#this is my FAVORITE chapter in this fic

[lobster-tales]

Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 16: The Shooting Range

Summary: Jinx strikes up a new deal

CW: Past drug use/withdrawal reference

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

It took forever for Viktor to wake up. Jinx gave him a few moments, watching the quiet calculations in his brain. The straps binding his wrists and ankles to the chair. The blindfold across his eyes. The sour smell, the cold dampness that could only come from a basement.

When Jinx yanked the chair back to balance on two legs, he cried out in surprise. Jinx hissed in his ear, “Dobroye utro, Viktor.”

But as soon as he heard the sound of her voice, he relaxed. “Ah, Jinx. Your Russian is getting better, you know.”

She was in no mood to play nice, though. Jinx ripped the blindfold off and swung around to face him. “I found your tech, James Bond. You’ve been a busy, busy boy.”

“Eh, work never ends,” he said, unserious. Why was he so calm?

Jinx removed a gun from her hip, hoping the threat of it would unnerve him. “You. Lied. To me.”

Viktor scoffed, as if he were offended. “I never lied to you. You never asked outright if I was a spy.”

“Really? If I asked ‘Hey, are you a spy?’, you would have told me the truth?”

“Of course not. That would make me a terrible spy.” Viktor winced as the gun’s cold steel barrel pressed against his temple. “L-look, I know you’re upset, but-”

“Who sent you?” Jinx growled. “Was it Ekko? Or-” her voice trembled just slightly. “Vi? So they could spy on me?”

“Not you,” he said quickly. “Never you.”

She ground the steel into his skin. “See, it’s hard for me to trust you now.”

“Th-the bugs! You’re smart. You probably checked your room, your studio: did you find any?”

She hadn’t. But rather than let him know, she asked, “So you’re spying on Silco then. Why?”

Viktor let out a short, callous laugh. “Because he’s a crime lord, Jinx! He trafficks drugs, he named his fucking music label after it!”

There it was: the unspoken. Jinx knew about the rumors, everyone did, but she never asked Silco or anyone in the company if it was true. Mostly because she didn’t want to know.

She allowed him to sweat for another breath, then finally pulled away. “You really believe that, huh?”

“Um, yes? What, and I suppose when you were doing Shimmer, you imported it?”

Jinx grimaced. “Fine, let’s say, hypothetically, it is true. So what? It’s a side hustle. We need money to build a new Zaun.”

“So… what?” he repeated. His tone grew ever more exasperated. “Jinx, he’s poisoning this city. And not only that, but it’s spreading. The reason I was sent here in the first place is because they found Shimmer in The Lanes.”

She jolted at the words. In Zaun, the Shimmer epidemic paled in comparison to the other problems that plagued the city. But she never imagined it infecting The Lanes. Memories scratched at her mind: the confused, desperate haze of her withdrawal, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would break free from her rib cage, her hands shaking so violently that Silco could barely hold them.

The Lanes. All those college kids at the house show. All Vander’s regulars at the pub. In one moment of weakness, they could fall into that same trap, the one she had to claw her way out of.

No, focus. She had to discredit him, catch him in the lie. She just had to.

“Who found it?” she hissed. “You still haven’t told me who you’re working for.”

Oh, now he had nothing to say. He just held her glare.

She raised the gun, aiming it straight at his forehead. “Tell me. Was it Ekko? Caitlyn? Medarda?”

He called her bluff though. “You wouldn’t.”

“... You’re right,” she admitted. Then she set her jaw. “But pretty boy’s fair game.”

Only now did fear light up his eyes.

“No,” he breathed. “No, Jinx, please leave him out of this-”

“I will. If you tell me who sent you.”

He was defeated, and he knew it. Viktor lowered his head in shame, and muttered, “It was… Caitlyn.”

The gun lowered. Of course. Good ole Nancy Drew, sticking her diamond encrusted nose where it didn’t belong.

“Jinx,” Viktor said in a low voice. “Trust me, we only have the best of intentions.”

“Oh really?” she snarled. “Lying to me, making me believe you cared about me, that was the ‘best of intentions’?”

“I do care about you. I really do.” She wanted to believe him. She so desperately wanted to trust him. But she couldn’t let herself fall for it. “That part was never a lie.”

“Just everything else,” she said sourly.

“Silco is a madman. He just wants power, and he is willing to destroy anyone and anything in his path.”

Finn’s scowling face flashed in her mind, but she silenced the thought by slamming the gun on the table. “Is that what they told you? Those fucking topsiders? They abandoned Zaun! Or did you forget what it was like growing up here?”

“Never.” He spoke in a low voice. “I will never forget, I can’t forget. I was an orphan too, Jinx, and disabled on top of that. I know better than anyone.”

“Then why would you betray your home?” Jinx cried out, close to tears.

“Because the solution isn’t more hate. It’s not more pain. Silco is a killer. He’s torn families apart.” And then, quieter, “He tore your family apart.”

“No!” she screamed, aiming the gun at him again. “Vi tore us apart! She abandoned me, she hurt me!”

“She made a mistake,” he said, tone measured. “But she has spent every single day trying to make it right. Both she and Vander have been coming to the hotel to fight Silco’s guards. I can’t even tell you how many thousands Caitlyn spent on lawyers trying to get you back.”

Her shoulders heaved as she stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer. “Y-you’re lying. They never came to look for me, Silco told me they never…”

He said gently, “It sounds like Silco is the one who lied.”

A ghost’s voice beckoned her from the darkness, and she fired her gun at the sound. “Shut up!”

Viktor flinched at the blast, but otherwise stayed still, giving her time to breathe. When she had collected herself enough, he murmured, “I’m sorry, Jinx. I’m sorry you got roped into all of this. You should have never been involved.”

Slowly, she moved behind the chair again. “I’m sorry, too.”

Then she brought the butt of the gun against his head, knocking him out cold.

                                                           ☆ ☆ ☆                                                   

In the late hours of the night, the Kiramman mansion seemed more like a museum than a home. Caitlyn wove through the furniture, her feet having memorized the path. When she was a child, sneaking out from her room late at night, she would pretend that she was a thief or perhaps a spy. She knew all the parts of the floor that didn’t creak, how to make as little sound as possible.

But she stopped when she heard the muffled echoes from their indoor shooting range. Caitlyn was surprised that her mother was up so late, but admired her for training. Any other night, Caitlyn may have joined her. Tonight, however, belonged to the investigation.

After making her tea, Caitlyn passed through the dark house once more. Past the dining area, the parlor, her mother’s study. Where the light was still on, so Caitlyn went to turn it off. And found her mother, sound asleep, her head back and mouth open. It would have normally been hilarious.

Caitlyn eased open the desk drawer to remove the pistol. It was her mother’s 9 millimeter, a nice one too. To great chagrin, Caitlyn had to abandon her tea, armored only in her pajamas.

There was a strange rhythm to the shots, almost like a beat. And by that alone, Caitlyn recognized her intruder. It could be no one else.

Jinx stopped shooting when Caitlyn arrived, removing her headwear. She looked tired, like she had fought a battle. And yet Jinx grinned: a snarky, half grin.

“Jinx,” Caitlyn breathed, scared to say the name loudly, even if her parents and Vi were all dead asleep. “What are you doing here?”

“You got a nice place, toots,” Jinx said, extending her arm to show off the borrowed weapon. “It cracks me up when you richies invest in everything but a less hackable security system. For shame, Kiramman.”

“What do you want?” Caitlyn asked.

Jinx unloaded the weapon: easily, like she’d handled it for years. “It’s not about what I want, it’s about what you want. You want something that I have.”

“What?”

“Viktor.”

Caitlyn tried not to react, but it was too late. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Oh drop the act, cupcake,” she said, mockingly. “I know all about your little sting operation.”

“... Is he-”

“Safe?” Jinx asked. “For now. But not for long. Not unless I start getting some answers.”

So much time had passed since the last time Caitlyn spoke to her. And yet, up close, she was so nearly the same. Sure, Jinx was a little older, more filled out, but she was still undeniably Powder. And what really gave it away was that glint of fear in her eyes.

Caitlyn asked, “What would you like to know?”

“Silco and Medarda’s side bet. Tell me about it.”

“Why not ask him?”

“I did,” Jinx said with a grin. “Never hurts to cross reference.”

Caitlyn didn’t believe her, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. She would find out sooner or later anyway. So Caitlyn explained the real stakes of the contest.

Jinx was still. She murmured, “My contract…”

Unsure how to proceed, Caitlyn said in a soft voice, “Believe me, Jinx, Viktor and I never intended to hurt you. We just wanted to do the right thing.”

“You know, I could build a house with all your ‘good intentions’.” Jinx’s nails clicked against the gun as she contemplated. “Alright. I want in on the action.”

“What?”

Jinx held up a small silvery block. “This is all of Silco’s dirty little secrets. If you win, they’re yours.”

“... What?” Caitlyn repeated, dumbfounded. “You… how do you-”

“And if I win,” Jinx continued. “Lux and Viktor come live with me in Zaun. Whatever you gotta say to her brother, her parents, you have to make sure they never come after her. And Jayce has to take Viktor off his lease.”

Caitlyn knew it would be painful to follow through, but she heard herself say, “Fine.”

“And…” A tremor entered her voice. “Vi… Vi stops looking for me. She keeps her distance from the hotel. In fact, she probably shouldn’t even step foot inside Zaun’s city limits.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“You have to,” Jinx said firmly. “If she keeps coming after me, eventually Silco will retaliate. I know what he’s capable of, Caitlyn. He won’t hesitate to hurt her, or worse.” She let the words hang in the air. “Promise me you’ll stop her.”

“... I promise.”

Jinx reached out her arm, and Caitlyn clasped it, sealing the deal. When she did so, Jinx pulled her close, leaning up to whisper in her ear, “Make sure they win.”

The lights went out. By the time Caitlyn switched them back on, Jinx was gone.

                                                           ☆ ☆ ☆                                                   

Even in the dark night, Lux’s room seemed to glow. A moonbeam hit the sterile white carpet and reflected off Lux’s gold hair, which was draped over her back as she slept soundly on her stomach. Jinx admired her from the shadows. It seemed a shame to wake her up, especially when she herself was a creature of darkness, fawning over a being of light.

But Jinx didn’t have to wake her up. As if sensing her, Lux stirred, blinking at her. “Powder? Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

Lux smiled, sleepy, and lifted the covers, welcoming her into the bed.

But Jinx was still too raw from betrayal. She needed to make sure of something first. “Did you know? About Viktor?”

“Know what?” Lux asked, confused.

“That he was a spy.”

“Oh! Oh… Ohhhh. That actually makes a lot of sense.” Her voice was groggy with sleep, but she stretched and was soon back on her roll. “I mean, I don’t know him other than what I’ve heard from you and the rest of the band, but I did think it was weird that Jayce never talked about him with any animosity, like they had actually fallen out. He would just sound kind of wistful, like Viktor was on a business trip. Well, I guess in a way, he was.” She gasped. “Wait, he was spying on you?”

“He said he was just spying on Silco.”

“... Do you believe him?”

Jinx sighed. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Lux gazed up at her forlornly, eyes melting in the moonlight. “I’m so sorry, Powder.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t.

“Come here.” Lux lifted the comforter again, welcoming her into the warm bed.

“I shouldn’t,” said Jinx.

“Fuck you and come here.”

A shiver traveled down her spine: she was all too happy to obey.

Lux hummed into Jinx’s shoulder. “You smell like guns.”

“Yeah, I was um…” There was no reason to explain. She should cut to the chase. Especially when she didn’t know how much time they had together. “Hey, I saw everything online. Kind of been a shitstorm.”

“... yeah.” Her voice was soft.

“I-I just want you to know that I never meant for any of that to happen,” Jinx said. “I shouldn’t have been so careless. I mean, my reputation’s been shot to hell for years, but I didn’t even think about yours, Lux, and I’m… I’m sorry.”

Lux snuggled in closer. “You know… as a wise and drop dead gorgeous girl once said to me: fuck them.”

Jinx stifled a laugh.

“Besides,” Lux said. “I think everyone else cares more than I do.”

Jinx had been prepared for her to cry, or push her away, but that was it. That was all that needed to be said. And she was delirious with relief.

Lux whispered, “I’ve heard… rumors that Margot resigned. And Finn’s been declared missing. Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

She shivered. “If they’re jumping ship, Powder, maybe you should get out, too.”

“I can’t. I have a contract with Silco. If I dip, then I’ll never be able to release songs again. And it’s not just that, I… I know this sounds weird, and hard to understand, but Silco… he saw me for who I was when no one else did. And he offered me the world. Me. When he could have offered it to anyone else. Even though he lied, he still cares about me, and… I still care about him, too.”

Lux let out a humorless chuckle. “They’re two sides of the same coin.”

“Who are?”

“Silco and Vi. He wants Jinx, not Powder, and she wants Powder, not Jinx.”

Jinx gazed at her with sorrowful eyes. “Who do you want?”

“You.” Lux kissed her nose. “All of you. Powder, Jinx, I’ll take it all.”

Tears pricked at Jinx’s eyes. Her breath caught in a sniffle.

“Powder? You okay?”

“Yeah,” but her voice cracked.

Lux pulled her closer, letting her rest her head on her chest. She ran her fingers through her hair, murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Jinx clung as if Lux were a life preserver, and she had never felt more lost at sea. She was safe in her arms, and everything Jinx had been hiding came flooding out. “I’m scared, Lux. I’m so fucking scared. This whole thing was supposed to be a game, and it feels like my entire life is riding on this stupid contest. I’m scared to win, I’m scared to lose.”

Her lips pressed to Jinx’s temple, Lux listened, ever patient,. “It’s okay, Powder,” she repeated. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“There’s so many things I want and they’re all swirling around in my brain. I want to come home, I want to see Vi again, and Vander: I want them to love me for who I am. I want Ekko, and Caitlyn, and even fucking Jayce. I want to go to work with Viktor and spend our days in labs and our nights in sound studios.

“But… and I know this sounds bad, but I also want to rule Zaun. I want to be the empress, and do whatever I want. Maybe… I could do some good that way. Viktor could work with me on new technology or energy sources.” She traced her fingers along Lux’s hand. “And if you want… you could come with me. You could be my queen. And nothing would ever come between us again.”

But Lux said nothing. She just pressed her lips together.

“Would you?” Jinx asked, seized by fear. “If my side wins the contest?”

“... I don’t know, Powder. I really don’t. I don’t even know what will happen if my side wins. When my mom talked to me - well, she didn’t talk so much as yell - she said she wants me to come home afterwards, no matter what. Even with Caitlyn and her mom reassuring them, my parents and Garen will probably need at least a few weeks to cool off. And… if I did run away with you, I could never see them again.”

It was true. It fucking hurt, but Lux was right. And Jinx knew she shouldn’t ask that of her. Which meant that if Fissurefolk won, she would strike that from her deal with Caitlyn. Or work something else out.

Jinx exhaled, a shaky sound.

Lux murmured, “Believe me, Powder, I’m scared too, but you give me hope. You make me feel brave.” She laced their fingers together. “Because even if everything goes to shit, I know we still have this. You still have me, I’m still yours. And I’m so grateful to you for just… letting me be part of your life, even if it turns out to just be this brief time. You inspired me to be truer to myself. In becoming yours, I became my own.” She rested her forehead against Powder’s, whispering, “Thank you. Thank you, Powder.”

They kissed. The salt of Powder’s tears, the gunpowder, and Lux’s vanilla chapstick mingled together to create a taste all their own.

Powder stayed until she felt Lux’s breath steady, felt her fall back asleep. Then Jinx slipped out the window, allowing herself one last look.

And hoped, desperately, that she would be able to see her again.

[ckret2]

I'm only asking this because you said you want to draw some Billford and now I'm thinking about it. It seems to me that Bill would bring Ford extremely upsetting presents (like a cat) and Ford (like a cat owner) would be disgusting/horrified, but charmed despite himself. Am I correct? Also, would the same thing happen in reverse

Yeah that's basically where they're at in canon lol. Buuut my goal's to write them struggling & clawing past their toxic history to reach a place where they work.

And when they work, I think usually Bill gives Ford gifts that should horrify him, but that he only finds charming, because these two freaks are on the same wavelength. And same goes in reverse.

(there's another five pages under the cut)

In billford as "toxic exes who get under each other's skin because they know each other so well," having them constantly bickering and getting on each other's nerves works just fine. But when they're actually a couple, I like to see them like each other. Enjoy each other's company and do things for each other that they appreciate.

Even if it's batshit by outsiders' standards, it needs to work for them. Bill knows when Ford would love to be cursed and Ford sees weird gross body parts and knows "Bill would want this."

[theonewhowails]

silly stuff i drew while reading Feel No Evil by @payasita , in which the Lamb does not know how to propose, Narinder does not know how to be alive, and neither of them knows what an obligate carnivore is

bonus? lmao

[itsphantasmagoria]

Them ❤️

(follies)

[canisalbus]

Did Machete or Vasco ever commission portraits of each other? Can only imagine future historians scrutinizing the relationship they shared.

I'd like to think they did. Or perhaps more likely they commissioned a pair of self-portraits of themselves and then traded.

Moreover, I find the idea of them owning miniature portraits of each other really charming. They were small enough to fit in your pocket so you could carry one on your person if you wanted to, and more subtle and inconspicuous than having a larger scale portrait of someone on your wall.

[pencilofawesomeness]

from chapter 10 of Famous Last Words in May Death Never Stop You by the amazing @slexenskee

I've wanted to draw this scene ever since I read it lmao. Fun fact I was eating lunch at the time and I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room since someone was watching tv. Good times, good times.

[twicearoundthebend]

Stealing from Walmart barely counts as stealing, right?

Commissioned art for my fic drawn by the incredible @realityrewind !!!! Go check him out! <3

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[hiding-under-the-willow]

How I feel every time I get to write a chapter of LaHoF that Iskall is in /hj

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[kinaesthetiqueer]

that feeling when your new friend is turning into remnant's bloodthirstiest cryptid and no one else knows it, not even her.

art for a scene in chapter 18 of her pulse in my throat

(the other piece for this chapter is here)

[unnamed-proxy]

“Ways to keep your partner safe, a guide for the romantically inept”

“”We were gonna practice, he was teaching me ya know– showing me everything he knew about the instrument.”

He shook his head.

“I arrived late. Was caught up with something at the house– I should’ve left sooner—I should have known –”

His eyes squeezed shut painfully– something biting at the edges of his face.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Torn up he was. Could barely even recognize him and that thing–”

His hands clenched painfully.

Dragged him under– took us weeks to even find his body.”

I felt a chasm open in the bottom of my stomach, my eyes went wide and my skin felt cold.

“They closed up the whole beach after that, said cause it was a crime scene, but it’s been months now. They know the truth we all know the truth.”

Monty’s glare darkened. A bottomless panic started to seep into the peripherals of my vision.

“That fucking fish killed him.””

————

“Settling against him, a warmth blossomed between our bodies that was both familiar and comforting. His large hands wrapped around me, holding me close like a lifeline. I lightly traced the veins in his arms as I heard the soft breathing against my neck.

Something lingered though, just in the very back of my mind.

Just a seedling of a thought.

I tried not to think too much about how his arms wrapped around me, trapping me against the covers.

How it felt so similar to beastly waves, holding onto me and pulling me under.

No— I wasn’t thinking that.

I was cuddling with my boyfriend- like we always do. Something I never had a problem with before.

I loved Sun and nothing was going to change that.

…

…nothing…”

“Under The Surface” Chapter 12 by @ohno-the-sun

[ckret2]

I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter. It's got it all: angst, comedy, meaty plot progression, banter, Bill and Ford screaming at each other, Stan getting an MVP moment, Soos being Soos, and a grappling hook. And this:

It's admittedly harder to take Bill's stuck-in-a-human-body grief seriously when he's wearing a pony toga and goofy bug wing face paint.

Anyway here's chapter 4, and here's the masterpost. 8/5/2024 edited for TBOB compatibility!

####

The car had been on the road for several tense minutes before Bill announced his return to consciousness by startling upright, attempting to shout through his gag, looking around wildly, and then kicking Stan's butt through the back of the front bench.

"Hey. Hey! Easy!" Stan turned around to swat at Bill. Bill responded by headbutting his hand.

Trying to ignore Bill and keep his eyes on the road, Ford said, "Soos?"

"You got it." Soos leaned to the right, gently pinning Bill against the door.

Bill grunted, squirmed mightily against his fate, kicked the front bench a couple more times for good measure, and then started rubbing his face against the car door handle.

"Give it a rest," Stan said. "There's no way you're jumping out of a moving car. You're completely tied up and you've got a seatbelt on."

"Safety first," Soos said.

"Plus, the handle on that door sticks."

Bill gave them both a murderous glare, shot another at Ford just because, and resumed rubbing his face on the door handle.

It took a couple minutes for him to use the handle to peel the duct tape off his mouth. He spat half a wet sock at the back of Stan's head. "Where are we—Hey! Hey! Look at me! Where are we going?!"

Gaze never wavering from the road, Ford said, "You don't need to know."

"All that matters is you're not coming back," Stan said. "You're gonna stay with some old friends of mine until we figure out how to deal with you. Real professionals. Not even you could find a way out of this."

"There's nobody to manipulate when nobody is listening to you," Ford said.

Soos, ever helpful, threw in, "Stan hasn't really told us much about these dudes? But I've been getting some 'prisoner pit in a serial killer's basement' vibes off of how he's talking about it."

The rage quickly drained from Bill's face, leaving behind a stricken look. "It's not that golf cart chop shop, is it?"

"What?! How did you kn—" Stan whipped around to gape at Bill, then stared at Ford. "How did he—?!"

"He has eyes everywhere," Ford said resignedly. "I'm sure once he got his claws into me, he started looking into my family's lives."

Soos considered this, nudged Bill, and said, "Hey. What kinda creepy stuff do you know about me?"

Bill didn't answer. He was staring blankly at the back of the front bench. Voice oddly flat, he said, "So. You leave me with a bunch of professional criminals. What's your plan then, smart guy."

"I don't know yet," Ford said. "And that's exactly why we're leaving you with people who can keep you contained—andkeep your puppet alive, whether you like it or not. All they need to do is buy us time until we find a way to extract you from your puppet and destroy you for good."

"And what if you can't 'extract' me."

The car was silent. Finally, Ford said, "Then whatever poor woman you've taken over has already lost her life. Destroying you and her body would be a mercy killing." Stan nodded sharply.

Bill slumped back in his seat. He looked out the window at the dark trees passing by.

The car's headlights swept over a sign reading "Now leaving Gravity Falls."

Bill choked on his breath. His gaze whipped forward, staring through the windshield, eyes wide. "Whoa-whoa-whoa wait wait stop STOP STOP! WATCH OUT!"

Ford slammed the breaks.

"What'd we hit?" Stan leaned over the dash, squinting into the dark. "After you insisted you're a better driver than me—"

"I didn't hit anything—there's nothing in the road—"

Hysterically, Bill demanded, "Are you trying to kill me?!"

Which was such a fantastically stupid question that the whole car turned to stare at him. He was wheezing on the verge of hyperventilation, pressed as far back into the car seat as he could get, feet raised and braced against the back of the front bench, face contorted in exaggerated fear.

Trying to sound irritated to avoid sounding rattled, Ford said, "What the devil is it?"

"Are you crazy?" Bill snapped. "You almost drove straight through the bubble!"

Soos and the Pines all looked forward. There was nothing but the dark road beyond their car. Ford gave Bill a wary look. "The what?"

"The—the bubble! The weirdness barrier around this stupid town's Attractor Zone! You can't see it, can you." Bill jutted his chin forward, gesturing out the windshield. "Well whether you see it or not, it's right there!"

Stan shrugged. "So?"

"SO?!" Bill's voice cracked. "So whaddaya think happens to me if I hit a weirdness barrier in a moving car?!"

Stan considered that a moment. "I dunno... That sounds more like your problem than our problem."

"Hey, it's your upholstery, buddy! But if YOU wanna see what happens when you hit a deer and it teleports inside the car—"

Stan snuck a foot over to the driver's side footwell and pressed the gas, making the engine rev. Bill flinched and yipped like a threatened chihuahua. Stan laughed.

Ford was staring hard at Bill. "The weirdness barrier only exists on the physical plane—it shouldn't affect you in the mindscape. And if you're possessing a perfectly normal human body, it wouldn't be impacted, either. It would only affect you if... you have physical form?" He scrutinized Bill's face—not his alien pupils, but everything else, taking in his facial features, looking for something familiar. The shape of his eyes, the brilliant gold of his hair that almost seemed to glow in the dark car, the way his narrow shoulders and wide hips gave him a distinctly triangular silhouette. "You're... not possessing someone, are you?"

Bill's breath hitched.

Stan looked between the two of them. "You mean that's just him? He's a human now?" He gestured dismissively at Bill. "Why shouldn't we hit the barrier, then. Take care of him now. I oughta get the ol' Diablo reupholstered, anyway."

"Oh! Oh! So that's how you want to play!" Bill let out a shrill laugh. "Fine, be like that! Do it—if you're sooo sure it won't just set me free! Do you like the sound of that? Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?" He leaned into Stan's face, baring his teeth, smiling viciously. "Go on, tough guy—think you can get me with another lucky sucker punch?"

Stan scowled—but instead of rising to the bait, he gave Bill a hard, considering look. "What's your game?"

"Ha! I'm playing games an idiot like you couldn't even imagine—"

On Stan's behalf, Ford tapped the gas, nudging the car forward a few inches.

Bill shrieked. "What's wrong with you, you maniac?!" Over Stan's guffaws and Ford's chuckle, Bill snapped, "I've had it!" The rear door swung open. Bill tumbled out onto the road.

"Hey!" Soos scrambled after him, but by the time he was out of his seatbelt, Bill was on his feet and running.

He was running very badly. He'd somehow managed to free his wrists and ankles—his ankles were raw and bloody and his handcuffs, still locked, lay innocently in the back seat—but his elbows were still chained to his sides and his knees were tied together. Stan jumped out of the car, saw Bill trip and sprawl on the asphalt less than twenty feet away, and laughed so hard he needed to lean on the car for balance.

Ford caught up just after Soos tackled Bill. "Well! There. Here you are." Ford's fists were trembling. "You couldn't have thought you'd escape, Bill. What was the point of that—that ridiculous demonstration!"

Bill's cheek was pressed to the ground so hard that he had to squeeze one eye shut; but it didn't stop him from giving Ford a smarmy smirk. "To be annoying," he said. "For you. Personally and individually."

"Fffp— For me?! Why? To what end, Bill?!" Ford knew Bill just wanted to see him angry. And it worked. "Of all the places in the world you could have gone, why are you back here! What could you possibly get out of harassing us again! After all you've done to us already!"

"What." The change on Bill's face was instantaneous. "After... what I... have done to you? WHAT I'VE DONE TO YOU?!"

His body shook with the violence of his screams, threatening to throw Soos off. "I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO ANY OF YOU! Look at you all, you hale and hearty little animals, with all your dwindling decades left to you—what about ME?!"

He jammed a fist in Soos's gut to knock him off and lunged for Ford, clawing at his ankle and coat hem like a zombie reaching from the grave. Ford stumbled back, tripped over Bill's hand, and fell hard on the asphalt. Bill wrenched an arm free from the chains around his chest with a sick bony CRACK and crawled on top of Ford.  "I was perfect! I was a god-king! I'm the most sublime thing your universe has ever seen! What am I now?!" Bill's bound knees dug into Ford's abdomen, his clawed fingers reached for his face. "MEAT! I'm MEAT, Stanford! I'm a greasy trash bag of raw leather filled with meat and bile! My body is rotting off its bones as we SPEAK, in a few years I'll be dust! AND YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT I 'TOOK' FROM YOU?!"

His fingers closed around Ford's throat. "What did you lose! TELL ME what you lost! I gave you EVERYTHING you ever wanted—knowledge, magic, validation, INFINITE worlds to explore! I offered you more! I offered you fame and fortune! Immortality! Divinity! So WHAT! DID! YOU! LOSE!" He punctuated each word with a furious shake. He was frothing with rage, choking on his rage, so furious he was nearly sobbing. "And do you REALLY THINK it comes CLOSE to what I'VE been through?! To the eternity you STOLE FROM ME?! You KILLED me today, Stanford! I DIED TODAY—"

A grappling hook whistled between their faces, nearly hitting Bill's nose, smashing into the bark of a tree. Bill froze, eyes wide, the taut wire inches in front of his mouth, staring down at Ford. And then he let go. He didn't resist when Stan dragged him off, or when Stan and Soos wrapped their arms around him in case he lunged for Ford again. His knees briefly buckled before he got his feet under him again.

Ford stared up at Bill, rubbing his throat.

He'd seen Bill angry enough to kill—yet he'd never seen Bill angry like that before. Bill's anger was always the petty tantrum of an entitled child who had been denied something he thought he deserved. This was different.

This wasn't just anger; it was grief. Bill was grieving himself.

"This... really is you, isn't it?"

Bill's jaw tightened.

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper dropped to a knee beside Ford, grabbing his shoulder. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Dip—Dipper?" Ford stared at him, and turned to look at Mabel and the two bikes further up the road. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Following to make sure Bill doesn't try anything?" Dipper said. "Like he just did?"

Stan said, "Whoa, kids, it's way too dangerous f—aw, forget it. Just how the heck did you find us?" (He'd handed Bill over to Soos, learning nothing from the lessons of the last few minutes; but Bill didn't make another move to escape. He leaned against Soos for physical support, shoulders slumped, his whole face sagging with exhaustion.)

Dipper said, "We figured you wouldn't let us come, so Mabel bugged the car after dinner."

"She what?"

"I poked a hole in a bag of glitter and taped it under your bumper!" Mabel pointed at the sparkly red trail leading along the road to the car. She was trying to pull her grappling hook out of the tree. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! We saved your life twice in one day! I think you owe us a pizza or something."

Dipper nodded seriously. "Definitely."

Ford rubbed his neck. "I don't think he was even trying to kill me. He was just..." Ford trailed off, staring after Bill. Out of that mad monologue of historical revisionism, the part that echoed in Ford's head was the last words. I died today. It still felt that fresh to Bill? Where had he been the past year—how did time move there?

Mabel frowned. "Aw, c'mon, Grunkle Ford. Lemme have this."

He dragged his gaze from Bill and laughed, ruffling her hair. "All right, all right. I owe you two a pizza."

"Yes!"

"No wonder you slipped these off," Soos muttered, holding the handcuffs in one hand and one of Bill's hands in the other. "You have delicate little baby hands. I bet it's really easy for you to get things out of jars."

"Sure." Bill sighed listlessly. "But it makes playing the piano a pain."

Soos more tightly handcuffed Bill's delicate little baby hands in his lap, considered how best to keep him from running off again, and finally wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders. "There. Buddy system!"

Bill endured this indignity with the vacant-eyed stoicism of a shell shocked soldier.

"So, what's going on?" Dipper asked, looking at the stopped car.

"We're at the edge of the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls," Ford said. "Bill can't cross it. Obviously, slamming him into it would be like driving into a wall. It would be fatal."

"To just Bill? Or the tourist, too?"

"There is no tourist. That's—him."

"Yeah," Stan said. "So he claims, anyway. I'm not sure I believe that."

Mabel gasped and grabbed Dipper's arm. "I knew it! Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan—I think he's telling the truth! When Bill possessed Dipper, he was all cold and gross like a dead body. But this time he's normal! I bet his book wanted blood so he could make a body out of it!"

"Like a homunculus?" The Book of Bill was made of human brain tissue—and Ford had gotten the disconcerting impression that he could feel vertebrae through the book's spine. "I wouldn't put it past him."

Stan screwed up his face, tilting his head. "All right, magic books and humonkeys are beyond me, but—something's still fishy. He's holding something back, I'm sure of it. Sixer, you've had more practice figuring him out than anyone else, what do you think?"

Ford sighed. "Unfortunately, he's also had more experience manipulating me than anyone else. But, all the same, I wouldn't put the possibility that this is really his body past him. I... I've never seen him so..." He meant to say furious. Instead, he said, "hurt." 

Ford wondered if there really was something to Bill's anger that he had never seen before—something awoken by dying?—or if it was just easier for Ford to see the emotions now that they were on a human face. If there were other nuances he'd missed over the years.

Glancing toward the car, Ford didn't see any anger on Bill's face now. It was completely blank—not neutral but empty, like he was too exhausted to feel. "Bill's a good liar, but I've never known him to be a good actor. I think that... outburstwas sincere."

Mabel said, "I've seen him impersonating Soos, Dipper, and Blanchin Blandin, and—he's convincing when he's doing normal stuff, but I've never seen him try to fake having emotions."

Dipper said, "Yeah, he's not really big on emoting. Pretty much the only expression he knows how to make on purpose is the world's creepiest smile."

"Okay," Stan said, "so he's probably telling the truth about being stuck in a human body and being mad about it. But what about that thing he said about setting him loose again if we kill his body."

(Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper mouthed Trojan horse, and Mabel nodded.)

"Because here's the thing," Stan said. "Say that's a lie, and killing him will just kill him. If he's half the liar you think he is, he woulda been trying to convince us from the start that his life is the only thing standing between us and the apocalypse! So why'd he only pull this out at the last minute, when it sounds like a stupid excuse?"

"He didn't need to tell us before," Ford said. "We thought he was possessing a tourist, we didn't want to hurt her."

"Ending the world's a lot scarier than killing one tourist! Why bother with the 'tourist puppet' schtick and then escalate? Maybe that's just the kind of half-rate con artist he is, but—just—!" Stan flung his hands up. "Something isn't adding up!"

Ford said, "So you think it's double reverse psychology? He told us killing him would restart Weirdmageddon so we'll think it's a lie, kill him, and actually restart it?"

Stan paused. "No," he said. "No, that's not it, either. If it was, he coulda just let us drive into that invisible barrier without saying anything."

"Then what? What's he actually trying to make us think?"

Stan stared at Bill, still turning over their conversation in the car, trying to put his finger on what had seemed wrong about it.

Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?

Stan could see Bill's face as it had looked yesterday, on the ground at his feet, barrel of a laser gun aimed at Bill's forehead, looking past it to stare straight into Stan's eyes. Go ahead, Stanley, let's find out what'll happen. He could have claimed then that killing him would end the world—or he could have forced Stan to shoot—but that was all he'd said. Let's find out.

Slowly, Stan said, "He's not trying to make us think anything. He's banking on us being too scared to gamble on what'll happen if he dies. Because he's too scared to gamble." Stan turned to stare at Bill. "You! You don't know if you can come back from this."

Bill blinked and focused on the Pines, glare darting between them.

"Do you?" Stan crossed his arms.

Bill's face twitched, and his defiance collapsed: "No! I don't know! I didn't get to see the terms and conditions on this stupid body—I don't know if I get my angles back when this body croaks, or if I just get shuffled into a human afterlife and that's it!" He forced a furious smile. "But if I don't know what's going to happen, then neither do you! Nobody does! So do you want to find out the hard way?!"

Bill looked from face to face; their silence was answer enough. No. They did not want to find out the hard way. He laughed loudly, reveling in his one tiny triumph.

"All right," Stan barked, "I've had enough of your crap." He cracked his knuckles, marched up to Bill, and socked his jaw.

Bill immediately shut up.

The other humans politely clapped.

####

If they couldn't take Bill out of the weirdness barrier, then for now there was only one place to take him: back to the shack. Stan borrowed a phone to step off the road and have a quick, hushed conversation with his contacts about the change in plans, while Ford helped Dipper and Mabel attach their bikes to the roof of the car.

When Stan returned, Ford said, "We're running out of seats." What he really meant was they were out of seats that would keep the kids away from Bill.

"Just stick me in the trunk!" Bill—leaning against the car boredly while the humans rearranged his incarceration plans—had regained some of his usual pep now that one small thing had gone right for him. He had, somehow, got his hands on the bat Soos had stowed in the back seat, and had been holding it like a cane, unnoticed until he used it to gesture toward the trunk. "I'm a prisoner! Humans put prisoners in the trunk, right?"

Stan snorted. "What, and let you kick out the taillights and escape? I don't think so. And who let you have a weapon!" He snatched the bat from Bill and tossed it in the trunk instead. "Kids, you sit on the front bench." Stan and Soos slid into the back with Bill jammed in the middle.

The drive was very, very quiet.

The only noise was the quiet squeak as Bill took up steadily kicking Ford's side of the front bench. Ford's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He said nothing.

Stan kicked Bill's ankle. Bill kicked Stan. Soos leaned against the window in a futile attempt to escape them and sighed.

And then the car was silent again.

"Say!" Bill said. The other passengers started. "What is it, about three? That's morning! Who wants to go get breakfast?"

"No," Stan and Ford said.

"Aw, come on! I think we're near that truck stop where Sixer had a psychotic episode!" Bill kicked the front bench more enthusiastically. "I thought you guys decided to keep me alive! You'll have a hard time doing that if you let me starve to death."

Ford said, "You're not going to starve to death between now and when we get home."

Soos blinked. "Hey, he slept through dinner, didn't he? Dude. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"Do socks count?"

Dipper and Mabel cast a suspicious glance at the damp half sock lying in the front footwell.

Soos shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"Then depending on which way of measuring nonlinear chronology you want to go by, it's either been a day, a year, or an eternity."

Soos furrowed his brow. Stan sighed irritably and said, "Would it kill you to give a straight answer?"

"It might. I've never tried before." Bill cackled. "It's not my fault I don't know which way you want to count chronology!"

Flatly, Ford said, "How long does your body think it's been since you last fed it."

"I've never fed it."

The humans stared in shock. Even Ford spared a glance in the rearview mirror.

"Ohhh right, that's not optional anymore. That explains the ceaseless abdominal pain! And all Chumbo's griping! And the vertigo when I stand up! And the mood swings!" Bill laughed, "Hey, Fordsy! Turns out I was just hungry!"

"I'll stop for breakfast if you never call me that again."

"Deal!"

Ford took the turn toward the Triple Digit Truck Stop.

####

[kyouka-supremacy]

Tbh less fic writers completely forgetting about Kyouka's existence when Akutagawa is staying at Atsushi's house and more Kyouka just... Being 14 and honestly not wanting to deal with the ordeal of his brother's very fucked up love life.

What I mean is Kyouka late at night bothered by the noise opening the door of her room to find a bloodied and butchered Akutagawa on the verge of passing out, Atsushi frenetically trying to hold him up and simultaneously keep him quiet, both freezing in place as soon as they see her; Kyouka looking at Atsushi, looking at Akutagawa half fainted in Atsushi's arms, looking back at Atsushi, mentally going “that's not my shit to give” and announcing she'll be spending the night at Yosano's / Kenji's / Lucy's

[dipplinduo]

Chapter 4 of The Dichotomy in Our Hearts is out!!

Sooooo! Fun little notes for this one:

I know I've previously talked about having this being a double update/combined Chapter 4 & 5 finale release. And while I tried my best to aim for that, I really wanted to get something out this weekend after working pretty damn hard on this.

I have no idea what it is with this specific fic, but compared to all of my other works, I for some reason put much more of my time, heart and soul into the writing. There's multiple themes have come up symbolically within this fic that don't come up in other works as saliently - both planned and unplanned - and I care a lot about their execution to a fault. I cannot tell you how many times I've revised and rewritten this specific fic. It has been very agonizing and frustrating if I'm being real. LOL. But! With both the beautiful, beautiful feedback I get on this work, as well as specific encouragement from the iconic @kekstala who helped me break my writer's block, I've been sitting with this work and what it really means to the audience I'm lucky to have for it. I now see the unique elements that make this fic so beloved: there's some level of angst, but it's much different than the type of angst I typically convey for dipplinshipping. There's familial dynamics and researched cultural elements. There's a lot of lightheartedness that somehow balances with incredibly moving moments and deeper conversations that may speak to readers beyond the context of the fic itself. And if y'all see all that?! I want to honor that like fuck, and I want this story to be that bitch that wraps up as graciously as possible given the praise its received.

That being said, this chapter was a much longer chapter, and I'm proud of how it turned out. I didn't want to rush the content for Chapter 5 just for the sake of releasing it immediately - I have a collection of cute, sweet, funny, and endearing moments that I want to flush out fully so this story ends on a high note.

I hope this was worth the wait, and I hope ya' stick around for Chapter 5. :) <3 With love,

dipplinduo

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 12

12 - Liar, Liar*

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

more: chp 11 // masterlist | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 14.7k (strap in)

Summary: Following Noah and Vallie's thrift shop adventure, Vallie faces the consequences of her actions. After the launch of their new music video, Vallie realizes she might not like what she wished for. A pivotal decision reshapes the group's dynamics, leading to a significant change in the connection between a specific pair.

warnings: alcohol, bratty noah, smoking, heartache, yearning, regret, jealousy, unprotected sex, cream pie x2, oral (f receiving), cum eating kinda?, angry nick but also soft nick???, fluffy???, she's just a girl ok, mediocre writing lol, sorry this has taken 500 years, my apology is that it's long as fuck, 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer - This story is AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band here is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

Reminder; Minor band crossovers (greta van fleet / chase atlantic) to supply side characters :)

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

When Noah and I walk up the gravelly incline to the warehouse, the rest of the band and Bryan are all on their phones lounging on different surfaces - chairs with feet propped on tables, against the brick wall, spread out on the floor. Boredom was an understatement. 

“Well, took you guys long enough.” Grumbles Jolly. “What did you get lost picking out scarves?”

My heart skips a beat at the coincidental wording. “Sorry, we really had to dig to find anything.” I mumble quickly, throwing the plastic shopping bags on the ground.

“Well, did you find anything good?” Jolly asks.

“Oh, we found something good alright.” Noah replies, shoving his hand into a plastic bag to retrieve the cursed fedora.

I roll my eyes and playfully smack his arm, “Shut up.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly, with a popped hip and a hand on his waist. “It’s your fault, you put it on my head.”

“Yeah whatever.” I laugh and wave off his silliness.

I suddenly feel all eyes in the room on us accompanied by an awkward stillness. Of course they’d be thrown off, we could barely be in a room together before we left, why wouldn’t this be strange?

I glance up for a split second before digging into the bags and find Nicholas’ eyes watching us intently. His brows low and eyes sharp.

In my tummy swirls a feeling so closely reminiscent of guilt, similar to when I was with Kras last night. But neither make any sense. Nicholas and I aren’t anything, it shouldn’t matter. Kras and I are just friends. And Noah and I definitely are not anything. And yet, here he is looking angry and here I am feeling guilty.

After handing out the thrifted clothes and a wardrobe change, the boys come out in their new clothes, and they look perfect. The pieces we chose embody each one of them flawlessly. They fit the direction Noah wants for the music video but they’re rather simple. Folio’s is the most basic in a plain black shirt, black jeans, and his sneakers. Jolly’s is a black long sleeve button down, tight black pants paired with his hefty combat boots. Noah’s outfit was centered around the black peacoat we found as the statement piece with a black turtleneck beneath it, black pants and boots. We even picked up something for Bryan even though he was staying behind the camera - he got a vintage Kodak t-shirt, which he thought was “rad as hell”. 

Since I showed up in last night’s sweats, I figured I’d pick up an outfit as well. I found a grey sundress. It’s something I would normally only wear in casual settings, but I wanted to be comfy and it was the only halfway cute thing in the thrift shop.

The outfit I picked out for Nicholas was the best one, but I may be biased. It’s a thin black sweater with thumb holes atop a black turtleneck paired with baggy, strappy pants and finished off with black leather combat boots.

With the new uniforms, the band and crew seem to have a reinvigorated morale. It did exactly what I needed it to do, it gave them the spark they needed to bring the music video to life. 

We spend our time running the song over and over while Bryan gets shots from all angles. I got some content for posting and even posed the boys for some social media trends, which they all hated except Folio, and Bryan in the background. Since I was done gathering content, I sat at the plastic picnic table on the far side of the warehouse diagonal from the makeshift stage while they continued to shoot slightly different variations.

I plug my phone and camera into my Macbook to import the photos and videos I took to begin editing them and schedule them for posting.

“Vallie.” I hear a voice call amongst mumbling between a take.

I snap up to match the voice to the source: Noah.

“What’s up?” I respond, half expecting to be met with some sort of criticism or snarky remark.

“Were you paying attention to this last take?” He questions, but not in an accusatory way that I’d normally anticipate, just genuine curiosity.

“A little, why?”

“What did you think of the intro?”

A hush blankets the room and the rest of them look between us as if they’d seen a ghost. I’m glad we’re finally kind of getting along but I wish he wouldn’t make it so obvious. Especially in front of Nicholas. The odd feeling in the room dances a chill up my arms leaving goosebumps behind.

“Oh um, I liked it? It was cool.” Truthfully, I’m not sure that I did like it, but I just wanted to move on from being in the spotlight.

He gives me a wide, genuine grin like a kid in the middle of a playground, “Sick, I thought so too.”

I glance over at Bryan, who is slowly but surely becoming my lifeline in these situations. He offers a ‘I don’t know either but just roll with it?’ look with a brow wiggle and a barely noticeable shrug.

Mid-shoot everyone needed some sort of touch up. I somehow had my job description expanded to include wardrobe and makeup.

The one I dreaded the most was Nicholas.

I walk over to him, mute, focusing my eyes straight forward which for me happens to be his chest. I keep my gaze away from his eyes as I fix the collar of his cardigan.

He too keeps his focus off of me.

“Sorry I acted like an ass earlier.” He says sounding partially sincere, partially grumpy. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

I clear my throat. An apology was the last thing I expected and the last thing I deserve. “It’s okay.”

A quiet pause fills the small space between us.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” He questions casually but I can tell it’s anything but casual.

I press my lips together contemplating if I really want to commit this hard to the ruse. But Kras is right, and my gut is right. No matter how much I want to stay entangled with him, it can’t continue. I don’t know how well this action plan is going to work, but I have to try.

“Yes.” I lie with fake confidence. “Kind of.”

He takes a moment to process my response which makes me question how good of a job I did with lying. Finally, he nods, his eyes still locked on something past the opening of the warehouse.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I sweeten the lie.

“I guess that’s a good thing then, you know, for our jobs and all.” His voice light, as if he’s purposefully making it seem more nonchalant than it is. I know I hurt him, I can hear it in his voice. Whether it was his heart or his ego that I hurt, I’m not sure but all I know is that we went too far. “It just would’ve been nice to know.”

The painful twist in my chest confirms that I made the right decision to stick to the plan. I'm already so invested in him that it hurts; I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I let myself fall any deeper.

I swallow the very faint lump in my throat and flatten out the thin material resting on his chest. Spending another night with him was a bigger mistake than I realized because just the warmth of him beneath my fingertips makes me want to melt right into him. I wish I didn’t know what he felt like, what he sounded like, what he tasted like. Suddenly I want to take everything back. I want to unkiss him, unfuck him, unknow him. In the span of knowing them and being on their team, I’ve regretted it about 75% of the time but there, standing in front of him, it is a solid 110%.

I wish I had just heard them on the radio and found myself at a show, 

or met them in passing during industry events,

or maybe bumped into him in a coffee shop where he suggests his favorite latte,

or literally any other scenario that would grant me the luxury of just reaching up and kissing him without feeling confliction or guilt. 

The reality of the whole situation hits me all at once and my entire mood shifts abruptly, in a way I’ve never let happen while I work. I’m normally exceptionally skilled in the art of separating my emotions from most other things but this cuts through all of that. He lowered my walls more than anyone ever had and reached a part of me I’ve never let someone do before. I swallow hard and blink the burning in my eyes away. The last thing I need is for him to see my eyes full of tears. 

So, I do what I think makes the most sense. I yank each edge of my mouth into a tight-lipped smile and step back to hold out an overly professional hand, “Friends?” 

He nearly grimaces at the word and begrudgingly snakes his hand into mine, gripping it firmly and giving it a shake. “Whatever you want, Vallie.” He grumbles sarcastically before walking off back to the set. 

He leaves me with my hand vacant and my eyes blinking at the wall he just stood in front of. I knew he wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t know we’d end up starting over.

The music video that Noah had fast tracked was finally finished regardless of what the others felt. It was filmed and edited by Bryan with Noah glued to his side the whole time to make sure it followed his “vision” for it perfectly. It was hyper tuned into the details and nuances Noah was looking to cultivate for the prematurely released song.

Two weeks later, I hit post on the music video with the band scattered around the rehearsing studio, celebrating with beers and laughter. I roll my eyes playfully at the happy, excited actions that ensue behind me but bite down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. While it’s not everything they or I wanted, it’s still a damn good video and I’m proud of them for it. 

All entanglements aside, it’s the first time that I’ve felt like I truly helped them achieve something great. Their growth and publicity had been steady but incredibly slow despite all of my best efforts. Their initial boom from the band going viral months ago plateaued. I’ve been chalking it up to the lack of content, but the faint fear of chronic stagnation has been creeping up my ribs every so often. It’s something I warned them from the beginning - “Anyone can go viral, but it won’t last.” I recall telling them at the very start. “Don’t get attached to the numbers.” I told them that it burns bright for a split second then gets snuffed out by the next big thing to come along. But they didn’t listen to me, and I can see the disappointment and fear worsening in Noah’s features with each day that passes. It’s all made me wonder if there was even a place in the scene for them, or if what their label is trying to accomplish is possible. It made me question my ability to execute the task handed to me.

I posted all of the music video promotions across all forms of media and posted some of the pre-filmed short form content onto TikTok and Instagram. “Alright well, your part is done now, I’m just gonna keep working.”

I stand, beginning to gather all the papers scattered over the table. “With all the teasing I posted for the video and all the extra content we filmed, engagement has gone up by about 5%. I estimate it going up by about another 10-15% for the next couple of weeks while the music video gains traction.” I dropped the edges of the paperwork against the table a couple times to align them into a neat stack. “You’ve gained a significant amount of followers as well, at least compared to before the promo content.”

“Aw Vallie,” Bryan throws an arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug. “Is this your way of saying we did a good job?” 

A small smile tugs at one edge of my lips, “I’m just saying that the music video is projected to do really well.” I sink my teeth into my lip again, this time to keep from speaking but it fails. “And, I think you guys did a great job.” I rush the words out at the end.

The large grin is nearly identical across the five boys' faces, each one unique in their features, but the glow of finally birthing a new project is potent in all their smiles.

As they mingle about, I return my focus to my screen and sit back down. Likes and comments begin to pour in, faster than expected. The promo posts over the past couple weeks built up a significant amount of anticipation and excitement, I just didn’t expect it to gain momentum so fast. Compared to other clients, this engagement is nothing, a couple hundred comments within the first 30 minutes, but for them, it’s huge. I decide to keep it to myself for now to not get their hopes up too high since the numbers could plateau quickly. 

But before I exit completely, my eyes catch a couple comments that churn my stomach unexpectedly.

nobody told me the singer was so hot !!

damn he’s fine as fuck

oh my god Noah is so !!!!

the whole band is fine wtf 

god that bassist is sooo sexy

My eyes narrow and my teeth involuntarily clench at the last comment. A dull ache throbs in my chest at the words, a feeling I’m not quite sure I’ve ever experienced before. 

My plan to leverage their looks was working. This is exactly what I wanted, what I held meetings for, what I fought for, what I was hired for - so why does it suddenly feel like a loss?

I glance at Nicholas, who’s joking with the others, his face lit up with a carefree smile. My heart aches but, this is exactly what I wanted for him. For them. Yet, the jealousy gnaws at me, sharp and unrelenting. I want to be happy for them, I should be happy for them. But each comment feels like a tiny dagger, reminding me of what I’ve deprived myself of.

I exhale and close the lid to my laptop. I tap along the table just trying to shake my head from whatever confusion is clouding it. I just need to get out.

The group talks amongst themselves as they celebrate, and I inevitably fade into the background. I start gathering all my belongings to throw into my tote bag to hopefully make a quiet exit.

“You liked the music video?” A voice startles me from across the round table. 

I look up to find Noah. I quickly glance to the red solo cup he’s holding carefully in his hand. It makes me wonder what’s in it and if it will lead to the same aftermath I've seen before with a drunken Noah. It’s only when I look around that I realize that each of them has a drink in hand and they’ve put music on. 

“Yeah.” I shrug, “I think you guys did good.” 

“We, you mean.” He corrects.

“We?” 

“Yeah. You helped pick out the outfits and did all the promo stuff, did you not?” He raises a brow. 

“Yeah? I guess I did.” 

Noah rests his arm on a nearby high-top table, taking a sip of his drink. “We made a deal, you and I a while ago, do you remember it?” He questions.

I silently filter through our meetings in my mind. While working together we’ve made many deals, but I land on the one I know he’s talking about and a smile creeps across my lips. “‘I’ll do my job well, if you do yours.’” 

An unexpected wide grin pulls at his mouth, “Well, I think we both did our jobs well here.” 

He was right, we did. Looking back at the meeting just a few months ago seems so juvenile now. Noah was so angry about me being brought on to the crew and while I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily thrilled that I’m here now, I can tell that I’ve grown on him. I proved myself to him, at least a little bit. 

“Yeah, we did.” I nod with a genuine smile, “Proud of us.” 

He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze, smiling down at me. “Me too.”

I leaned into him and caught a glimpse of Nicholas watching us both. The look on his face was flat and filled with an unreadable expression. 

My eyes flicker down immediately to avoid him then pull away from Noah’s grasp. He then goes on to ramble about music and the album, I’m not quite sure why he’s over here talking to me and not to the rest of them but, here I am. His words fade into the background as I look past him to spot Nick again. This time he’s caught up in some excited conversation between Brian and Folio. His wide smile meets his eyes filling them with such happiness as he laughs. His tattooed fingers interrupt the condensation on a beer bottle and his hair is gathered up into a low bun. He looks breathtaking and it suddenly fills me with a sadness I don’t think I’ll be able to beat here. 

I’ll never have the opportunity to be with him at a party like this, or out to dinner or have a normal, run-of-the-mill relationship. There’s a bit of heartbreak in watching him ensue in an interaction we may never have now that I’ve ruined everything.

But I ruined it for a reason, my brain reminds me.

I catch Nicholas’s eye. His smile falters, and for a moment, I think he senses my unease. I quickly look away, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The ache that makes home in my ribcage does not care for reason; its only concern is pain. It suddenly becomes unbearable, and I need to leave, now. I need to go home, I need to fucking get of out here.

 “I’m sorry, Noah but I have to go.” I hurriedly throw my bag over my shoulder and snatch my keys.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” Noah asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… I need to go,” I say, my voice wavering as I avoid his gaze. “I have an important meeting I have to be home for.” My hand tightens around my keys so hard that the jagged edges dig into the flesh of my palm.

I stand up, the room spinning slightly as I do, despite not having anything to drink. I head for the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I can feel Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back.

Pushing through the front door, I take a deep breath of the cool night air, but it does little to calm the storm inside me. I walk quickly to my rental car, fumbling with the keys as tears blur my vision. Finally, I manage to unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat. 

As I drive home, the tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. The ache in my chest is relentless, a constant reminder of what I’ve given up and the lies I’ve told. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. But the pain doesn’t care about reason or decisions. It only knows how to hurt.

I don’t stop driving until I reach my Airbnb. I stumble inside, dropping my bag on the floor and collapsing onto the couch. The tears flow freely now as I sink into the furniture, wishing things could be different but knowing they’ll never be. As much as I’d like to, I can’t undo my decision nor change the reasons behind it. As long as I work for them, Nick and I can never be anything more than just friends. Maybe in another life, there’s a him and I that work, but it’s not this one.

It doesn’t matter how much it hurts seeing him at events, or getting comments in videos, or even just being around him. He’s not mine and he can’t be. I’m not what he wants anyway, his career is just taking off the last thing he needs is to be entangled with someone who wants more than just sex. Is that even what I want? I barely even have time to fucking cry in the car, how would I balance a relationship?

Mourning the loss of what could’ve been is hard, but an inevitable breakup would be worse. However, just because I chose the lesser of two evils doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I glance at the time on my watch and scramble when I realize I’m late for my meeting. Unfortunately, I didn’t lie to Noah about that.

Flipping open my laptop, I’m right on time when the zoom call rushes in. I wipe the remnants of my tears and allow myself one more sniffle before answering.

The bright, shining faces of my original clients light up the screen. With drinks and cigars in hand, they greet me with their usual exuberance. They’re getting one last party in before they leave for tour soon. It’s the first tour I haven’t joined them on since working for them. The realization that I’m not going with them mingled with the feelings I just ran away from only worsens the pain in my torso. There’s nothing more I wish to do than to just run off with them to Europe and forget all about this mess with Nick. But I have too much on my plate to be touring with them right now, so I’m working remotely for them temporarily.

Their naturally cheery demeanors lift my spirits, and while it is still a work call, they always seem to make work fun. It makes me wish even more that I was going with them. Working for them has always been easy and enjoyable. The stark contrast between them and Omens is jarring. While we do have a longer history, Greta has always felt comforting, uplifting and loving – like family. I always feel valued and appreciated, and I never have to question my belonging with them.

Omens, on the other hand, has been nothing but complicated, painful, and uncomfortable. Instead of feeling like I’m part of something, I often feel like I’m navigating through a minefield between Noah’s volatility and Nick’s complexity. It’s hard to feel motivated when the environment is so hostile, and it leaves me questioning my place and purpose. Up until recently that is – things seem to be looking up now that Noah and I are getting along.

Comparing the two bands makes me long for the simplicity and warmth of Greta even more. The comfort and camaraderie I immediately feel when answering the zoom only highlights the cold, challenging reality of working with Omens. It’s a reminder of what I’m lacking and a painful acknowledgment of the complication of my current situation. The situation I put myself in.

Yet, Noah’s words ring in my ears, “We did our jobs well.” Perhaps it’s not as bleak as it once was. The memory of our truce plants a seed of hope in my chest. Maybe Bryan was right, that they just need time to come around.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The bassist, Sam, jokes, pulling me out of my thoughts. The bright white of my screen flashing on my pale face in the darkness of my living room can’t be doing me any favors.

“You need a drink, Val?” Jake, the other long-haired guitarist asks, raising an enticing drink in a short glass.

“Maybe a smoke? You are in California after all.” The shaggy-haired singer, Josh, teases.

I force a smile and shake my head. “I would kill for both of those right now. Just a fucking exhausting day.”

“I know, our girl’s makin’ it big, taking on new bands, new quests.” Jake states in a dramatic, faux-English accent. “On to new horizons.” His arm splays out theatrically to a non-existent skyline.

“Leavin’ us behind!” Sam adds loudly in a whiny tone as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

The last words shoving a sword into my gut. Maybe Nick isn’t the only loss I’m mourning. Working for Greta has consumed my entire life for years, they’re the closest thing to family I’ve got. Perhaps not being engulfed in them constantly has left me lonely.

I roll my eyes lightheartedly and shake my head, “I could never leave you guys, you know that.” Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “How are you guys feeling about the tour?”

Their excitement is infectious, and I find myself relaxing a bit as they talk about their plans and the cities they’ll visit. For a moment, I forget about Nick and the tangled mess of emotions he brings.

“Hey, Val!” Josh shouts, raising a glass snapping me out of my haze. “We’re going to miss you on this one!”

“Yeah, it won’t be the same without you,” The quiet drummer, Danny, chimes in.

I force a smile, trying to push the sadness aside. “I’ll miss you guys too. But I’ll be there in spirit, and we’ll keep in touch. You know I’ll be checking in every day.”

They laugh and raise their glasses in a toast, their contagious energy making it a little easier to breathe.

The boys filter out, saying their goodbyes to entertain the other guests at their party.

“Yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys later. I have to ask Vallie about something.” Sam waves the boys away.

He turns in his chair to face me, a look of concern washed over his face as he tucks a chunk of long hair behind his ear. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off?” He asks softly.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "I'm fine, Sammy. Just a lot going on."

He looks at me for a long moment, his puppy-dog eyes filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need anything. We're all going to miss you on this tour, but we understand why you can't come."

I nod, "I know. Thanks, Sam," I reply, with a tight smile. "I appreciate it."

Under other circumstances, I would maybe try to talk to them but they’re so excited for Europe, I can’t possibly weigh them down with anything serious.

He gives me a reassuring smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need to vent or anything, just call. We're all here for you, we love you a lot."

"Thanks," I say again, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I will. I love you guys too."

With one last nod, Sam ends the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts and letting reality crash back in. I close my laptop and lean back in my seat, staring at the other side of the vacant couch. The room feels emptier than before, the silence more suffocating. I can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, both professionally and personally.

I set my laptop on the coffee table and pull a blanket over my body in hopes that it would help me disappear. I curl up in the corner of the couch with my knees up to my chest. I haven’t felt heartache like this since high school and it’s over something that was never even serious. My mind keeps drifting back to Nick, to the hurt and anger in his eyes when I pushed him away. I know it was the right decision, but the pain is parasitic in a way I was never prepared for.

I blink at the blank wall in front of me. I’m not home, I’m not with friends or anyone I know. I work for a band that half hates me most days, I fell for a boy I can’t have and I’m staying in a pay-by-weekly Airbnb. I’m alone in a city I hate, in a home that’s not my own with people who barely like me. That’s when I realize that perhaps heartache isn’t the only pain that sits heavy in my heart – it’s also the weight of loneliness that’s been consuming me, rotting me from the inside out.

Only when I acknowledge the seclusion is when it wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, seeping into my very core and eroding my sense of self.

I close my eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I have to keep moving forward, despite the overwhelming difficulty and the sadness in my bones. There’s a faint flicker of hope buried somewhere beneath the despair, a small, stubborn, workaholic part of me that refuses to give up. For now, I hold on to that glimmer, however faint, and vow to take things one step at a time.

This was the 4th rehearsal in a row that I’ve attended this week, and while it never gets old watching their sets, the content becomes repetitive. So, while the boys are playing and Bryan snaps shots of them, I scroll through Zillow.

I don’t even notice that they’re done until Nicholas is beside me cracking a water bottle open. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He asks. Slowly but surely, we’ve been making our way back up to being friendly, despite the break down I had weeks ago after the music video launch. If I just focus on the work, I can almost stifle down our history. Almost.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” I chuckle but it soon fades with the frustration that’s built up over the past couple days. “Augh, I have to find an apartment or something because this Airbnb is getting so expensive. My other client’s tour just started, and I just took on another band, so I’m stuck here for a while. But I can’t fucking find an apartment building that doesn’t have a waitlist before next fall.”

“Shit sucks around here.” Chimes in Jolly from the corner taking a sip of his Gatorade.

“Here let me see.” Nick swivels my laptop towards him before I have a chance to stop him. He holds his tongue between his lips with his brows furrowed, like he’s focused on some super spy mission. He scrolls for a while, adds some filters, scrolls, takes more filters out, then turns the laptop back to me. “Ta da!” He smiles his signature grin and it’s nice to see it in my direction again.

“Whoa, how the fuck did you find that!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I scroll through the listing, it having almost everything I was looking for. “Oh my god, they’re doing a showing for a perfect place right now, I gotta go.” I hastily begin packing my things up, haphazardly throwing all my scattered belongings into my tote.

“Whoa whoa,” Halts Jolly, “You’re not going alone.”

I furrow my brows at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, do you know how unsafe it is for a woman to go to realty showings alone?” His voice is so filled with genuine concern and a splash of paranoia.

“You need to stop watching so much true crime dude.” Folio rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed.” Bryan adds with a pointed thumb towards the long-haired man. 

I blink up at Jolly who’s face is dead serious. “We’re coming with you.”

I normally wouldn’t let men tell me what to do or how to do it, but maybe Jolly is right. Men are dangerous especially around here and I have also heard horror stories about women going to check out a house and it turning out to be a sketchy place with an equally creepy man.

“Okay.” I nod. “Fine.”

Looking over the four of them, I realize that Noah had already disappeared. He’s been cutting out immediately after each rehearsal, so I think nothing of it.

“I got nothing better to do.” Shrugs Nicholas. I don’t look too much at him because if I did, I would notice the strain behind his eyes - one that looks both pained and conflicted. 

Arriving at the open house, I walk around the small loft, letting my fingers trail over the cracked railing of the stairs. The apartment is smaller, dingier and dustier than advertised. When I make it upstairs, the 4 are up there already. I catch them looking unimpressed, almost disgusted at the place but immediately feign impression for my sake.

“It’s…pretty nice, Vallie.” Says Folio, with a forced smile.

“Oh, spare me, it’s a dump.” I sigh, defeated. “The asking price is like double with all the fees and shit. It’s ridiculous.” I rub two fingers into my temple. “I don’t know what I’m gonna fucking do.”

There’s a bit of silence filled with pitiful faces from the group. Nicholas’ eyes look focused but lost in thought. Before any of them could speak, Bryan perks up. 

“My old room in the house is empty since I moved out last year. Why doesn’t she just move in with you guys?” He suggests as if it’s the most obvious answer. 

My mouth nearly falls open at the insane suggestion. The trio’s focus snaps to him with the most shocked and betrayed looks on their faces, brows raised and jaws open. 

“What?” I ask for clarification, because he couldn’t possibly be serious.

Bryan ignores their reactions. “Exactly what I said. It just makes sense? You’re with them all the time.”

“I uh-“ I falter, somewhat overwhelmed with the four of them looking at me. “I mean, it really seems like that’s a group decision…”

“I’m cool with it.” Folio surprisingly speaks up first, “We do have the spare room and we could use the extra rent money. You take a lot of Ubers to get to us anyway, so.”

For once Folio seemed to be cooperative, nice even. Maybe they are warming up to me afterall.

Jolly sighs heavily, “They have good points. It would be convenient but… Noah’s not going to be happy.”

Anxiety wins over the excitement dying to bloom in my stomach as I look over and meet Nick’s gaze. His eyes contain the same pained and confused look as before. He’s conflicted.

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what Noah wants. He’s outnumbered 4-1.” Nick snaps. “She needs a place, and we have one.”

I tug at my lip and contemplate my options. This would be the easiest and cheapest path. “Okay fine. Just for now. I’m gonna keep looking so I don’t overstay my welcome.” I meet eyes with each one sternly. “Thank you.”

I’m grateful for the offer but I can’t help but be nervous about being so close to Nicholas all of the time. The room I’d be staying in is the empty room between Noah and Nicholas’ rooms. I’d be between the two I would least like to be around. I contemplate backing out for a brief moment but quickly remember how much the Airbnb is costing me weekly. As much as I value my independence and solitude, it’s just not worth the cost and isn’t sustainable. The last thing I ever want to do is live with them, but it seems to be the only good option right now.

A week later, the boys help carry the last of my boxes up the stairs while I warn them about how if they break anything they’ll be paying for it.

Nick, Jolly, and Folio are all out of breath as they set down my boxes.

“Jesus, how do you have so many boxes of stuff from that tiny Airbnb?” Folio asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I shrug, “I had some of my stuff from home shipped out to me, since I’m staying in Cali longer than I expected.”

Jolly and Folio filter out leaving me alone with Nicholas. I’m immediately on my toes around him. Just being in the house with him is difficult. The only other two times I’ve been here, we’ve slept together - once on the couch downstairs and another in the room beside us now. It’s hard not thinking about having him that way again with those reminders all around me. The memories pack a punch not just in my core but in my heart as well. We’ve just started to get back to normal after our little falling out. But what even is back to normal with us? Were we ever really normal?

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asks though it doesn’t seem forced or ingenuine.

I ponder the offer as I shift on my feet but ultimately shake my head. “Not now. I don’t know if I’m going to fully unpack yet, since I’m still looking for another place.”

He nods, seeming somewhat unhappy about my response. “Okay well, if you need help with anything, let me know.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” I scratch my arm anxiously and pause before I speak again. “I feel bad… I know Noah’s unhappy because I’m here.”

Nicholas sucks in a breath. “Yeah, he’s not happy. But I don’t really know what else to say to him. Maybe you should talk to him.”

I let out a laugh. “Yeah fucking right. I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“You never know. It might help.” He steps towards the door to leave. “I think we’re gonna order Chinese for dinner. You cool with that?”

I nod and he reciprocates before leaving the room downstairs. 

I take a deep breath and shake out the nerves from my hands as I walk to Noah’s door. I give it a knock and wait for a response.

“Come in.” He calls and I peek through the cracked door.

He rolls his eyes and glares at me. “Great, it’s you.”

“You know you don’t have to be like that.” I say calmly while I push the door open more and lean against the door frame.

He doesn’t even look at me and keeps his eyes on the TV across from his bed where he lays. His hands are diligently working on a gaming controller. I can’t help but notice how his long-tattooed fingers rapidly and strategically click on the buttons. Something about it creates a slight buzz between my legs.

“You just invited yourself into my home. I think I have some right to talk to you any way I want to.” He retorts.

“I didn’t invite myself; I was invited. By your bandmates, your best friends. But you know that already. You’re just being an asshole.”

“Again, this is my house. I can be an asshole in my house if I want to. This is what you signed up for. But you know that already.” He mocks me with my own words.

I try my best to keep my bubbling anger from spilling. We had been doing so well since the thrift store, but it seems that we’re back to square one all over again.

“I’m not trying to be here forever, alright? This is temporary. Like I want to be here any more than you want me to be. Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.” I sigh, trying to keep my composure. “I’m just trying to make the best of it while I’m here, okay? Can we agree to just be civil?”

He glares at me, but I know he knows that I’m right. “No promises.”

As I look around my new room, I suddenly feel closed in by the towers of boxes that surround me. I should’ve waited until after I signed some sort of apartment lease before having some of my stuff shipped from New York. I was just homesick for a place of my own again, that I wanted my belongings outside of what fits inside a couple carry-on suitcases. I’ve been living out of suitcases for longer than I’ve ever wanted and so maybe unpacking some of my clothes and things wouldn’t hurt much. Afterall, I could always just repack them. When I stand and find that some of the towers are even taller than me, I recognize that I might need help afterall. 

I find myself in front of Nick’s door and a nervous feeling swirls in my stomach that I try to ignore. 

This is a bad idea, I think to myself.

But it’s too late. My knuckles have already met the door. 

After a couple moments, Nick opens the door with a gaming headset pulled off his ear and a controller in his hand. It’s clear by the way his eyebrows drop that he was expecting anyone but me. The look is enough to make me back out of my own decision. 

“Oh, sorry to bother you, you’re obviously busy, nevermind!” I ramble quickly in a way I rarely do - but I rarely feel the way I do with him. Mid-turn to get back to my room he unexpectedly grasps my wrist, not hard but not soft either, enough to keep me in place. 

“What’s up?” He asks and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or genuinely curious. 

“Oh, um, well, you see,” 

Fucking get it together 

“I was going to ask if I could take you up on your offer? To help me unpack?” I already regret the words before they leave my mouth. “But if you’re busy it’s no big deal!!” 

“I, uh, yeah. Sure. Let me just finish this round and I’ll come help.” He begins pulling his headset back on before I can fully answer.

“Oh, yeah sure. Take your time!” 

He closes his door, and I dart to my room, immediately pacing the small amount of floor I have available.

Why did I fucking do that?

“You okay?” His voice speaks from the doorway where he’s propped up against. 

I nearly jump out of my skin, not expecting him there so soon. It makes me wonder if he had just quit his game instead of finishing it like he said. 

“Oh, yeah yeah.” I wave him off. “I always get nervous with moves.” 

It was a lie. With my job, I’ve had to get used to moving often, so it doesn’t phase me any more. But with the shake in my voice, I know it wasn’t a great sell. 

“Right.” He replies skeptically, pushing himself off the frame. “What did you need help with?”

“I need that box up there.” I point to the box above my head. “And that one.” I gesture to the one right beside it at the same height. “And that one.”

He chuckles at how the boxes seem like skyscrapers to me, “Okay sure.” 

He pulls each one down with ease. 

“Anything else?” He asks. 

I sink down to the floor behind one of the large boxes. “I’m just gonna start unpacking these, if you wanna help.” I shrug up at him. 

Nick looks over at another box, grabbing something before handing it out to me. “I think you might need this.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at the mistake, “Thank you.” I lift up and take the box cutter from him. 

I thought that would be the limit of his contribution but to my surprise, he sits down across from me. When I give him a confused look he simply jokes, “I’m really interested in what the fuck are in all these boxes.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep a grin from spreading across my lips. After our conversation at the music video shoot, this is the last thing I expected him to do. 

I’m still sat on the floor with half empty boxes while Nick acts as the fuel to the operation, putting things wherever I direct him. He slides a chunk of books into a bookshelf that was left behind. Books are always the first thing I like to unpack after the necessities. They're so personal and really give a space a real essence of you. I’m only unpacking my favorites to display for now since I don’t know how long my stay will be.

“You sure do have a lot of books about pirates?” He states quizzically, with an arched brow and a chuckle. 

“Oh,” I laugh, “Yeah, one of my clients really loves them for some reason.” I gesture to the books he just shelved. “I get one of those every Christmas. Those and a box of fancy cigars.”

His eyes look over the spines of the grandiose black leather books. “You’ve been with them a long time.” He observes each one, then looks over at me. “6 Christmases.” 

I blink up at him because there’s no way it’s been 6 years already. Logically, I knew I’ve accumulated a large stack of those books, but it isn’t until now that it clicks. “Wow. You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

“They’re lucky to have you.” He says, crouching down to get more books. “You’ve done so good for us so far, I can’t imagine what your main act gets.” 

The statement feels almost double edged, though it doesn’t seem that he intended it that way. It’s simple and meant to be flattering but it just settles a guilt in my bones. It sounds like he believes that Omens aren’t a priority, which isn’t true. 

“It’s not like that.” I scoff, handing him another set of non-pirate books.

“Oh sure, as if you don’t prioritize Harry Styles over us.” He shoots back playfully.

The Harry bit has gone so far that it makes me wonder if they truly believe it, it would be hilarious if they did. 

“You know I don’t manage him. Wish I did though.” I laugh, shaking my head. I grab another couple books and tug at my lip contemplating whether I should start some lighthearted competition. “You know… Noah guessed my ‘mystery client’.” 

A mischievous smirk blooms on my lips when Nick’s brows raise with an, “Oh did he now?” 

I nod, “Yep! Gonna have to step up your game I guess.” I shrug jokingly.

“Well, I’m either gonna have to go shake him down or,” He points to the room next door with the box cutter then looks at the mess around us. “Or I’m just gonna have to keep unpacking until I figure it out.” 

A giggle escapes me and a warmth blooms in my tummy. I hate that this is how my body reacts to him, but I quickly snuff it out. “I guess so.” 

As he continues to help me, the room overflows with laughter, and I can’t remember ever having fun unpacking. I try not to dwell on the way I feel when I look at him for too long. If I can just push aside the flutter in my chest when he crinkles his nose, or when he smiles wide and sparkles fill his eyes, or when he makes my name sound like music — if I can just move past all of that, then maybe living here won’t be so bad. Perhaps friendship with Nick wouldn’t be so difficult if it looks like this. 

The first week was awkward and uncomfortable and foreign, but the boys acclimated faster than I imagined - which, thinking about it now, made sense. They’d spent the better half of their lives being forced to live with random people for unforeseen periods of time. They just moved around me, and I moved around them, we all were on different schedules and busy doing other things better than paying attention to each other. Outside of rehearsals or meetings, I rarely saw them. The boys have an affinity for the nighttime while I’ve been operating on three different world clocks due to my other clients touring in different countries. 

I found that juggling three bands when I was barely managing two, was becoming quite taxing. I usually pride myself on my work ethic and multi-tasking skills, but it’s wearing on me in ways I’ve never experienced before. My sleep schedule is basically nonexistent, having to be awake for California, Europe, and Australia times simultaneously. I work between cat naps and run off of at least 4 cups of coffee daily. While work has been miserable, it’s definitely helped keep my mind distracted.

After a much-needed shower and a fresh set of button-down pajamas, I follow the smell of pizza downstairs. I find the boys gathered around the kitchen.

“Hey Val.” Folio smiles then falters, “You look fucking exhausted.” He shakes his head apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just - help yourself, there’s plenty. Noah can put away like three pies on his own.” He chuckles nervously, pushing past me to the living room. 

“Think of it as your belated welcome party.” Jolly says before taking a bite, leaning against the counter. 

“Thanks.” I smile but it doesn’t meet my eyes when I notice Nick remained silent and Noah’s absent.

Jolly nudges my shoulder as he walks out of the kitchen, “Noah’s picking out a movie for us, if you wanna join.” 

“Cool.” I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. As much as I’d love to protest wasting my time, all I need to do right now is sit and turn my brain off for an hour or two. 

“Can’t guarantee it’ll be any good if Noah’s picking.” He calls over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” Shouts Noah from the couch. 

The edges of my lips curl up slightly at the interaction but quickly fall. Even though it's been about a week, this is the first actual night of us all together. It’s only then that it settles in my bones the reality of the move.

I precariously pluck a slice from a half-eaten pie and plop it on a paper plate. “You uh,” I thumb over my shoulder. “Stayin’ for the movie?”

He pushes himself off the granite counter. “I was planning on it, yeah.” He peels another slice from the round and places it on his already full plate. He’s in a dark hoodie for a band I’ve never heard of with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, showing off all the beautiful ink on his arms. I try not to let my eyes linger too long on the way his fingers fold the slice in half. “You?” 

I steal a water bottle from the fridge and lean against the counter. “Yeah, if he picks a good movie.” I tease. 

He nods and makes his way out of the kitchen. 

I shake my head to wake myself up some more and meet the rest of them in the living room. My feet are the first to freeze when my eyes land on the screen. Noah chose the same indie horror movie that Nick and I had chosen the night he stayed in with me. How he managed to find and decide on the same random movie we did, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is the way my heart feels like it fell into my stomach. My hand grips the plate, and my eyes instinctively search for Nick. His gaze meets mine, the look in his eyes about matches my own before he hardens it. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on finding his place on the couch. 

When I finally make my way over, I find there’s only one seat left between Noah and Nicholas. I take a silent but deep inhale before squeezing between them. The close proximity to Nicholas sends a familiar, anxious thrill through me, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the moment. We’re friends now. Colleagues. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We’ve only ever been colleagues.

“Alright, everyone shut up.” Noah waves a lanky arm around with the remote clutched in his hand. “Movie time!” 

Folio reaches up and flips the lights off to cast an eerie darkness across the room, perfect for the mood of the movie. As the opening credits roll, my heart drops sharply and makes the idea of the pizza on my plate nauseating. The memory hits me like a wave, threatening to pull me under. I can see it so clearly in my head - us sharing two different kinds of chips, Doritos and Cheetos. I can hear the storm that raged that night, the one that kept him from leaving. I remember vividly the conversation we had about having that team-building party. I can hear him promising that the boys would come around. I blink quickly to keep tears from spilling down my cheeks. The last thing I need is to cry in front of them. 

Noah nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? You look a little pale.” He asks with a smirk, teasing me as if I was already scared fifteen minutes into the movie. In the corner of my eye, I can see Nick glance over at us, trying to disguise the fact he’s obviously eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, just... tired.” I half-lie, giving him a weak smile while keeping my eyes on the tv.

“Sure, scaredy cat.” He laughs, returning his focus to the screen.

The movie continues, and I’m transported back to that rainy night. I wasn’t nervous that entire night until we were sitting criss-crossed next to each other watching this specific scene before the first jumpscare. The flutter of nerves didn’t find home in my belly until we both jolted at the perfectly timed jumpscare and our knees ended up pressed together for the rest of the night. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine, the way we laughed and screamed at all the right moments. Sitting here now, with him so close yet so far, is torture. 

As the film progresses, I can’t help but notice Nicholas shifting slightly in his seat. His arm brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I hope no one else notices my reaction. It’s jumpy and juvenile, the way we both try our best not to have any part of our body touching for too long. 

Halfway through the movie, a particularly frightening scene makes everyone scream and laugh at each other’s fear. Nicholas turns to me, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, something that tells me he remembers too. But then he looks away, and the moment vanishes.

The rest of the movie is a blur. I’m too focused on the memories, the emotions, and the painful reality that the past is just that—the past. When the credits finally roll, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and everything is suffocating and tight. 

Folio reaches up from his seat in the recliner and flicks the light back on. “Jesus fucking christ, Noah.”

“What the fuck.” Echoes Jolly.

Noah grins widely, obviously proud of his peculiar choice. “You’re welcome.” 

“It was great.” I rush the words out and quickly push myself off the couch. “I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

A cackle erupts from Noah, “Musta scared the shit out of her.” 

As I speed to the front door, I hear someone smack him with a pillow and Nick’s voice telling him not to be an ass.

I nearly burst through the front door and find salvation in gripping the porch railing. For a moment I question if I might actually get ill. Never in my adult life have I ever felt such visceral agony over another human being, nonetheless a man. The cool night air brings a welcome relief and finally I feel like I can suck in a full breath.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the door open behind me and my heart races when Nick appears in my peripheral. Fuck. 

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice almost trembling.

He pulls something from his pocket, flipping the top open and holding out a box of Newports to me. “Want one?” 

I sigh, contemplating it even though I haven't touched a cigarette since college, but god do I need it now. “Thanks.” I pluck a cig from the box and place it between my lips. I cup the end from the wind while he flicks the lighter for me. The second it’s sizzling and lit I take a much-needed deep inhale, letting the nicotine fill every gap in my lungs giving me a split second of reprieve. 

I close my eyes as I exhale, hoping the smoke would take the pain that sits in my chest. For a moment, we stand there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The sounds of the night filled the quiet, frogs croaking and far off traffic from the city. 

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his warmth and the smoke of his cigarette. “I remember that night, you know.”

I pause, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

The ache in my chest is palpable, like it sits between each individual rib. I feel it in my bones, in my veins, in my fucking marrow. 

When I made the decision to distance myself, to hurt him, I thought it was the best decision for us all. I had no idea it would hurt this bad. It hardly seems like a good idea now. 

Every part of my body tenses up like a muscle throbbing in pain. My index and middle fingers involuntarily squish the cigarette, and my fists tighten. I have no reason to feel this way, I did this. 

“Val,” he says, his voice breaking through my turmoil. “We never really… talked.”

I bite my lip hard, the cigarette trembling between my fingers. “What’s there to talk about, Nick?” I can’t bear to look up at him. 

“Us, Vallie.” He says more sternly this time, turning to me fully. “You just shut me out. And I got upset so I walked away, but we didn’t talk about it.” 

Of course, the only man I fall for is the one that actually wants to talk about his feelings. 

“We made a choice, Nick.” I grind my teeth to ward off tears, keeping my gaze focused on a far off tree. 

He shakes his head, stepping even closer. “No, you made a choice. And I went along with it because I thought it was what you wanted. But standing here now like this… I can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake.”

I close my eyes and exhale. All I want to do is give in to him, tell him he’s right, that I did make a mistake. But my reasoning and logic remains the same. 

The words hang in the air, heavier than the smoke around us. I don’t dare look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Maybe I did. But we can’t. And I told you,” I pause, giving myself one final second to rethink my decision. “I’m seeing someone.”

He snuffs his cigarette out on the wood railing then grasps my shoulder harshly, turning my body to face him. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least do it to my face.”

I drop my own cigarette from the sudden action, and he quickly stomps it out for me. My eyes widen at his words and his shift in demeanor. I blink up at him and shake my head. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” He takes a step forward causing me to step backwards, closing me into the porch railing. His hand finds my jaw holding it firmly in place, analyzing me with furrowed brows. It runs an ice-cold shiver down my spine. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice.”

My chest rises and falls rapidly. “I am, seeing someone Nick. I’m happy.” I lie through my teeth even though it’s useless. 

“No, you’re not, Vallie.” His words are sharp and intentional. “Look at you.” He gestures over my body. “You’re shaking through a cigarette just because you’re standing next to me.” 

“God.” A tear slips down my cheek and I try to take a breath, but I feel even more suffocated than before. “Fuck, Nick.” I harshly push him away. I look between us and still for a moment before tears prickle my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t fucking do this.”

I rush past him, through the front door, and don’t stop running until I close my bedroom door behind me. I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. The weight of everything crashes down on me, and I bury my face in my hands.

“FUCK,” I scream, the sound muffled by my palms to not be heard by anyone else. The tears come hard and fast, my shoulders shaking with each sob. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. The pain is unbearable, and all I can do is cry.

Thankfully the boys had already gone to bed the night of me and Nick’s fight, so we didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions. I cried, got it out of my system, and isolated the emotions into a little folder I tucked into my heart, just as I did the last time. Although, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting more and more difficult. Two weeks later, I’m still avoiding Nick, but I don’t act like a scrambling mouse any time he enters the room. Tensions have calmed down and it’s impressive how much can be hidden behind a mask. 

Today, I’m tearing the kitchen apart looking for a measuring cup, how they’ve made it this far without a measuring cup, I have no idea. 

As I’m bent over into a lower cabinet, I spot Nicholas in my peripheral. Obviously, he’s the one I’d been avoiding the most but the feeling was mutual, us rarely interacting with each other after movie night. We barely spoke to each other during meetings and avoided each other around the house. 

“Looking for something?” He asks with a bit of condescension in his tone. 

The comment immediately irritates me as I’d been hungrily searching for this goddamn utensil for the past half hour and all I fucking want are pancakes on my day off. I bite my tongue in order to not snap at him and back out of the cabinet, standing up. “Would you happen to know where a girl could find a goddamn measuring cup around here?” My irritated tone greatly outweighed Nick’s more subtle one.

His brows raised, shocked that I’d even speak that way, nonetheless to him. His brows didn’t stay up though, they fell rather quickly into thick, straight lines. The way his face turned cold so quickly made me shiver with a fear crawling up my back. “I know you’re not speaking to me that way in my own house.” 

Immediately, I want to rival it but try my best to stifle it down. However, the feeling was too strong. “I know you aren’t talking to me like that, period.” Crossing my arms over my chest and raising a brow at him. 

He steps towards me, “With work? Sure, I can play nice. Outside of work? I can talk to you however I want.” 

My brows furrow at his sudden hostility. Even though we’d been avoiding each other, things have been calm and professional. He’s never spoken to me like this before and while I’m used to dealing with intimidating industry men on my own, the darkness in his tone has my heart thumping in fear. For the sake of my self-respect, I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” 

“Or what?” He provokes, stepping even closer to me. “You work for us, remember? You’re nothing more than a glorified assistant.” 

My jaw practically drops to the floor and red-hot anger rushes through my veins. I hear the smack first, ringing through the kitchen before I feel the static-y stinging in my palm. I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth while I watch him quickly reach for his reddening cheek. I instinctively want to apologize but, he deserved it. 

When his eyes return to mine, they’re the darkest gray I’ve ever seen them and the fearful thumping in my chest returns. He steps forward, backing me into the corner of the cabinets and the air in my lungs vacates when I look up to find his eyes burning holes in my body. My eyes widen at the sudden, unexpected action. “Nick.” I tremble out in the space between us. 

“You think you can just move in and run shit.” He taunts, his voice low and gravelly. “Haven’t even been in the house a month and you’re already acting up.” 

The fight or flight response in my body begs me to cry, to apologize and shove him away but the burning lava in my bloodstream demands otherwise. I clench my jaw matching the intensity of his stare. “I’m an adult Nicholas, I can do whatever the fuck I want in the home I pay to live in.” 

His hands land on the granite countertop at each side of my hips. “You have one hell of a fucking attitude today.”

The energy shifts into something slightly less aggressive and more sensual. As much as it should disgust me after all the shit he just pulled, it has my thighs pressing together. 

I cock my head at him, and in a tone that borders on innocent, I challenge him, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

His hand goes to touch my hip but stops short, stopping himself. We both know the lie I told him, but it seems like he might’ve actually believed it afterall. He lowered to just below my ear. “If I could, I’d make sure the only thing coming out of that bratty little mouth of yours are those pretty noises you make.” He whispers, his voice low and raspy.

His words went straight to my core, filling it with rampant buzzing. The war in my head waged between keeping up with my plan versus just giving into him like I always seem to do. However, it seemed as though the wetness pooling between my legs was winning.

I must’ve taken too long for him, long enough to crack his resolve just a bit. He pressed his forehead against mine, forcing my focus up to him. The look in his eyes had switched to something softer than before, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a hint of sadness in his crystal grey eyes. “Can I touch you?” He asks barely above a whisper and when I don’t answer immediately, he begs again. “I need to touch you, Val.” His voice carried what sounded like a deep desperation, and it all yanked at my heart - but guilt was a beast for a different time. 

Truth is, that I feel the same desperation as he does. I nod quickly against him, “Touch me.” I cave into him, like I always do. “Touch me, touch me, touch me.” I repeat softly before his lips clash into mine and his hands finally meet my hips, immediately pulling me onto the counter. As soon as the coolness of the granite meets my thighs, my eyes round at the realization that we’re in the kitchen. I pull away before he has a chance to deepen the kiss, “The others.” I breathe out urgently with wide eyes down at him.

He shakes his head quickly, “They’re out of the city for the day.” 

It could’ve been a bold face lie, but that’s all the reassurance I need to proceed on our poor decision. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip and I oblige faster than I’d like to admit. Our tongues find each other and begin to entwine themselves. He grasps my hips and pulls me to the edge of the counter to press himself against me. I can’t help but let out a tiny moan into his mouth at the feeling of his covered erection pressing into my clothed center. 

His hands trail up my sides to cup my cheeks before parting from me, “You feel what you do to me?” Soft but needy pants through parted lips fall on my own.

My heaving chest and my pathetic excuse for a nod was enough for him to rejoin our lips. I wrap my arms around his neck tugging him even closer. Our tongues fight for dominance but he’s winning, and his thumbs dig into my hip bones in an almost painful way, as if he’s scared I’ll vanish from his grasp. 

My fingers find their way into his hair that’s wrapped up in a loose bun and dig my nails into the roots, letting out a small sigh against his lips. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee in the best way.

I pull away for a moment and let my focus move from his lips back up to his eyes. My hands glide over the waistband of his jeans, dipping two fingers behind the zipper and pulling it towards my body. “I thought you had a lesson to teach me?”

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he processes my words. His fingers snap to my thighs, digging harshly into the flesh before spreading them apart as far as they’d allow. Warmth tinted my cheeks at the action, feeling exposed. I’m still clothed but now it’s just the thin fabric of my panties keeping the most intimate part of me covered. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before, but it still feels vulnerable. 

“Tell me, what lesson do you think you need to learn?” He asks me while his fingertips urge my lower back to move further to the edge of the counter. 

“Hmm,” I feign thinking hard about the answer. “I think that you think it should be my mouth, but I don’t think that.”

“Oh, no?” He questions, “Is there anything you do that makes you think you deserve a lesson?”

“Nope.” I reply with cheery innocence. 

“That’s interesting, because you’re massively overdue for one.” He tugs my legs so close to him it almost pulls me off the counter. 

He leans down and presses a kiss just below my ear, then trails it down my neck. My heart beats so fast against my ribcage I fear it could burst. 

While his hands roam and grope anywhere they land, he’s buried in my neck sucking marks into it. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, mumbling against my skin and makes my heart rate skip a beat or two. 

I tilt my head back and scrunch my eyes closed. We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, nonetheless, saying these sorts of things to each other, but it seems neither of us care enough to remember why. 

I tangle my fingers in his hair, giving it a gentle tug and nudging my head against his. “I’ve missed you too, Nicky.” 

He pauses the same way I did but this time he moves back up to rejoin our lips. 

There’s a couple words that linger in the back of my throat - words I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him. Words that I’m not sure make sense for us or if they’re just the chemicals rushing through me. But I want to say them, and I’m scared that if I go to say anything at all they might tumble out. 

His hands find and tug at my shirt which I quickly pull away and discard it across the room. I take the opportunity to do the same with him. I catch the hem of his shirt, and he stills. I realize in the two times we’ve slept together, I’ve never seen him shirtless. That combined with the way he hesitated when I went to pull it off makes me think he might be uncomfortable. “May I?” 

He hesitates but nods and lets me be the one to pull it off him. He’s tattooed all over his chest just as he is on his arms, and it makes me want to go exploring all over his body. Our lips reunite and our tongues reconnect before I get a chance to compliment his appearance. I work quickly at undoing his jeans while he struggles to pull down my skirt.

Finally, bare to each other, he pulls me taut against him to make sure I can feel just how much he’s missed me. He nestles his thick shaft between my folds, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that part of him too. I let a small whine slip into our kiss at the feeling of him throbbing against my clit. 

He disconnects from me only to press his forehead against mine, “I need to be inside you.” There’s a greater feeling behind his claim, more akin to ‘I need to be as close to you as possible’.

“I need you, please.” I reply, sounding more desperate than I would’ve liked. 

Now, not my brightest moment, letting him push his way inside me without more prep when I haven’t had him in so long. The stretch his girth brings is a delicious but brutal burn. He takes mercy on me by taking it slow and I feel every thick inch of him until he bottoms out, nuzzling the tip of his cock into my cervix.

“Fuck.” I breathe out, resting my head back on the cabinet. 

While it’s painful, it feels just like puzzle pieces reuniting, like he was made for me. He fills me completely, leaving no empty space.

He only stays stagnant for a short bit of time before he begins rutting into me. I remember how good he feels once adjusted to him. His head is tucked into the other side of my neck, littering it with more marks. He lets small grunts and groans tumble into my neck as he drills into me. With every thrust, his cock hits the bundle of nerves deep within my core and makes my skin burn. “God, you take me so fucking good.” He mutters beneath my ear and it makes me grip onto him tighter.

He detaches from my neck and unexpectedly places both hands on my cheeks, directing my gaze onto him. His hips slow but don’t halt as he forces me to focus on his stormy eyes. 

“Tell me it was a lie.” He demands, with a slight melancholic undertone.

I tilt my head a bit at the request, unsure of what he was referring to or why he’s bringing it up now. “What?”

“I know you lied to me, tell me it was a lie.” He pleads again, with more desperation this time. “Tell me there was no one else.” 

As I take a moment to process, he returns to his spot on my throat, pulling the skin of my neck between his teeth and one hand finding my swollen clit, rolling circles into it. My eyes widen at the feeling of both sensations at the same time, rapidly accelerating the proximity of my high. 

“Tell me you lied to me.” He repeats in a mumble beneath my ear. “Tell me there’s no one else. I need to hear it.”

My mind swirls between his words and the pleasure he’s giving me. It’s like some twisted tactic, that if he gets me so overwhelmed, I’d be forced to tell the truth - and it’s working. 

“I-“ I begin, going to ask how he ‘knows’ but I know I’m a terrible liar, especially to him. My peak rushes to where his fingertips meet my bundle of nerves and all I can think about is him. “I lied, Nick, I lied.” My fingernails dig into his back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting an ache wash through my chest.

I feel him smile against my skin and his speed picks up, ramming into my sweet spot over and over while working figure-8’s into my clit. 

“There’s only you.” I add, because I have nothing left to lose with the truth being out. “There’s only ever been you.”

He groans at the words and the way my walls involuntarily pulse around him. “Fuck.“ He grunts against my neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fuck, I’m close. Cum with me?” 

I nod quickly as I’m on the precipice of my own high as well and ready to reach it with him. 

His thumb speeds up with the rolls of his hips pushing me over the edge. “Fuck I’m gonna, fuck,” Buzzing euphoria washes over me and blinds my vision as the coil in my belly snaps. It spreads burning heat across my body and only intensifies when I feel his cock twitch, spilling his hot release into the deepest part of me.

Our chests rise and fall quickly in time with each other and his breath brushes past my shoulder in short bursts. It feels so good to be so full of him.

Unexpectedly, he pulls back only to hold my face and pull me in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweet and soft and full of an emotion we haven’t spoken. Our tongues dance together but it’s slow and tender, the sort of kiss that bonds you and makes you feel safe. 

Once he detaches from me, his forehead presses into mine once more, meeting my eyes with his silver ones, this time having a faint blue hue. His thumbs brush along my cheekbones and his eyes dart across my face, “I don’t want to stop doing this, Vallie.” He whispers and it twists a knife in my chest.

I don’t want to stop either, I want to say. 

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Nick, we-”

“I know.” He says sadly, but with a slightly hopeful pitch. “The guys are coming around, nobody has to know but us five. I can wait, Val.” His voice pleads. “I can wait, I can wait until you’re ready, until we can. There’s something here, I know you feel it too, I can feel it. I just can’t do this anymore, it’s torture being around you.” His words accelerate as he speaks. “It takes everything in me not to touch you. I can’t be around you, let alone live with you and pretend that I don’t love you.” His eyes widen a bit at what he just blurted out. 

My own eyes round wide at him and my heart feels so full it could pop. “You… what?”

He closes his eyes, “I know that I shouldn’t.” His voice strained before meeting my gaze again. “But I do.” 

I blink up at him as he confirms the same words that have been swirling on the tip of my tongue. My hands slide down to hold his face. “I love you too, Nicholas.” I whisper in the space between us. 

“You do?” He asks, almost surprised though I can’t tell if it’s because I said it or because I mean it, maybe both.

“Yes. I love you, I love you,” My hands pull him closer as I repeat the words like a prayer; now that I’ve said them, I can’t stop. “I love you, I love you,” Before I can get to the fifth ‘I love you’ he wraps my legs around his hips and lifts me off the counter with him still inside me. He carries me into the living room and before I can question anything, we reach his intended destination. 

He lays me down on the couch - the same couch we got high on and ate Jolly Ranchers and ice cream. The couch where we first experienced each other’s bodies. It's not the couch where our love began but it is where it bloomed. 

Our lips rejoin immediately, getting swept up in our newly confessed love. I felt him hardening inside me again before we even left the kitchen. My arms wrap around his neck and my legs close in around his hips, trying to get him as close as possible.  

His hips begin to rut into me, gliding easily with his previous release still inside. It begins tender and slow but as with anything with Nick, it heats up quickly. He uses one hand to hook behind my knee pulling my hips up and closer to him and I let out a gasp at the new, deeper angle. His lips find my neck again, placing needy but tender open mouth kisses there. “I need you to feel how much I love you.”

My nails dig into his back at his words, “Fuck.” I moan out as his tip hits my g-spot directly in rapid succession with no reprieve. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says softly against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” It was like once we gave in and admitted to our feelings, it amplified the sex tenfold.

My head feels like it’s spinning when I nod in agreeance, desperately, “You fill me up so good, baby.” I let the name slip in the cloud of pleasure.

“Fuck, call me that again.” He nearly growls and lands one hard thrust flush against my hips.

It made my heart swell, thankful that he liked it, then had my walls pulsing around him in the realization that he really liked it.

“I love your fucking cock, baby.” I repeat the petname.

“Yeah?” He smirks, against my skin, “You like the way I stretch you out, angel?”

I flutter my eyes closed, feeling so complete in our surrender to one another, like this was how we were meant to be with each other from the beginning. It’s overwhelming how all of our suppressed words and feelings were all crashing into us at once. We broke open the floodgates and we were drowning in each other.

“God yes.” I dig my nails deeper into his flesh, feeling the daunting size of him trying to split me in two.

“Fuck, you take me so fucking good.” He mumbles in a low voice, and I feel myself clench as much as I can around his girth like I need to keep him there forever. He groans at the feeling, “Oh, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” His hand frantically finds my clit again, beginning tight circles into it.

My breath hitches in my throat and my eyes widen, that being the only thing I needed to send me into my second orgasm. He’s not far behind with hard, staggered thrusts chasing his own high.

Our climaxes arrive rapidly with the passionate expression of our love. For the second time that day, we hit our peaks together in unison, letting the confessions of our love fill the room. 

He practically falls and melts into me as our chests heave in time with each other. After a bit his eyes look down at me, still hazy with lust, now mixed with love. “It’s not enough.” He says hastily.

My brows furrow at his words, lifting myself up to my elbows as he slowly makes his way down my body. “What do you mean?”

He lands at my hips, spreading my legs apart. “I said that I need you to feel how much I love you. Fucking you with my cock isn’t enough.”

Before I can protest or inquire, his head is dipped between my thighs and his tongue is latched to my already-overstimulated clit.

“Oh, no, no, no.” My hand flies into his hair as I shake my head quickly. “No, Nick, I can’t – oh – not again,” I hiss at his blatant disregard and try to squirm away. “Fuck – It’s too much.”

He groans against me and his hand grip onto my hips stiffly, keeping me locked in place. “Stay fucking still.” He growls the demand without pulling his mouth away, every word sending a vibration through my body.

Every move of his tongue is intentional in a specific pattern, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was actually spelling out ‘I love you’. Regardless of that being factual or not, it doesn’t matter because it feels like he was writing loveletters with his tongue.

Every flick and swirl, sends a jolt through my entire being. My movements beneath his mouth can only be described as thrashing as my center is flooded with stimulation it wasn’t ready to receive again. It’s heavenly but almost painful at the same time. “Slower, please.” I beg but it’s futile; once Nick’s determined on something, its hard to convince him otherwise.

I tug at the roots of his hair and wriggle as much as I can with him keeping me in place. I’d felt my high creeping up, but I didn’t expect it to crash into me out of nowhere. It hits me all at once, my hips buck into him and my grip on his hair must be painful, but he doesn’t falter, not for a second. Silent screams ghost my throat as pleasure rips through me, violently. His tongue continues to roll at the perfect speed in all the right patterns, dragging out my high into the longest one I’ve ever had.

He finally tapers off of me and looks up at me through my parted legs. “I could do that all fucking day.”

I deflate into the cushions with a sigh, my ears still ringing from the overwhelming pleasure that just possessed my entire being. He kisses up my body, reaching up and planting a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth. “Was that too much?” He questions in a whisper.

I shake my head lazily, out of breath. “Perfect.” Is all I can get out.

The edge of his lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it would be.” And places a prideful kiss to my shoulder.

Once cleaned up, we laid on the couch together with me cuddled into his side and my head on his chest. The silence around us is both comforting and nerve wracking. The air is thick with fragility, like if one of us moves or speaks our bubble will burst. 

As we lie there, the quiet moments stretch out, and I can feel his heartbeat steady under my ear. It’s a rhythm that grounds me, making everything else fade away. His fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. There’s a comforting sense of relief in surrendering completely to each other, finally. I’m not sure what this all means for us, but it feels good to finally admit it outloud. 

We stay like that for the rest of the night, enveloped in a bubble of shared intimacy. The outside world, with all its complications and uncertainties, feels distant and unimportant. Right now, we are just two people who have found comfort in each other’s arms. The complex reality and fragile hope for what might come next hangs in the air, but for now, they don’t need to be addressed. The uncertainty still lingers, but it’s softened by the honesty we’ve shared today. Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges and questions, but in this moment, I allow myself to simply be with him, wholly. All that matters is the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft whisper of our breaths mingling in the quiet room. It’s enough to simply be together, a luxury we’ve denied ourselves of for so long—to find solace in the closeness and love that has always been there, begging to be acknowledged from the beginning.

Taglist; @ladyveronikawrites @persuasivus @kingdomof-omens @strawberryruffilo @the-hell-i-overcame @cncohshit @dominuslunae @thebadchic @to-be-written @myownthoughts12 @measuredingold [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N; The love for this story is something I never expected and I am truly grateful for it. Sorry that this took so long or if it's not up to par. I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions 👀 Thank you SO much for reading 💗