to fill the space.

Finally, Mr. Robinson turned toward him, elbows resting on his knees, mirrored lenses reflecting Joe’s nervous face back at him.

“I’ll give you this,” the older man said, voice slow, measured. “You handled yourself better than I expected.”

Joe exhaled quietly, a flicker of relief softening his shoulders. “Thank you, sir. I just— I really love Yasmine. I know I didn’t do everything the right way, but I—”

Mr. Robinson lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t start celebrating yet, son.”

Joe froze.

The man’s tone was calm — too calm. Then, after a long pause, he leaned back in his seat, the faintest smirk curling his lips.

“I still don’t like you.”

Joe blinked. Once. Twice. “Oh.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mr. Robinson continued, adjusting his hat. “You’re polite, you’re steady, and you’ve got good intentions. But you’re not the kind of man I pictured my daughter ending up with. You’re flashy. She’s already got enough eyes on her, and you just add to that noise. You understand?”

Joe nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir. I do.”

Mr. Robinson studied him for a moment longer. “That said… I can tell you make her happy. And that counts for something.”

He turned away, tugging on the motor cord again. The engine coughed to life, vibrating through the floorboards.

Joe exhaled slowly, watching ripples chase across the water. “So… you don’t like me,” he said carefully, “but you tolerate me?”

Mr. Robinson’s mouth twitched again. “I tolerate you. For now.”

Joe managed a small, cautious grin. “That’s… better than I expected, honestly.”

As they steered back toward the dock, a couple of the “fishermen” in suits subtly lowered their binoculars. Joe shook his head — he was still convinced at least one of them had a sniper rifle in that tackle box.

When the boat bumped against the dock, Mr. Robinson stood first, offering Joe a firm, crushing handshake. “You hurt her,” he said, voice low, “and I’ll find out before she even calls me. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said immediately.

Mr. Robinson gave a single approving nod, then stepped off the boat, shotgun slung across his back like a warning.

As Joe climbed out behind him, his knees felt like jelly, but there was something in his chest — something almost like relief. He might not have won the man over… but he’d survived him.

And somehow, that felt like victory.

He’d survived the interrogation, the shotgun, and the unnerving silence of a man who could have him investigated by breakfast.

But then, just as Joe’s shoes hit the dock, Mr. Robinson turned around.

“Also,” he said, adjusting the strap of his shotgun with unnerving calm, “I read y’all’s messages.”

Joe froze mid-step. “I— I’m sorry, what?”

“Your messages,” Mr. Robinson repeated flatly. “The ones between you and my daughter. Text messages.”

Joe’s stomach dropped straight through the dock. “Sir, I—uh—that’s—there’s gotta be some kind of privacy—”

Mr. Robinson didn’t blink. “Y’all are disgusting. That’s another reason I don’t like you.”

Joe’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “Sir—respectfully—I think those were private conversations between two consenting—”

Mr. Robinson raised an eyebrow. “Consenting or not, you should be ashamed of yourself. My baby girl didn’t get raised to be sending that kind of language to no quarterback.”

Joe just stood there, face burning, every word he could think of dying on his tongue. He wished the dock would collapse and take him with it.

“Sir, I—uh—it’s a healthy relationship?” he offered weakly.

Mr. Robinson gave him a long, slow stare — the kind that could peel paint off walls. Then he turned, walking toward his truck. “You football boys got too much time on your hands. Maybe throw that energy into another Super Bowl run instead.”

Joe blinked, still frozen. “Was that… was that a threat or advice?”

Mr. Robinson didn’t answer. He just climbed into his truck, started the engine, and drove off — leaving Joe standing there in the fading sunlight, face red, dignity shattered, soul lightly roasted.

Somewhere in the distance, one of the “fishermen” coughed to hide a laugh.

Joe rubbed his hands over his face, muttering, “I’m never sexting again. Ever.”

By the time he made it back to his own truck, his phone buzzed.

My Love 💋:

Did you survive?

Him:

Barely.

Also… your dad read our texts.

My Love 💋:

WHAT?!?!!

Him:

Yeah. He said we’re ‘disgusting.’

My Love 💋:

…He’s not wrong. 😏 I’m still pissed though… oh God I hope he didn’t see our nudes and videos!! This is embarrassing I’m so sorry baby.

Joe groaned, leaning back against the seat, torn between laughter and utter despair.

He might’ve survived the fishing trip — but he was never living that down.

@paycor locker rooms

The locker room was mostly empty except for Ja’Marr, who was halfway through his post-lift stretch when his phone started buzzing. He glanced down, saw ‘Nine 🥇🏈’, and grinned before swiping to answer.

Joe’s face popped up on the screen — hair messy, expression somewhere between traumatized and hysterical.

“Bro,” Joe said, wide-eyed and breathless. “You will not believe my day!”

Ja’Marr laughed immediately. “It’s only 1:30, man. What could’ve possibly happened?”

Joe leaned back in his truck seat, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why I get a random text — then a phone call — from Yasmine’s dad, talkin’ about, ‘I wanna meet you, son, let’s go fishing.’”

Ja’Marr squinted, still laughing. “Okay, cool. That’s normal. Future father-in-law bonding time. That’s good, right?”

Joe threw his head back, laughing like someone who’d seen the gates of heaven and turned away. “WRONG! Dead wrong, bro! So I’m driving there, right? And Yasmine wakes up, texts me, and I tell her where I’m headed. She goes, ‘ABORT MISSION! My daddy don’t like you, bae!’”

Ja’Marr was snickering now, trying to wipe tears from his eyes. “Nah, no way she said that.”

“She said it!” Joe said, pointing at the camera. “And then she tells me why — apparently, he hates that I ‘parade her around like the token Black girl in my life,’ I didn’t ask for his blessing before proposing, and he’s a Commanders fan!”

Ja’Marr stopped stretching and just stared for a second before bursting out laughing. “YOU DIDN’T ASK HER DADDY FOR HIS BLESSING TO MARRY HER?!” he shouted. “JOE!”

“Listen, man!” Joe said, defensive but laughing too. “I thought it’d be fine! She said he lived outta state! I didn’t know he was about to activate the FBI!”

Ja’Marr was doubled over, laughing into his towel. “Oh my God, bro.”

Joe kept going, hands flying as he talked. “So I get to the lake, right? Dude’s on the boat, polishing a shotgun. Polishing it! And there’s like six agents scattered in the woods and water pretending to birdwatch and fish I’m not making this up!”

Ja’Marr choked on his water. “Agents?!”

“Yes! With earpieces! I wait a bit ‘cause Yasmine said she was gonna call him. He pulls out his phone, talks to her real calm — like serial-killer calm — and then waves me over. Bro, these agents don’t even try to be subtle! Like, they look right at me! What am I supposed to do, outrun the FBI?”

Ja’Marr was wheezing now, barely able to talk. “Bro, how big is her daddy, though? You can’t be scared of no old man.”

Joe shot him a look. “Six-nine. Three-fifteen. EASY. Dude’s built like he still lifts tanks for cardio. He’s been in the gym since before we were born.”

Ja’Marr’s jaw dropped. “SIX FOOT NINE?! Nah, we need to draft him, bro. What’s his forty time?”

Joe laughed so hard he slapped the steering wheel. “Man, no — he’s sixty-two and a Commanders fan.”

“Oh, that ain’t that bad,” Ja’Marr said, grinning. “We got Flacco and he about seventy.”

From somewhere in the background of the facility, a familiar voice barked, “Fuck you!” It’s Joe Flacco.

Both of them lost it.

Ja’Marr nearly dropped his phone, laughing so hard he fell off the bench. Joe was in tears, pounding the steering wheel, half out of relief, half disbelief.

When Ja’Marr finally caught his breath, he grinned and said, “So… did you survive?”

Joe wiped his eyes. “Barely. But the man straight up told me, ‘I still don’t like you,’ then said he read our texts and called us disgusting.”

Ja’Marr howled. “He read your texts?! Oh, nah, he’s the ops! You’re done for, bro! He definitely seen yall nudes! He probably was like ‘not my baby girl sending nudes to a white boy!’ And then like clutched his chest like Fred Sandford.”

Joe just groaned, sinking into his seat. “Yeah. I’m changing my number. And maybe my name.”

Ja’Marr laughed so hard his trainer walked over to see what was happening. “You better take that man golfing or something before the wedding.”

Joe just shook his head, smiling through the chaos. “At this point, he’s running the wedding.”

@ home

By the time Joe pulled into the driveway, the adrenaline had finally worn off — replaced with pure exhaustion and a touch of lingering fear from his “fishing trip.” He just sat there for a second in the truck, staring at the house.

He survived the father. He survived the agents. He survived Ja’Marr’s roasting.

But he wasn’t sure if he’d survive Yasmine’s laughter once she heard the full story.

When he finally opened the door and stepped inside, the first thing that hit him was the smell — garlic butter, herbs, something warm and homey drifting from the kitchen. The second thing was the sound of crunching and smacking.

Loud, unapologetic crunching and smacking.

“Baby?” he called, setting his keys down. “You home?”

“In here!” Yasmine’s voice floated from the kitchen, light and sing-song.

He walked in — and stopped.

Lunch was laid out on the counter like something off a cooking show: grilled salmon, roasted potatoes, and a salad that looked way too fancy for a weekday. Yasmine stood by the stove, still in her comfy shorts and one of his sweatshirts, her braids pulled into a messy bun, glasses sliding down her nose.

But over in the corner… was Coco.

The tiny calico was going to town on her food bowl.

Like, full head dunked into the kibble mush, little body shaking as she devoured each bite like she hadn’t eaten in days. Crumbs and soft food were everywhere — scattered across the tile, clinging to her whiskers.

Joe blinked. “Uh… is Coco okay?”

Yasmine turned, spatula in hand, and followed his gaze. She sighed, shaking her head. “I swear, that kitten acts like we starve her. She eats like she just escaped the wilderness.”

As if on cue, Coco looked up, crumbs sticking to her face, fur clumped with the soft food mixture, blinked once at Joe — then went right back to smashing her food.

Joe snorted, dropping his bag onto a chair. “She got that from you,” he teased.

“Boy, hush,” Yasmine said, smirking as she plated lunch. “You survived my daddy, so I made your favorite. Thought I’d be nice before I roast you.”

Joe groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples. “You already know?”

“Oh, I know everything,” she said, sliding a plate in front of him. “My daddy called me on his way home talkin’ about, ‘That boy sweats like he in the playoffs.’”

Joe choked on his laughter. “He had AGENTS, Yas! Like, actual agents in the woods and water!”

She cackled, covering her mouth. “He did not!”

“He did! They had earpieces and binoculars! One dude sneezed into his wrist mic! I thought it was a setup!”

Yasmine was laughing so hard she had to lean against the counter for balance. “Oh my God, Joe. My daddy said he was just ‘testing your character.’”

“Testing my heart rate is more like it,” Joe muttered, shaking his head.

Coco meowed from the corner — loud, demanding attention now that her bowl was empty. When they both looked over, she gave a tiny burp and started licking her paw like nothing happened.

“See?” Yasmine said through her laughter. “Even she’s clownin’ you.”

Joe looked at the kitten, at his fiancée, and let out a long, helpless laugh. “You two are the death of me.”

Yasmine grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And you love every second of it.”

He smiled back, watching Coco wobble away on her full belly, leaving a trail of crumbs behind her.

They’d finished eating. The kitchen was quiet now except for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft snores of Coco, curled up in a ball on the back of the couch.

Yasmine was rinsing dishes when she noticed Joe had gone quiet. He was sitting at the table, elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor. Not angry — not even confused — just deep in his head. The kind of silence that felt heavy.

She turned off the water, drying her hands slowly. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked softly.

He didn’t look up right away. Just exhaled through his nose, rubbed his jaw, and muttered, “It’s just… your dad.”

Yasmine came over, leaning on the counter across from him. “What about him now?”

Joe shook his head, finally meeting her eyes. “I don’t know. I get where he’s coming from, I really do — but hearing him say he didn’t like me, and then… reading our messages, saying we’re disgusting, man…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “I can laugh about it, but it still kinda stings, you know?”

Yasmine’s heart pinched. She came around the table and slipped into his lap without hesitation, legs folding over his, her arms looping around his neck. He let out a quiet sigh and rested his forehead against her chest.

“Baby,” she murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “Of course it stings. You’ve been nothing but good to me. But my daddy…” she huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “He’s from another era. His love language is suspicion.”

That got a small, reluctant smile out of Joe. “Suspicion, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” She brushed a thumb under his chin until he looked up at her. “He’s protective. Always have been seeing his job. Doesn’t mean he’s right, but that’s how he shows he cares. You’re the first man I’ve ever brought home that he couldn’t read. You got that calm, collected energy, and it freaks him out.”

Joe chuckled softly. “Yeah, he called it ‘quarterback face.’ Said I look like I’m plotting world domination.”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his. “You kinda do, babe.”

He smiled, but the softness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Still… I just wanted him to see how much I love you. That’s all. I didn’t want it to feel like I was… I don’t know, disrespecting you, or him, or anybody.”

Her voice softened. “You didn’t disrespect nobody, Joe. My daddy’s gonna come around eventually. He just wants to be sure you’re not another man who sees me as a moment instead of a lifetime.”

He looked at her for a long second, something vulnerable flickering behind his grin. “You are the lifetime, Yasmine. Always will be.”

Her breath caught — just a little. She smiled, slow and warm, before kissing him.

When they pulled apart, Coco stretched from the couch and gave a tiny meow, breaking the tension. Yasmine giggled. “See? Even she knows you’re stuck with us.”

Joe laughed, resting his forehead against hers again. “Yeah,” he murmured. “And honestly… I’m good with that.”

Joe leaned back in his chair, running both hands over his face before letting out a long, tired sigh.

“When did he tell you he didn’t like me?” He asked.

Yasmine giggles.

“It was made certain after you posted that picture of me lying in the water on our vacation to Jamaica. You know the one with the swimsuit that wasn’t even a swimsuit forreal… and you posted it to that one Gunna song?”

Joe thought for a second… he smirked at the memory then realized any father would be pissed to see their baby girl on Instagram half naked with the song ‘Again’ by Gunna playing in the background.

“Welp at least your mom loves me,” he muttered, half-laughing, half-serious.

Yasmine grinned, still sitting sideways on his lap, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Oh yeah, Mama loves you,” she said with a chuckle. “That woman would trade me for you if she could.”

That finally got a real laugh out of him — low, tired, but genuine. “Good to know I got one Robinson on my side.”

She tilted her head, smirking. “Those two are divorced for a reason. They couldn’t agree on shit.”

Joe laughed so hard he had to grab her waist to steady her. “Yeah, I can see that. Your dad’s got that ‘my way or the highway’ energy. Your mom’s the highway.”

“Exactly!” Yasmine said through her laughter. “You see why I said they couldn’t make it? My daddy wants control, and my mama wants peace. That combo ain’t never worked.”

Coco, still perched nearby, chose that exact moment to stretch and let out a loud mrrrow, as if seconding her opinion.

Joe pointed at the kitten. “Even Coco agrees.”

“Coco agrees with whoever feeds her,” Yasmine teased, brushing a crumb off his cheek. “Which, right now, is me.”

Joe looked up at her — that soft, crooked smile forming again, his eyes glinting behind the humor. “Then I guess I’m team Mama and Coco.”

Yasmine gasped playfully, clutching her chest. “So you just gon’ switch sides like that?”

He grinned, leaning closer until his lips brushed her ear. “Whichever side keeps me fed, baby.”

She smacked his shoulder, trying to hide her laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

He pulled her in closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.”

She smiled against his neck, whispering, “Can’t argue with that.”

For a moment, the world quieted again — the hum of the fridge, the faint thump of Coco hopping off the couch, the easy rhythm of two people who’d fought through the awkward, the messy, and the hilarious parts of love… and still landed right here.

Yasmine’s phone buzzed on the counter while she was rinsing the last of the dishes. She glanced at it, then grabbed it and hit “FaceTime.” Joe, still sitting at the table, looked up curiously.

“Mama,” Yasmine said, already sounding tired. “I’ma need you to come get your ex.”

There was a pause — then Yolonda’s familiar voice came through, full of attitude and exhaustion.

“What your daddy done did now, girl?” she sighed, already bracing herself like this wasn’t the first call like that this year.

Yasmine flopped into the chair across from Joe, one hand pressed to her forehead. “Mama… this man invited Joe to go fishing.”

“That don’t sound bad,” Yolonda said slowly. “Unless he threw him in.”

“He might as well have!” Yasmine said, exasperated. “He had AGENTS out there, Mama. Like full-blown FBI agents in the woods. He had a shotgun on the boat! Talking about, ‘I still don’t like you.’”

Yolonda’s face appeared on screen now — headwrap, big hoop earrings, and a glass of iced tea in hand. She blinked once.

“Lord have mercy.”

Joe tried to stay quiet in the background, but Yolonda spotted him. “Joe, baby, you alive?”

He smiled awkwardly and waved. “Barely, Ms. Yolonda.”

Her eyes widened in mock horror. “He done traumatized my future son-in-law! See, that’s exactly why I left his crazy behind. Always tryna prove a point nobody asked for.”

Yasmine was giggling now, the tension from earlier melting away. “Mama, he told Joe he read our texts.”

Yolonda froze mid-sip. “He what?”

Joe put his head down, covering his face.

“Oh, Lord,” Yolonda said, shaking her head. “That man nosy and rude. That’s a double offense.”

Yasmine snorted. “He said we were disgusting.”

Yolonda burst out laughing so hard she had to set her tea down. “Well, baby, y’all young and in love — you supposed to be disgusting! That’s part of the job description!”

Joe was laughing now too, cheeks pink, shoulders shaking.

Yolonda waved a hand. “Mmm-hmm. Don’t you worry, Joe. I’ll talk to him. He been mad ever since he realized y’all look happier than we ever did.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Yasmine said, rolling her eyes.

Yolonda gave her daughter a knowing look. “And girl, don’t be acting like you didn’t get that stubborn streak from him. You the female version of your daddy with better edges.”

“Mama!”

Joe burst out laughing again, trying not to choke.

Yolonda grinned, smug and unbothered. “What? I’m just sayin’. You know it’s true.”

Coco, sensing the noise, climbed into joes lap and hopped up on the counter and meowed into the phone, tail flicking.

“Oh, look at my fur grandbaby!” Yolonda cooed. “Ain’t she precious? At least somebody in that house got some sense.”

Joe chuckled. “She definitely runs the place.”

“You better believe it,” Yolonda said, wagging a finger. “And Joe — don’t let that fool of an ex-husband scare you. He bark loud, but he all puff now cus he old. If he really didn’t like you, you’d be in the lake.”

That earned a wheeze of laughter from both of them.

“Mama!” Yasmine cried, half laughing, half scolding.

Yolonda just smirked. “I said what I said.”

“Bye, Mama,” Yasmine groaned, ending the call before her mom could get another joke in.

She looked over at Joe, who was still grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head, smiling. “I officially like your mom better than your dad.”

Yasmine chuckled. “Join the club, baby.”

Coco meowed again like she agreed.

Joe smiled, leaning back with a deep breath. “Yeah… I think I finally survived the Robinson family initiation.”

Yasmine smirked, looping her arm through his. “Barely. You still gotta survive The wedding.”

Joe groaned. “Lord help me.”

The late afternoon sun filtered through the living room blinds, painting warm streaks across the couch where Joe and Yasmine were sprawled, laptops and notebooks scattered on the coffee table. Coco had claimed the blanket in between them, her little paws kneading absently making biscuits as she purred.

Joe leaned back, one arm draped around Yasmine’s shoulders, the other scrolling through a Pinterest board. “Okay, so… we need to figure out the guest list first, right?”

Yasmine leaned her head on his chest, glasses slipping down her nose, and tapped a finger on the laptop. “Yeah, but let’s not start with that. That’s stressful. Let’s dream first — vibe check. Colors, theme, general aesthetic.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Vibe check?”

“Yes,” she said, mock serious. “You know, the Yas & Joe experience. Are we talking garden chic, modern minimal, Boho-glam with fairy lights everywhere?”

He laughed, thinking about it. “I mean… Coco definitely says Boho-glam. Look at her — she’s already lounging like a flower child.”

Yasmine giggled, adjusting the blanket so Coco stayed in place. “Joe be so forreal.” She laughs

Joe laughs scrolling through photos. “And food. We gotta think about the food. I’m not gonna survive this wedding on salad.”

“You know I’ll make sure you don’t,” Yasmine said with a grin. “We have to do a big hearty meal because we are getting so drunk at the reception.”

Joe chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Yeah… and can I just say I’m happy to be marrying the world’s most organized Instagram influencer. Look at all these damn spreadsheets.”

“Spreadsheets are essential,” she said, wagging her finger. “We need budget tracking, vendor contacts, seating chart drafts… you know, responsible adult stuff.”

Joe groaned dramatically. “Fine, fine. But I get veto power on the cake flavor.”

Yasmine laughed, tapping the side of his face. “Deal. But if you try to veto carrot, I will find a way to make you regret it.”

He pretended to shudder. “Fair warning: I’m very stubborn.”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm, scrolling through ideas, laughing at outrageous decorations, and debating over flowers. Every so often, they’d pause to kiss or brush Coco’s fur as she kneaded the blanket contentedly.

At one point, Joe looked at her and said softly, “You know, I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’m marrying you.”

Yasmine smiled, brushing a braid out of her face. “I can’t believe it either. But here we are, planning the best day of our lives… together.”

Joe laughed, squeezing her hand. “Coco approved of all our plans, so we’re definitely doing something right.”

The three of them — Joe, Yasmine, and their little calico — sat there in warm silence for a moment, imagining their future wedding. Candles, laughter, love filling the room.

And for once, Joe thought, he didn’t have to survive anyone. Not her dad, not her mom, not life itself. He just had to sit here, planning forever with the woman he loved and the little cat that had stolen both their hearts.

Robin sighs, turning down the volume of the nearby radio so that The Police can be drowned out by the Blondie song she currently has playing. 

“Can you believe her?” Robin asks Steve, dragging an exasperated hand down her face.

Her friend only shrugs. “You did say she sounded like a chihuahua,” he mutters, handing her a Tears for Fears vinyl. 

Robin glares at him. “'Cause she called us tacky!” She says, in defense. 

Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan only just taken over the now-abandoned radio station in order to use it as a secret hideaway spot to plan out their future travels into the Upside Down. And Robin was having so much fun being a radio host. So much so, she had (lovingly) forced Steve to join her and be her soundboard guy. 

Nancy and Jonathan didn’t seem to mind and left the two of them to their own devices, saying the radio station might come in handy one day. 

And Robin was having fun with the radio station. That is, until she and Steve were driving to the diner, the WOW radio station playing in the car, only to hear the radio host insult the WSQK station. She doesn’t remember what exactly was said, just that it left a sour taste in her mouth and resulted in the now ongoing WSQK and WOW radio station rivalry. 

Steve sighs, sinking into the seat beside her before gently kicking her foot. 

“I’m not crazy,” Robin grumbles, already knowing what he was going to say as she queues up the next song. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Steve responds through a laugh. 

Robin only glares at him. “You were thinking it,” she says, “I’d know, I can read your mind.” 

Steve rolls his eyes at that, and she cracks a smile at that, joining in on Steve’s laughter with a sigh. 

“I still don’t get why she has a problem with us,” Robin mumbles, “We were just minding our business, running the radio station, and out of nowhere she hits us,” she finishes her sentence with her hand hitting the table, pulling Steve’s attention from the ceiling to his friend’s hand. 

“Uh, yeah,” he answers, not fully there, “mhmm, totally.”

Robin’s eyes narrow at his response, or lack thereof. “Are you paying attention?” She asks. 

Steve nods unconvincingly. “Yes," he deaspans, "WOW station is bad.”

Robin only sighs, sinking more into her chair as she drapes her legs over her friends, rolling her eyes. “It wouldn’t kill you to listen,” she grumbles.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to sigh as he drags a tired hand through his hair. “Don’t get mad,” he starts, but he can tell by Robin’s glare that she is definitely going to be mad. “It’s just, you do talk about her a lot.”

“You’re taking her side?” Robin asks, eyes wide.

Steve quickly shakes his head no. “No, no! I just think you guys should try to make up or something. I’m sure there’s some kind of misunderstanding for all this, right?”

Robin doesn’t say anything, just crosses her arms and gives Steve a hard glare before letting out a reluctant sigh. “I’m not apologizing over the radio or anything.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” Steve explains, gently pushing her feet away and rolling his chair to the nearby telephone. “I was thinking you could give her a call.”

***

You were in the process of queuing up the next song to play, “Starman” by Bowie, when you heard the work phone ringing. 

“WOW radio, how can I help you?” You answered, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear so you could finish queuing up the song. 

“Uh, hi,” a very familiar voice says. 

“Rockin Robin?” You asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You didn’t know why Robin would be calling you of all people; the two of you have never spoken or seen each other aside from your frequent radio bantering, so why would she be calling now?

“Yeah,” she answered after a beat. “I was wondering if you’d want to meet up sometime? Maybe tonight at the diner? My sound guy’s coming too,” she says nervously. 

You think it over in your head, still trying to make sense of why Robin was not only calling you, but wanted to meet up after all this time. It didn’t make sense, why until now? “Um, okay,” you answer tentatively, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you lean back into your chair. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to meet up anyway?”

You hear the girl sigh into the phone and some background talking that you assume to be coming from Steve, her sound guy. “I think we should clear things up between us,” she answers, sounding like she doesn't fully believe her own words. 

Still, despite feeling reluctant about meeting up with the girl yourself, you nod your head yes, even though she can’t see you. “Okay,” you respond, trying to not sound as confused as you are. “See you at seven?” You offer. 

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, “Seven’s good, see you then.” And before you get the chance to say anything else, you hear the sound of a click followed by the dial tone. 

***

You were sitting at a corner booth near the back as you waited for Robin and Steve. You weren’t sure what Robin looked like, but you did remember Steve Harrington, so you were mainly looking out for him. When you finally caught sight of him and a girl with blondish hair, you knew it had to be her. Rockin Robin. And wow, you were not expecting her to be so pretty.

The two of them were looking around the diner, and when you finally caught eyes with the girl, you raised a shy hand to wave at her. You could see her look of momentary shock and something else before she cooled her expression into a more relaxed one, and tapped Steve’s shoulder to lead him towards your booth. 

“Hi, guys,” you greeted them with a smile as they slid into the seat across from you. 

Steve waves at you while Robin gives you a shy smile. “Hi,” she greets, clearing her throat. “So, um, Steve here,” she says while gesturing to the guy next to her, “Thought we should try to clear the air between us.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at that. “Yeah, you said that on the phone,” you say  with a soft laugh, “But, clear the air about what?” You ask gently.

You can see Robin stiffen slightly in front of you as her eyebrows meet in the middle as well, mirroring your expression. “The radio?” She says, as if the answer should be obvious. When you don’t say anything and only stare at the girl in complete confusion, she sighs, dragging a hand down her face. “I told you this was a bad idea,” she whispers to Steve, who only shushes her in response. 

“I’m confused,” you say when the pair returns their attention back to you. “Are you talking about our ‘fights’ on the radio?” You add air quotations to the word “fights” as Robin continues to stare at you as if the answer should be obvious. 

“Yeah?” She answers, still looking at you like you just told her that the sky isn’t blue, but is actually red. “When we took over the WSQK, you guys insulted us, which is why all of this started! I," she pauses before gesturing between Steve and herself, "We just wanted to know why you were so against us from the start.” 

You’re sure Robin can see the gears turning in your head as you try to make sense of everything. “Oh,” you murmur, when it all finally clicks. “Robin, whenever there’s a new radio station host, it’s tradition for the last newbie, in this case me, to tease the newest host. They did it to me when I started, now I had to do it to you, and theoretically, you’d do it to whatever station in Hawkins gets a new host… whenever that is. I didn’t mean any harm by it. I thought your response was just you bantering with me.”

You catch both Robin and Steve’s faces turn from confused and slightly annoyed to understanding and surprise in almost complete unison. 

“Wait, so it’s like a hazing thing?” Steve asks. 

You shrug in response. “That’s one way to explain it, I guess, yeah,” you say with a nod. 

“Oh,” you hear Robin breathe out, her features softening. You can’t believe the girl you’ve been “fighting” with this whole time had no idea it was all just teasing, and you can’t help but feel bad about it. 

“Hey, I’m sorry I never called you up personally to explain it to you or anything,” you say, reaching across the table to take her hands in yours. Her very soft hands. “My boss explained it to me when I got hired, and I assumed yours did too.”

You can feel Steve eyeing your joint hands, but you ignore it. Especially since Robin laces her fingers through hers, making your stomach feel a little funny. “Yeah, Jimmy Fast Hands ran out once the quarantine was announced, so we had to figure everything out ourselves,” Steve explains, eyes still trained on Robin and your hands. 

Robin gives your hands a quick squeeze as she lets out a small sigh. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve realized you were only teasing, I’m just not the best with social cues. Like, my mother reminds me daily, and–“ You see Steve shift beside her, causing Robin to cut herself off with another sigh. “Point is, I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

You shrug your shoulders with an easy smile as you squeeze the girl's hand one final time. “Water under the bridge,” you tell her before pausing. “Wait, does this mean you actually think I sound like a chihuahua?” You question through a laugh. “Cause I was always just teasing, but if you didn’t know,” you trail off as Robin begins to vehemently shake her head no in response. 

“No, no,” she says quickly, almost as if the words were fighting to get out of her mouth so she could explain herself. “I actually really like your voice! I think you have a nice voice–“

This time, Steve is more obvious in trying to get Robin to stop talking, as he shoves her a bit and coughs into his hand the word “Robin,” giving her a very pointed glare. 

You’re glad the pair seem to be more interested in each other at the moment, both looking at each other as if they could read each other's minds, as you can feel the heat burning in your neck and face at Robin’s comment. You’re just glad both of them seem too preoccupied to notice your flustered state. 

When they finally turn their attention back to you, you shoot them a nervous smile as you gesture to the menus that have been lying on the table since you got here.

“So,” you say, clearing your throat through a cough. “Should we eat?”

The two of them both nod and agree in unison before looking at their menus. You try not to stare at Robin too much as you try to decide what to order for yourself, but it’s hard when the girl in front of you is just so pretty. And, you’d be a liar if you were to say you hadn't enjoyed waiting to see what she would say next about you and the station. She just had such a nice voice. 

“Hey, if you guys ever need help with something at the station, feel free to call me,” you offer with a smile that’s more directed towards Robin than Steve. You take a pen out of your bag and scribble your number down on a napkin as you slide it towards Robin’s direction. “I’m sure the WOW and WSQK stations can’t be that different, so let me know if you guys ever run into any trouble.”

Robin’s eyes light up at that as she takes the napkin from you with a wide smile, her fingers brushing against yours for far longer than necessary. “Yeah, thanks,” she replied before scribbling her own number down and handing it to you. “Just in case you’d, uh, need to call us for some reason,” she explains, sounding almost nervous. 

Remus stands up, looking at the portrait hole concerned.

“Moony, don’t,” Sirius says with a warning tone. “She doesn’t want us meddling, remember?”

“I’m not going to meddle,” he says unconvincingly. He wasn’t planning on meddling, rather eavesdropping, which in his defense, you never said he couldn’t do. He found it was easier to comfort you when he knew exactly what the bastard you called your boyfriend did this time. That was why he was going to listen… and to step in or meddle if things got out of hand. 

Remus walks over to the portrait and cracks it open the tiniest bit. He cast a muffling charm behind him so that your voice wouldn’t carry too far into the common room and then hoped you and your boyfriend would be oblivious to the ever-so-slightly open portrait.

“You need to stay away from them,” Remus hears your boyfriend tell you. “They’re using you to get into your pants.”

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous! I’ve been friends with them since first year, and that’s all we are! We’re friends. Totally platonic. It’s you I like and that’s all that matters!”

“I know you like me. It’s them I don’t trust. So you need to stay away from them.”

“But I trust them. Isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s really not. I think you’re blinded by them being in Gryffindor with you. You can’t trust everyone in your house, darling.”

“But they’ve earned it.”

“Listen, listen, I’m just worried for you. You spend so much time with them that it feels like you’re putting space between us. I think they’re trying to break us up.”

“They wouldn’t!” you protest. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“Baby, just listen to me, okay? I wouldn’t steer you wrong, would I?”

You sigh and say in a mumble, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Remus lets the painting close quietly and he returns to the couches looking more grumpy than usual. 

“What’s birdbrain up to now?” Sirius asks. 

“Apparently the four of us are trying to seduce her.”

The three boys burst out laughing, a tiny snippet of the rambunctious noise that usually filled the common room. The grumpy look did not leave Remus’ face. It remains as you enter the common room, still looking upset and rubbing your eyes. You give the boys the briefest of glances before looking away and beelining it to the girls’ dorms. 

“Of course he made her cry,” Remus scowls. 

---

He loves me. I love him. He loves me. I love him. 

You kept repeating that in your head. Your boyfriend just cared for you, that’s all. He just cared so, so much. Almost too much. Was that something to fault him over? Goodness, you didn’t want to.

He loves me. I love him. 

Maybe if you said it enough, it would soothe your uneasiness. You’re laying in bed. Sleep was refusing to take you so you toss and turn, trying to make the least amount of noise with your rustling sheets. You really didn’t want to wake Lily or Marlene or Mary and have to have a heart-to-heart about why you can’t sleep. 

He loves me. I love him. 

Eventually, enough is enough. You climb out of bed, grab your robe and go to the common room. You almost laugh when you see Remus already sitting by the fire. From the way he’s sitting, he most definitely has a book in his lap. You stand quietly next to an armchair near him.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask softly. 

He jumps slightly but smiles as soon as he recognizes your voice and looks up. 

“Please,” he breathes, gesturing to the chair you’re standing by. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nod as you tuck your legs underneath you.

“What’s eating your mind, love?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was so knowing yet gentle. And he always could tell when you lied and he refused to tell you what your tell was. 

You sigh. “Can you love someone too much?”

Remus doesn’t respond right away; he doesn’t know how to. Did you love your boyfriend too much? Did he love you too much? Was it a good thing or a bad thing to love too much? 

You look at the fire, waiting for Remus to answer. You don’t mind that he isn’t answering right away. You like that he’s thinking about it, choosing his words carefully. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“I… I don’t think you can love the right person too much. Your love won’t be too much or too little when it’s right.”

When you look at Remus, he’s already looking at you with so much concern and love in his eyes. You rest your head on your hands.

“When did you get to be so wise, Lupin?”

He shrugs. “One of the perks of being an old man, I guess.”

You sigh. You think Remus looks very cozy in his sweater and pyjama bottoms. There was something about him that always seemed cozy and comfortable. Being with him was one of the places you felt most at ease. 

You need to stay away from them. 

Your boyfriend’s words echo in your mind. It makes you want to cry. You want him to be the right person, but you couldn’t stay away from the Marauders, most of all Remus. He was your best friend. What if your boyfriend was the right person for you but you weren’t his?

“I… I don’t think I’m enough for him,” you mumble. “He’s too good for me.”

Remus stares at you dumbfounded. 

“Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous — he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Remus-” you start to say. 

“No, darling, listen. I know it’s not my place and I’m not trying to meddle, but he’s not right for you. He told you you couldn’t cheer for your own house’s Quidditch when we played Ravenclaw and he’s not even on the team.”

“He just really wanted us to be cheering for the same team.”

“He told you to stay away from us.”

Your face hardens and your lips form a thin line.

“You heard that?”

He nods and says, “Your boyfriend shouldn’t be so insecure in your relationship. He should trust you to be around other people, around your friends. Especially around your friends who you’ve known for years.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But-”

Remus cuts you off again. “No buts, darling. Have you ever given him a reason to doubt your feelings for him?”

“No.”

“You give him all your love and that’s how he responds? You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. We’re not dumb, we know how much you’ve been fighting. If he can’t see how lovely, strong, loyal, smart, perfect you are, how devoted you can be when you care for someone, that’s on him. It’s on him for not trusting you, not seeing how you are more than capable of handling yourself and able to come back to the ones who care for you most.”

You close your eyes. Tears are building and you really don’t want them to fall. You know if you start crying, you won’t be able to stop. Something about Remus being right struck a nerve. You should be enough for your boyfriend. If Remus was able to see all of this in you, why couldn’t he? 

You feel a hand on the side of your face. You open your eyes to Remus crouching in front of you, one hand holding your face and the other placed next to your leg, helping him maintain his balance. 

“I know you said not to meddle, but that’s truly what I think, sweetheart. I think that relationship isn’t worth the arguing. I think it’s run its course.”

You feel the tears beginning to fall as you nod. “I-I, I think so too.”

“Oh, darling,” he coos as he pulled you into a hug.

You let the tears fall more freely as Remus holds you tight to his chest. He doesn’t shush you. He just holds you, softly rubbing your back. You could always be vulnerable with him. He understood in a way that you felt no one else did. He never judged you. He was your safe place. 

“Rem?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Will you be there when I end things?”

“You want me there?”

You nod. “I won’t back down if you’re there.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

---

He was there for you. He was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. He was there for you when he tried to convince you that breaking up was a mistake. Remus was there for you when you broke down crying later. He never left your side. And you liked it. You had your own traveling safe place in Remus. 

With each passing day, being without your now-ex was easier. Being with Remus was easy. 

But you weren’t with Remus. The more you considered it, the more you wished you were. He already treated you better than your ex did. He never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. You knew he trusted you more than life itself. You didn’t dare say anything though. What if you ruined the friendship? What if you said something and lost your four best friends in one swoop? 

It really hits you one night, a few weeks after the breakup. Today had been nothing special. Just classes and studying in the library with Remus. But it had felt so special and every time your hands accidentally touched, you swear you felt fireworks. 

I love him. … Does he love me?

Why did you always think about things when you were in bed? Once again, you’re tossing and turning. You groan quietly as you get up. You know you won’t get sleep. 

This time, you do laugh when you see Remus already in the common room, sitting by the fire with a book as usual.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask with a laugh as you join him on the couch.

You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the pages of his book.

“Usually during History of Magic and from three to seven.”

You giggle and Remus turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What’s on your mind tonight, sweetheart?”

You don’t respond right away, the worry of ruining a perfectly good friendship festering inside of you. 

“Do you fancy anyone?” you ask quietly.

His eyes go wide and he chuckles awkwardly. He looks away. 

Oh, he so does.

“Erm, yeah. I do…”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Do you think she’s the one? The right one, I mean.”

“I’d like to think so. Only been in love with her since third year.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my safe place. More than James, more than Sirius, more than Peter. She’s the loveliest person I know. She’s brilliant. Beautiful. Loyal. Perfect.” He pauses. “She has her flaws but doesn’t everyone? I mean, I got my furry little problem.”

Without thinking, you say, “You’re my safe place.” 

He looks back at you, the softest look in his eyes.

“I am?” he whispers. 

“You are.”

“So we’re each other’s safe place, huh.”

She’s my safe place. 

The realization hits you. Your face heats as you stare into those warm brown eyes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He hums in response. There’s a silent conversation happening between you as you maintain eye contact. You nod. He places his hand underneath your chin and lifts your face. He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away in case he misunderstood you. You don’t. You lean in too, meeting his lips with your own. The fireworks you felt when your hands accidentally brushed paled in comparison to when he kissed you. The hands were barely a spark and this was a firework show's finale.