#i will say i have been right several times though

[goldfades]

★ dancing phantoms on the terrace; are they second-hand embarrassed, that i can't get out of bed? cause something counterfeit's dead; it was legendary; it was momentary; it was unnecessary ─── PB⁵

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige have always danced around each other—an intricate waltz of unspoken words and fleeting touches, each step pulling you closer to the edge of something you both feared to define. but when your feelings finally bubble over, paige’s silence cuts sharper than anything you could have imagined. in the wake of her denial, you vow to let her go, but it’s hard to sever the bond when she keeps lingering in the corners of your world, drawing you back like gravity. what happens when you can’t be friends, but letting go feels impossible?

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst w/ no happy ending. weird fwb, cheating (kinda?), toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, unhealthy attachment, and cycles of miscommunication and unresolved feelings.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this is lowkey just a word vomit... idk how to feel about it. i've been on an angst kick lately and i'm apologizing for this fic right now, it's EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING. um anyway, don't even ask how i am right now... enjoy?

The gym smells like worn leather and ambition—Paige’s favorite cocktail, if you had to guess. The echo of bouncing basketballs fills the cavernous space, and there she is, effortlessly commanding the court like it’s her birthright. You’d think the sight of her—golden hair slicked back, sharp focus slicing through the room—would dull with time, but it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse.

You don’t mean to stare, but when it’s her, you always do.

“Hey,” her voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but with a rasp that’s always felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. Paige jogs toward you, her smile easy, but her eyes? Complicated. Like she knows. Like she’s always known.

“Hey,” you manage, though your throat feels tight, your body betraying you with a spark of something you’ve tried to douse for months.

She stops just short of you, close enough that you can smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. “Thought you were too busy to come by anymore.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool, but the weight of her gaze makes it impossible. “I’m not staying long. Just… passing through.”

It’s a lie. You’ve never been able to just pass through when it comes to her.

Paige grins, wiping sweat from her brow with the hem of her jersey. It’s a fleeting movement, but it leaves your pulse racing, and you hate yourself for it. She doesn’t notice—or maybe she does, and that’s worse.

“You’re a bad liar,” she says, her tone teasing but gentle. She tilts her head, like she’s reading something written on your face. “You okay?”

It’s such a simple question, but the weight of it threatens to shatter your resolve.

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly. Too sharply.

Her brows knit together, but she doesn’t push. Paige never pushes. It’s you who always falls, silently hoping she’ll be there to catch you.

But you’re tired of hoping.

“I should go,” you mutter, turning before the cracks in your chest start to show. But her hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait.”

It’s a single word, but it roots you in place, her touch burning like truth against your skin. You turn back to her, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breath and the ache of everything you’ll never say.

And Paige, looking at you like she wants to say it too.

SIX MONTHS AGO

The party was already half a blur when Paige walked in, but her presence made everything snap into focus. You hadn’t been looking for her—you’d told yourself you wouldn’t—but there she was, a magnet pulling every molecule of you in her direction. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion like everyone else, no glittering dresses or expensive heels. Just a hoodie, sneakers, and that disarming grin.

You were nursing a drink, not for the taste, but for the illusion of control. People were scattered across the house in little clusters, and you were tucked into a corner of the living room, balancing somewhere between tipsy and regretfully sober. That is, until Paige caught sight of you.

Her gaze found you through the crowd like it was the easiest thing in the world, and you felt it—really felt it. That invisible thread between the two of you, taut and unyielding.

“Hey, stranger.” Her voice carried over the low hum of music and chatter as she slid into the empty space beside you on the couch.

You laughed softly, but it came out more nervous than amused. “Stranger? I didn’t know you even remembered my name.”

She tilted her head, her grin shifting into something softer. “I remember a lot more than that.”

The comment shouldn’t have sent a shiver down your spine, but it did. Paige had a way of saying things like they were just words when they were anything but.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, your fingers tightening around the red Solo cup in your hand.

“Yeah, well…” Paige’s eyes dropped to your drink before returning to your face, and it made you feel naked somehow. “Needed a break. Thought I’d find you.”

Thought I’d find you.

The words hung in the air, charged, and you couldn’t tell if she was teasing or telling the truth. Maybe both.

The night blurred after that, the two of you falling into a rhythm that felt far too natural for how often you tried to keep your distance. Drinks were passed back and forth, jokes were made, her laughter melted into yours. Every time her knee brushed yours, your pulse spiked. Every time her fingers lingered on your arm, your stomach flipped.

At one point, someone turned up the music, and people started dancing in the center of the room. You didn’t want to, but Paige grabbed your hand, her touch electrifying. “C’mon,” she coaxed, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

You followed, of course.

The two of you didn’t so much dance as sway, caught in your own little bubble amidst the chaos. Her hands found your hips, and she pulled you closer, so close you could smell the faint tang of beer on her breath. The way she looked at you—dark, intent, unflinching—made the air between you too thick to breathe.

“Having fun yet?” she asked, her voice low.

You nodded, though fun wasn’t the word for what you were feeling. It was something else entirely.

“Good,” she murmured, leaning in. Her lips brushed your ear as she spoke, sending a shiver through your entire body. “’Cause you deserve it.”

When you pulled back to meet her gaze, you saw it: the crack in her armor. That small, fleeting look of hesitation before she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t shy. Paige kissed you like she’d been holding back for years, and maybe she had. Your drink slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your fingers found their way into her hair. The rest of the world vanished, the party, the music, the people. There was only her—her lips, her hands, the heat of her against you.

Somehow, the two of you stumbled your way upstairs, her hand firmly gripping yours as she led you to a bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly it was just the two of you, no distractions, no pretense.

You shouldn’t have let it happen, but you did. And it wasn’t just the alcohol, wasn’t just the heat of the moment. It was years of longing packed into a single night.

When it was over, you lay tangled together, the glow of the moon casting soft light across her face. Paige was quiet, her fingers drawing absent patterns on your bare shoulder. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat.

“I can’t do this,” she finally whispered, her voice breaking the fragile silence.

Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

She turned to face you, and the conflict in her eyes was enough to make your heart ache. “I’m… I’m trying to focus on basketball. This—us—it’s too much.”

Her words felt like a slap, but the way she looked at you—regretful, hesitant, almost desperate—kept you from walking out right then and there. Instead, you forced a nod. “Okay.”

“But—” she added quickly, her hand finding yours, “this doesn’t have to be it. We can figure something out. Later.”

It was a promise she had no right to make, and deep down, you knew that. But when she kissed you again, softer this time, you let yourself believe it.

That was the beginning of the end.

Paige had a way of engulfing your life without even trying, and the worst part was, you let her. She wasn’t yours—you weren’t hers—but she consumed you, seeped into the quiet corners of your world until there wasn’t a part of you she hadn’t touched.

She made it look so easy, too. Like you were the one complicating things.

Every time you tried to pull away, she’d reel you back in with a text, a glance, a late-night phone call that started with “I was just thinking about you.” It was never enough to feel like a relationship, but it was always just enough to keep you tethered to her.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need a label, that you could handle the messiness of it all. But then you’d see her with someone else at a party, her arm slung around a teammate’s shoulders, her laughter spilling over like champagne, and it’d feel like your chest was being hollowed out with a dull spoon.

Still, you stayed.

You stayed because of the way she looked at you when no one else was around, like you were the only person in the world who mattered. You stayed because of the fleeting moments when she let her guard down, her fingers lingering on yours a second too long, her voice soft when she whispered your name.

And you stayed because of the promises.

“I just need time,” she’d say, her hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You understand, right?”

And you’d nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, because of course you understood. What else could you do? Tell her no? Walk away? The thought of losing her entirely was worse than the slow, aching heartbreak of being caught in her orbit.

But it was exhausting, being held at arm’s length while she continued to live her life exactly the way she wanted.

There were nights when she’d come over, late and unannounced, her hair still damp from the shower after a long practice. She’d climb into your bed, curling into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world, her hand slipping under your shirt to rest against your stomach.

“I missed you,” she’d murmur, her voice drowsy.

And for those moments, you’d believe her. You’d let yourself believe that she meant it, that maybe this time things would be different.

But the mornings always came.

She’d wake before you, slipping out of your bed as quietly as she’d slipped in. By the time you stirred, she’d be gone, her spot cold, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering on your pillow. She never left a note, never sent a text. You’d see her later that day, laughing with someone else, like the night before had been nothing more than a shared dream.

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. But Paige wasn’t the kind of person who played fair, at least not when it came to this. She played basketball like her life depended on it, with precision and purpose, but with you? She was reckless, careless, and sometimes it felt like she didn’t even realize it.

“You’re overthinking it,” she’d say when you finally mustered the courage to confront her, her tone light, dismissive. “We’re good, aren’t we?”

And every time, you’d cave. You’d tell her what she wanted to hear, because the alternative—calling her out, forcing her to make a choice—felt too dangerous.

So you kept waiting.

For the next stolen moment, the next broken promise, the next time she’d pull you in and push you away all over again.

It was a slow unraveling, and you didn’t know how much more you could take. But as much as you hated yourself for it, you knew one thing for sure:

You’d keep waiting. For her love. For her to choose you. For something you were terrified might never come.

The gym was cavernous, every dribble of the ball echoing like a drumbeat in your skull as you stormed in. You didn’t stop to think. Logic and restraint had abandoned you the second you saw the picture. Paige, her hands on someone else’s waist, her lips pressed to theirs in a way that made your stomach churn.

Her laugh was unmistakable even above the squeak of sneakers and the occasional shout from her teammates. It grated on you now, sharp and mocking. She didn’t see you at first. She was mid-layup, her ponytail flying behind her, the sweat on her brow catching the fluorescent lights. The picture was still fresh on your phone, the brightness of the screen almost taunting you.

You didn’t care who was watching.

“Paige!” you barked, your voice cutting through the gym’s rhythm like a knife.

The ball thudded against the floor, rolling away as she froze mid-turn. The laughter stopped. Heads turned.

Her eyes found yours, widening slightly before narrowing. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face—then something else. Panic? Regret? It didn’t matter.

She jogged over, wiping her hands on her shorts. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

“What am I doing here?” Your laugh was humorless, loud enough for the whole team to hear. “What the hell are you doing, Paige?”

“Let’s talk outside.” Her voice was tight now, her eyes darting toward her teammates, who were whispering among themselves.

You ignored the way she grabbed your arm, the way her fingers pressed a little too hard against your skin as she dragged you toward the double doors. The moment you were outside, the cold air slapping your face, you yanked yourself free.

“I saw the picture,” you snapped.

“What picture?” Her face was the picture of practiced innocence, but her tone was wary.

“Don’t play dumb, Paige. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were kissing her!”

Her jaw tightened, and her eyes flicked away for just a second—long enough for you to catch it. “It’s not what you think,” she said, her voice measured, like she was trying to calm a storm.

“Not what I think?” You could feel the heat rising in your chest, your hands trembling. “You had your hands all over her. What is there to think, Paige?”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“A bigger deal? Are you serious?” Your voice cracked, the anger spilling over, loud and raw. “You told me—no, you promised me—you weren’t seeing anyone else!”

“I’m not,” she shot back, her own voice rising now. “It was just a stupid kiss, alright? It didn’t mean anything.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting. “It didn’t mean anything? Do you even hear yourself? You think that makes it better?”

Her frustration boiled over, her hands running through her hair as she paced a tight circle. “You’re acting like we’re in some committed relationship or something!”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as your breath caught. “So, what? This—us—it’s just nothing to you?”

“I didn’t say that!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the empty hallway. Her eyes blazed as she stepped closer, her finger pointing at you. “But you keep pushing me, and I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want you to stop messing with my head!” Your voice cracked, raw and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “You can’t keep pulling me in and then acting like I don’t exist whenever it’s convenient for you, Paige!”

She blinked, the words hitting her harder than you expected. For a moment, the anger on her face faltered, replaced by something softer, something you’d almost call guilt.

But just as quickly, her defenses snapped back into place. “I told you I needed space,” she said, her voice quieter but still edged with steel. “I told you from the start this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Easy?” You shook your head, a humorless laugh bubbling up. “No, Paige, this isn’t hard—it’s cruel. You’re cruel.”

Her face fell, the anger draining from her expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

But the words felt hollow, like a script she’d practiced too many times. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms, trying to anchor yourself in something, anything, besides the spiraling frustration.

“Yeah?” Your voice was low, trembling under the weight of restrained fury. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, Paige, but you knew. You knew how I felt—how I feel—and you kissed her anyway.”

Her eyes darted away, lips pressed into a tight line. “I told you this wasn’t... I told you I didn’t want anything serious.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter, the sound bouncing off the cold concrete walls. “No, you didn’t want anything serious, but you didn’t want to let me go either. You wanted me close enough to have whenever you felt like it, but not so close that you had to be accountable for it.”

“That’s not fair,” she snapped, her voice cutting through your words. She squared her shoulders, looking at you like you were the unreasonable one, like this was all spiraling because you couldn’t control your emotions. “You’re acting like I’m the bad guy when you’re the one who stormed into my practice and made a scene.”

“A scene?” Your voice rose, the sharp edge of disbelief slicing through the tension. “You kissed someone else, Paige. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just sit at home, pretend it didn’t happen, and wait for you to toss me a few scraps of affection when it’s convenient?”

“That’s not what this is!” she shouted, the crack in her voice betraying her frustration. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, alright? I didn’t plan it! God, why can’t you just trust me?”

“Trust you?” The words tore from you, laced with incredulity. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you when you do things like this and then try to make me feel crazy for reacting?”

“I’m not making you feel crazy!” she fired back, but the flicker of guilt in her eyes betrayed her. She stepped closer, her hands gesturing wildly as if she could will you to calm down. “I just... I didn’t think this would turn into... into this.”

“This?” Your voice broke, the vulnerability slipping through the cracks in your anger. “Paige, I let you have all of me. You knew that, and you’re acting like I’m the one who crossed a line.”

Her face softened for a split second, and you saw the Paige you thought you knew, the one who made you laugh so hard you cried, the one who looked at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.

But then she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t ask for this to get so complicated,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“Complicated?” The word fell from your lips like venom. “You made it complicated. You wanted me enough to keep me on a leash, but not enough to—”

“Stop,” she cut you off, her voice sharp. “Just stop. You’re spiraling, and you’re putting all of this on me like you don’t have a choice in any of it.”

The sheer audacity of her words made your chest tighten, heat flooding your face. “A choice? Paige, I chose you. I keep choosing you, even when it hurts.”

For a moment, you thought she might say something—an apology, an admission, anything to make this feel less like a freefall. Instead, she just stepped closer, her voice softening. “You’re overthinking this. You always do.”

Your body went rigid, the casual dismissal slicing through you like a blade. “Don’t do that,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t make this about me being too much.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her tone too smooth, too rehearsed. “I’m just saying... maybe we’re both a little out of line here.”

“Out of line?” You scoffed, the hurt morphing back into anger, fueling the fire between you. “You kissed someone else, and I’m out of line for calling you out on it?”

Her jaw clenched, her shoulders squaring as her frustration boiled over. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I’ll never do it again? Because I can’t promise that, alright? I can’t promise to be someone I’m not!”

The admission knocked the wind out of you, the raw honesty of it cutting deeper than any excuse ever could. You stared at her, your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And then, without thinking, you grabbed her face and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft or tender—it was a collision of lips and teeth, anger and desperation crashing together in a way that felt like drowning and breathing at the same time.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands found your waist, pulling you closer, her frustration melting into something else entirely. For a moment, the world disappeared—the hurt, the anger, the confusion—and all that was left was her, her lips moving against yours like she was trying to prove something, to take back control.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her lips brushed yours again, softer this time, almost apologetic. “I know,” she murmured.

But it didn’t stop her, or you, from letting it happen again. And again. And again.

This was the beginning of a vicious style. Paige would do something — something reckless or selfish or dismissive, something that cracked the fragile balance you were barely holding together. You would crash out, spinning into anger or heartbreak or desperation. Then, when the storm was at its peak, you’d collide in a mess of kisses and tangled limbs, pretending the hurt didn’t exist. And for a little while, it would work.

Rinse, repeat.

It was like a drug. The highs were euphoric — the way she’d whisper your name in the dark, the way her hands knew the map of your body like they’d been there a thousand lifetimes. But the lows were brutal. Paige wasn’t just in your life; she engulfed it. Even when she wasn’t physically there, she was everywhere — in your thoughts, in your chest, in the hollow ache that came from wanting more than she would ever give.

And yet, every time you told yourself this was the last time, she’d reel you back in.

It was always the same. She’d make promises she couldn’t keep. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I don’t want to lose you. They were just words, fragile and insubstantial, but you clung to them like a lifeline. Because even if Paige didn’t love you the way you needed her to, she made you feel.

But feelings weren’t enough. Not when the cycle kept repeating, each round leaving you a little more frayed, a little less whole.

Looking back, you didn’t see it at first. How could you? In those early days, it all still felt new, like you were learning each other in ways no one else ever had. The tension, the passion, even the arguments — it all felt alive.

But what you didn’t know then was that this wasn’t building toward something better. It wasn’t growth or healing or progress. It was just a loop, and the more you gave, the more it took.

And it all started here — in a practice gym with her teammates staring after you, with a kiss that should have been an apology but felt more like a warning.

This was how it was going to be. You just didn’t know it yet.

It was over long before she said it. That was the truth you’d been carrying for weeks, maybe even months, like a stone in your chest. The late nights tangled together, the whispered promises that never quite landed, the explosive fights that burned hot and fast — they were all just delaying the inevitable.

Paige didn’t love you. Not the way you loved her.

And even though you’d told yourself a hundred times that you’d walk away first, that you’d save yourself the heartbreak, there was a part of you that had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her to finally say the words so you wouldn’t have to.

When she said them, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair messy and her lips still swollen from the argument-turned-kiss that had just played out like a broken record. Her voice was quiet, careful, like she thought if she said it gently enough, it wouldn’t hurt.

“I think we should just stay friends.”

Friends. As if that word hadn’t already been stretched beyond recognition between the two of you.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t yell. You didn’t say anything at all. You just nodded, a single dip of your head that felt like letting go of a thousand unspoken words.

Because by then, you were too tired to argue. Too numb to care. You’d given everything you had to Paige Bueckers — your heart, your time, your trust. And in the end, she’d left you with nothing but empty promises and the ache of what could have been.

She watched you, her expression unreadable, maybe expecting a reaction. But there was nothing left to give. No anger, no tears, not even the kind of hope that had once kept you tethered to her.

And that’s when you knew.

It had been over long before it was over.

The first few days after Paige walked away, you told yourself you were fine. Numbness had a way of masquerading as strength, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you believed it. You went about your routine mechanically, ignoring the ghost of her laugh that seemed to echo in every corner of your mind, or the phantom sensation of her fingertips trailing down your skin.

But it didn’t last.

The cracks began to show in the quiet moments, the ones you couldn’t fill with distractions. You’d see her everywhere — not in person, but in the lingering memories that clung to every inch of your life. The way she used to leave her hoodie draped over your chair. The playlist she made you that now sat like a ticking time bomb on your phone. Even the way the air smelled after it rained reminded you of her, of those late-night walks when the world felt small and it was just the two of you against everything.

Now, it was just you.

The nights were the worst. That was when the realization hit hardest, settling in your chest like a lead weight. She wasn’t coming back. And not only that, she seemed fine. Perfectly fine without you.

Social media became your own personal form of torture. Paige smiling with her teammates, Paige at practice, Paige at a party with her arm slung casually around someone else’s shoulders. She looked radiant, unbothered. And why wouldn’t she be? You were the one left unraveling, trying to pick up the pieces of something that had already been broken long before it officially ended.

You tried to bury yourself in distractions, in work, in friends, in anything that could occupy the space she used to fill. But nothing worked. Everywhere you turned, there she was, in your mind, in your heart, like she had embedded herself into the very fabric of your being.

The worst part was the silence. Paige hadn’t reached out — not once. Not to check on you, not to see if you were okay, not even to pretend that she cared. She had moved on seamlessly, like you were just a chapter she had finished reading. But you? You were stuck. Stuck rereading the same lines over and over, trying to figure out where it all went so wrong.

You hated her for it. And you hated yourself more for still wanting her, for craving the sound of her voice even when it was the last thing you should want to hear.

Sleep became elusive. You’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every argument, every kiss, every unspoken promise. Your mind refused to let go, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. But deep down, you knew better. Paige had already moved on. And she wasn’t coming back.

It was a cruel kind of clarity, realizing how little you seemed to matter to her now. While you were drowning, she was breathing just fine.

And so, you began to sink. Not all at once, but slowly, steadily, as the days turned into weeks and the weight of her absence pressed down on you. You stopped checking your phone, stopped looking at her social media, stopped pretending you were okay. Because you weren’t. You were a mess, and she was gone, and there was no fixing what had been broken.

For the first time, you understood what it meant to lose yourself in someone. Paige had taken pieces of you when she left, pieces you weren’t sure you’d ever get back. And as much as you hated it, as much as you hated her for making you feel this way, you couldn’t deny the truth.

You still loved her. And that was the hardest part of all.

The first time you saw the picture, it felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Paige stood there, her arm draped casually over a girl you didn’t recognize, her smile so effortlessly carefree it made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just the picture—it was what it represented.

She wasn’t hiding anymore.

For months, you had clung to the idea that Paige’s reluctance to be with you had been about timing, about her career, about her focus on basketball. You’d told yourself over and over that it wasn’t about you—that she wasn’t ready for anything, not just you. But seeing her like this, so at ease, so perfectly content in someone else’s arms, shattered that illusion into a thousand irreparable pieces.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready. She just didn’t want you.

The realization hit you harder than any of the fights, any of the cold silences, any of the times she had pushed you away only to pull you back in. This was different. This was final. And it sent you crashing in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

The next few days passed in a haze. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, to sleep, to function like a normal person. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of her with that girl played on a loop in your mind. Her hand resting on her shoulder. The easy grin that you used to think was just for you. The sickening thought that this new girl got the version of Paige you’d always wanted but could never have.

Your friends tried to help. They texted, called, even showed up at your apartment uninvited, but nothing seemed to pull you out of the spiral. You were stuck, trapped in the memories of what could have been, haunted by the ghost of what never was.

And Paige? She was fine. She was more than fine. While you were unraveling, she was out there, living her life like nothing had happened, like you had never happened.

It wasn’t fair.

You replayed every moment in your head, dissecting every word, every touch, every promise she had made and broken. You thought about the nights she’d held you, the mornings when she’d whispered things you now realized she didn’t mean. You thought about the times she’d called you "important," like that word was supposed to mean something, like it was enough to keep you tethered to her while she gave you nothing in return.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. Not just at Paige, but at yourself. How had you let it get this far? How had you let her take so much of you, only to leave you with nothing?

But even as the anger simmered beneath the surface, it couldn’t erase the pain. Because no matter how much she hurt you, no matter how many times she let you down, a part of you still wanted her. You hated yourself for it, but it was the truth.

She was the love of your life—or at least, that’s what you had convinced yourself. And now, as you watched her move on so effortlessly, it felt like you had lost not just her, but a part of yourself.

You thought about the nights you’d spent together, the dreams you’d secretly dared to have, the way she had made you feel like the center of her universe, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You thought about the way she’d look at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the room, and you wondered if she ever looked at her new girlfriend like that.

The jealousy burned, but it was nothing compared to the ache of knowing you weren’t enough.

And that was the hardest part. Not the fights, not the breakups, not even seeing her with someone else. The hardest part was realizing that no matter how much you loved her, it was never going to be enough. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

But you still saw her everywhere. In the songs that played on the radio. In the basketball games you couldn’t bring yourself to watch anymore. In the small, stupid things that reminded you of her—like the way she used to steal the last piece of pizza or the way she’d hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening.

You wanted to hate her, to erase her from your mind and move on with your life. But how could you hate the person who had been your everything, even if only for a little while?

So you sat with the pain, let it wash over you like a tidal wave, drowning in the memories of a love that had never really been yours. And for the first time, you let yourself admit the truth: Paige had been the loss of your life. And no amount of time, no amount of distance, was ever going to change that.

PRESENT

You’re standing there, caught in the pull of her gaze, the space between you both charged with unspoken words. It feels like you’ve been here a thousand times before, standing on the edge, your heart teetering between wanting to stay and knowing you should walk away.

Paige’s hand still grips your wrist, and the simple touch feels like a tether. A lifeline. But you know better than to think it’s something more. She’s always been like this—holding on just enough to make you feel wanted, but never enough to pull you all the way in.

“Are you really fine?” she asks, her voice lower now, softer, like she’s trying to break through your walls. Her thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles against your skin, and for a brief moment, you feel the weight of the last few months—how everything has spiraled, how much you've tried to hold it all together.

You want to scream, to ask her why it’s always been this way, why she makes you feel like you’re the one losing the fight when you never even had a chance to begin with. But instead, you swallow it all down, pushing the rawness deep inside, out of sight.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, and this time, it sounds almost like a plea. A hope that if you say it enough, you’ll start to believe it.

Paige doesn’t let go. She studies your face like she’s looking for something—some crack in the surface that would make everything make sense.

You hate how easily she does it. How she makes you feel like you could fall apart right here, and she’d still somehow be the one holding it all together.

But she’s not the one holding the pieces anymore.

“Don’t do that,” Paige says, her voice a little rougher now, her grip tightening just slightly. “Don’t close off from me. We’ve never been good at that.”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes you. “We’ve never been good at anything,” you snap, but the words feel too raw, too real for this moment.

She flinches, just barely, but you see it. You see the way her shoulders tense, the way her jaw clenches. It’s a reaction you’re so used to by now—the shift in her, the way she pulls back whenever you push too hard, whenever you force her to confront the mess between you two.

But this time, there’s something else in her eyes. Something you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s guilt, or maybe it’s regret. But it’s there, lurking beneath the surface, and it stirs something in you.

“I didn’t mean that,” you add quickly, your voice softer now, almost apologetic. But the damage is already done. The walls between you, the ones you’ve spent months building and reinforcing, are beginning to crumble.

Paige shakes her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “You never do.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The truth is, you’ve always known. You’ve always known that Paige was never going to be the one who could fix this. Fix you.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a beat, and the words hang in the air between you like a promise you both know she can’t keep.

It’s the same thing she’s always said. The same thing she said when she left. The same thing she said when she came back. And each time, it meant less and less.

You swallow hard, blinking away the sting in your eyes. “It’s fine,” you whisper, but the words feel hollow. Because it isn’t fine. It never will be.

Paige looks like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she leans in, her lips brushing against your cheek in a fleeting, soft kiss.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

And just like that, everything falls back into place, if only for a moment. She pulls away, her hand still around your wrist, keeping you there, keeping you close—but not close enough.

You don’t know what’s worse: the way she makes you feel like you’re everything she’s ever wanted, or the way she makes you feel like you were never really a part of her at all.

You look into her eyes one last time, and for a moment, you see something there—something that makes you think maybe, just maybe, she feels it too.

But before you can get lost in it, she’s already pulling back, walking away. And you’re left standing there, once again, at the edge of it all.

The gym feels cold now. The bouncing basketballs echo through the space like the rhythm of your own heartbeat—distant, unsteady, and out of sync with everything else.

And in that moment, you realize something.

You’re never going to be okay with this. Not really.

But you’ll keep pretending, even if she has a girlfriend. Even if you've "moved on". Because that’s all you know how to do.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[badkitty3000]

Powerless

This is based on a request I received for a Five x female reader that is just as brilliant as Five, but too shy to act on her feelings for him.

Summary: You have had your eye on Five since he first started at the university. Eventually you build up a friendship, but even though you pick up a few hints that maybe he wants something more, you just can't bring yourself to act on it. Luckily, Five has more than enough confidence for the both of you.

Five x Female Reader, 9.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Warnings: Smut, dominant Five, explicit sex

Every time you saw him walk past your reference desk at the university library, it became that much more apparent. You wanted him. On the days he wasn’t there, it was easier to pretend that you had no real interest in him outside of the subject matter he lectured about. You told yourself that you were attracted to him on a purely intellectual level, and nothing more. As if the thought of advanced quantum physics got your pulse quickening and your cheeks flushing.

Then there were those days when he would stride purposefully past, a man on a mission, coffee cup in hand, and dressed in his signature tailored suit. That’s when your little lies to yourself became much harder to believe. He would lock eyes with you, scanning your face with his piercing gaze and half-smile, before continuing on his way and suddenly you couldn’t think straight. On those days, if someone approached you for a simple question, like the library hours, you would stare back at them for several seconds before having to clear your parched throat and ask them to repeat themselves. 

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it: Five Hargreeves was not only brilliant, but also sexy as hell. And you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Not that it really mattered. It was no secret that he was a wanted man by most of the staff and students there. You would watch as the more out-going women and men would make a point of cornering him on his way out of his lectures, trying to block the doorway so he couldn’t move around them. Some of them would even find excuses to lightly brush against his arm or shoulder, pretending they were just being friendly, when you knew damn well they just wanted to touch him. You’d had the same urge yourself, but you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

Not only would you never have enough nerve to be that forward, but you have observed his reactions to these advances and it usually does not go well. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way he flinches slightly at their touches. His obvious disinterest in whatever they are trying to talk to him about. The way he shoulders right past them with hardly a second glance; intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible.

But he always manages to take the route that goes past your desk, pausing sometimes like he wants to say something but then thinks better of it before hurrying away again. 

Five has been working at the same university as you for the past several months. It was a big deal when he was first hired. He was the youngest professor they had ever had on their faculty, and everyone was curious. As it turned out, this twenty-something year old man was not what anyone had expected. He was incredibly smart, but he was also brusque, no-nonsense, and sometimes just flat out mean. When he had started, he was given his own office, but for classes he preferred to use the smaller lecture room inside the vast library, although there were plenty of real classrooms around campus that he could have chosen.

Reputation aside, you were inclined to believe there was more to him than being a young, handsome, snarky genius. You were always observant when it came to people, which was part of the reason you worked at the reference desk when you weren’t working on your doctorate. You liked the quiet of the library, and the smell of the books surrounding you. You liked watching people go about their business and the way they interacted with one another. You also liked helping people, even if you were, by nature, an introvert. When it came to talking about the subject matters that interested you, then it was hard to get you to shut up. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many people that wanted to casually chat about theoretical physics and the illusion of time. Most people just wanted to know where the bathroom was.

So, since his arrival, Five had been on your radar for people-watching, but you had never spoken to him. You had once lingered outside the door of one of his classes, watching as he hurriedly scribbled figures and theories on the board, all while his students tried in vain to keep up. When one would dare to interrupt him and ask a question, there would be an aggravated sigh and a terse answer before he would continue on. The subject matter of string theory and how the concept of time is only a reflection of change was nothing you didn’t already know. You were currently working on your own thesis in that area. At one point, you considered taking a seat in the back of the room, but decided against it. You didn’t really like attention drawn to you, and besides, the class was much too rudimentary. But you never failed to slow your step as you passed by the room when he was teaching, just to hear the sound of his voice.

**********************************

“Excuse me, but I can’t seem to locate this book.”

You were engrossed in your research when a piece of paper floated down onto your desk. You recognized the voice immediately, even before looking up. When you did, there he was, apparently waiting for your response. You had never been that close to him before, and he was possibly even more gorgeous up close. His dark brown, messy hair fell over his eyes as he peered down on you with an amused expression. A dimple started to form on his cheek when the corner of his mouth turned up. He was not a huge man, but he still dwarfed your diminutive stature. Nearly everyone was taller and bigger than you, so that wasn’t new. But the way he held himself and the confidence that he exuded made him appear that much larger. You found yourself wondering what the weight of his body would feel like on top of yours.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

You finally got your brain to start working again and you blinked a few times before sputtering out an answer. “What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m sorry…I was just in my own little world I guess. What can I help you with?”

Five pointed down at the paper he had pushed at you. “That.”

On the paper was the name of a physics book that you were already familiar with. “Time: From Concept to Narrative Construct,” you read out loud. You looked back up at him with a small smile. “This is a good one.”

“You’re familiar with it?” Five asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been consulting it myself for my own research.” Reaching down into your bag that was near your feet, you pulled out a copy. “That’s why you can’t find it. I didn’t think anyone would miss it since it’s just been gathering dust on the shelf for years.”

A genuine smile crossed Five’s face and he leaned in over the desk. “I’ve never met anyone else that would read that voluntarily.”

With a laugh, you held it out to him. “I don’t think I have either. But here you go.”

“No, it’s ok, you can keep it. It sounds like you need it more than I do. What is your research about?”

“I’m currently writing a thesis on the theory of time as a social construct. I know it’s been done, but I’m hoping I can find something new and exciting to add to the field.”

“Very interesting,” he mused while still wearing that sexy, know-it-all smile. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm and firm while his long, slender fingers wrapped around yours. After introducing yourself, you felt your face flush with heat. Just the simple touch of his hand was enough to send a little bolt of pleasure through your body and you looked down at the ground, tucking a strand of your long, brown hair over your ear.

Five seemed to hold onto your hand for longer than necessary, which was nice, but you knew it didn’t mean anything. He had clearly come over here for a book and nothing more.

“Maybe we can meet up sometime and discuss our theories,” he suggested.

You couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting that, but you held in your astonishment and just nodded with a smile. “That would be nice.”

With another cock-sure smirk, Five turned and walked away while you were left sitting there, staring after him with a dreamy look on your face.

The weeks passed and you and Five had become friends. Well, maybe not fully friends; it was hard to say with him. One minute you would be having an in-depth conversation and the next he was saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. You met for lunch at the university cafeteria to discuss everything from wormholes to the theory of time travel. When you started asking personal questions, though, he tended to shut up. But, that’s ok. You loved your little moments with him and being able to show off your intellect that nobody else appreciated.

“You really are incredibly smart, you know that, right?” Five said one day out of the blue, as you were picking at the wilted lettuce of your salad.

You looked up with raised eyebrows. “Oh…”

“I mean it,” he said, and suddenly his voice was much softer. The way he was looking at you was throwing you for a loop. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re brilliant.”

With your face flushed, you laughed softly. “Thanks, Five.”

He smiled and his green eyes flashed with something like affection before he looked down at his own food. You didn’t know what to make of this exchange, because there was no way in hell that he would be interested in you as anything more than a colleague. There was just no way. You watched as he took a drink of his water, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you almost made an audible whimpering noise at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to run your lips over his slender neck, and trail kisses under his strong jaw. He caught you staring at him and you quickly looked away.

************************************

The night you decided to go out with your friends, they had picked a loud dance club in the seedier part of town that was definitely not your usual scene. But you really needed a good time out with the girls to relieve some of your academic stress, so you didn’t argue. You wore a tight dress that showed off your petite frame, and curled your hair into waves that hung down your back. You slapped on some dark eye makeup and red lipstick before heading out.

The club was packed, with the music pumping and the dance floor full of people grinding all over one another. You were not in the mood for meeting anyone though, you were just there to hang out with your friends and have a couple of drinks. 

As you shoved your way towards the bar, a hand grabbed onto yours. You instinctively pulled it away, but when you looked up to see who it belonged to, you saw Five. He had a drink in his hand, most likely whiskey or bourbon, and he was dressed in his signature suit. You tried to cover your excitement on seeing him, but you smiled broadly and tried to yell over the thumping bass.

“Five! Why are you here?”

He leaned in close to you to be heard. That was the closest you had ever been to him, with his mouth just inches from your ear. He smelled like aftershave and mint, with a slight hint of the whiskey he’d been drinking. The slight scruff from his cheek scratched lightly against yours for half a second. It was intoxicating and you closed your eyes as he talked.

“I could ask the same of you. This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

You shrugged. “This is where my friends wanted to go, so I just followed along.”

“Is that right? Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

When you looked at Five’s face, he had that smirk plastered on, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be flirty or not. He was just so damn hard to read.

“Depends on the person who is telling me,” you replied with a slight upturn of your red lips before blushing at your own minor innuendo.

A thoughtful look crossed over his face, followed by a slight nod of approval. “I see.” Then he leaned in close to your ear again. “That is very good to know.”

You chose to brush this comment away before it started taking up residence in your brain and causing all sorts of dirty thoughts. He was just trying to have a conversation, that’s all and nothing more. If it was coming across as flirty, it was probably because his drink had loosened him up.

“So, you didn’t answer me before. This place doesn’t seem like your scene, either. Why are you here?”

Five nodded towards the bar where a tall, lanky man in tight pants appeared to have a small group of people engrossed in a story while he gestured animatedly with a shot glass in his hand. “My stupid brother dragged me here.”

“Oh,” you said with a sly grin. “Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

Five slowly shook his head ‘no’, then took a long drink from his glass, all while looking you in the eyes. “Not really. I’m usually the one calling the shots.”

You swallowed hard, and looked nervously around. You didn’t want him to see you acting like a fool just from some little throw away comment that you were making a big deal about in your head. 

“Well, I was on my way to get a drink.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you continued. “I plan on going out on the dance floor, though.” You paused. “You should join us out there.”

Five laughed sharply. “Oh, fuck no.”

Thinking maybe you insulted him somehow, you looked away again. “Oh, well…ok. I’ll see you around I guess?”

His hand came to rest on your shoulder. “I might not dance,” he said, brushing his cheek against yours as he talked close to your ear again. “But watching you out there would be more than enough entertainment for my night.”

Once again, you were thrown by his comment. It could be taken as flirty, but then again, why would he be flirting with you? He must have been teasing you; insinuating that you would look silly dancing. Suddenly your face was burning again.

“Yeah…ok,” you said quietly, unable to hide your embarrassment. “Bye, Five.”

As you walked away, you felt him staring after you. You didn’t dare turn around, but you could picture the intensity of his gaze on your back. He had rattled you, and because you didn’t know what to make of his comments, you couldn’t decide if you should be annoyed or not. After getting your drink and heading to the dance floor to join your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You had lost track of him in the crowd after your exchange, but you knew he was still there because his brother was still holding court over at the bar. So, the fact that maybe he was watching you made your body tingle with excitement. If he was, then you decided to put on a decent show for him.

For the next hour, you never left the dance floor. The music continued on an endless loop of pounding basslines, while strobe lights flashed over the crowd, dulling your senses and lulling you into a trance. Swaying your body with the beat, hands in the air, while you worked your hips and ass in enticing circles, you lost all of your usual inhibitions. You weren’t sure where your group of friends had gone, but you didn’t care. As you looked out into the sea of strangers surrounding you, one familiar face stood out. 

It was Five, and he was indeed watching you. The strobe lights created an eerie effect of showing him clearly one second, and then gone the next. Each time he reappeared into your view, he was closer. Making his way through the throng of dancers, he slowly neared you, never taking his eyes off you. When he finally reached you, you stopped dancing. It was much too loud and overstimulating on the dance floor to try and talk, so you both stood staring at one another with half-smiles on your faces. After a moment, you started moving with the beat again. Five continued to stand still, his drink in hand. Laughing, you turned around so that you were faced away from him, and continued your sensual dance moves.

You knew you looked good in your tight dress, and even though you still weren't sure of his intentions, you wanted Five to notice. Another minute passed before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You were pulled flush with their body as they moved in rhythm with you. Warm breath fanned across your shoulder and neck, and you smiled to yourself. Pushing back against them, you let your head fall back onto their shoulder while your hands came to rest on top of theirs.

“Five…” you started to say as you turned your face towards him.

The face that greeted you, however, was not the one you were expecting. This was a stranger; some man you had never seen before and he was running his hands all over your body while his erection poked into your ass.

You shrieked and tried to pull away. “Get off of me!”

The club was loud and the lights were disorienting as you struggled against the man, but he just held you tighter. You could see the predatory smile on his face, making your skin crawl. Clawing at his arms that were wrapped around you, you tried to throw your body backwards to loosen his grip. That only seemed to make things worse by pushing your ass harder into his groin. You heard him moan next to your ear and you started to panic.

“Let go, you stupid fucker!” you screamed next to his face while trying to kick and pry his arms off of you. You scanned everyone around you, trying to catch the eye of someone that may be able to help. Everyone was lost in their own worlds, and no one was paying any attention to the sexual assault that was occurring just a few feet away.

Something you did must have worked because suddenly his arms were ripped away from you and you were free. There was a loud cry of surprise from the crowd around you, and when you spun around, you saw the offending man lying in a heap on the floor. A circle of people had formed around him while he writhed on the ground holding his bleeding face.

That’s when you saw Five again. He was standing over the man, glaring down at him with a sneer, while his hands remained balled into fists at his sides. As his chest rose and fell with angry breaths, his eyes met yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, although no one could hear you. “Five.”

Taking a few stalking steps towards you, he grabbed onto your arm, pulling you to him with a worried look. You couldn’t hear him, but you could read his lips. “Are you ok?” 

You nodded with wide eyes, still trying to fully understand the situation. Before anything else could be said or done, a large bouncer made his way through the crowd. Seeing that there was an injured man on the ground and that Five was clearly the cause of it, he immediately grasped onto Five’s upper arm and pulled him away from you.

“Come on, asshole. Out you go,” he snarled while pushing Five in the direction of the door.

“No wait!” you tried to yell out, but your voice was lost in the deafening music again.

The man Five had clocked had struggled to his feet and was stumbling away, still holding his badly broken nose. The rest of the crowd went back to their previous dancing and the circle filled in again. You were left looking at the back of the bouncer’s head as he forced Five out of the club.

Looking around for your friends, but not seeing them, you pushed your way through the dense dance floor and out into the bar area. It was still crowded, but less so, and the strobe lights weren’t affecting your vision anymore. You saw the door to the club open and close again, with the bouncer walking back towards you, alone, and you hurried towards the exit.

Outside, your ears were ringing as you took in a deep breath of the cool night air. When you saw him sitting on the curb, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Five!” you cried, before hurrying over. He looked up at you through his fringe of hair before sweeping it off his forehead with a smile. “Holy shit.” You sat down next to him, keeping your legs straight out in front of you so that your short dress wouldn’t ride all the way up. “Are you ok?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?”

You nodded. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I saw some creep trying to molest you, and since it didn’t look like you were appreciating it very much, I thought I’d intervene.”

“Wow,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “I had no idea you were the knight in shining armor type.”

“I don’t think my armor is very shiny, it’s pretty tarnished most days,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, anyway…thank you.”

He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read, but his facial features had softened. “You’re welcome.”

You glanced down at his right hand. “Oh shit…your hand. It’s all bruised.”

Five flexed his fingers and shook out his hand. “This is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

When you ran a thumb lightly across his reddened knuckles, you thought you heard a hitch in his breathing. But when you looked back at his face, you found it unreadable again.

“Thank you again, Five. Really.”

He nodded and then looked back at the club. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be welcome back there again, not that I’m complaining. But you go back in. Go have fun with your friends.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Sit here until my brother decides he’s had enough of being a slut so I can go home.”

You pulled your mouth to the side in thought and then bumped his shoulder with your own. “You know, that club isn’t all that great. The fresh air feels good, actually.”

Five didn’t say anything, but you did see a slight smile cross his lips before it was gone again. He looked over at you, his face more serious than you’d seen it before, with his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made you want to attack his mouth with your own.

“I used to be special, you know,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I was born with special abilities. The power to time travel and teleport. I had them most of my life. Then they were violently ripped away from me and I haven’t been the same since.”

You stared back at him, not knowing what to make of this. He was clearly joking, but you couldn’t figure out what the joke was. His face was dead serious and his tone of voice conveyed an air of sadness.

“I don’t understand,” you answered hesitantly.

He shook his head with a short laugh and raked a hand through his hair again. “I know, I sound like a lunatic. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.” He looked off into the distance and sighed, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on his knees. “I spent most of my long life cursing the powers I had because they only ever seemed to bring me more misery. But now that I am finally rid of them…I can’t explain it, but it’s…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the word he wanted. “Painful.”

The way he said ‘painful’ cut right to your heart and you lightly rested your fingers on his arm. “What is painful, Five?”

He continued to look out at the dark sky. “You know, back there, when I punched that fucker in the face? That felt so much better than it should have. It was a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. And yet…it still wasn’t the same. With my powers, I could have really wasted him. Probably would have had some smart-ass comment for him, too. And I sure as shit wouldn’t have been caught by some lumbering, asshole bouncer, no matter how much bigger he was than me.” He sighed again before turning to face you. “I know this makes no sense and you probably think I’m fucking insane, and I’m sorry. I just…fuck…some days I wish I weren’t so goddamn ordinary.”

“Five, you are the least ordinary person I know. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

His eyes searched your face and suddenly you realized how close you were to one another.

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” he softly.

You paused, taking in the sadness that was evident in his eyes. He somehow appeared years older, with the weariness of an older man. What he said made no sense. But you didn't think he was crazy.

“I believe you, Five.”

His eyebrows furrowed even more. “You do?”

“I think so. But I’d love for you to tell me more about it. I’d like to hear about your life.”

“I’d like to tell you,” he said with a slight nod.

A cool breeze passed over you and you shivered. Five shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. You resisted the urge to bury your nose into the fabric to inhale the scent of him. Instead, you just smiled. 

“Again, very chivalrous of you,” you teased.

He smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

After another glance back at the bar behind you, you turned back to Five. “Well, it doesn’t look like the people we came here with are going to be joining us anytime soon. So, how about you tell me everything now.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’ve got me curious now.”

Five paused. “Yeah, alright. Why not? But just so you know, I won’t blame you if you suddenly want to run back inside or down the street to get away from me.”

You laughed. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

“Well, just wait.”

Over the next hour, you and Five sat on the curb, ignoring the drunken groups of people that would come stumbling past you on their way in or out of the club. You were fully invested in his story. The longer he talked, the more enchanted you became, until it felt like you and he were the only people in the world. He told you all about past timelines, his power to manipulate time and space, and his ultimate downfall that led to a lifetime of loneliness and suffering. He explained about his family and all of their suffering, as well. How he just wanted to save the world and all of them with it. And about how a few years ago, it was all stripped away from him.

“So, being that I had no identity and I looked like a fucking child, I didn’t have a lot of prospects. My family took me in for a while until I figured things out, which I am grateful for but was no picnic. Eventually, I was able to secure a few fake documents in order to get a job and weasel my way into an upstanding position.” He flashed you a devious smile. “That PhD I have hanging in my office? Not exactly legit.”

You laughed, astonished. “You mean you don’t have a doctorate?”

Five shook his head. “Worse. I don’t even have a high school diploma.”

Your mouth hung open for a minute before you let out a loud, long laugh. “Holy shit! You really are a genius!”

Five laughed along with you until you both quieted down and a comfortable calm settled over you both. When he looked at you, he appeared lighter. Like he wasn’t so world-weary anymore.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Listening. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to about this.” He looked away again. “And I don’t expect you to believe any of it, but the fact that you didn’t run away screaming means a lot.”

“I already told you. I believe you. And thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“Trusting me. Not too many people confide in me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m usually so quiet, or because I’m small and look younger than I am. But no one seems to take me seriously most of the time. So, thank you for seeing something else in me.”

“I see a lot of things in you,” Five said. 

Just as you were about to convince yourself that maybe there was something going on between the two of you after all, the bar door opened behind you, the sound of thumping music and loud laughter spilling out into the night. When you turned, you saw your group of friends come stumbling out, giggling and falling over one another.

“There you are!” one of them laughed, pointing in your direction.

“Ooh, she’s not alone, either.”

As your face burned bright red, another one of your friends made a loud shushing noise. “Shut up, you guys…she’s trying to seal the deal. Damn, girl, go for it! He’s smoking hot!”

“Ok, then…” you said over the loud laughter, barely risking a glance in Five’s direction. You slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. “I am so sorry. They’re usually not this obnoxious, I swear.”

Five chuckled. “I’m very familiar with being surrounded by obnoxious people.”

You stood up and Five followed. Your friends started to flag down a cab as you awkwardly smiled down at the ground.

“Thanks again for punching that guy.”

“My pleasure.” He paused. “By the way,” Five started with a grin. “I wasn’t initially sure you needed help. It looked like you were enjoying it for a second there.”

When you looked at him, he tilted his head to the side with a cocky smirk, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. Your face burned hotter.

“Um…yeah. I guess I thought it was someone else at first,” you answered truthfully.

“Hmmm…” Five mused. “Interesting.”

Just then, you heard your friends call you over as a cab pulled up. With a wave, you left Five on the curb and got in the car. But the rest of your night was consumed with thoughts of him, and the amazing story he had told you.

*****************************

A week passed and you had been working late. The campus was quiet on the way to your car, but on a whim, you decided to cut through the building where Five kept his office. As luck would have it, you saw the light on behind the frosted glass of the door. You thought briefly of passing right by, but then you gathered enough courage to rap lightly against the frame. After a few seconds, he opened the door.

Looking amazingly fuckable, Five had shed the jacket and vest of his usual three-piece suit, and was left in his white dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was messier than normal, and when your gaze drifted behind him, you saw an opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“H-hi,” you stuttered out. “Am I interrupting you?”

Five paused for a second, looking you up and down, before shaking his head slowly. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate and you thought maybe you’d made a mistake coming there, but he suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever haze he had been in. He opened the door wider and gestured inside. “Please, come on in.”

You nodded, stepping inside, and he shut the door behind you with a loud click that made you jump. He was still eyeing you up as he walked to his desk and picked up the bottle of liquor.

“Can I pour you a drink?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After another moment of silence, with just the slosh of liquid and clink of the bottle against the desk to fill the quiet, Five handed you the glass. You took it from him and his fingers brushed against yours in the process.

You cleared your throat before taking a small sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, but it was delicious. “What are you doing here so late?”

Five shrugged. “Just don’t feel like going home.”

He wasn’t exactly being short with you, but you could tell he was holding something back. After your deep conversation that night outside the club, you felt that you had made a real connection with one another. This, however, seemed like you had taken a step backwards.

“Oh.” You looked around, noticing the somewhat messy mahogany desk that acted as his work station. Behind it rose a wall of bookshelves that were filled with what you imagined to be very advanced physics texts. There didn’t appear to be any real personal items anywhere. No photos of family. No trinkets or tchotchkes on display. Not even any awards or plaques, although you were sure he’d earned some.

“So,” you started nervously. “I’ve figured out my thesis.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The theory of time travel and its hypothetical consequences on multiple timelines.”

He paused before snorting out a laugh and taking a drink out of his own glass. “Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. You opened my eyes to a whole new world and I want to learn more about it. I thought…you know…I thought you could help me with my research. Since you have first hand experience.”

His eyebrows drew together as he peered at you over his glass. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw your entire life’s work down the drain for some stupid ass theory that no one is going to believe. They’ll laugh at you.”

You were hurt, but tried to hide it behind a small smile. “People will believe, Five. I believe you. And we have the scientific facts to back it up. Or, at least, you do. But you can teach me. You can explain all of the physics required to work your powers.”

“I don’t have any powers,” he said dryly.

You sighed loudly. “You know what I mean. Come on, I thought you would be excited by this.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I can help with whatever you need.”

There was another awkward pause while you regarded one another, but since he didn’t say anything else, you assumed that was the end of the conversation.

“Thank you. This is really going to change our field, Five, you have no idea.” You set your glass down on the desk. “Well, it’s late, so I’ll leave you be. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

As you moved towards the door, you heard him slam his glass down next to yours. “That’s it?”

When you spun around, you had never seen him looking at you the way that he was right then. You obviously had made him mad in some way, but you weren’t sure what it could have been. His darkened eyes narrowed as they scanned your face and then your body, the muscles in his jaw working in quiet concentration. It unnerved you, but it also made your heart flip in your chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“What more do you want from me?” he asked, voice low and measured.

You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you answered him meekly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what else to do to make you notice me.”

“I…I do notice you. Of course I do. We have a whole thing…I thought we were friends…I…,” you stammered before he cut you off with a shake of his head and a step towards you that had you backing up.

“That’s not what I mean and you fucking know it,” he stated plainly, right before he took another step and then another, all the while corralling you away from the door and back into the room.

You sucked in a loud breath as your butt hit the desk behind you, trapping you. “Five…I really don’t–”

“Stop,” he hissed. “You’re the smartest person I know, so cut the shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

At that, you felt a fire light inside of you. It was a combination of the months-long hunger you’ve felt for him and the urge to defend yourself against his asshole remarks.

“Whatever the fuck you’re talking about Five, I’m not playing your little guessing game. If you’re accusing me of something, just say it.”

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he crowded into your personal space. “Fine, I can be blunt. I have done everything I can think of these past few months. We had good conversations, we connected; I tried flirting, although I admit I’m not very good at it. I knocked some shit head to the ground for you.” He stopped and swallowed hard, his voice becoming quieter. “I told you everything.”

“But you’re still not telling me what you want,” you argued, trying to stay strong as your eyes drifted to his lips.

“You,” he rasped. “I want you. And I think you fucking know that.”

You shook your head almost imperceptibly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Liar,” he said with a smirk before closing the few inches between you, making you lean back with your hands supporting you on the desktop behind you. You drew in a sharp breath as his hand trailed gently over your cheek, spreading what felt like fire across your skin as he placed his palm against the side of your neck. “Tell me the truth.”

With a hard, audible swallow, you raised your hand to clasp it around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours and you could feel his thrumming pulse under your fingers. “I want you, too. I just didn’t think–”

Cut off from finishing your thought, Five’s mouth was on yours in a heartbeat. Your lack of resistance was immediate as you gave into him; kissing him urgently as you clenched harder onto his wrist. The quiet whimper that you gave made him smile as he used his teeth to gently nip at your bottom lip.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Five said when he pulled away.

“What have you been thinking about, exactly?” you said with a flutter of your eyelashes. You weren’t sure where this new assertiveness was coming from, but you let your free hand slide down the side of his chest and stomach before hooking a finger into the belt loop of his pants. 

A feral look crossed Five’s face as he pressed into you. With an easy twist of his wrist, he forced your hand off of him until he was the one grasping yours. Taking your soft gasp as a positive reaction, he did the same with your other hand. He leaned his head in close, his eyes closing as he brushed his lips against yours for just a second.

“Fucking you,” he replied plainly, as if that were obvious, his voice even and low. He pushed his thigh between your legs. “Right here.” His mouth trailed along your jaw; the scruff of his chin scraping against your neck. “Making you come on my cock while you’re moaning my name.”

As if he put some sort of spell on you, you automatically whined out, “Five…,” as your eyes fell shut and you pressed your groin against his leg.

“Just like that,” he praised with a smirk, holding your wrists just a little tighter. “Only louder.” When your hazel  eyes opened again, they were met with his emerald ones staring steelily down on you. “We could play this game a little more, but I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, and you gave him a small nod of assent.

He dove onto your mouth again, his tongue slipping inside, as he squeezed your wrists. When he moaned quietly, his body flush with yours again, you tried to free your hands so that you could feel more of him, but he held tight. When he moved away from your mouth, he slid his soft lips over your cheek and down your neck, nuzzling into you with his nose and chin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re the only one that understands me,” he whispered before finally letting go of your wrists and boosting you up onto the desk. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs just enough to let him stand in between. 

Letting your hands roam over the soft material of his dress shirt, following the curve of his firm, trim waist, and around to his back, you answered him softly. “I do understand you, Five. You’re amazing.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only continued kissing down your neck and over your collarbone. His fingers came to rest at the hem of your sweater, lifting it just slightly above your waistline before stopping. Drawing his head back, he looked deeply into your eyes. That untamed intensity was still there and you held your breath in anticipation of what was going to come next.

“Do you know how to be a good girl?” he asked in that tone that made your mouth water.

His brazenness took you off guard, but only for a second. Fuck, you wanted to be his good girl more than anything. “Yes,” you breathed out a little too eagerly; the panties under your skirt already soaked.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face and then your chest. “Because I’m going to need you to be very, very good for me.”

You had never been so hot for someone in your life, and you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t feel more of his body on you. He pushed his hips in closer, his hard cock dragging across your pelvis, and enticing you even more.

“Five…” you whimpered.

“Shhh,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. The feel of his lips against yours and the heat of his skin was too much and you bucked your hips sharply against him, your butt sliding forward on the desk. He drew back from your mouth, breathing hard. “Stay quiet for me, ok, sweetheart? Can you do that?”

With another pathetic nod of your head, you let him completely take command. He pulled your body roughly towards him, moaning quietly as his fervent kisses deepened and you gave yourself over to whatever power he had over you. He could have told you almost anything, and you would have followed his orders. He was all you needed; all you cared about at that moment. And, fuck, if he didn’t feel amazing with his sizeable dick straining in his pants and pressing against you.

Five was back to pulling at the bottom of your shirt, but this time he didn’t stop. You helped him by raising your hands over your head while he yanked it off. Taking a moment to look you over, his hands made their way around to your back, already working at your bra clasp. You didn’t protest, and soon you were topless while his eyes roamed hungrily over your naked chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he moaned before attacking your mouth again.

You made soft moaning noises as his fingers grazed over your breasts and down your stomach. You had spent so much time imagining what this would feel like and now it was really happening. He had pulled away again, breathing hard as he watched his own hands as they sensually massaged your tits, before moving down and around again. As he squeezed your ass roughly, you captured his mouth with yours, not willing to wait for him to come to you. He didn’t resist or back off, even as he continued exploring your body. Sucking at his lips, biting voraciously because you couldn’t get enough, you devoured as much of him as you could get. 

Your breath was ragged and harsh as you breathed through your nose, unable to tear yourself away from his delicious taste. With a sudden flinch, Five drew back from you, leaving you panting for air. Raising his hand to his mouth, he pulled his fingers away, showing a small amount of blood on them. Five smiled evilly and licked at his lower lip.

“Biting?”

With a slow smile, you blinked up at him. “I’m sorry. You just taste so damn good.”

He made a humming noise low in his throat as he regarded you thoughtfully. With no warning, he pulled you off of the desktop, and spun you around, ignoring your sharp cry of surprise. With the edge of the desk digging into your lower stomach, you felt Five’s hands on either side of you, his strong fingers grasping at your hips. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pushing against your ass was next, and you supported yourself with your hands as you pushed back in response.

One of Five’s arms snaked around to hold you tighter across the front of your waist as he leaned over, covering your back with his body and nuzzling his face against the side of your neck.

“Good girls don’t bite,” he warned, his voice thick with lust. “You lied again.”

You shook your head, your hair hanging down and covering your face. “No, I can be good.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured into your neck. “Let’s see about that.”

Five moved his body so that he had you fully at his mercy. Trapped between him and the desk, you could barely move, and he was strong enough to keep you there as long as he wanted. But you had no desire to leave. Feeling him hard, with his chest heaving against your back, and his harsh breath covering your shoulders, you couldn’t think of any place else you’d rather be. 

His hands were on your tits again, squeezing and pushing them together, all while he sucked painful bruises down your neck. You would be marked with his love bites tomorrow, that much was clear, and there would be no way to fully cover them. You had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted, though. Just the thought of everyone seeing what he had done to you was enough to send another surge of wetness between your legs.

Five’s hands slowly made their way down your sides and then your thighs, before coming to the hem of your skirt. This time, unlike with your sweater, he did not hesitate to pull it up. Bunching it around your waist, you were fully exposed to him, aside from the very small pair of thong underwear you were wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” Five moaned as he caressed your ass cheek, and then gave it a light slap. “God, this ass is perfect.”

He enveloped your entire body again, leaning over you so that your upper half was forced down onto the desk. You let out a whimper and bit at your lower lip in an effort to control yourself. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but you also wanted to be good for him, just like he asked. So instead of crying out and begging for him to fuck you, you stayed quiet. The only signs that you were desperate for him were the harsh sounds of your breathing and the way your ass rhythmically rocked against his crotch as if it had a mind of its own.

His fingers wound into your hair as he gave it a tug, forcing your head back as he whispered softly against your neck; his lips tracing feather-light patterns over your skin, but never kissing you.

“Tell me you want me.”

Your answer caught in your throat as you closed your eyes. “I want you.”

Five moved his mouth down to your shoulder, the vibration of his dark voice sending a blissful chill down your spine.

“Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want your cock,” you whined, not even a little ashamed of your submission or arousal.

When Five’s fingers slid their way around your front and into the side of your panties, you gulped in a loud breath and exhaled with a sigh. He knew what he was doing, that much was clear, and he began quickly working you into a frenzy while you shamelessly rolled your hips with each stroke of his hand. Slowly massaging your throbbing clit with his thumb, he entered you with his middle finger. You were so wet for him that you were dripping down his hand and onto his wrist. That just seemed to urge him on, and he continued to slide in and out of your hole with ease, hitting every nerve on the way, until you were moaning and panting with desire.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded. He sucked another bruise onto your shoulder and pressed his thumb harder against you, making you cry out.

“Yes! Please…I want you to fuck me!”

“Say it again.”

“Five!” you whined pitifully. “I want you to fuck me! I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for so long. Just…please!”

With a quiet laugh, Five removed his fingers from between your legs. In another second, he was pulling your panties down your hips and thighs, until they fell onto the floor. Left in nothing but your bunched up skirt, you waited for his next move.

For a minute, you only heard the rustling of clothing mixed with his harsh breathing. When you looked to the side, you saw his shirt being discarded onto the floor. You instinctually made to turn around, but he immediately placed a hand on your back, keeping you in place. His palm was warm and firm against your bare skin as you submitted to his wordless request. The sound that followed was the clinking of metal on metal as he began to undo his belt with his one free hand.

You involuntarily pushed your ass back, but received nothing in return except for a low chuckle. The agonizingly slow pace with which he was unzipping his fly was killing you. A thin river of your arousal slipped down the inside of your thigh, but you could do nothing but wait.

When finally you felt his warm, thick cock slide against your backside, you let out a shaky groan.

“What do you think, sweet girl?” he teased, rubbing the swollen head between your legs, spreading your wetness over you both. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes…fuck yes…” you gasped. You could barely make out any words; your focus was entirely on his dick and how badly you wanted him inside of you.

You widened your stance when he used his foot to gently nudge your feet apart and allow him better access. His hands grasped at your hips as he pulled you back, and you let your head hang down. 

Five eased his cock into your waiting pussy, pausing a few times as he stretched you open. You forgot to breathe as he pushed slowly into you until you were fully penetrated and you heard him make a low growling noise as his pelvis became flush with your ass.

“Five,” you whispered under your breath as you remembered to take in oxygen again.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, the restraint evident in the tightness of his voice.

You arched your back in desperation and made a sad, crying noise that might have sounded painful if you didn’t answer him loudly. “More! Five, please!”

Hugging you tightly to his chest, his dick still fully buried inside of you, he moaned against your shoulder. “Fuck…you are my good girl, aren’t you?”

After one grunting slap of his hips against your ass, you braced yourself with your hands in preparation. Any restraint that Five had been holding onto before that moment was lost, and he began fucking you hard and rough; pounding his thick cock into you over and over again while you whined and moaned beneath him. He told you how beautiful you were, and how long he had been waiting for this moment, all while driving himself deeper inside of you. His dick was hitting just the right spot and you had never felt this amount of intensity from someone else before. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that he was giving you everything he had, his firm body covering your back and his warm mouth brushing down your neck. You still wanted more.

When his fingers found their way to your clit again, that’s when you started to really lose it. You sounded like you were sobbing as you cried out his name, but it was all from pleasure and you reached down to press his hand harder against you.

“Yes…oh god…fff–oh yeah…oh my god…Fi-ive…aaAHH!”

Right as you were about to tip over the edge, Five pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “Let me come inside you. Please.”

You nodded eagerly and squeaked out a weak “Yes” before fully giving yourself over to the building warmth in your groin. The orgasm that washed over you was the most intense you had ever experienced. Your entire body was trembling as your fingers dug into the desktop and your ass pushed back against him in sporadic thrusts. Five delivered one last punishing drive before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside of you. Your moans were mixing together, combining with the humid air from your collective panting. The scent of sex and arousal filled the room as hot waves of pleasure pulsed over you both. Five’s last rasping growl faded out as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his hair tickling your neck as his damp chest heaved against your back.

When he slipped out of you, he placed a soft kiss next to your ear before letting you go and backing away. You turned around, facing him for the first time since he had bent you over the desk. His hair was disheveled, with strands of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes that were once dark and piercing were back to their soft green as he gave you a shy smile and pushed his hair back. You took in his hard body, all sculpted abs and lean muscle. Your mouth watered at just the sight and even though you were still in the process of coming down from the strong orgasm he just gave you, you couldn’t help wanting him again.

“Well…” you said with a smile as you leaned back against the desk. “You may not have a real doctorate, but I can say with certainty that you have earned a very real Phd in fucking, Professor Hargreeves.”

Five’s eyebrows raised up his forehead before letting out a shocked laugh.

“What?” you said with a casual shrug. “I’m an introvert…not a prude.”

“Clearly,” Five noted with a smile before bending down to pull up his pants that were still around his ankles.

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t bother. Just take them off.”

With another pleasantly surprised smile, Five did just that and stepped out of his pants. While you pushed your skirt the rest of the way off, he neared you again, holding you close to his naked body and looking down on you with gentle eyes. His hand came to rest on the side of your face.

“I know I’m not special anymore, but you gave me something back. Something I had lost. Thank you.”

“Five, you are special. You’re special to me.” He leaned down to kiss you sensually, and your body responded immediately, already trying to pull him in for more. “Besides,” you smiled as you perched yourself up on the desk again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I think you just proved you have all the power you need.”

Five’s arrogant grin grew as he pressed his already hardening cock between your legs. “That I do, sweetheart. But, I think we may need to prove this a few more times.” He kissed you roughly on the mouth. “For science.”

[vidavalor]

Fun observation! 😊 I feel like I get this or have some ideas on it anyway so I had a bit of a go on it below, if you're interested.

I think these are two scenes that are contrasting parallels to one another that are not really about Aziraphale's personal feelings regarding touch or his experiences with it but show him being thrown a bit by having more context than the other person in the scene, who is in emotional distress, and being unsure what the best way to care for them in that moment is.

In the Gabriel hug scene, half of Aziraphale's reaction is just shock. He's as floored as we are. Aziraphale doesn't have a problem being touched; he's just like wtf is happening right now??, which is the expression on his face.

This is Gabriel. While Aziraphale has seen hints of Jim before in Gabriel, they've only ever just been hints. The Gabriel that Aziraphale mostly knows wears his suit like it's a suit of armor and is obsessed with crafting his image as someone who is powerful and in control. He does all of those things to stay alive in Heaven. The man in front of Aziraphale in this moment in 2.01, though? He is the complete opposite of that.

Gabriel is stark bollocks naked. In the middle of the street. He's openly friendly, overjoyed to see Aziraphale, vulnerable, and as emotionally naked as much as he is physically so.

By taking out his memories, Gabriel has forgotten Heaven. All his toxic masculinity bullshit and the like is tied up in trying to survive Heaven so once that's been trauma-blocked for him to a point that he can't remember any of it, all that is left is who Gabriel really is at the core-- and that's the guy who has shown up at Aziraphale's door that they name Jim.

Jimbriel is emotionally available and open to a point that was almost unimaginable the last time we saw The Archangel Fucking Gabriel, right? Don Draper has turned into an amnesiac version of Buddy the Elf.

Where Gabriel's political shrewdness ("there are no back channels, Michael") and his sarcasm showed an awareness of social dynamics, those are just gone with Jim, who is earnest and direct with his emotions. Jim says and does what Gabriel has always felt and wanted to say and do but felt he could not without giving away what little power he was trying to cling to in Heaven to stay alive.

Jim was seen in other moments before Gabriel had lost his memory. There is a lot of Jim in the Ineffable Bureaucracy flashback, when Gabriel is able to let his guard down around Beez. Aziraphale has seen hints of Jim's existence when Gabriel carefully joked with him in the bookshop and protected him from Sandalphon. It's those hints that allow Aziraphale to recognize the guy at the door as being Gabriel in distress and let him in.

Before that, though, we just get to enjoy the lunacy of this scene with Aziraphale, and no part of it is as wild as when Gabriel drops the box and gives Aziraphale a big ol' squeezy hug. Why does Aziraphale freeze, unsure what to do with his hands?

I don't think Aziraphale's response has anything to do with him being unaccustomed to touch. It had to do with him being in shock as to what the actual fuck??? is happening and, even more importantly, his concern over what the best way to care for Gabriel in this moment would be.

First is the shock of what is happening: there are several hundred people watching and filming this. Gabriel is vulnerable here in a way that the person Aziraphale knows would never, ever want to be. His memory appears to be gone and he's full Hamm in the middle of Whickber Street. This is in addition to Aziraphale himself being a private person and introverted and, even if he weren't, this is all just completely bonkers. Gabriel is a person that Aziraphale perceived as having a lot of power in Heaven. He doesn't really know that Gabriel is as trapped as he and Crowley are, though he suspects it a bit. His and Crowley's last encounter with Gabriel was less than pleasant and now Gabriel's here, after something terrible has clearly happened to him, hugging him on the doorstep in front of the entire neighborhood.

Aziraphale isn't just considering what might happen if Gabriel got his memories back, was embarrassed by this, and took that out on Aziraphale. Being Aziraphale, he's more concerned about the fact that Gabriel is hugging him but doesn't seem like he's in a place, emotionally or mentally, to really be able to make a call on whether or not this hug is something he truly wants.

I feel for Aziraphale here because I think that he did have issues in the past with being held, if not exactly with giving other people a hug. (He didn't usually volunteer those hugs but could awkwardly return them.) He struggled with thinking he didn't need it because he should be above it. Crowley helped him with that, though. Aziraphale sometimes has issues with anything that feels like it's about him because he's excessively self-sacrificing but we've seen that he is comfortable about touch with Crowley. He reaches out to him several times in S2 in a way that shows they have an understood, mutually consensual familiarity where that's concerned.

Crowley might be a little unaccustomed to being petted in the pub lol but that's just because it's a public setting. In a bit of a twist to the kiss scene you're talking about where Aziraphale takes that moment before he puts his hand on Crowley's shoulder, there are a whole bunch of other scenes in S2 where Aziraphale keeps touching Crowley's shoulder or his arm with a casual intimacy that shows he does it all the time. (Not to mention the comfort with one another that The Wall Slam in S1 shows.) They also each mime a kiss at different times at one another in S2 (Aziraphale after "very nice" and The Apology Dance; Crowley in the back room after "don't you want to hear my plan?"), showing that kissing is not new to them.

Aziraphale takes Crowley by the shoulder in the magic shop in 1941; he holds him up and helps him walk in 1827 (also reaches for his hips to try to steady him earlier in the minisode); he reaches for him in 2.06 in the above gif; and, in the scene below, Aziraphale reaches with intuitive, practiced ease to touch Crowley-- while standing so close to Crowley that it makes it apparent that Aziraphale is very used to being that much into Crowley's personal space when they're in the bookshop.

Crowley only leans back away from it because, as we can see from his darting eyes, he's not sure how he feels about them being that open in front of Gabriel. The fact that there's even this scene, though, where Aziraphale is shown to be so used to being so close to Crowley that, if Crowley hadn't leaned back, he would have basically been in his arms, is showing that they are allowed by one another to touch and hold each other.

So, Aziraphale's response to Gabriel hugging him isn't about touch in general-- it's about what was happening in that specific moment. This is where it gets into areas relating to boundaries and consent.

Even though it's Gabriel who initiated this hug, there's something so off about Gabriel that he doesn't appear to be in a mental place to really be making this decision. Gabriel is in obvious distress in a way that is so at odds with what Aziraphale knows of his personality that while Gabriel, in this moment, is expressing that he wants to hug Aziraphale, Aziraphale doesn't really know that Gabriel, on the whole, would want to do that.

This is why I think Aziraphale doesn't even really sort of try to pat Gabriel's shoulder or something. He doesn't know what to do with his hands because while his heart sees Gabriel and says, around the shock of what's going on that, whatever has happened to Gabriel, the poor guy probably does really need a hug, the rest of Aziraphale is concerned that he doesn't have enough context about what's happened to Gabriel to be able to judge whether or not Gabriel is in a good enough headspace to be making this call.

One rather enormous contextual clue to that is the fact that he's buck ass naked in the middle of the street 😂 which is clueing Aziraphale into the fact that maybe Gabriel isn't in the best place to be making decisions about stuff like this right now.

It's also been Aziraphale's experience that Heaven takes memories of angels who have fallen through the ranks or fallen to Hell and that, while they don't know exactly what's happened, odds seem good that this might be what's happened to Gabriel. It seems wild to Aziraphale because Gabriel is The Supreme Archangel but it's possible and, whatever's happened to him, it's clear that he ran afoul of The Metatron in some way and has been harmed in the process.

Gabriel has experienced something traumatizing, in other words-- maybe even so traumatizing that it's the reason why he can't remember anything. He's naked and acting unusual and unusually emotional so Aziraphale knows Gabriel's not really in a place to be deciding whether or not he wants touch or not. He might very well really want to be hugged-- I think he did, as his day was pretty shit so far and Aziraphale is cuddly lol-- but he and Aziraphale have exactly zero prior understanding where boundary lines are around touch-- in general or when one of them is distressed-- are concerned.

He doesn't touch Gabriel or lightly hug him back because he feels he doesn't really have Gabriel's permission to do so, and he's correct. He doesn't. Gabriel isn't in a place to decide whether or not this hug is something he's going to want to have happened down the line.

I think that the Gabriel we have as of the end of 2.06 is probably appreciative of the fact that Aziraphale didn't touch him during that hug because it showed that Aziraphale cared about Gabriel's comfort and didn't want to touch him without that being something that Gabriel, when of sound mind, had permitted. I'm sure that Gabriel is also embarrassed about having just glomped onto Aziraphale. Not even just because of the whole naked, vulnerable, Jim-ness of it all but because he put Aziraphale on the spot and was too out of it to consider Aziraphale's comfort level with what was happening.

Gabriel really should have asked Aziraphale if he could hug him but, mixed up from his missing memories, he assumed they already knew one another and that, since he just knew to come to the bookshop, that it must be because he and Aziraphale already knew each other well. What makes this situation different from the one in 2.06 during The Kiss scene with Crowley is that Aziraphale and Crowley have a completely different level of intimacy and familiarity than Aziraphale and Gabriel did.

Crowley and Aziraphale have body swap-levels of intimacy and have preestablished understandings of what is permitted between them and in a state of distress. I did a post about what I think is happening in The Kiss scene, in terms of why Aziraphale reacts the way he does, and there is context to the happenings in that scene that Aziraphale had that Crowley was missing that I think impact Aziraphale's response to the kiss. You can read about in that post, if you're interested. In addition to that, though, Aziraphale isn't sure about responding to the kiss because Crowley has been so emotionally up and down over the prior few minutes that, kind of like with Gabriel in 2.01 but in a different way, Aziraphale isn't sure that Crowley is in a headspace to have decided this kiss is really what he wants.

From Aziraphale's perspective, Crowley was missing all night. He came back trailed by archangels and Aziraphale doesn't know what happened the prior night. Aziraphale has seen behavior that is very off for Crowley since he returned, which I also looked at in that post. Crowley not going with him with "The Metatron" and Crowley not seeming to see "The Metatron" as a threat are things that are way, way off for Crowley and indicate that, while he might otherwise seem fine, he's really not fully in a good mental state.

This is all before they even start talking in That Scene and then Crowley is all over the place, emotionally. He was in tears just prior to this kiss. Aziraphale thinks he understands, intellectually, why Crowley comes back to kiss him (he gets about half of it-- the emotional reasons why but not the plot reasons why and, yeah, there's a plot reason) but he's not sure about returning this kiss for similar reasons to why he wasn't sure about returning Gabriel's hug.

Crowley has permission to touch/hug/kiss Aziraphale so he's not violating any preestablished boundary here by doing so. He is doing so while distressed, though, and Aziraphale is concerned about doing the right thing by Crowley in this moment. He wants to kiss him; he's just not sure that Crowley really wants to kiss him right now and isn't just doing so because he's upset. When Crowley holds on a bit, Aziraphale has to decide what to do and he eventually sort of gently responds. He kisses him a little; he runs a hand over his shoulder. It's because he wants to comfort him and he knows from their long history that he has permission to gently do that-- their car and their bookshop and all that-- but he won't turn this thing into some wild, passionate kiss because, to Aziraphale, that would be taking advantage of Crowley.

The point is that, even though Crowley and Gabriel have wildly different levels of intimacy in their different types of relationships with Aziraphale, both Gabriel and Crowley are reaching out for different types of physical touch while in distress after being harmed and Aziraphale, both times, is just trying to figure out the best way to acknowledge their pain and provide comfort while also not crossing any lines that might make either of them feel later on that they were taken advantage of when they were vulnerable. It's why Aziraphale is a very trustworthy person-- he is sensitive to and cognizant of this stuff with everyone.

Something that I’ve noticed, and I don’t know what it means. But did anyone else notice how Aziraphale’s (present day) opening scene in season 2 involves him being embraced and he has no idea what to do with his hands:

…which is then mirrored by his (almost) last scene where he is being embraced and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands:

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

I mean, in the last scene Aziraphale does grab onto Crowley for a brief moment (and I’ve written more about why that may be here). But just putting these two scenes side by side is making me wonder what deeper meaning there could be.

Would love to hear your thoughts on the matter! What does everyone else think this means?

[melverie]

Last post on the entire date ticket thing and then I will forever shut up about it, but I feel like most people arguing in favor of the price tag are just….missing the point on why people are so angry about the date ticket being $30

I think the one thing we can all agree on right from the get go is that everyone in the staff deserve to and should be compensated fairly for their work. And that obviously includes certain features and items having to cost actual money considering the game itself is free

But the thing is, that $30 price tag doesn't just exist in a vacuum

First off, we can all agree that charging something like $3 would have made the ticket sell far better, right? Several people have already pointed out that they can buy a week's worth of groceries with $30 and depending on how much you earn, the date ticket isn't exactly something anyone can just buy on a whim. Again, $3 would have been far more affordable for most people, and I'm sure many more people (myself included) would have been far more willing to spend $3 just to see what the date ticket is like, and maybe also buy the tickets of multiple other characters. But $30 for a single date ticket is a luxury a lot of people just cannot afford, or would rather put into something else. Even if they lowered the price, they'd surely break even and make profit with how many players there are

And judging by its contents, I think it's fair to say that the date itself is not worth $30. And I feel like Solmare themselves know this because why else would they have bundled it with 300 DP? The only reason is to justify this price tag because "look at how much DP we're getting with it tho!!" when that's not the point. It doesn't matter whether the DP are included, because there is a lack of choice here. We have other options to earn and buy DP, but we don't have a choice when it comes to the date ticket itself. Either you pay $30, or you miss out on a feature that many of us have wanted for a while now. And since it's the DP raising the price tag,what you are essentially paying for is 300 DP with a date ticket as your purchase bonus, even though it should be the other way round

And honestly? Considering the price, the only two times it would make sense to buy this bundle is if you were already considering buying DP anyway, or if you are financially well enough off that the current price doesn't matter to you. You won't convince most casual spenders, and you most definitely will not convince a f2p player to pay for this feature

The other thing is that we had no idea what the date ticket actually entailed because we weren't given any information on it. Thanks to people in the community buying and reviewing this feature for others we now know that the date consists of one phone call, a ~10 minute long, partially voiced date story-line and a Majolish background. Except, those are things that Solmare themselves should have told us right as they announced this feature, ESPECIALLY considering the price point. If you don't, you can't complain if people are accusing your company of trying to rip its player base off and of being greedier than the Avatar of Greed himself. But also, that's the thing!

We shouldn't have people in the fandom be the ones to go out of their way to give us basic info on new features, or to even explain certain business decisions in the first place. That's the company's job. Yes, certain explanations should be a given (such as microtransactions existing so that the staff can be paid the money they obviously deserve), but there are other things that should have been explained by Solmare themselves

Open communication with the player base is the key phrase here, and imo Solmare has been doing worse and worse on that front as of late, resulting in several unexplained choices that just seem questionable at best and scummy at worst, as well as a player base that grows more and more disgruntled by the day. And that frustration within the player base shows in the amount of people dropping the game, as well as in the amount of money it's making

People are willing to put their time and money into something they deem a good, quality product with a justified price considering the content. If your player base isn't putting in the money you are expecting, then maybe you should listen to their feedback and re-examine your product instead of overcharging a feature because "look at this thing you're getting extra that no one asked to be included in the bundle in the first place"

Literally part of the reason LaDS has grown to be so successful in such a short amount of time is because they keep making adjustments based on player feedback, even on some minor things. I mean they literally pushed out an update to correct the color of one of the character's tongue in the newest card because people were complaining, like hello!! Imagine Solmare listening to complains as minor as this

Anyway, whether intentional or not, this entire thing just feels scummy, and that's the problem. The choice we have is either "pay 30 bucks per character or miss out on this feature entirely", the price is artificially inflated with the inclusion of DP that we have other ways of getting, romance is slowly fazed out of the story only to now be put behind a heft paywall, we weren't told what we are even paying for exactly in the first place, and there has been a severe lack of proper communication from Solmare that have soured the relationship to the game's fanbase and, most importantly in this context, their customers

No, companies aren't our friends. Yes, they need to make money. Yes, they should pay their employees fairly. And no, we as consumers shouldn't expect nor are we entitled to everything about the game being free because again, the people working on this game deserve to get paid fairly for all the work they put into it

However, people are still allowed to be critical of a company and its decisions, especially when they feel like they are getting ripped off. The 300 DP might soften the blow, but that doesn't stop everything that has happened before from being a slap in the face. That's why people are pissed right now, and honestly it's been a long time coming

[fyeahnix]

Remember when I said this?

Sevika the mf who will wear a tanktop just so she can flex at random to fluster you

Yeah....

------

The promise of seeing your beloved for an extended stretch of time carried you through the Lanes with all the grace of a romantic newly in love. Afternoon crowds were thin in all of Zaun, and you were thankful for it as every new set of bodies you weaved through added time to the internal estimation of your journey six streets up the road. Arriving in what you assumed was record time, you trudged up three flights of dilapidated stairs and down the hall to the corner apartment. You nodded at a familiar neighbor stepping out of their home only to be hit with a baffled expression that read “you again?”

When they left, you knocked.

Waited.

No answer.

You wet your lips and knocked again with more intention. Several seconds passed. You aimed to knock once more but the lock clicked. Your gaze rose directly to your girlfriend's projected eyeline right before she opened up and exposed half her body in the doorway.

A black tank top adorned her upper half, haphazard and in disarray like she’d thrown it on seconds ago. One shoulder threatened to slip down past her missing arm. Grey sweatpants covered her bottom half, hanging low off her hips to expose her boxer brief’s waistband and the trail of dark hair descending from her navel. Her feet? Bare.

You gave her a once-over and a teasing smirk. "You just woke up, didn't you?"

"What?” Sevika said, recoiling and scrunching her face. “No. Been up...'bout...an hour."

You could have believed her if you hadn't already been familiar with that sleepy, sexy drawl. Still, it was amusing to force a staring contest with her to see how quickly she'd cave and admit it. And it wasn't long before she waved the white flag and rubbed her hand down her face.

She sighed, voice still drenched in sleep. "Yeah, I just woke up."

"Thought so.” You pecked her on the cheek as you stepped past her inside. It was still dark throughout so you flipped on the lights and curled up in your favorite corner of her couch.

She closed and locked up behind you. When she approached, she signaled for you to move and stole your spot to pull you down on her lap.

You couldn’t shake the smile that graced your lips. Through dark tresses, you cradled your girlfriend's head, thumbs massaging her cheeks and the bags under her eyes. The valleys of her arcane scars registered under your finger pads. Like stained glass, they glimmered when catching the light, and though they no longer pained her, you still exercised caution so they wouldn't shatter under your touch. Every caress lulled her further into a relaxed trance with eyelids feathering shut and dark lips parting to welcome your advance. Instead, you knocked foreheads with her. Rested there and drank in her essence. Whatever tension from the work day you held coiled within you unfurled at the first note of faint citrus and woodsy underbrush, the scent you associated with home.

You pulled away slowly, much to Sevika's dismay, and she floated backwards until her head and one arm rested against the back of the couch. She smiled when her eyes fluttered open to drink you in.

"Rough night?" you asked.

"Mmhm... And too long."

You reached out to rub Sevika's arm when she rested her head on her fist. Shoulder to bicep to forearm and back again. "What time’d you get in?"

"Five-ten, I think. Maybe five-twenty. Passed out right after a shower." She rubbed the sleep out of her eye and then glanced at your hands exploring her arm. "What about you? You're off work early."

Even half-flexed, Sevika's arm was rock-hard. She was muscular, and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't one of the myriad things you loved about her. For as often as you lost yourself in her storm-grey eyes, you stumbled equally as lost admiring the statuesque figure she carved her body into after years of work and effort. What could you say, really? Discipline was attractive.

Sevika tensed her arm under your touch, and you responded in kind with a teasing squeeze to her bicep.

"I... finished early. Thought it'd be nice to spend some time with you before the reservation tonight."

Sevika snorted. "Bad luck then."

"Mm, not really. I mean... you haven't worked out yet, right? Back and biceps today?"

She shot you an accusatory glance. "No."

"Oh, come on, baby."

"Cannot believe you came all the way over here just to watch me lift."

You poked your bottom lip out.

“Oh, stop.” She pinched you in your rib.

"You see this? This is me pouting."

Sevika's willpower may have been stronger than yours, but it wasn't infinitely unyielding. A small twitch of her lip broke through; the facade cracked.

"You see this?" she retorted, pointing at her left side. Her shoulder twitched. "This is me flipping you off right now."

"Oh, fuck off." You pushed at her collar playfully.

"If you just wanted to see me flex..." And she did. Her bicep and shoulder bunched and coiled; veins decorated her beautiful skin. Your gaze darted from the sculpted lines between her muscles to the tuft of hair under her arm to the stupid, smug smile spreading across her face. "...all you had to do was ask."

...

And you very well could have died right then and there.

"Hah, look at you. Your face. Every time." Sevika nuzzled her nose in your neck and collar. Breathed you in. "Help me work out and shower with me after?"

"Hmm... That's tough. I get to see you sweat, but then I have to deal with a cold shower? After you just made fun of me? I dunno, Vika."

"I think that’s fair considering you only came over to see me push my bicep in your face."

"Okay, first off, that’s not why I came early. And second, counteroffer: warm shower and…” You pondered for a moment then graced the shell of her ear with your whispered plan. “…I’ll let you fuck my face before we leave. Or…maybe in the restroom while we’re out?”

As you pulled away, Sevika’s brow lifted slowly. Her eyes caught yours and her nose creased with her growing smirk. “Mierda… Should just let you handle all of Silco’s negotiations instead, huh?”

“So, that a deal?”

“Deal.”

[thememestrider]

Had an idea, thought it was cute, so I wrote something for it.

Introductions - Dante x F! Reader

Sypnosis: Needing to touch base with the various high lords and regents of his new Imperium, Robute Guilliman hosts an enormous social function at his palace on Ultramar. Naturally, Commander Dante is invited. And, naturally, he's taking his beloved as his plus one.

C/W: No warnings, possible lore inaccuracies/ooc (especially for Guilliman since idk anything about his lore lol), reader is described as female in this one, pre-established relationship, kinda fluffy with a smidge of angst, lil spicy insinuation at the end but nothing nsfw, unedited.

Back in the days before the Heresy, Guilliman had hated events like this.

The pomp, the lavishness, and the expenditure; all so his father could have the opportunity speak with the high lords and imperial regents face-to-face. It's so gawdy, so wasteful. And, frankly, it's so unbearably pretentious.

But, just like those early days, Guilliman understands the necessity. Without them, he'd never see any of the imperial upperclass. Half of them are too preoccupied to try and arrange private audiences with, while the other half will simply refuse. Events like this are a chance to bring all these people together in one place, allowing Guilliman to brief, reprimand and pass orders to everyone he must while keeping them from being distracted or finding some way to avoid him. These conversations are exhausting, though. And, more often than not, frustrating to all hell. Several times throughout the night, Guilliman has to disengage from mingling, to preserve his sanity as much as his strength.

Now is one such time.

Swirling a cup on wine in one hand, the Primarch surveys the floor of his place's vast dining hall, which for tonight has been converted into something akin to a ballroom. His serfs had done well in setting everything up; everything from the music to the drapes to the crystal chandeliers scream luxury from the tops of their lungs. Guilliman takes a swig from his wine. While the taste is pleasant, he find himself resenting the fact that he is immune to the effects of alcohol.

Everyone here, I despise, one way or another.

His gaze catches on the right side of the room. A flash of red; deep, rich and belonging to an ornate set of robes; draped over a man taller than anyone else in the room aside from the Primarch himself. Black hair streaked with silver cascades over his shoulders in loose waves. He's standing against a wall, hands clasped across his lap, sharp amber eyes following something amidst the crowd that Guilliman cannot pick out. The Primarch recognises the man immediately. As he does, a weight suddenly lifts from his chest.

Well, not everyone.

Guilliman starts towards the man in red. When he notices the Primarch approaching, the man's already rigid posture stiffens even more. Setting his fist across his heart, he begins to bow. But before he can complete the gesture, Guilliman intervenes. "How many times must I tell you, Dante? I'll not accept such signs of humility from a man such as you."

He speaks with a smile, but evidently, Dante's innate reverence of the Primarch will not allow him to partake in the jest.

"Forgive me, my lord," the Blood Angel says. "You surprised me, is all."

"There's nothing to forgive." Guilliman sets a hand on Dante's shoulder. "It's good to see you, nephew. I am glad you could attend."

"I..." Dante trails off, and Guilliman fears his attempt at personability have unsettled the space marine. But, eventually, Dante allows himself a brief half-smile. "Thank you, Guilliman. It is good to see you, too."

Releasing his shoulder, Guilliman pauses to look Dante up and down. In spite of his advanced age, Dante remains a spitting image of his gene-father, Sanguinius. Paired with his noble heart and soft-spoken demeanour, and the commander might as well be Guilliman's long-dead brother reborn. The thought tugs at the Primarch's heart. He covers it with a smile. "You look well. Very well. You have recovered from your wounds sustained on Baal, I hope?"

"Somewhat," Dante admits. "Though I cannot say the same for Baal itself."

Guilliman nods sombrely. "The Tyranids are a merciless enemy. Even in defeat, they leave little upon which to rebuild." He offers the commander another smile. "You will rebuild, though. It will just take time."

Dante's expression is thoughtful. "Not too much, I hope; time is not something we have in abundance in the Imperium Secundus. "

Rueful silence follows the commander's words. Slowly, Guilliman can feel it turning melancholic. He moves to break it before that happens. "I see you lack a glass; can I get you a drink?"

Suddenly, Dante perks up. "Oh, no, my lord. You needn't worry. My-"

"My wife is already on it, he meant to say."

Guilliman turns around sharply. He sees you, wrapped in a slinky dress the same crimson shade as Dante's robes, smiling playfully up at the Primarch. You have a glass in each hand. Both filled with wine, though one is significantly larger than the other. This you hand off to Dante, before gliding to the space marine's side and slipping your now-free hand around his arm. For a moment, both men are at a loss for words: Dante, due to your unbelievably casual behaviour towards the Lord Primarch, and Guilliman due to your refering to yourself as...

"Wife?" Guilliman stares at Dante in surprise. "I didn't know you had a wife. "

Dante's expression suddenly hardens. "You don't disapprove, do you?"

"It'd be a bit late if he did," you add slyly.

Guilliman blinks. "I- No, no! Of course not. I'm just... I'm just surprised, is all."

You throw your husband a smirk. "Surprised?" you mutter. "That's a bit rude." Dante's only reply is an unamused glare.

Guilliman shakes his head. "That's not- I only meant that I didn't realise space marines... had partners. Let alone... got married."

"They don't, typically," you reply. "But Luis and I-" quickly rising to your toes, you plant a quick kiss on Dante's cheek. "We're a unique case, you could say. "

Guilliman hardly hears what you're saying; the mere sight of you has his thoughts paralysed. Your crown barely reaches the Blood Angel's shoulder, and yet hanging off his arm, you look completely at home.

Dante is the same, too. Guilliman sees the way his face lights up when you kiss him. Had seen the hostility in his eyes when the Primarch had questioned him, like a primal protectiveness. Even now, it's not yet faded. As much as Dante reveres Guilliman, the Primarch realises that if given the choice between him and you, Dante will choose you without hesitation. Guilliman feels... He isn't sure how this makes him feel. The logicitian in him cringes at the thought of his fellow Lord-regent- his second-in-command, effectively- having his loyalty split between the Imperium and something (or, in this case, someone) else. But another part of him, the human in him, sees the way you look at each. The way you stroke Dante's arm as you speak. The way Dante unconsciously leans into you, as if drawing comfort from your touch. Guilliman sees all of this, and everything that lays unspoken beneath, and he feels... He feels happy. Hopeful. And maybe, though he'd never admit it aloud, he even feels a little jealous.

Before he can ponder that point any further, you address the Primarch again. "Well, Lord Guilliman, it was an honour to finally meet you. But I'm afraid I must steal my husband back for a moment."

Blinking his reverie away, Guilliman nods. "Of course, my lady." He stifles a wince at how quiet his voice has become. "It was... It was a pleasure meeting you, as well."

You flash a brilliant smile. Dante simply nods. Rather than wait for you both walk away, however, Guilliman takes his leave first. Turning on his heel and retreating back to his earlier vantage point. For the rest of the night, however, his thoughts remain on the pair of you. Swirling amongst pleasure, melancholy and other things he does not yet know how to label.

********************************************

The moment that Guilliman is out of earshot, Dante sighs in relief. "By the Throne," he mutters. "That went better than expected."

You raise an eyebrow. "What went better than expected?"

Finishing his wine, Dante sets the empty glass down on a table as you walk past. Then, you feel him squeeze your hand; the one you have threaded through his arm.

"You and Lord Guilliman," he says softly.

You take a moment to study your husband's face. You find it wrought with undeclared anxiety. Slowing to a halt, you turn to face Dante, keeping a hold on his arm. "Why?" you ask gently. "Did you think he'd disapprove?"

His grip on your hand tightens. "I thought he would take you from me."

You find the suggestion humorous- as if you'd let anything get between the two of you- but upon seeing the stress still lingering on Dante's face, you do not say so. Instead, you ask, "Why would he do that?"

Dante looks at you ruefully. In spite of his feelings, it seems your naivety has amused him somewhat. "Space marines are weapons, sweetheart," he answers. "The only things our hearts are supposed to feel are duty and honour. Not..."

Gently, you finish his thought for him. "Not what we have."

Dante smiles sadly. "Exactly."

"Well... Guilliman said outright that he doesn't disapprove. So, that must bide well, right?"

"That could change," Dante argues.

"If it does, we will fight it."

"And if we cannot?"

Sighing, you set your glass aside. Then, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Immediately, he leans into your palm.

"Then nothing," you say softly. "It will change nothing. No matter what does or doesn't happen, Luis, I'm not going anywhere. Remember what I said? You'll never have to manage without me again."

Draping your arms around his neck, you pull him into a hug. You feel him grab you around the waist, forearms pressed against your lower back and pulling you flush against his front.

"I love you," he whispers into your ear.

You nuzzle into his hair, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smells delicious; of musk and sweet spice.

"I love you, too, " you reply.

For several, tender moments, you remain locked in each other's arms. Many passers-by eye you curiously. Some even begin to gossip. But neither of you pay them any heed. In fact, neither of you even notice them. Eventually, you're the first to draw away, but it's only enough enough to meet Dante's eye. Your arms remain firmly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to get out of here."

Absently, Dante begins stroking your back. "Is that why you pulled me away from Guilliman?"

You nod. "I've taken all the high lords and ecclesiarchy I can for one night." With a sigh, you rest your head on Dante's chest. "Between that and meeting a Primarch, I need some peace and quiet."

"I understand," Dante says. "And I agree. Although..."

"What?"

"Maybe you could hold off from the "peace and quiet" for little longer?"

You look up at him. "Why?"

Dante flashes a smirk. Through it, you make out the tips of his angel fangs. "My love," he says sweetly. "You've made me watch you glide around in that dress all evening..." He holds you tighter. Suddenly, you're accutely aware of how low down your back his hands rest.

You give him a sultry smile. "Well, in that case... I suppose I can." With that, you pull away, taking your husband by both hands and pulling him towards the ball room's exit.

Taglist: @solspina :)

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Moth to a Flame

Summary - Bound by duty and trapped in a loveless marriage, her heart still belongs to Jace, the man she truly loves. The weight of her choices and the secrets she keeps threaten to tear her apart, while the tension between love and obligation grows unbearable.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2179

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you and he makes you feel like you should and all your friends say he's the one his love for you is true.

Jacaerys Velaryon had known from the moment he met me that I was the one.

His eyes held that quiet determination, a certainty that ran deeper than the tides that carried his bloodline, a certainty that defied logic.

It was as if the gods had whispered my name into his heart long before I even came into his life.

He didn't just see me—he understood me. There was something in his gaze that spoke of an unspoken promise, a bond that neither time nor circumstance could sever.

I felt it too, that inexplicable pull, that instant connection, as though fate itself had tied us together, long before we ever exchanged words.

From that first glance, my heart quickened in a way it had never done before as if it had been waiting for him all along.

I had heard of Jace long before we met. Stories of his valour, his grace in the air as a dragon rider, the weight of his lineage as a Velaryon, and his close connection to the Targaryen bloodline.

But none of the tales prepared me for the man himself.

The way his presence filled a room, not with arrogance, but with quiet strength. His every movement seemed deliberate as if each step he took was a dance between duty and desire.

There was no hesitation in him, no room for doubt. When he looked at me, I knew—I was his choice, not because he was told to make it, but because he wanted me, needed me.

In his eyes, I was not just a woman; I was the woman, the one who could match his fire with my own.

But life had always been cruel to Jace. It seemed as though the gods themselves took pleasure in denying him the happiness he deserved, casting obstacle after obstacle in his path.

From birth, he had been burdened with the expectations of his lineage, the whispers about his legitimacy, the constant reminder that despite his rightful claim to power, there were always those ready to question it.

His life had been a series of sacrifices, always doing what was expected, what was demanded.

And when it came to love, fate was no kinder.

It was not love or desire that would ultimately shape our paths—it was politics, a game played by those far removed from the human cost of their decisions.

I was promised to another before I could even comprehend what love truly meant.

To his uncle, Aegon.

Aegon, who was born with every privilege but none of the grace that should accompany it. Aegon, whose every action seemed to serve himself rather than the realm.

To him, I was just another acquisition, a pretty thing to claim and parade. He never tried to know me, never even bothered to see me as anything more than a symbol of power.

My hand in marriage was his prize, but my heart was something he would never possess.

How could he, when he didn't even attempt to understand the woman he had taken as his wife?

I would have endured it all—the cold indifference, the suffocating weight of being bound to someone I could never love—but now, I was trapped even deeper.

I was pregnant. Aegon's child. His legacy was growing inside me, sealing my fate forever.

The idea of it felt like chains tightening around my wrists, pulling me further into a life I had never wanted.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The hall was brimming with life that night, yet it felt suffocating, like a cage woven from silk.

The air was thick, cloying with the scent of spiced wine and perfumed candles that clung to my skin like unwanted caresses.

Laughter bubbled around me, but it felt distant, muffled, as if I stood at the bottom of the sea, drowning in the weight of expectation.

Even the candlelight seemed dim, flickering uncertainly, like the fragile hope I still held onto. The low hum of courtiers sounded around me all gathered to celebrate Aegon's latest achievement.

A title bestowed upon him by the King himself, something hollow like "Lord of the Realm's Peace."

Everyone knew he was no bringer of peace. He had done nothing to earn the title except exist as the heir.

The court was filled with false praise, their cheers hollow, just as hollow as the man they celebrated.

Aegon stood there, basking in the adulation as if he had single-handedly won a great battle. His smirk stretched across his face as though he had conquered nations.

But all he had conquered was me—through politics, through duty.

I sat beside him, a hollow smile plastered on my face, though my heart was far from here. My hands rested protectively over my stomach, hiding the secret that only I knew.

I felt the subtle signs, the tightening of my ribs, the unspoken changes within me.

Soon enough, everyone would know. Soon enough, this prison I was already in would become one I could never escape.

My future was no longer my own, tied not just to Aegon, but to the child that grew within me.

"Another toast!" Aegon shouted, his voice thick with the slur of too much wine. "To my beautiful wife, who will no doubt give me a strong son—soon enough."

He winked at me, and the room erupted in laughter. I felt the eyes of the court on me, appraising, judging, already imagining the son that would be born of our union.

They had no idea of the storm inside me, the turmoil of being trapped in a life I despised.

My smile faltered, but I forced it back into place.

Across the table, Jace sat silently, his dark eyes burning into me. He hadn't touched his cup all evening, his hands clenched into fists as if trying to contain the fury he felt. He knew.

He had always been able to see through me, to sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, not just at Aegon, but at the fate that had brought us to this place, this moment, where the lives we had dreamt of were slipping further out of reach.

His gaze flickered to Aegon, then back to me. A question lingered there, unspoken but clear. How long will you let him claim you?

"Are you not pleased, my love?" Aegon leaned in close, his voice lowering in mock concern, though there was nothing genuine in his tone.

His fingers brushed my arm, cold and possessive, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. "You seem... distant tonight."

"Perhaps I haven't been giving you enough attention." His lips curled into a smirk, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it took every ounce of strength not to flinch away.

His face was flushed from drink, the wine staining his lips, his eyes glazed over with self-satisfaction.

"I am tired," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "It has been a long evening."

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. "Tired! You're always tired." His lips curled into a smirk.

"Perhaps you need more rest." He leaned in, his breath warm and sour against my ear. "Soon enough, you'll be resting plenty—with my heir in your belly."

The words sent a chill down my spine, and I had to swallow the bile that rose in my throat. He didn't know the truth yet, but he could feel it. The claim he would have over me, over my body, once the child was born.

There would be no escape then.

No more stolen moments with Jace, no more dreams of what might have been.

As the evening wore on, I found an opportunity to slip away. The hall had grown louder, the courtiers more raucous with drink and merriment.

I sought solace in the shadows, slipping out of the bustling crowd and toward the tall windows that overlooked the darkened gardens. I pressed a hand to my stomach, the life inside me already feeling like a prison.

The weight of it threatened to crush me, to drown me in despair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jace's voice came softly from behind me, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't bear to see the anguish I knew was there.

"What was I supposed to say, Jace?" My voice trembled, betraying me. "That I am carrying the child of a man I hate? That I am trapped in this marriage forever?"

He stepped closer, his presence a storm at my back. "I would've taken you away," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "We could have left—before it was too late."

I finally turned to him, tears stinging my eyes. "And gone where? To what end? We would be hunted, disgraced. Aegon would never stop until he had us both dead."

I pressed a hand to my stomach, the gesture feeling like both a confession and a condemnation. "And now... there's no escape."

Jace's face contorted with rage, with grief. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might hit something or someone.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," he muttered, his voice thick with pain. "You were supposed to be mine."

I stepped toward him, desperate to touch him, to feel the comfort I knew only he could provide, but I stopped myself.

Reality crashed down between us, a barrier I could never break. "I was yours, Jace. I still am, in every way that matters."

But his eyes darkened with bitterness. "But you carry his child. His blood will live inside you forever."

"I didn't choose this!" I cried, the words spilling out of me, hot and raw. "You think I don't hate it too? Every day, I lose a piece of the life we could have had. But what can I do? There's no way out now. I am bound to him, bound to this child, forever."

Jace's gaze flickered to my stomach, his expression torn between love and despair. "And what of the child? Do you even want it? Do you love it?"

The question struck me like a dagger.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts, but the truth clawed at my throat, refusing to be silenced.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice breaking. "How can I love something that represents everything I've lost?"

The silence between us stretched painfully, heavy with the weight of everything we could never say aloud.

Finally, Jace spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And Aegon... does he know? Does he know that you still dream of me, that you think of me every time he touches you?"

Tears spilt down my cheeks. "No. He's blind to it all. He thinks he owns me. But he doesn't know where my heart truly lies."

Jace's hand reached for mine, and for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could still defy the odds. But before his fingers could touch mine, a sharp voice shattered the moment.

"There you are."

Aegon's voice, thick with drink, cut through the air like a blade. He approached us, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Jace's hand still hovered near mine, and I saw the suspicion flare in Aegon's eyes. He smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.

"I was wondering where my wife had wandered off to," he said, his voice laced with malice. He wrapped his arm around my waist possessively, pulling me close.

His fingers dug into my skin, cold and possessive. "You've been talking to my nephew, I see."

I stiffened in his grasp, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, but Aegon's laughter cut me off.

"No need to explain," he said, his tone mocking. "We're all family here, aren't we, Jace?"

Jace's eyes burned into mine, but his face remained impassive as he stepped back.

"Of course," he said, his voice strained. "I was merely congratulating your wife. She is... radiant tonight."

Aegon's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Radiant, indeed. And soon, she'll give me the son I've been waiting for."

His words were a death sentence.

They sealed my fate as surely as any chains could. And as Aegon led me back into the hall, his arm still wrapped around me, I glanced back at Jace one last time.

His eyes followed me, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. We were both trapped, prisoners of a world we had never wanted, bound by duty and blood.

And as I was pulled further into the crowd, I knew that the life I had dreamed of with Jace was lost forever.

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? But does he know the pictures that you keep? But does he know the reasons that you cry? Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies.

A/n - Abel does things to me, his music is just 🤌🏼

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hlo🩷 Can I have a obey me scenario of the 7 brothers (seperately) finding out that MC knows pole dancing and just discovered it when they entered her room without knocking and saw a literal pole with her spinning on it.

Lucifer

He knew he should have knocked, but the matter on which he had to speak with [Y/N] on was urgent. So, Lucifer thought that, just for this one time, it would be acceptable.

Opening the door and seeing them there, spinning around on a pole he was quite sure had not been there some months ago, he was taken aback to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know humans could be so graceful. “My apologies,” he said at first, “I did not mean to interrupt your…workout, but I needed to talk to you about something important. If you could…come down.”

Mammon

Being the Avatar of Greed, Mammon had been in some of the best clubs in the world. Several of them included dancers. Beautiful aerial sirens who were there to distract the customers, so they wouldn’t focus on their bets, and make their pockets that much easier to pick. Never him though, Mammon was always focused on his money, but he had seen it all.

Yet when he saw [Y/N], spinning in the air, he understood finally why they were such a draw.

“W-Where did you get that?? Why are you spinning on a pole?? You’re not thinking of working down at one of the clubs are you?! I won’t allow it!”

Levi

Levi had been so excited when he found the new Easter Egg in his game, that he had to show [Y/N] right away!

He figured it would be ok for him not to knock this one time. This was very important after all. When he opened the door and found [Y/N] inverted on a pole, his face immediately went red and he had to cover his nose. “W-W-Wh! What are you doing?!”

He’d seen moves like this before, in some of his animes and a few games as well, but never in person. Seeing [Y/N] doing them, in person, put a whole new perspective on it. One that made him think of pole dancing cosplays, and spinning maid-kuns in his room….

Satan

Finally! He had figured it out!

After combing his latest series for months. Reviewing every note he had ever taken on each book. Then finally coming to the conclusion earlier that afternoon, Satan had finally figured it out! He knew who the murder in their murder mystery series was and he had to tell [Y/N]!

Rushing to their room with unprecedented enthusiasm, Satan flung open the door with equally unprecedented glee. “[Y/N]! I have it! I finally figured it….” His voice and enthusiasm trailed off as he saw them on a pole in their room. Stopping mid spin but clearly in the middle of a routine. “I uh….I’ll come back later….” He then quietly apologized and slowly closed the door.

Asmo

“[Y/N]-chan~! The new issue of Devil Style just arrived! I thought we could look at the new jacket lines and take this cute couples quiz….” Asmo trailed off as he looked up from the pages to see [Y/N].

Clearly, he had caught them in the middle of something. Namely practicing their pole moves on the newly installed polished chrome in their room.

“You got a pole in here!” Asmo gushed. Completely abandoning the magazine on the floor to rush over and touch the silver. “Oh wow! Who knew you had it in you? Are you practicing for anyone special, eh? Need an audience to provide critiques? Or maybe show you a few moves ♡?” The demon giggled as he was already climbing on the pole as well. Ready to play.

Beel

He knows he should have knocked. Usually, Beel wouldn’t even consider going into someone else’s room without knocking, but he was so focused on the new parfait treat at Madam Scream’s that all his brain power was focused on that. ‘Parfait. Parfair. [Y/N]. Parfait’

Beel had planed to invite them to come with him, always a good sport for trying new things, and was surprised to see them on a pole when he came into the room. “Whoa. What’s that?”

As [Y/N] slid down, Beel came to inspect it. “Hey. I’ve heard of these actually. They’re for like pole-robics aren’t they?” In his quest for new workouts in his evolving fitness plan, Beel had come across the term but never seen it in practice. Innocent enough to think that’s the only thing it was used for. “I beat this is a great core work out. Can I try sometime? Do you think it would hold me? Hmmm…maybe I’ll need to order a heavier duty one so we can workout together…?”

Belphie

Belphie had a bad habit of sleepwalking. Or, more to the point, half-sleep-half-walking in most cases.

He had woken up from one of his mid-afternoon naps to go find [Y/N] and finish his nap in their room. Not recharged enough to want to socialize, but wanting to be around them.

As usual, he didn’t bother knocking on the door. Belphie just letting himself in and seeing [Y/N] there. Spinning around on a pole in the middle of the room. Not the oddest thing he had dream of; as he assumed he had to be dreaming.

Saying nothing, Belphie just walked over to their bed and laid himself down. When he woke up, and the pole was still there, he just said, “wow….dream come true.”

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Based on this Mafia/Hitman Au from @novankenn/ Based on this Artwork from @pilot-boi

~~~~~

Menagerie. A rather upstanding Nightclub and Burlesque show, with a rather specific ideal for clientele and workers; that is to say, it's a preferred haunt for Faunus, with what few humans joining usually being just as downtrodden and unfortunate as they are respectful.

Its owner and Manager, Kali Belladonna, was an industrious and respectable woman. she did her best to be, at least; though in these times, in these places, the dirty hands of the criminal underworld still reached out and held tight.

Thanks to her fervor and staunchness she managed to hold Menagerie as a neutral zone. Anyone may come so long as they respect the dancers and they leave their problems at the door, and not drag the 'mud' in.

And in that way it was a perfect meeting place.

The Faunus sat at a table, joined by several others. Roman Torchwick representing Miss Malachite, Someone sent from the Schnee family who gave the name "John Doe," Athena Nikos, leader of her family, and standing at the head of the table was the one that called them all together.

Prismeya Arc.

Her prosthetic whirred with each step as she paced, before she turned to the table, placed the foot of said prosthetic on it, and pulled a silenced pistol out its calf.

She inspected it, sliding it over to Kali.

"Just out of respect; I forgot it when I entered."

Kali Said nothing, sharpening her gaze at the Matri-Arc, her ears flicking in annoyance. She knew Prismeya Didn't forget, but she didn't quite understand what this play was yet.

"Now, as I'm certain you all know, I'm out of this game, out of this world. I dotted my i's, crossed my t's, and payed every debt I owed of both Blood and Money."

She pressed leaned over the table, glowering at the members of it.

"So I wish to know why my dear, Sweet Jaune, my Precious Baby-Boy Has such a Large BOUNTY ON HIS HEAD."

Her teeth were grit, clearly restraining herself from shouting.

Everyone looked to one another, offering no information.

Prismeya glared at each of them individually.

"Prismeya, you know I wouldn't have anyone- I'm in too deep as it is! It's hard enough to stay neutral, I wouldn't go after anyone on my call!" Kali retorted, clearly concerned that she was being threatened.

Prismeya pushed off the table and stood tall, taking a deep breath. "Then pray tell-" she focused on Kali "Why Jaune mentioned making friends with a certain Black-haired cat faunus named Blake?"

Kali's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "SHE'S SAFE? BLake's okay?"

Prismeya was taken aback "You didn't know?"

"No."

"Then take this as a favor; she was last seen at a Department store in a mall in Vale proper, Retrieve her. That being said-" Prismeya ran her eyes across everyone, standing at her full height "Whoever set the Hit can call it off, and I will forgive them. No harm; No foul. But, should the Hit be fulfilled, Whoever Claims it, dies. Whoever set it Dies."

She let the words sink into the four at the.

Athena stared at her, eyes set right upon her.

Roman Put his cigar out, clearly considering her promise behind the otherwise aloof look in on his face.

Kali set her ears flat, grim knowledge sitting uncomfortably in her gut.

The Schnee's pawn had no notion of concern or care, unseen behind his sunglasses.

Athena turned slightly in her seat, her whole body now facing Prismeya.

"I assume one of mine has taken it upon themself?"

"You Daughter, Pyrrha."

Athena went rigid. One of the few things could sent chills down her spine was her daughter being in danger, and to be beholden to the Ire of Prismeya Arc was to be declared dead.

Roman slung his cane over his shoulders, rest his arms on it. "So we're here to deliver a warning, yeah? Good to know. Could've been an email though."

Prismeya walked over to the man. "An email is ephemeral; non existent. An email is not physical; It cannot hold water."

She tore the cane from him, emptying the round out, snapping it over her knee, her non-prosthetic knee.

He seemed truly taken aback by it first angered, but his rage was quickly supplanted by fear.

The Schnee Spokesman drew his own weapon, a silenced 22. pistol, and aimed it at Prismeya

Prismeya cupped Roman's chin, ignoring the burly man in the black suit, and tilted Roman's head up. "This is far more important to me than you could possibly imagine with what little grey matter exists under that mop of red hair~ I needed to have this meeting so people like you could understand that~"

And then she turned to the Schnee Representative, who hadn't lowered his weapon.

"I Suggest you put that down. It was rude enough for Mr. Torchwick to bring his weapon, but at least he had the decency to make it inconspicuous~"

The lilting of her voice was laced with a venom that could curdle the blood of any living being that understood what she was saying.

The Man, John Doe, Set his pistol shakily on the table.

Prismeya returned to her place at the head of it.

"So, I would like you all to spread the word; Should this Hit persist and come to fruition ... The Bloodmoon will rise, Drowning All in its Tide; Painting with Red, with The Blood of the Dead; For each life cut short, an Equal retort."

Prismeya smiled, the corners of her mouth wrinkled with age. In any other context it would have been warm, delightful, outright motherly. To all at the table it was deadly; The Rattle of a Snake, the fin of a circling shark, Click of a Hammer being pulled back.

Everyone there knew her Threat- nay, her promise.

Whether they comprehended the depth of it was a another matter entirely.

[redux-iterum]

Great chapter! Everyone's said some very true things about how brutal everything was and how satisfying it was to see Darkstripe get his just desserts, but there's something else worth noticing.

I don't really think Speckletail is a bad deputy, and she's pulling in a lot of useful skills to make up for Bluestar's state. But as the story goes on, I think it's interesting that it's becoming more obvious that she doesn't really have the chops to be the leader that her community needs right now. She's way too indecisive about Bluestar, putting retiring her leader off, even as it continues to become increasingly clear that doing so is only making things worse for everyone involved. I can't blame her, because there's a lot going on now, but we've passed the threshold of action several times now. This chapter was a sign that Bluestar HAS to step down. What happened to Ashpaw and Brightpaw not being named is a consequence of Speckletail's indecisiveness, and the fact she's not treating it like a call to action highlights she's a good deputy, but not really much of a leader.

Which isn't to say I dislike her or don't respect her! Again, she's been a valuable asset to Thunderclan during a difficult time, but I just thought that was an interesting thing to notice.

I very much like these thoughts on Speckletail. I'll say that she didn't expect to become deputy, nor did she ever really want to despite the family history of being in that position (her father, Tawnyspots, was deputy under Morningstar). She really is doing the best she can in circumstances that would test anybody. You're absolutely right, though, in that she's not really a leader. I don't think she's really properly thought about the implications of becoming one. She's been too busy trying to work around Bluestar's mental illness.

[sergeifyodorov]

I know 4 nations is still a couple of months away but if you specifically were the gm choosing the roster right now, what would your team Canada look like? (I am also curious about the other teams but don’t want to overwhelm you) I always love hearing your hockey thoughts!

ooh sarahhhh LOVE this q... also lowkey thank u for only asking about Canada b/c i have not thought about the other rosters at all. to be honest

ok lets get into it

(13 F, 7 D, 3 G)

Forwards:

Already named to the roster: Sidney Crosby, Nathan MacKinnon, Brad Marchand, Connor McDavid, Brayden Point

I'm not entirely sure if I had complete control I would pick Marchand, who is both a) pretty far past his prime (even if he is one of those guys who doesn't really age like other players do) and b), not entirely That guy, but I digress. Eight more forwards to name.

Mitch Marner: Easily the best Canadian player not on this list. Since there's no salary cap for the roster and you can go wild by just picking Everyone Good, the most important note of roster construction in my mind is special teams; on any given team you should have ~2 units each of PP and PK, so eight-ish PP forwards and four-ish PK forwards. Some guys don't really do either, so it's always an extra asset to find a guy who is good at both. Mitch Marner is good at both. (And also good at basically everything else.)

Sam Reinhart: I don't like saying it, but I will

Mark Schiefele: I also don't like saying it

Dylan Strome: Here's where it gets interesting. No, I promise this is not a purely narrative choice, although I understand why one might think that. I shrimply love me a smart playmaking centre (yes his points totals are probably inflated by the Caps' really high oish% for him, but he is firmly Very Good and, even as a 4C, should be firmly considered for the 4N.)

Travis Konecny: Legitimately one of the best penalty killers in the league, and also just an all-around threat. Also also a lot of the guys who tend to be picked for 4N are natural centres (e.g. Sidney, NateMac, CMD, Pointer, Reinhart, Schiefele, and Strome are all centres) so it's nice to not have to worry in his case about if he's going to have to move to wing or not.

Connor Bedard: Oh my god I want to see what this kid can do with offensive deployment on wing and actual good teammates

John Tavares: Departing from my usual "don't pick players who are floating into their mid-thirties if you can possibly avoid it" to say that Guys. Johnnifer is still Good. Like, still really good. Chugging along at a point a game and very, very good in the faceoff dot (58%) type of good.

Seth Jarvis: Also firmly underrated IMHO; just because he is a little guy and a bit of a dork doesn't mean we shouldn't, like, remember that He's Good. Because he is.

Reserves: Steven Stamkos (always a power-play threat), Mat Barzal (competent teammates question part 2), Claude Giroux (we all know what his deal is)

Defencemen:

Already named to the roster: Cale Makar

Oh, boy, are we not great at this whole "developing defencemen" thing. Let's see who we can put together.

Josh Morrissey: Basically Morgan Rielly but a little better, I think? Solid shooter, Of-D, etc etc.

Thomas Chabot: Severely undernoticed considering that the Sens have been shit and ass the entire time he's played there. Not his fault, though. Also there's no other Francophones on this list I feel so we should really fix that. What IS Quebec Doing?

Brandt Clarke: Okay, we can have a little "developing defencemen." As a treat.

Evan Bouchard: Why are you booing me? I'm right.

Chris Tanev: Chris Tanev

Brandon Montour: There are probably one or two better options but I like him more TO BE HONEST. Picking the forwards is like a careful examination of PK ability and faceoff percentages and primary points per minute. Picking defencemen has been entirely vibes. I'm very, very sure the L and R balance is just Not There.

Reserves: Maveric Lamoureux (queb AND developing. dual threat), Devon Toews (considering literally everyone will beg for the makar-toews pairing), Shea Theodore (I guess)

Goaltenders:

Lol and Lmao, even

Logan Thompson: The man is the Capitals' starter, helped win Vegas a Cup, and is also lowkey hot sexy and hot and sexy. Starter!

Joey Daccord: Swiss, Canadian, and American, so I'm sure we could convince him to come to the dark side. (Especially since the USA has holy-fuck level goalie depth. Jake Oettinger is a third-stringer.)

Marc-Andre Fleury: Look, this forward core is good enough that it can win us a game 7-6 if we really need it to. I just think he's fun.

[grandmother-goblin]

A Good Kind of Distraction

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Through no fault of his own, Halsin had been distracting Astarion - constantly invading his thoughts and just being annoyingly nice. Not only that, Astarion seemed to have bad luck while Halsin was around. Halsin always showed up at just the right moment to help him out, regardless of whether or not he needed it.

While searching for his missing dagger after a fight with some Stone Lord thugs, Astarion finds himself in trouble again and guess who is there to help him out?

Relationships: Astarion x Halsin

Rating: Teen (for some mild violence and blood)

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags: Fluff, humor, a little kissing, Halsin is a little bit sassy. Written for @silveredbark

Astarion’s heel dug into the sand as he yanked one of his daggers from the still-warm corpse of a dragonborn. The dragonborn, along with several other of his now deceased cronies, were in league with the Absolute. Well, technically someone called The Stone Lord, but that distinction didn’t matter much to him. From what Astarion had gathered from the heated argument he had overheard between the dragonborn and a Duergar Guild member, it was pretty much the same thing.

If the Stone Lord served the Absolute, and even the Guild was pushing back against them, then it made it all too easy for Tav to pick a side.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or however the saying went.

Besides, it was always a good idea to have friends in the Guild. Those bastards had their finger on every pulse point in the city — if Tav needed information, the Guild would likely have it and then some. For a fee, of course.

Seagulls cawed over Astarion’s head as they swooped past, returning to the beach one by one now that the fighting was over. The susurration of waves and the setting sun calmed the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. He had never spent much time at the beach in Baldur’s Gate; the icy sand and blackened waters under the cover of night had never appealed to him. But beneath the sunlight? It was actually quite lovely.

That was, of course, if one could ignore at least a dozen bodies strewn about.

Using the dragonborn’s shirt as a rag, Astarion wiped the blood from his dagger before he returned it to its sheath. He still had one more of his daggers to find somewhere between the bodies and the sand. Normally the sussur dagger stood out when he threw it, but apparently the beach provided perfect camouflage. While it wasn’t the end of the world if he had truly lost it, it would be disappointing.

Plus, Tav would never let him hear the end of it. That sussur bark had been a pain to harvest and that dagger had served Astarion quite well throughout their journey. He had actually become quite attached to it.

“Gotta say, I’m glad you guys showed up when you did,” the Duergar woman they had fought alongside said, a smile in her voice as she addressed Jaheira and Tav. “Stone Lord pricks might’ve taken out my crew if it wasn’t for you. I think the gnome pissed himself when Big Boy over there turned into a damn saber-tooth.”

From the corner of his eye, Astarion saw the Duergar nod toward where Halsin lounged wildshape. Blood of their foes soaked the fur around his muzzle still as he panted beneath the heat of the sun. It wasn’t uncommon for Halsin to linger in wildshape for a bit after a fight. There had been too many instances where they had thought the fighting was over only to be ambushed by someone hiding in the shadows a moment later. Though it only took Halsin a moment to don on the fur of a beast like Astarion would a cloak, it took significantly more energy.

Lately, Astarion preferred it when Halsin was in wildshape. For one, he couldn’t talk. Secondly, ‘Halsin, the Beast’ was far less distracting than ‘Halsin, the Man.’

If he was being completely honest with himself, Astarion wasn’t quite sure what to make of Halsin. He seemed like a good man. A genuinely good man, which was a rarity in Astarion’s experience. Part of him didn’t want to trust Halsin for that reason alone: no one was as kind and generous as he was without some ulterior motive.

Yet after weeks of traveling together, Astarion couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that ulterior motive could be. Halsin didn’t have to continue traveling with them — he didn’t have a tadpole and he had aided them more than most anyone else on their travels. If he decided that he had done his part, no one would hold it against him. There was so much work to be done to undo the effects of the Shadow Curse, but Halsin had put that aside in favor of continuing to aid them.

“Astarion,” Jaheira called from across the beach, pulling him from his thoughts. “We think that ship came from Moonrise. We’re going to take a look around for more information and try to figure out what they were up to. You’re welcome to join us if you’re done searching for seashells.”

Astarion nudged the corpse of a halfling man with his booted foot, spotting a hint of something silver beneath him. Unfortunately, it had only been part of the man’s belt.

Damn, where the hells had the sussur dagger gone? Surely his aim hadn’t been that terrible.

“You go ahead,” he replied distractedly. “I’ll catch up once I’ve found wherever my dagger lodged itself.”

“Check that alcove where some of them were hiding,” Tav suggested and nodded toward the cliff face that loomed over the small stretch of sand. “I think I saw something ricochet in that direction.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Astarion said, as if Tav should have known what he was looking for even though he had never verbalized it. “Do you enjoy watching me walking around looking like an idiot?”

Instead of taking the opportunity to sass him back, Tav simply shrugged and gave him a shit-eating grin before taking off after Jaheira.

Halsin, on the other hand, didn’t budge from his sunny spot in the sand except to watch their companions follow the Duergar toward the creepy ship. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in whatever the boat had to offer, which struck Astarion as odd. Normally, Halsin was the type to jump on any opportunity to investigate everything and anything involving the cult of the Absolute.

Once their companions disappeared from view, Halsin tilted his head toward him, his expression unreadable behind his wildshape. Astarion stared back with a furrow to his brow. What the hells was Halsin doing? Was he just going to—

Oh.

Halsin was babysitting him.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the realization and tried to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach. Deep down, he appreciated the gesture. Very, very deep down. Though Astarion wasn’t sure if Halsin’s watchful eye came from a place of genuine care or from the fact Astarion had a tendency to get himself into trouble.

Trouble that, without anyone’s help — especially not Halsin’s — he was perfectly capable of getting himself out of, thank you very much.

But as much as he hated to admit it, Halsin was directly responsible for saving his ass more than once.

Maybe twice.

Actually, it was closer to a dozen times, but Astarion didn’t want to think about that. He just happened to have quite a bit of bad luck when Halsin was around. That was all.

Astarion groaned as he kicked away some sand covering something shiny, hoping to spot his dagger buried beneath.

Seashell. Dammit.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” he called across the beach.

Halsin‘s ears twitched toward the sound of his voice, then he tilted his head and raised one furry eyebrow as if to say ‘Really?’

Astarion threw up his hands. Fine. If the druid wanted to watch him, he could go ahead and watch the breathtaking performance of The Idiot Who Lost His Irreplaceable Dagger.

It was sure to be thrilling.

The bastard could help, but no. It seemed like he was perfectly content to stay exactly where he was.

Making his way to the alcove Tav had mentioned, Astarion checked the bodies of a tiefling man and a gnomish woman as he went with no sign of the sussur dagger. It wasn’t until he got close to the mouth of the alcove that he spotted a glint of blue on the ground where the sand met sandstone.

“There you are,” Astarion muttered as he retrieved his dagger. It was a little scratched up, but it seemed otherwise undamaged.

Relieved, he tucked the dagger into his belt where it was easiest to grab if he needed it. Not that he thought he would need it again today, but one could never know.

Astarion glanced at a narrow opening toward the back of the alcove. Though he couldn’t see far into it, he noticed a few dots of lantern light lining the walls and casting a dim glow in a yawning cavern, stuffed with crates and boxes and makeshift furniture. So that explained why those thugs were hanging out of the beach — they had a whole hideout back there.

Amidst all of the fighting, he vaguely recalled the supposed leader of the group shouting for additional backup, only to be told by one of the thugs that all of their crew was already on the beach.

Which meant that, if they had any valuables tucked away in that hideout, they were completely unguarded. Maybe some gold, jewelry, and — judging by the creepy boat — even secrets directly from Moonrise Towers. All of it prime for the taking.

Or they could just have drugs and a couple of cheap bottles of wine. It really could go either way with those sorts.

In any case, they always needed more supplies. And gold. Especially now they were practically in the city and they had significantly more, and better, shopping options than when they were on the road.

Gods, what he wouldn’t give for some new clothes and a nicer pair of boots. The kind of garments that Cazador would let him wear, but never let him own. It had been decades since he had gotten new clothes he could call his own, but Astarion had done plenty of window shopping. He knew exactly where he was going to go with some gold to spend.

Perhaps Halsin could get something too. Something that wouldn’t make him stand out so much in the city. Between his stature, his druidic attire, and that sometimes blank and mildly confused look on his face, the man was a prime target for the numerous criminals crawling around the city. Halsin could certainly handle himself, but Astarion would much rather Halsin avoided advertising his newcomer status.

For everyone’s convenience, of course. Not because Astarion worried for him or something ridiculous like that.

Hells, maybe if he was lucky, he might find some clothes in the hideout. He didn’t have high expectations as to the quality of those clothes, but perhaps there could be a hidden gem or two. They had certainly found plenty of treasures in unlikely places on their travels.

Astarion ducked into the hideout, his eyes quickly adjusting to the much dimmer lighting of the cave. Well, once he was inside, he realized it was more of a tunnel than a cave — it let out into the ocean not fifty meters away. A few empty rowboats, tied to a shoddy, rotting dock, rocked in the gentle current far beyond where the sunlight could reach.

Beside the rowboats and a couple of crabs skittering along the shoreline, the place was as abandoned as Astarion expected. A half eaten sandwich laid atop of a barrel alongside an empty tin mug, lantern light still illuminating a newspaper some anonymous thug must have been reading before being called into their last battle.

Their own fault, really. If they valued their hides, the rowboats were right there. They could have turned the other way instead of throwing away their pitiful lives in the name of the Boulder Boss or whatever he was called. The Stone Lord. Something to do with rocks.

Oh well, it wasn’t his problem.

His boots were nearly silent against the sand covered floor as he ventured deeper into the hideout, his head on a swivel and his hand on his dagger just in case anyone had been left behind. Besides the sound of water and the echoes of the cave, Astarion couldn’t hear anything that would point to any signs of life (if one did not count the crabs). No voices, no breathing, no movement besides his own.

Tucked in a narrow offshoot, well out of sight of either of the entrances Astarion could see, he found exactly what he was hoping for: gold.

And plenty of it.

Crates and crates overflowing with gold, gems, weapons, and all sorts of shiny things. Also some barrels full of illithid tadpoles and metal boxes of what looked like infernal metal. Tav had made the right call by siding with the Guild, Astarion noted dully. Whoever these people were were obviously not the type to help their cause.

But Astarion was certainly the type to help himself.

Astarion completely intended to inform Tav of the hidden trove, but only after he snuck a few coins and pawnable goods for himself before it went into the general camp supplies. Not that Astarion typically minded the system Tav had worked out to make sure everyone got their fair share of the spoils, he just wanted a little extra that was just for him for something frivolous.

Call it a finders fee.

His eyes landed on a small wooden chest, already opened, a pile of gold coins and shiny gemstones beckoning him. The mound of treasure divoted in the center as if someone had been sifting through the riches. Astarion scooped up a handful of the coins and let them fall through his fingers. The weight and the texture of the metal seemed authentic, and—

“It’s mine!”

Astarion’s feet lifted off the ground and his back slammed against the cave wall, a sharp pain running down his side. A gaunt, jaundiced man with browned teeth and bloodshot eyes glared at him as his boney fingers dug into Astarion’s neck with enough force to strangle a man who actually needed to breathe.

A yelp of pain and some choice words for the gentlemen gathered in his throat came out as gurgling groan, unable to escape the man’s ironlike grip. Astarion blindly reached for his dagger, panic and surprise and pain making his normally deft hands clumsy.

“Not gonna share,” the man snarled, his voice like a creaking graveyard gate and his breath like a crypt. “Not gonna—”

Astarion plunged the dagger into the man’s back without a shred of mercy. Bastard forfeited his life the moment he attacked.

The man jerked away with a snarl of pain, yanking the dagger out of Astarion’s grip with the movement, leaving it lodged in his flesh. Those boney hands tightened their grip around his throat, and he pulled Astarion away from the wall just long enough to slam him against it again.

Blackness colored his vision when the back of his head collided with the stone. A cold sweat broke across his skin as he struggled, his feet slipping on the sand-covered ground and his hands unable to find anything else to use as a weapon.

Fuck. It was only a matter of time before the bastard realized that strangling a vampire wouldn’t kill one and he resorted to something else.

Astarion dug his nails into the man’s wrists until blood wetted his fingertips, desperately prying and pulling with no avail. The man was unnaturally strong. Stronger than any man who looked so sickly had any right to be.

Frantic, Astarion’s eyes darted around looking for something he could use.

Anything he could use.

Come on, think! An all too familiar feeling of helplessness flooded into his mind, telling him to simply stop fighting. Stop fighting because he would only make things worse for himself, and the severity of Cazador’s punishment would increase tenfold.

Astarion shoved the thought from his racing mind. This wasn’t Cazador, and he wasn’t helpless. But fuck, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have—

A screeching roar cut the air like a knife through parchment. The hands around his throat ripped away in a flash of brown and white fur, Astarion’s body following like a ragdoll from the sheer force of the moment. The sharp pain in his side screamed as he landed among the pile of treasure and he instinctively took a gulp of air he didn’t need.

Disoriented and trying to ignore the pain, he scrambled backwards to locate his opponent.

Then he heard the distinct crunch of bone, and Astarion’s head whipped toward the sound just in time to see the man’s body go limp in the jaws of a saber toothed cat.

Of course it was Halsin.

Astarion slumped back against the gold and closed his eyes. Part of him was relieved. Thankful for the timely rescue.

Another part of him was very, very, annoyed.

“Astarion,” Halsin said, his voice a mixture of concern and relief, as he practically skidded to a stop beside him, tufts of fur trailing behind him from dismissing his wildshape. Golden healing magic gathered around Halsin’s fingertips as his eyes darted over Astarion’s form — from his torso, to his hip, to his neck, to his face, then back to his hip.

Halsin lowered his hands to the spot on Astarion’s hip with a grimace that no one ever wanted to see from a healer, “Don’t look.”

Astarion looked.

Nausea churned in his stomach at a strip of white between the bloodied, torn, flesh of his hip. Good gods. Astarion vaguely remembered the sharp pain in his side before the man had tried to choke him out, but he wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m going to be sick,” he croaked, the damage to his throat making it difficult to talk.

“I told you not to look,” Halsin replied, his hands steady over Astarion’s hip as his magic soaked into him, soothing as a warm bath. “If it’s any reassurance, it looks nastier than it actually is.”

Astarion wasn’t sure if that was true, or if Halsin was attempting to assuage his discomfort. The thought made him scoff. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Cazador had done far, far more damage to him than anything on their adventures with Tav. Getting attacked by a strange man in a cave was barely worth a footnote in the pages upon pages of horrors Astarion had endured over the centuries.

But with Cazador, Astarion never had a stupidly kind druid ready to patch him up.

“I’m sure you have,” Halsin replied, the sound of sympathy still so unfamiliar that it felt almost mocking. Astarion knew that wasn’t the case, yet he clenched his teeth. “Now stop talking while I take care of your neck.”

Begrudgingly, Astarion kept his mouth shut as Halsin’s hands hover over his bruised throat. Despite how his adrenaline-fueled mind screamed at him not to let anyone near his neck, he managed to himself calm.

Halsin wasn’t going to hurt him.

Somehow, deep in his gut, Astarion knew that to be true.

“Never thought I would say this,” Halsin commented as his rough fingertips brushed over Astarion’s neck with a featherlight touch, the healing magic seeping through Astarion’s skin and soothing his pain. “But you’re extremely lucky you’re a vampire. Had this happened to anyone else…. Well, I would have had to prepare something more complex than a simple healing spell.”

Though a sarcastic reply danced on the tip of his tongue, Astarion only hummed in response since he wasn’t supposed to talk. He probably wasn’t supposed to hum either, considering how the small vibration aggravated his throat.

Oh well. Like he had said before: Cazador had inflicted worse on him. Comparatively speaking, he might as well have just stubbed his toe.

Halsin’s hands carefully moved to the sides of Astarion’s neck, just below his jawbone, his hazel eyes warm but focused as he worked. Astarion swallowed and averted his gaze.

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how intimate their position was — Astarion on his back with Halsin kneeling over him. Though Halsin was politely seated to his side, Astarion couldn’t help but imagine if the situation was slightly different. He quickly pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time to imagine being straddled by a handsome, caring, druid.

Halsin’s gentle touch tickled the nape of his neck. “Lift your head.”

Trying to ignore the sudden wave of goosebumps across his skin, Astarion did as he was told. Though he could already guess at the answer by the way his throat felt, he asked, “Does this mean I can talk now?”

“You may,” Halsin replied as his fingers slipped through Astarion’s hair, the healing magic now focused on the spot on the back of his head where he had been slammed against the wall. Then, Halsin’s throat bobbed and he turned his eyes towards the pile of treasure. “But I don’t encourage it.”

“Why not? My throat feels fine now, thanks to your magic druid nonsense or whatever spell you’re using.”

Halsin shook his head. “Because you can be quite distracting.”

Something in the way Halsin spoke stirred up over-eager butterflies in Astarion’s stomach. Though it was entirely possible that Halsin was being very literal and simply didn’t want to be distracted while he worked, Astarion couldn’t help but feel like there was another meaning behind his words.

What if Halsin was distracted by Astarion the same way Astarion was distracted by him? What if….

“In a good way or a bad way?” Astarion asked before he could get ahead of himself.

“Both,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice and undeniable warmth and affection in his gaze. “But if it’s any consolation, you’re mostly the good kind of distracting.”

Astarion’s stomach did a moronic little flip, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So would something like this be the good kind of distracting or the bad kind of distracting?” he asked as he lifted his hand to the back of Halsin’s head, the warmth making him want to bury his fingers in his long hair.

“The bad kind,” Halsin said as his hand moved to a tender spot on the back of his skull that he didn’t even realize he had. “At least, it is for the next ten seconds. But after I’m done healing…”

The glowing golden magic that spiraled from Halsin’s thick arms to his skillful fingers dissipated, leaving them in the dim light from a single lantern hanging from the wall. His eyes locked onto Astarion’s, his expression softening as they watched one another, both of them waiting for someone to see what the other would do next. Neither one of them wanting to make the first move.

Perhaps, Astarion thought, it would be for the best if they both just decided to leave things as they were. Astarion would thank Halsin, Halsin would tell him to be more careful, then they’d go and tell Tav and Jaheira about the cave and all of the loot that was inside.

The moment would be dead and buried, and maybe that was how it should be. After all, what did someone like Astarion have to offer a man like Halsin?

Nothing. That was what.

But when Halsin’s eyes dropped to Astarion’s lips, the hesitation and doubt tying back his desires — what he wanted — unraveled. Damn, maybe it was impulsive, or maybe he was reading too much into the situation. After all, he did just get knocked around pretty hard, and yet…

What the hells.

Astarion’s fingers traced Haslin’s pointed ear as he slid his hand through silky brown hair. “May I distract you now?” he asked, lifting his face close enough to Halsin's that he could feel his breath against his lips.

Halsin chuckled warmly. “I hope you will,” he said as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Astarion’s with a soft, light kiss. The kind of kiss that was so foreign to him that it made it feel like his chest was about to bust with…. Oh, Astarion didn’t know. Something warm and fuzzy that he never thought he would feel again.

“But,” Halsin said as he drew back, his gaze dark with desire but unmistakably happy, “we should get back to the beach before the others start wondering where we went.”

”They can wait a few minutes.” Before Halsin could put any distance between them, Astarion captured the other man’s mouth with his. His hands tangled in Halsin’s hair as he deepened the kiss, nipping gently at his lower lip as he clung to him like he was afraid he was going to change his mind.

The tip of Halsin’s tongue brushed against his, sending a shiver down his spine. Damn it — Astarion didn’t even know if this meant anything to Halsin but he wanted it to. He wanted to be more than just a bit of fun for him. Though he knew Halsin didn’t hold himself back when it came to his most carnal desires, Astarion also believed Halsin wasn’t the type to be careless with another’s heart.

Halsin groaned and pulled Astarion closer, inhaling deeply like he was breathing in his scent, and—

“Footprints lead this way.” Jaheira’s voice cut through the growing haze of lust like a light in the dark.

“They couldn’t stay put for ten minutes?” Tav said, sounding more annoyed than concerned. “Astarion, I expect to wander off, but Halsin?”

“I’ll bet you a gold piece that Astarion probably did something stupid again,” Jaheira replied.

“Yeah, I’m not taking that bet.”

Halsin’s lips drew into a thin line as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. “If they ask,” he said, offering Astarion a hand as he got to his feet, “we had to go after a straggler.”

Astarion scoffed as he accepted Halsin’s hand, gold coins clinking beneath him as he stood. “Isn’t that what happened? I mean, we did take care of that brown-toothed menace over there.” He cocked his thumb towards the corpse that he had honestly forgotten about until that moment.

“Exactly,” Halsin replied. “I’m just going to leave out the part where you wandered in here by yourself without telling anyone.”

The lingering tingle on his lips from Halsin’s kiss did not stop Astarion from rolling his eyes. “Oh, you are so kind.”

“I’m detecting some sarcasm,” Halsin said with a chuckle. “Come on. Let’s get back to the others. Perhaps I can distract you later.”

Judging by the look in Halsin’s eyes and the fluttering feeling in his own stomach, Astarion had no doubts about that.

Only a few steps from the entrance to the cave, Astarion gave a frustrated groan. He turned sharply on his heel and began to trudge back in.

“Where are you going?” Halsin asked.

Astarion didn’t even want to look at Halsin as he answered, “I forgot my damn dagger.”

---

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated!

[citriarchive]

oh tumblr sure has made some ui changes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

[moe-broey]

HEARTBREAKING

Worst Dad You Know Has an Extremely Endearing (Now) Reoccurring Character Trait

For further context: this whole FB involved Sharena and Henriette seeking out lockpickers in the Order of Heroes to open this VERY SECURELY locked box from Gustav's room that took Tina's special staff to finally crack open (or rather -- "steal" the contents out of. No one could actually break the lock!)

And the first instance of this!

It makes me wonder if he saved anything related to Sharena..........