#this needs another chapter to tie in the loose ends

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 15

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual language and SMUT VERY FILTHY STRAP TOO OKAY BEWARNED Wordcount: 6,6K A/C: yeah so... we're back. this is so filthy. ALSO I DIDN'T PROOFREAD THIS. i love y'all go enjoy this you freaks

-

Before London

“Are you sure it’s okay I come?” I ask, smoothing over the all black dress, the satin feeling smooth underneath my fingertips. I watch in the reflection of the mirror as Paige fixes her loose curls over my shoulder. “Did you even ask Stewie?”

“Baby you’re my girlfriend. It’s fine,” she replies absentmindedly, lifting the white collar of her shirt to place the black tie around it. Girlfriend. The term still gave me goosebumps all over. That’s who I was. Paige Bueckers’ girlfriend. I had promised myself I wouldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend for a long time. But in the three weeks I had agreed to be one I had found it not to be as scary as my memory had tried to convince me. Nothing had changed really, we were still us. Still had to keep it a secret.

“Does she know?” I ask, pinning the loose strands of my bun down. Paige chews on her bottom lip, trying to do her tie, long fingers fumbling with it.

“Yeah, she said she’s gonna bring Marta,” the blonde says, having to undo her tie. “Don’t worry, she won’t say nothin’.”

“If you say so,” I sigh, cringing as I watch Paige struggle. “Oh dear heavens, let me.”

I turn and slap the girl’s hands off the tie. I could do it in seconds, but my hands linger as I tie it up for her, taking my time feeling the burn of her blue eyes on my skin. Paige’s hand wraps around my waist, sliding down to feel my ass through the fabric.

“We don’t gotta go tho, if you don’t wanna,” she murmurs in that voice that’s trying to convince me I want something I had never even thought of. Good thing I was smarter than her. 

“Paige,” I warn, acting strict as if it didn’t please me how badly she wanted me. Holding the end of the tie, I slide my other hand up the knot, tightening it enough around her neck.

“Fine,” she groans, heavy lidded eyes staring down at me. “We wearing silver tonight?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I murmur, folding the collar of the white button up down. We had begun a habit of wearing the same colour jewelry, gold some days, silver on others. It made us feel connected, even when we had to pretend to be worlds apart with the Wings. 

I finally meet Paige’s blue eyes, a jolt running through me seeing the hunger which she stared at me with. The blonde grins that lopsided smile that charmed the nation. “You look sexy,” she murmurs, slapping my ass.

A wide smile forms on my plump lips, green eyes flickering between her eyes and lips. Just one kiss might lead to something more, as it so often did with me and her. But my body was dying for it. My one vice. Yanking the red tie, I pull the blonde in, closing the distance between our lips. 

Our lips slide against one another in a sloppy exchange, the hunger amping up quickly. I keep tight hold of the tie, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige, thrilled by control I took and the pressure around her throat groans, exhaling heavily out of her nose.

“We need to go,” I murmur breathlessly. Paige nods but neither of us do anything to stop.

“I’m serious,” I mumble as the girl begins to kiss down my neck, nose inhaling my perfume as much as it could. 

“Yea, yea me too,” she whispers, both her hands kneading my ass. “Just gimmie four minutes mama.”

Considering her offer, I tilt my head to the side letting Paige’s wonderful, soft lips kiss against it tenderly igniting a burn between my thighs. Maybe four minutes wouldn’t be so bad? No, it always led to more. Four minutes always turned into forever with her

“No,” I giggle, pushing the girl off. “Let me put my heels on. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Paige stops me by my shoulders that were sparkling from the body highlighter I’d used. “I got you sumn.”

With that, the girl digs through her suitcase until she finds a large wrapped box, handing it over with both her hands. I grab it, gleaming. I had quickly figured out that Paige’s love language was definitely gift giving, her bringing me souvenirs from all sorts of places whenever she travelled alone, delivering me flowers and getting me jewelry for no other reason than “just because”.

“Open it.”

At her words I carefully unwrap the corners, neatly pulling the wrapper off. A box is revealed, a white text decorating the top spelling out Christian Louboutin Paris. My mouth drops, when I see the inside - the classic black heel with a bright red bottom. My heart stutters as I sit down on the end of the bed in awe, staring at the pair of shoes in my hands. She got me Louboutins. That’s not a three-weeks-in gift. No, that’s something more. It didn’t scare me like it might have a month ago. I knew if there was something Paige loved it was spoiling her loved ones.

“Oh darling,” I gasp, watching the blonde kneel in front of me and grab the shoes.

“May I?”

Nodding my flushed face, I watch Paige’s big hands wrap around the arch of my foot and slip the heel on, repeating it with each one. The blonde lifts my leg by my ankle, kissing it gently before placing it back down.

“Perfect fit,” she hums, satisfied. “You like em?”

“I love them Paige,” I gasp, standing back up with my girlfriend's help. “Thank you so much.”

She looks me up and down, shaking her head disbelief. “Can’t believe that’s all mine,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

-

“Oh she’s the exact same! Socks. Everywhere!”

I laugh, sipping on my red wine and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! It can not be that difficult to take the socks and put them into the laundry basket!”

“They’re not even clean! Smelly and sweaty socks! Horrible!” Marta agrees, waving her glass around animatedly as she speaks.

“Yo, they’re not smelly!” Paige interrupts, shaking her head. “‘S not even that bad. Y’all are sock-shaming me.”

“I wouldn’t be sock-shaming you if they weren’t all over my beautiful living room,” I scoff.

“See, I got this one to stop and now I have toys all over my beautiful living room,” Marta chuckles, toying with the glass of wine between her fingertips. “You just have to train them well.”

“Ohhh,” I giggle. “So I have to train you,” I tell Paige, feeling her hand squeezing my thigh through the satin.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows, that familiar, stupid, charming grin on her face. “That’s kinda freaky.”

I narrow my eyes at her, fighting a smile. I knew that look. “Paige Madison!” I gasp. The grin falls off her face, an embarrassed redness spreading along her cheeks. Marta and Stewie both laugh. The night had been fun, conversation flowing easy between us and the couple. Me and Marta had obviously bonded quickly over our European backgrounds, finding humor in the habits of our American girls, such as their horrible table manners.

The restaurant was dimly lit, gentle jazz playing softly in the background. It was very fancy, definitely something Marta had picked out. The soft flame of the candle illuminates Paige’s tan skin in a warm light, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She looked so effortlessly beautiful. I don’t think I had ever been so attracted to a person. Never in my past relationships I had looked at someone and physically felt butterflies - but whenever I looked at Paige I felt them fluttering away in my stomach. Every damn time.

“Forgive me,” Paige pleads, clutching at her chest dramatically.

“For a kiss,” I smile, already imagining how I’ll be pulling that tie later. Just not here. Not yet.

The blonde looks around, shaking her head subtly. “There’s a girl that been looking at me. I think she might know me.”

Exhaling, I look around too to indeed find a brown haired girl at a table, whispering around with her friends and staring at my girlfriend. A twitch of possessiveness grows inside me, wanting me to kiss her and claim her here and then. But I knew better, so I turn back to my salmon and eat it quietly.

“You still keeping it under wraps then?” Stewie asks, following the exchange closely.

“We don’t have a choice,” I respond. “Not unless I’m willing to lose my job. And if I lose my job I lose my visa, so.”

“What?” The older woman leans back, staring at me with furrowed eyes, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders. “Lose your job?”

“My boss doesn’t allow it, anyone dating the players.”

Marta scoffs. “Is that even allowed?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “Does it matter? She could just fire me for any reason and find a person to take over my position. I know how disposable I am.”

“No you’re not. Linda loves you,” Paige answers. “I think we should just tell her.”

This again. Frustration builds in my gut, making me clench my jaw. This was a very common conversation between me and the blonde. She simply didn’t understand the stakes - because it wasn’t she who would lose her job, it would be me. If this got out she’d still have her jersey, her sponsorships, her fame. Me? I’d lose everything.

“Definitely do not tell her if she’s said that,” Stewie disagrees. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Paige mumbles.

“Wait so you’re here on a work visa, no? What are you doing after the season?” Marta asks me, raising her brows. I exhale heavily, I had been trying not to think about it.

“Go home I guess, try to find a job here or get my position back for next season. It’s still a little uh… undecided.”

Paige clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her seat. I could tell she didn’t want to think about it any more than I did.

“Damn, that sucks,” Stewie mumbles, putting down her fork. “If you need help looking I know some people, I can ask around.”

“Or you could just get married,” Marta jokes, looking through her purse.

Stewie’s gesture warms my heart. Truthfully, I had been trying to look for other jobs - no one wanted to hire the British girl and pay for the visa just to get a worker they could easily find in the States. But I am also far too proud to ever accept a favour like that, not unless I have something to offer in return.

“Oh shit,” Marta mumbles, scrolling on her phone. “Honey, we have to go. The sitter has a fever.”

��No way,” Stewie sighs, quickly downing the last bit of her wine. “We better get the check,” she mumbles, eyes flickering around for a waiter.

“Nahhh, you go. I got it,” Paige waves them off easily. Something about the confidence and practiced ease of the gesture forced me to squeeze my thighs together underneath the table. “Go home.”

“You sure?” Breanna asks, standing up and throwing her black denim jacket on. Paige nods assertively, while giving a shrill look to a man walking by, clearly checking me out. I feel her body press tighter against mine, like she wanted everyone to know she owned me.

“I think you have to go to that event alone tomorrow hun, I’ll have to stay with the kids,” Marta mumbles, fixing her hair absentmindedly.

“I guess so,” Stewie sighs, disappointed. Paige beside me gives me a look that I can’t read.

“We can babysit.”

Snapping my head, I turn to the blonde. “We can?”

“Why not?” She shrugs, “I’m great with kids. Trust.”

Of course she was. She was practically just another child herself.

“No, we couldn’t ask.” Stewie refuses. “Those two are a handful.”

I chuckle, nodding towards the blonde. “So is this one,” I joke, getting an offended scoff in response. “We would love to help. Really.”

Breanna and Marta eye each other for a moment, clearly having some sort of nonverbal discussion amongst themselves. It takes everything in me not to lean against Paige’s broad shoulder, I couldn’t wait to get home. Not for any lustful reason, genuinely what I craved most in the outside world was the gentle touches, the heavenly kisses or merely the way she brushed against me whenever I was near. 

“Are you sure about this?” Marta asks, my eyes snapping from my girlfriend to the woman.

“Definitely,” Paige responds with a sureness that would convince anyone. I couldn’t help but admire the way she showed up for those who needed her without needing anything in return. It wasn’t just me, it was family, friends, community. She was always there. Maybe she wasn’t the best with words or communicating. Because she didn’t communicate through words but actions. Maybe that would make it all worth suffering over scattered socks.

-

New York City is warm on the July evening, but the slight breeze makes me carefully place my jacket over Izara’s shoulders as we wait for our car to arrive. The dark haired girl smiles bashfully but grabs hold of the fabric. The leather swallowed her, cocooning Izzie with warmth. The loose strands of her bun flow in the air, covering some of her face. I can’t help but reach over and brush them behind her ear - I couldn’t bear not to see her eyes. Those sharp, knowing, challenging eyes I had grown to look for everywhere I went.

“Thank you,” she hums, fluttering her long lashes at me. I nearly groan from how bad I want to kiss her, to taste her lips tinted red with wine. My insides twist at the sound of her smooth but low voice, a warmth like no other spreading over me.

“Do you remember that first time we shared a car months ago?” Izzie asks, the corners of her mouth lifted upwards.

“Yeah,” I grin, looking to the ground thinking about how I had probably never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life. “You were intimidating as hell.”

“I could tell you were scared of me,” she laughs, looking around the busy street for the car. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

I shake my head, laughing too at the memory of how I’d acted a fool. “Nah, I was just so attracted to you like, the minute I saw you.”

“Me too,” she admits, green eyes twinkling at me under the street lamps.

“Forreal?” I ask surprised. If this was true she hadn’t let it show. Or I had been too blind to notice.

“Yes Paige, forreal.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her use of the word, affection overwhelming me. “Look at you using my lingo.”

Izara rolls her eyes, pushing me away by my face. “Do not think for a second you’ll Americanize me.”

“You’re so cute just wanna eat you up,” I laugh easily, wrapping my hands around her waist from behind. 

“Is that a promise?” She teases, swaying us back and forth.

“Always ma,” I lean over to say into her ear, fighting every cell in me to start kissing her. “I like you so bad, y’know that?” The words didn’t seem sufficient to really express how I felt, all of them too vapid to describe the stirring inside me. “So bad it makes me stupid.”

Izzie laughs, nodding knowingly. “I like you too baby,” she hums. “So much.”

Just then, our car finally pulls up, stopping right in front of us. I thank God for rewarding my patience, opening the door and slipping in after my beautiful girl who I liked, no adored, more than anything. That word doesn’t feel right either, too lackluster, too void of what I was feeling. I’m sure I’d find the right word someday.

-

“Okay so snacks are in the fridge. Feel free to eat anything you’d like. And I’lll have my ringer up if you need to call, oh also don’t worry about cleaning up-”

“Marta, baby,” Breanna chuckles, taking her wife’s hand. “I think they got it.”

“I promise, we’ll be okay,” Izzie smiles. “Go have fun, I’ll have my phone on me.”

Marta sighs, looking at us two before going up to the kids who are sitting on the couch, both watching Bluey. 

“Mommy’s gonna be back soon okay? Be good to Paige and Zari. I love you,” she mumbles to each of them, kissing their foreheads before returning to the door. “Okay okay okay, we need to go now.”

“I’ll carry you out if I have to,” Stewie jokes, helping Marta put her coat on. “Alright, bye now. See you in a couple hours.”

“Bye y’all, have fun,” I wave, closing the door behind the couple. Carefully, I turn to Ruby and Theo expecting at the very least a few cries. But the pair sit happily on the couch, too invested in the cartoon.

“Hey my loves,” Izzie smiles to the two of them, crouching on the couch in front of the kids. “I got you some surprises.”

This catches Ruby’s attention, her eyes flickering to Izara’s bag as she digs through it and pulls out a few pots of playdough we had picked up this morning. 

“Have you ever played with this?” She asks, waving the pots around. But Ruby ignores her.

“Why do you talk like that?” She asks, clearly confused. I burst into laughter, Izara trying to hide her amusement to not offend the little girl.

“Ohh, see, I have an accent,” she explains kindly. “I’m from England. It’s in Europe.”

“Did you fly here?” Ruby questions, scooting to the edge of the couch closer to Iz.

“I sure did,” she smiles. “On a plane.”

“I flied on the sky with a big plane,” the little girl explains.

“Wow, really?” Izzie asks enthusiastically. “Did you like it?”

The little girl thinks for a while. “I was scawed. Theo cried too much.”

Iz laughs, scooting closer to her carefully. “Aw, maybe he was nervous.”

“It was loud. I covered my ears. Like this,” Ruby demonstrates, covering her ears with her little hands. Me and Izara laugh at the girl, her hair in sweet little pigtails. “What’s that?” Her tiny hand points to the yellow pots in Izzie’s hands.

“Oh, this is playdough. Have you ever played with it before?”

“What’s playdoh?”

“Well how about we go to the table and look at it? Would you like to come with me?” Carefully, Izzie holds out her hand for the young girl. She goes back and forth, until in a moment of bravery, she grabs Izara’s finger, and begins to wobble over to the kitchen. I watch the two of them, my heart fluttering at the sight.

“Theooo, cmere bro,” I coo at the younger boy who smiles at me easily, holding up his little arms and letting me carry him over to the kitchen table where Izzie and Ruby are already molding the playdough.

“I make a tiara and put it on my head,” Ruby gleams, beginning to place the playdough all over her hair.

“Oh goodness,” Iz stops her just before disaster strikes, grabbing the dough from her hands. “How about we keep the playdough on the table, and make crowns out of something else?”

Ruby sighs dramatically - until her eyes light up. “Wait!” she gasps, taking off running. Her little feet quickly jog back with two plastic tiaras in her hands. “Now I’m a princess!” She giggles, placing one of them in her head. “You too!”

“For me?” Izzie smiles, taking the crown from the girl. Somehow the plastic tiara gently laid on her black hair makes her sparkle in a way I had never seen before.

“Yes! You’re a princess too!”

“Hey!” I gasp, letting Theo squeeze and mold the dough while sitting on my knee. “I’m not a princess?”

“Hmm,” Ruby thinks, eyeing me up and down. “You can be a cowboy. Or a dog.”

“Woof woof!” Theo cheers, clapping his hands together and getting the dough all over the floor.

Izzie laughs gently, molding a heart out of the red playdough and handing it to me. I almost melt. So I can’t help it when I grab a hold of her soft hand, kissing it gently.

“Are you two married?” Ruby asks without missing a beat. Me and my Izara chuckle, my skin turning hot.

“She wishes,” Iz teases, kicking me underneath the table. “We’re not. But we’re girlfriends.”

“Okay and do you have a baby?” The little girl continues. A redness spreads over Izara’s cheeks as I wiggle my brows at her. I don’t need to say anything. She knows exactly what’s on my mind.

“We don’t,” Iz says, her green eyes moving to the little girl, gasping when she finally realised Ruby had combined all the colours into one brown pile despite her long discussion with the little girl.

“Ruby, what are you doing?” She asks, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I make a rainbow!”

I scoff lightheartedly. “That’s not a rainbow, it’s brown.”

The little girl tilts her head, looking at the brown pile before beginning to laugh hysterically. “It’s a poop rainbow!”

Theo erupts into giggles, banging his hands on the table.

-

“You regretting it yet my love?” I chuckle, watching Paige wiping sweat off her forehead after taking turns spinning the two kids up in the air. Mind you, this had been going on for the past 20 minutes.

“Again, again!” Theo cheers, pulling on the blonde’s sweatpants. 

“God help me,” Paige mumbles to me and herself, pulling her white t-shirt off over her head, leaving the girl in a black sports bra, sweat dripping down her veiny arms.

“More Paigey!” Ruby whines, jumping up and down.

“Okay my loves, I think Paigey needs a little break,” I say gently, handing Theo a toy dinosaur to redirect his energy. The little boy sits down, happily roaring to himself as he plays. But I can see the quiver in Ruby’s lower lip as disappointment takes over.

“Moreeee,” she sniffles and then erupts into tears, beginning to cry loudly.

Paige’s eyes widen in a panic. “I can go one more ti-”

But I stop her, shaking my head. Paige can’t just bend to the girl’s will because of some tears.

Getting down on Ruby’s level, I grab her tiny hands into mine, establishing eye contact.

“Ruby, hey Ruby, look at me,” I coo, my thumbs brushing against the soft skin. “You’re feeling really disappointed huh?”

The little girl nods, cheeks red and filled with tears. “Really wanted to spin,” she says in a shaky voice.

“I know darling,” I say empathetically. “You know what always helps me when I’m sad? Taking some deep breaths. Would you want to do some with me?”

Ruby nods sadly, beginning to follow my breathing pattern - inhaling through your nose, exhaling through your mouth. We do that until she stops tearing up, Paige’s ocean blue eyes eyeing us carefully.

“Would you like a hug Ruby?” I carefully ask. The little girl immediately wraps her short arms around me, squeezing tight. I can’t help but smile, holding her tight and lifting my eyes to find Paige staring, her eyes soft and gentle as she watches me take care of the girl.

“I got an idea Ruby,” she says, crouching down beside. “You wanna build a fort?”

“Wow! That’d be great huh?” I ask the girl who finally lets go of me, nodding excitedly. “I’ll go make a snack while you do that.”

In the kitchen I begin to cut slices out of apples behind the corner, listening to the muffled laughter and joy erupting from the living room. A wide smile spreads onto my face as I bite into an apple slice, butterflies filling my stomach at the sound of Paige playing with the children. In this moment I could burst with the affection I felt for her. There was something about seeing her with kids, the way she made them giggle effortlessly, the way her strong arms held them, protected them, took care of them. Something about it had me going weak in the knees.

I jump slightly, feeling a hand wrap around my waist from behind, the scent of sandalwood cocooning me. 

“You’re amazing, y’know that?” Paige murmurs into my ear, her hot breath causing shivers to run up and down my spine. “You’re so good with em.”

I chuckle softly, letting out a shaky breath when the blonde’s soft lips brush against the crook of my neck. “You’re everything,” I reply, my voice turning vulnerable. 

Paige’s strong hands spin me around by my waist, now eye to eye with her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares - like she’s trying to comprehend something. My breath hitches, chest tightening under her gaze. She looks at me with her pupils blown. chest rising and falling a little too fast, like her heart couldn’t keep quiet, soft cheeks flushed red. I wasn’t sure why or what it meant.

“Fuck I like you so much,” she murmurs, making me blush. I knew exactly how she felt. I felt it too, or at least I thought I did.

“PAIGEYY!” A loud scream erupts from the living room, followed by the tapping of little feet. “Hurry up! I wanna play Frozen and be Elsa in my fort!”

The little girl peaks around the corner, Paige instinctively taking a step back to create space between us.

“You can be Sven!” Ruby says, waving around a pair of toy reindeer antlers.

-

There’s a soreness pulsing through all my muscles when I kick off my shoes, placing them neatly in the corner of the hotel room and walking in. Paige follows behind me, her hoodie coming up and showcasing her lower stomach as she stretches her arms.

“I’m so beat,” she murmurs. I nod, beginning to undress eagerly to get into my favourite pyjamas - Paige’s shirt. I pull off my top and shorts, and I'm left to dig through the suitcase in my satin lingerie. Suddenly I feel the blonde’s hands on me, unbuckling my bra for me from behind, releasing my breasts from its hold as it falls off me.

“Paige,” I scold lightheartedly, but she doesn’t speak, her fingers slide around me and brush against my nipples making them grow hard. With a shaky exhale, I lean my head back against her shoulder, my hands holding the white button down I slept in while she kneads my breasts, perfectly fitting into the palms of her large hands. Those perfect fucking hands.

“Want you mama,” she whispers into my ear, kissing along it. I moan gently, giggling a little.

“I need to- ah- wash my face first darling,” I mumble. “Keep it in your pants just a little bit longer.”

Paige groans but let’s go, rubbing her jaw in frustration. “Just be quick.”

I hurry into the bathroom, my meticulous skincare routine impossible to make quick despite my girlfriend’s wishes. Finally, after 20 minutes or so I walk out to the low rumbling of Paige’s snores, finding her laid on her back in just a sports bra and boxers, arm thrown over her face. That’s mine.

I merely watch for a moment, taking her in, taking the day in. A warm feeling overwhelms me, and the urge to curl up next to the blonde grows bigger than ever before. Everybody wanted her, yet she was all mine, worshipping the ground I walked on. Little did she know I felt the exact same.

Tiptoeing around the room, I turn off the lights, crawling into bed beside her, covering both of us in the white cotton of the duvet. Before I fall asleep, I lean into her neck, smelling the sandalwood one more time before my eyelids grow too heavy to keep admiring her.

-

It can’t be more than ten in the morning when I feel wet, sloppy kisses being placed into the back of my neck, fingers pushing my hair to the side. I stir, still half asleep, nuzzling my face into the pillow as I lie on my stomach. A gentle touch running down my spine slowly, goosebumps spreading everywhere. 

Another kiss, now on my shoulder as fingers reach under me to undo the two buttons I had been sensible to do last night. I stir again, my body subconsciously helping by allowing the white button up to be pulled off my body, leaving me in a light pink satin thong.

“Mmh,” I hum against the cotton, bringing my hand to rub the sleepiness off my eyes when there’s a gentle shush in my ear.

“Go back to sleep ma,” Paige coos. Another wet kiss on my ear this time, sending jolts to my core. “Just wanna eat your pussy.”

Oh. Suddenly I feel more awake, and even eager, my legs spreading without me even noticing. Paige does though, grinning proudly as she kisses between my shoulderblades, wet, hot, messy kisses leaving a glistening trail down my spine. My eyes maintain closed, my brain still partly asleep but my body’s alert, my back curving my ass into the air when Paige’s lips go lower and lower.

The weight of the blonde on the mattress shifts as she sits up to admire me, both her hands gently grabbing my ass and kneading, seeing the way my light pink thong covering my cunt is peeking out between my thighs, teasing her. I feel the air hitting my core as she grabs my ass more harshly, my back arching involuntarily joined by a desperate whine. How quickly I’d gone from being asleep to dying to have her.

“I know mama, I know,” she murmurs lovingly, fingertips stroking up and down my thighs, spreading them apart just slightly. “I’ma take care of you. Gonna make it all better.”

Her words comfort me only a little, but they don’t fix the aching, dripping sensation between my thighs. Finally, Paige’s fingertips dip underneath the band of my thongs as she pulls them down my thighs with a gasp.

“Damn you’re so wet,” she hisses, slowly spreading my legs the slightest bit. “You dream of me or sumn?”

I’m too dazed and gone to answer, my only response to lift my ass off the mattress enough to give Paige a good view.

“Relax,” she whispers and finally I feel her warm tongue lick along my slit, flat against my dripping pussy once, twice, three times.

“Oh,” I gasp, my fists gripping the white sheets underneath me. Paige moans at the taste of me, pulling back to fill her lungs with air before diving fully in.

Suddenly it’s like she’s everywhere, moving slow but with precise movements, making me feel her all over.

“Baby,” I whimper as Paige’s hands spread my lips apart, burying her face deep enough into my cunt so I feel her nose pressing inside me. “Shit.”

She’s moaning harder than I am, eyes rolled back as she pulls back to spit into my folds, just to dive right back in and slurp all of it up.

“Shit’s so wet huh?” Paige mumbles against my clit, sending vibrations everywhere. My eyes begin to water, the pillow muffling my moans.

Needing more, I prop myself up onto my knees so my ass is in the air. Easier access. Paige groans, pulling back to admire my wet, pulsing pussy - one of her favourite things to do. I swear sometimes she just lied between my legs looking at me.

“Fucking shit,” she cusses, spreading me apart to see the gushes of wetness dripping out of me with every throb, quickly bringing her tongue back to my cunt as to not waste a drop. 

“Paige,” I whimper, legs trembling with need. I needed to cum. Bad. “Don’t stop.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replies without hesitation. Suddenly she’s back at it, her tongue swirling in my folds, circling my clit until she begins to lap me up the way only she knew how.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” I gasp. Paige nods against my pussy, the sounds of her slurping me up filthy. “Make me feel so good.”

“Shit…” Paige mumbles, “tell me again, please.”

“You make- ah shit, make me feel so good baby,” I moan, the throbbing becoming harder and harder to as I got closer.

She moans at my words, they only egg her on. It’s like she’s everywhere, gripping my thighs, slurping me up, taking my clit into her mouth and sucking on it gently. I can’t help it anymore.

“Baby I- I’m- I’m gonna-“ I gasp, my moaning turning uncontrollable as she eats me. A simple nod is enough to have me rolling off the edge, grasping the sheets and gasping for air as I cum.

The blonde praises me through it, her words a distant comfort as waves of ecstasy wash over me, my wetness covering her entire face.

Weakly, I roll onto my back. My chest heaves and my eyes remain closed, but Paige crawls up from between my legs and begins to kiss me. Tenderly, lovingly, with so much emotion it surprises me.

The taste of me is all over her face as my mouth wrap around her bottom lip, pulling on it gently. She grins in response, stroking my sides and arms to bring me down.

“Iz?” She asks. Her voice is uncharacteristically shaky and nervous which alerts me enough to open my eyes.

“Yes my darling?”

She meets my gaze with her blue eyes filled with lust. 

“I bought it, thought we could try… y’know.”

Oh I immediately know. I gulp. The strap had been left untouched waiting for the right moment. Maybe this was it?

Paige, too nervous to wait for me to speak, begins to kiss my neck, her breathing irregular and ragged.

“I just wanna feel you,” she murmurs, trailing downwards with wet kisses. She sucks on my collarbone, surely leaving a red mark. “Please.”

Paige’s big hands come to my full breasts, kneading gently. My hands finds its way into her hair, guiding her mouth to my nipple in a moment of desperation.

“Ahh,” I moan softly, Paige’s soft lips sucking my nipple and breast, making my back arch in response. I swear something about her mouth on my tits had me almost cumming sometimes.

“Please, just wanna be inside you ma,” she whimpers. Looking down I see her eyes watering as she her eyes roll into her head, so desperate and hungry I nearly had her in tears. “Please mommy.”

I gasp at her words, an immediate jolt rushing back to my core, still throbbing and sensitive. Paige keeps sucking on my nipples, her tongue circling them. I don’t think she realised what she said.

“Okay, okay baby.”

-

What I hadn’t considered was how wild just seeing the strap on Paige would have me, the silicone resting on her with her veiny hand stroking it like it was an extension of her. It might as well have been, the color matching Paige’s skin tone perfectly.

“Fuck,” she’s already panting as she climbs into the bed, eyes locked on her hand wrapped around the length.

My breathing is shaky too, a nearly painful feeling of emptiness inside me making me whiny.

“Baby,” I whisper to get the blonde’s attention.

“Yeah?”

When her blue eyes meet mine, I finally spread my legs apart, watching her gaze trail down to my core.

“Shit, okay, yeah,” Paige mumbles flustered, settling herself between my legs. She’s trembling, a bead of sweat dripping down her neck. 

I gasp, feeling the silicone press gently against my slit. Paige gasps too, eyes locked onto where our bodies met as she taps the strap against my clit. I moan, brows furrowed. Fuck this. I couldn’t wait any more. The emptiness was too painful.

I reach down, taking charge and grabbing the silicone, guiding it against my folds until it’s glistening with wetness. Paige’s jaw falls slack, her eyes growing even heavier than before. Even more so when I finally guide the tip to my entrance, my leg wrapping around her waist to slip its length inside me.

“Oh sh-“ I gasp, immediately throwing my head back when I feel the intrusion. She’s big, of course she is, enough to make my legs tremble as I get overwhelmed.

“Holy fuck,” Paige hisses, watching closely as her strap - no her dick - stretches me open. “Izzie.”

“P-Paige,” I cry out.

“I’m here baby,” she whimpers, bringing her thumb to my lips and brushing it against mine as I adjust to her.

“S-So big,” I murmur, hissing as Paige slowly pushes deeper inside.

“Ah, fuck,” she cusses. “But you take it so well baby, take my dick so well.”

I moan at her words. “Baby, please.”

Nodding, mouth ajar, Paige begins to roll her hips, the strap slipping in and out of me. The stretch borders on overwhelming, a gasp spilling from my lips every time she thrusts her hips into mine.

“Fuck, look at that,” Paige hisses, eyes flickering between my chest, bouncing as she fucks me, and where her strap is digging into me, my pussy gushing and stretching around it. “Goddamn.”

She begins to go faster, my hands reaching up for her shoulders and pulling her down. We meet in a breathy kiss, both taking turns to moan into each other’s mouths. The sound of skin slapping fills the hotel room, my pussy loud as hell around her length.

“Baby, fuck,” I moan louder than before, and Paige takes it as a sign to reach down and rub sloppy circles on my clit. As she does, a gush of wetness bursts out of me, covering her thighs and dampening the sheets.

“Oh sh- Does my dick feel good? Deep inside that pussy?

I nod, my eyes rolling back. “Feel so good. I love your dick.”

“Shit,” she cusses. “W-want me to cum inside you?”

I nod again, in a complete haze, too drunk off her to think. “Please, need you to. Want you to put a baby in me.”

Paige’s head lulls back and forth, a loud moan leaving her lips. “Don’t worry, I’ma put a baby in you. Gonna get you pregnant.”

“Let me give you a baby,” I moan back. She’s pounding into me now, and as I open my eyes I find her eyes rolling back, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Holy- Shit, baby, I’ma put a baby in you. Take me so well. So deep in you- shit, in your guts.”

She’s rambling, the way she did whenever she got close. Wait? She’s close? Without being touched?

It only gets me wetter, my nails digging into her skin and leaving red marks all over. 

“Are you close?” I ask in a shock, moaning as she thrusts into me hard. Our noses nuzzle against each other with each pump, her lips hovering over mine as we whimper into each other’s mouths.

“C-can’t help it, swear I can feel it,” she mumbles. “Swear I can feel this pussy, ma, so fucking wet and tight. Sh- she’s so perfect.”

“Paige, baby,” I cry out, looking at her scrunched up face as the knot in my abdomen tightens and tightens. “Baby, I’m close.”

“M-me too, lemme cum inside you, please, feel so good, I love you, I’ma cum,” Paige rambles, but I barely hear her, as my pussy grips around her dick, the knot finally snapping as she slams her hips into mine, cumming with me. Curses as moans fill the room as the thrusts turn sloppy and slower, both of us riding out our highs. But I only hear one thing. Paige’s voice saying I love you, ringing in my ears painfully.'

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers@potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @paigebaby5

[tacoguacamole]

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 2

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark, Kook's a jerk and mean for the earlier chapters]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Chapter Word Count: 8k+]

[Tag List: @iamstilljk | @captainchrisstan | @kokoandkookie | @rexana19]

[Chapter Summary: Some days feel like beginnings, even when they come too late. A glance, a question, a flicker of something you almost forgot to hope for — it stirs quietly beneath the routine. But even the softest shifts carry weight, and as night falls, you're left wondering if it's the start of healing… or the calm before the break.]

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

The morning light fills the room, warm and steady, like a soft blanket over everything. A familiar, rich smell drifts through the air — savory and comforting. For a moment, it feels like you're still dreaming.

Then you turn your head and see him.

Jeongguk sits beside you, back resting against the headboard, a food tray balanced on his lap. Makguksu and Samgyeopsal — the dinner you spent hours preparing the night before — now half-eaten as he absently twirls the noodles around his chopsticks, eyes glued to the flickering screen where Iron Man 3 plays.

For a long second, you just stare. You don't move. Don’t speak. Simply watched, heart clenching painfully at the sight of him – relaxed, at ease, eating something you made, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It shouldn’t feel like a miracle, but it does. You can’t even remember the last time Jeongguk touched a meal you cooked.

 “Uhm...morning?”

Jeongguk flinches slightly, startled, and looks at you with wide eyes. “Is it too loud?” his voice a little rough. “I was going to watch in the living room, but… it was too hot down there.” There’s a brief flash of panic on his face.

The sight tugs at something deep in you, almost painful. “It’s fine,” you murmur, voice rough with sleep. “Was about to get up anyway.”

You sit up, grabbing the robe hanging by the bedpost and pulling it over yourself. The fabric slides over the old, worn T-shirt you slept in — one of Jeongguk’s from his college photography club days, when his dreams were still caught behind the lens of a second-hand camera.

You wonder if he even remembers it. Wonder if he’d find it pathetic that you still wear it — clinging to pieces of him when everything else feels so far away. You wonder too much these days.

You tie the robe loosely, pretending you don't notice his gaze flicker toward you for the briefest second — before snapping back to the TV.

Silence stretches between you, the kind you've gotten used to.

Until Jeongguk speaks. “Any plans for tonight?”

The question throws you off. The last time he asked about your day, about anything that wasn’t transactional — groceries, bills, errands — you can’t even remember.

His words hang in the air, strange and unfamiliar.

Still, you answer. Because even now — especially now — you crave any scrap of normalcy he offers.

“Dinner with the Tuans,” you say, keeping your voice light. “Their flight's landing late from Paris, but they want to meet right away to discuss the deal we closed.”

Jeongguk nods slowly, still focused on his tray. “What time will that end?”

“Maybe 10? 11? Depends how much they want to go over.”

There’s a pause, filled only by the muffled explosions from the movie.

Then he speaks again, softer this time. “Can we meet after? Maybe grab a midnight snack... or coffee? Anything, really.”

It hits you harder than it should — how careful he sounds. As if he’s asking permission to step into your life. The sting comes fast and sharp. But you push it down. You push everything down. Because above the sadness, above the aching cracks in your chest — something small and stubborn flickers back to life.

Hope.

Maybe... maybe he remembered. Maybe this was his way of making up for last night. For all the nights he had forgotten.

You swallow down the emotion clogging your throat. “Sure.” You try not to let your smile show too much, try not to look pathetic in your own happiness. “I can meet you after or—"

“No.” He cuts you off gently, setting his chopsticks down. “I’ll come to you. Just text me the address.”

You nod, feeling a little breathless, hands trembling slightly as you fidget with the belt of your robe. Without another word, you slip off the bed and head toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

A small, giddy sound escapes your lips — half-sob, half-laugh — and you press your hand to your mouth to stifle it. Tears prick at your eyes, but this time they don’t burn the way they usually do.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever...

You smile. A real, honest-to-God smile.

Jeongguk’s day moves painfully slow, wearing down his patience bit by bit. He’s checked off plenty from his planner — finished reports in the first hour, helped train interns even if the seniors were around to do that job, gave notes on concept proposals, approved shoot locations, updated campaign boards that aren’t due till the next season — but the time on his laptop still feels like a joke. 4:00 PM. Only.

A loud knock breaks the silence.

"Come in.”

His secretary walks in, arms full of contracts. Normally, Jeongguk would toss them in a tray and forget about them for a week or two. Today, he forces himself to focus. Reads carefully before signing through each page, like paying extra attention might help calm his busy mind. Minutes later, he pushes the signed stack back across the desk.

"Gunning for Employee of the Year?" Taehyung jokes lightly. "Nominations don’t even open till November, you know."

Usually, Jeongguk would bite back with some sarcastic remark. Not today. His temper is already hanging by a thread.

"Don’t start with me," the words were harsher than intended.

Taehyung raises a brow but doesn’t argue. Has long grown used to Jeongguk’s moods — especially the bitter ones.

Their friendship was built not just on the grind of corporate life, but also on the pauses in between — the after-hours confessions, the tiredness that had settled into Jeongguk over the years.

Taehyung knows the truth, the ugly, heavy parts Jeongguk never says out loud.

How the man he respects stays late not for ambition, but to avoid the coldness of home. How Jeongguk puts on the mask of a devoted husband at office parties because their CEO pushes "family values" — only to curse quietly later, slumped in the passenger seat of his car.

How coming home feels more like serving a sentence than seeking comfort.

Taehyung remembers when it was different. The endless searches for anniversary ideas. The worried questions about how to keep the love alive after years of being together.

He remembers how Jeongguk's voice had cracked when he passed along the message no friend ever wants to deliver, "She's in the hospital. She's fighting for her life. You need to go — now."

Photoshoots. Endless meetings. The paperwork that buried his silent phone back then.

The guilt was a chain Jeongguk never managed to slip free from.

So when Taehyung hears the clipped anger in his friend’s voice now, he already knows.

Another fight. Another scar added to the ones that never healed.

Still, he asks gently, "Another one?"

Jeongguk doesn't answer immediately. Just drops his gaze to the edge of the desk, fingers tapping a restless, erratic rhythm.

When he finally speaks, it’s quieter. Different. "I'm taking her out tonight.”

The words hang in the air, almost fragile. Taehyung blinks, caught off guard. That... wasn’t what he expected. A glimmer of something — hope, maybe — rises inside him. Maybe the cracks weren’t permanent. Maybe there was still something worth saving.

Taehyung tries to sound casual. Cracks a joke to ease the mood. "About time. You’ve missed enough anniversaries already."

But Jeongguk doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile.

Instead, he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a folder Taehyung had almost forgotten about. A folder that had been shoved away, gathering dust, no matter how many times Taehyung hinted that it was better to just get it over with. Inside, the papers wait — sharp-edged, cold to the touch, heavy with everything unsaid.

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he watches Jeongguk lay them flat on the table. He knows what they are. Remembers setting the appointments with Namjoon. Hearing Jeongguk’s hollow voice tell the lawyer what he wanted. What he couldn’t bear to want but felt trapped into choosing anyway.

"I'm telling her tonight," he says, barely a whisper. Almost like a plea, like he's sealing his own fate.

A year had already slipped by since then.

Taehyung knew Jeongguk hadn’t even hesitated to sign once the documents were handed over. His name written neatly beside the empty space meant for yours. That blank space had remained untouched, day after day, a cruel reminder that while Jeongguk had made peace with ending things, you still hadn’t — or maybe, couldn’t.

There had been countless nights spent practicing speeches, rehearsing apologies and explanations that never seemed enough. Taehyung had listened through them all — Jeongguk pacing across the office floor, torn between desperation and guilt, clinging to the hope that if he just found the right words, maybe it would hurt you a little less.

But Taehyung knew — they both knew — that was a lie.

Just meeting with the lawyer had already hurt you more than Jeongguk was willing to admit.

“Gguk…” Taehyung’s voice fades, the words he wants to offer catching painfully in his throat.

But Jeongguk cuts him off before he can even try.

“It’s killing me, Hyung,” he breathes out. “Do you know what it’s like? Sharing a bed just so she won’t notice the distance? Pretending everything’s fine so I don’t have to come up another lie? Keeping my clothes mixed with hers in the closet, so she doesn’t ask why I smell different every time I come home?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. Can’t. Knows exactly what Jeongguk means. Knows the weight of the betrayal he’s been helping to bury.

He’s seen Jiwoo. Met her by accident once, but that was enough. Even now, every time he arranged a date or made a call under Jeongguk’s name, guilt twisted his gut into knots.

He still remembers the way your face lit up when you surprised Jeongguk at the office, eager for a lunch together. How your smile faded when you found his office empty. Taehyung remembers the lies that stumbled from his mouth — meetings, emergencies, schedule mix-ups — while he knew full well that Jeongguk was miles away, entangled with someone else in ways that had nothing to do with work.

But he never stopped it.

Because for the first time in years, he saw life return to Jeongguk’s dull eyes, at least that’s what he saw— a spark that hadn’t existed since the day everything fell apart. Since the day the small bundle of sunshine Jeongguk and his wife created had been taken away before her first breath even settled in this world.

Taehyung had made his choice. He closed his eyes to the damage Jeongguk was causing.

He let it happen. Told himself it was better than watching his friend rot from the inside out — pouring cheap whiskey down his throat at dingy bars, sleeping under his desk after too many bottles, slurring desperate voicemails at two in the morning.

Better this, he thought. Better a living sinner than a breathing corpse.

Taehyung voices out his hesitancy. “If you had just told the truth from the start, Gguk... you wouldn’t be stuck in lies now. You wouldn’t have to sneak Jiwoo around to places halfway across Seoul, just to avoid being seen. You wouldn’t be hurting both of them.”

Jeongguk’s fists tighten against the edge of his desk. The pressure builds inside him, snapping loose as his voice cuts through the air.

“I know, Hyung! I fucking know!” The tears barely held back. “I never wanted this. Never meant to hurt her. She wasn’t just my wife—she was my best friend. Seventeen years, Hyung. Seventeen fucking years together. I know her smile. Know her pain. I know every goddamn tear she tries to hide. And worst of all, I know I’m the reason for most of them.”

Taehyung swallows hard, feeling the weight of the truth neither of them can escape. “You’ve already hurt her, Gguk. No matter what you choose now... she’s going to be hurt.”

Jeongguk drops heavily into his chair, the fight bleeding out of him. His gaze turns distant, like he’s looking somewhere far beyond the four walls of his office.

“She made Makguksu last night,” he murmurs. “Samgyeopsal too. It wasn’t burnt. You know how she always overcooks the meat. But not last night. It was perfect.”

A bitter smile flickers across his lips, the memory cutting deeper than any silence ever could.

“You ate them?” Taehyung asks quietly, almost not wanting to know the answer.

“For the last time,” Jeongguk mutters, brushing off the heaviness in his friend's gaze with a dry, forced chuckle. He doesn’t tell Taehyung the truth — that each bite had tasted like guilt. That the food, prepared with so much care, had been harder to swallow than he let on.

Instead, his mind drifts to this morning. The way you quickly grabbed the robe to cover the old grey shirt you wore — his shirt, from a forgotten college club, frayed at the edges and stained with bleach. Jeongguk had seen it before you could hide it, the fabric loose on your body.

It wasn’t the first time.

There had been countless nights he came home late, the house quiet except for your soft breathing. He’d find you curled in bed, wrapped in his clothes like armor. That old Linkin Park sweatshirt, the one he wore during his teenage emo phase, worn thin but somehow still clinging to you for warmth.

Jeongguk always noticed. Always.

But he never said anything. Never pointed it out. Never asked why you chose to wear things that once belonged to a version of him that no longer existed.

Because recognizing it would give you hope, that those small gestures he noticed still meant something.

When it didn’t.

Not anymore.

“Jeongguk—” Taehyung starts, unsure if his friend even wants comfort.

But Jeongguk lets out a short, bitter chuckle, cutting him off.

“Why does she even bother?” His voice is sharp, edged with something close to resentment. “Why does she still celebrate our anniversary—her birthday—after everything? It’s like she wants to keep getting hurt.” His jaw clenches, fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. “I make sure to come home after it’s all done—after the candles are out, after she’s given up waiting—so she won’t have to be reminded. When will she get it, Hyung? When will she understand that I’m never going to be there for those days again?”

Taehyung exhales, running a hand through his hair. He could bite his tongue, hold back the truth Jeongguk refuses to face, but what would be the point?

“Because she still loves you.” The words land like a direct blow, knocking the air from Jeongguk’s lungs. “If those moments didn’t mean anything to her, she wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t spend hours making your favorite food. Wouldn’t set the table for two. Wouldn’t keep waiting.” Jeongguk swallows, throat tight. “She still sees you as the man who once thought she meant the world to him.”

Each syllable sinks into him like a slow, merciless blade, tearing open wounds he’s tried so hard to ignore.

For years, he’s dodged the truth—buried it beneath guilt. Beneath resentment. Beneath another woman’s touch. But now, it rises to the surface, raw and inescapable.

He sees you.

The memory of your smile, bright and effortless, the way your whole body shook with joy when he proposed. He sees you walking toward him in that breathtaking white dress, his heart pounding so wildly in his chest that he thought it might burst. He sees the way he once loved you—with everything, with all of him.

Those memories—once the light of his life—have become shadows he’s spent years running from.

And now, there’s nowhere left to run.

His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again. “It’s time to let her go, isn’t it?”

The answer has been obvious for a long time, but saying it aloud makes it feel final.

With a heavy heart, Taehyung nods. “It has been. For a long time.”

Finishing dinner with your business partner had never felt more relieving. Normally, you would drag out a meeting, obsessing over every last detail. As a perfectionist, you were known to discuss a deal twenty times over, then triple-check your notes on your iPad to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

But tonight, you couldn't stop glancing at your phone. Couldn't stop the way your heart leapt when Jeongguk finally texted back “On my way” when you told him your meeting was almost done.

A shared location pinged a moment later, showing he was close. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was actually going to meet you. A small, excited hope stirred in your chest, fragile but real.

You tried to hide it, but Mark Tuan noticed anyway. He always did. Years of working together had made him an expert at reading you, and teasing you had long been his favorite pastime whenever business wasn't occupying the conversation.

"Congrats! You just set the Guinness World Record for fastest eater in South Korea!" Mark teased, leaning back with an easy grin.

"Sorry! I didn’t mean to rush," you said, feeling a little sheepish as you tucked your iPad away. "Tonight’s kind of a big deal."

Mark smiled, looking clearly amused. "And here I thought Seora getting a spot at Paris Fashion Week two years in a row would be the highlight."

“It is! Showcasing our collection again at one of the top fashion events in the world? That's huge!" You paused, fumbling for the right words. "It’s just—"

"Just messing with you. Honestly, we should’ve just saved this dinner for tomorrow’s meeting with legal. Mom and Dad aren’t even here. But you know how they are—one topic at a time, just to dodge—"

"Excuses like, ‘I was too overwhelmed with the information; it slipped my mind,’" you finished for him, laughing as the two of you shared a knowing look.

After all these years of working with the Tuans, you knew them almost too well. Even before the partnership was official, you had already immersed yourself in every detail of their business operations.

You learned that Mrs. Tuan liked to organize her designs carefully, sorting collections by season in separate binders instead of keeping them in one portfolio. Mr. Tuan, on the other hand, expected his financial reports on time at the end of every quarter — grace periods were, to him, a sign of weakness.

And then there was Mark Tuan.

Unlike his parents, Mark preferred a work environment that was laid-back but still precise. A strict nine-to-five man, he focused on completing daily tasks efficiently, leaving anything unfinished for the next morning — as long as nothing slipped past the contract deadlines.

Despite the age difference, you and Mark had clicked right away. As two young entrepreneurs, you shared the same drive for innovation and the same determination not to settle for safe or ordinary. While you were intense and detail-oriented, he balanced you with a calm, grounded energy that made brainstorming new ideas feel like an endless conversation about the future you both wanted to build.

Working with him felt easy. Safe. Comforting in a way very few things were anymore.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Need a ride to your next stop?” Mark offered, casually tossing his keys in his hand as you both made your way toward the restaurant entrance.

You smiled, grateful but firm. “Thanks, but he’s meeting me here.”

“He?” Mark’s brows lifted, the word slipping out before he could stop himself, a little too eager, a little too sharp.

“Jeongguk.”

“Ah, the husband.” Mark’s laugh was light, but his smile didn’t quite match it. He reached for the door and held it open for you, his voice easy but slightly forced. “Always been the lucky guy.”

You paused for a second, sensing something beneath the surface, but chose to brush it off. Mark had always been playful, and tonight was probably no different.

“Have a great time,” he added, slipping his free hand into his pocket. “Don’t keep him waiting too long. Wouldn’t want to make a guy jealous.”

Just as he’s about to head for his car, Mark suddenly turns back. “Oh, before I forget—I got something for you.”

Confused, you watch him pull a small velvet box from his coat pocket. “Happy Birthday. I’m late, but better late than never, right?”

Curious, you lift the lid and find a delicate, white diamond pendant shaped like the Eiffel Tower, hanging from a fine silver chain.

Getting little surprises from Mark wasn’t anything new. You still used the custom iPad case he gave you last year, your name pressed neatly in one corner. You slept better these days, thanks to the memory foam pillow he had dropped off after you complained once about backaches at the office. Even now, your favorite pen—engraved with your initials—sat tucked in your work tote, a result of him deciding that bougie was the only way to go.

Mark had always been thoughtful like that. A little extra sometimes, but always thoughtful.

Still, this felt different. More personal. More... intimate.

Your fingers hesitated over the necklace. This time, it didn’t feel like a casual office gift. Jewelry like this wasn’t meant for business partners—it was something you gave to someone that meant more.

You glanced up at him, a slight panic bubbling in your chest. “Mark...”

He immediately caught the shift in your expression and waved it off with a laugh. “Relax! It’s not a big deal. Didn’t cost me anything. One of our clients gave a few out for promotion. Figured you’d like it — you know, since the Eiffel Tower is basically all you obsess over whenever we visit.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, feeling a little ridiculous for even hesitating. Of course. It was just business. Like always.

“Next time, start with that,” you said, shaking your head. “I almost thought—”

“What?” he teased, cocking his head with that familiar mischievous grin.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, laughing despite yourself.

The tension lifted, light and easy again. “Want me to put it on?” he offered casually, holding up the necklace.

You smiled and turned around, gathering your hair up without a second thought. You felt the soft brush of his fingers as he clasped the pendant around your neck.

The diamond caught the light when you faced him again, and for a second, Mark just looked at you, something unreadable flickering across his face. But then he was back to his usual self, giving you a mock salute.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Of course. Thanks again, partner. Drive safe.”

You watched him head to his car, the new pendant resting lightly against your skin, feeling nothing but grateful to have a friend like him in your life.

Alone now, you check Jeongguk’s message again. His location pin glows on your screen — parked somewhere nearby. Relief flutters in your chest.

He’s close. Any second now.

But the minutes drag on. Five. Ten. Thirty. The pin stays stubbornly still, unmoving in the dark.

Around you, the world shifts. The line that once buzzed with chatter has emptied out, replaced by new faces wrapped in jackets and scarves. The cold, damp air slips past your two coats as if you wore nothing at all. It's the kind of chill that bites at your bones, making you wonder if winter is already on its way.

You rub your hands together, hoping to warm them, but the ache that suddenly stirs in your joints isn't from the cold anymore. It’s something else.

Something deeper. Older.

You know this pain. It grows from within, heavy and bitter. It wraps around your chest, seeps into your fingertips, making even breathing feel fragile.

You try to steady yourself, counting slow inhales, slow exhales, the way the doctors taught you. You tell yourself it’s just exhaustion. Just hunger. Just the day wearing you down.

But even as you lie to yourself, your body knows better.

The weight in your head grows unbearable. The world tilts slightly, and panic surges up your throat. You glance around desperately for a seat, a place to land, but the small bench near the entrance is already full — laughter and conversation blurring around you.

With no other choice, you lower yourself onto the edge of the pavement, not caring about your clothes, not caring about the stares.

Your hands barely catch your fall. The pavement's roughness scrapes your skin, but it’s a distant thing — muffled, almost gentle compared to the roar building in your chest.

You close your eyes. Tell yourself it’ll pass. It always does. It has to.

But this time, the darkness rises faster than you can fight.

Jeongguk should feel at peace.

It’s been three days — three days of coming home to an empty house. Three days without seeing the coffee pot you always left ready for him, even though he never used it anymore. Three days without the packed lunches you still made, even when he stopped taking them. He should feel free. He doesn’t have to wash off the scent of someone else’s perfume anymore after spending the day with Jiwoo.

But no matter how much he tries, he can’t feel happy.

His mind keeps going back to three nights ago.

He remembers sitting in his car outside the restaurant, watching you with your business partner. He saw how Mark stood close to you, how he laughed with you, how he reached out and fastened a necklace around your neck.

Jeongguk tries brushing the thought away. Tells himself it’s no big deal. But somehow, the image still sticks. Shows up when he least expects it. Tugs at the edge of his mind.

Simple work tasks now take forever. Emails sit unanswered in his inbox. Feedback on important campaigns, which he usually gives quickly, is delayed. His desk is buried under a growing pile of work he keeps putting off. Every morning, he wakes up already dreading the day ahead.

Taehyung notices the change. He doesn’t usually question Jeongguk’s habits, even when work piles up. But with the Calvin campaign shoot coming soon, and Mingyu as the new model, things need to stay on track.

He thought Jeongguk would feel better after finally telling you the truth. He thought letting go would give him some kind of relief.

Instead, Jeongguk looks worse. Instead of feeling free, he just looks even more lost.

“Did it end up being worse than you expected?” Taehyung asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

Jeongguk paused, confused. “Huh?”

“Dinner with her. Did it really go that bad?”

Jeongguk understood immediately. “No. We never actually went out. I didn’t even get the chance to tell her.”

Taehyung frowned. “You’re not avoiding it again, are you? We’ve talked about this, Gguk. You can’t keep running from the truth.”

“I know, Hyung. I went there, swear. You saw me leave with the papers that day. I showed up... just never made it to her.”

“Why?”

“Saw her with Mark.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Tuan? Her business partner?”

Jeongguk nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah.”

“And that stopped you?”

Jeongguk shifted uncomfortably. “They were outside the restaurant together.”

“So?” Taehyung shrugged. “Could’ve just been a work thing.”

“It wasn’t,” Jeongguk knew it was a work thing. You mentioned it during your brief conversation earlier that morning. Just knew his gut was the more reasonable thing to trust. “That guy’s been in love with her for a while. Knew it the first time I met him at an event. The way he looks at her during her speeches... it’s obvious. And all those little gifts she brings home after their meetings? That’s not just business.”

He recognized the signs too well — they mirrored the same things he used to do for you when your marriage still had warmth left in it. Jeongguk’s voice carried an unexpected bitterness.

Taehyung studied his friend for a moment, sensing more behind his words. “Not to be rude, but... why do you even care? If she’s moving on, then so be it.”

“I don’t. Seriously, if she’s happy, found someone new, that actually makes everything easier,” Jeongguk paused, staring down at his hands. “It’s just weird, seeing them alone together like that, for the first time.”

Taehyung didn’t argue, but he didn’t look convinced either. “You shouldn’t be feeling anything, you know that, right? You haven’t felt anything for her in almost three years.”

The words hit harder than Jeongguk expected.

But he nodded, trying to ground himself in the decision he had already made.

After days in the hospital, you were finally going home.

The new agreement you signed with your lawyer left them with no choice but to release you. When your mom dropped you off, all you could think about was your own bed, your room filled with that soft lavender scent you missed so much. You just wanted a real shower, clothes that didn’t feel like paper, and a night of sleep without nurses checking your vitals every few hours.

You looked for one of Jeongguk’s old sweatshirts buried at the back of the closet. That old Linkin’ Park sweatshirt was always the comfiest, giving you the warmth of late-night talks and reminders of when you’d tease him for his broody music taste and soft, wide-eyed pout that made him look like a moody bunny.

As you pulled the sweatshirt free, something bumped against your hand—a soft thud, then a few papers slid out from the side of Jeongguk’s briefcase. Papers that looked too clean, stiff, and far too careful to be forgotten.

The sight made you stop cold. Your heart felt like it stopped too.

Maybe the universe thought it was funny — throwing one hit after another your way, just to see if you could survive it. Maybe it believed you were strong enough to take everything.

But even the strongest people get tired. Even they reach a point where they can’t keep going.

The universe clearly didn’t care. Because how else could you explain everything? The love you watched fall apart. The terrible news Dr. Min gave you. And now, these divorce papers scattered across your bedroom floor, already stained with the tears slipping down your cheeks.

You knew the marriage had been over for a long time. You felt it in the way Jeongguk drifted farther from you with every passing day.

But seeing it written down — seeing it official — still crushed something inside you.

You weren’t ready. Not today. Not after everything else.

But as you glanced down at the date typed at the top of the agreement, a bitter truth settled in. 

Maybe it wasn’t too soon after all. Maybe it was long overdue.

Because it had been three years now — three long years of being invisible. Of being nothing more than a shadow in the life you used to share with him.

Seeing the divided assets listed on the paper, you barely paid attention to the money he chose to split. It didn’t matter now. If anything, you thought Jeongguk had done a decent job of being fair.

What hurt was seeing his signature already stamped on it. It was realizing how easily his name stretched across the page, the faded ink, proof, that this decision wasn’t something he wrestled with. It hurt more knowing he had made the choice without even talking to you first.

Years of knowing his laugh before you even knew what falling in love with him felt like. Of sharing secrets under morning skies and sunlight that filtered through café windows. Of sneaking out of back-to-back meetings just to see each other for ten stolen minutes, coffee in one hand, his tie half-loosened, your heels in the other, saying nothing important—just “I missed you.” And meaning it. Of birthdays and anniversaries spent trying to outdo each other with handwritten letters, and slow, quiet mornings where nothing mattered except the way he looked at you like you were his favorite view.

You built a life with him. Chose him through every season. You held him when he broke down, he held you when your world went dark. You thought a love like that was untouchable. That all those years were proof of something unbreakable. That if anything in the world was real, it was you and him.

You thought that kind of history meant something. Thought it would keep you safe. Thought it would be enough.

But it wasn’t.

And maybe that’s the most painful part – that all those memories, all that love, all those years, not even the friendship you’ve built, was enough to stop him from letting go.

Seventeen years of love and memories, tossed aside like they didn’t matter.

The ache inside you wasn’t sharp anymore. It had settled into something heavier, deeper — a kind of grief that didn’t leave room for tears.

This was it.

The end of everything you once believed would last forever.

The soft creak of the bedroom door pulls you out of your thoughts.

Jeongguk steps inside. His eyes find the papers scattered around you, and for a second, you catch the panic flashing through him. "Where did you find that?"

The question is so cliché, you almost laugh. But you can’t even feel that anymore. There’s nothing left. Just emptiness.

You don’t bother answering him. Instead, you ask quietly, “When do you need it?”

His forehead creases. "What?"

"I’ll need some time to review it with Jin," you say, your voice steady, too steady. "But I’ll have it back to you before you know it."

You gather the papers neatly, ignoring how your hands tremble. Forced yourself to keep going, acting like none of it matters.

Jeongguk stares at you like he’s seeing you for the first time — and he doesn't seem to like what he’s seeing.

“Wait—” he starts.

But you cut him off, stacking the documents back into the folder. "Just tell me if you want it sent to you directly, or through your lawyer. Either way works. If there’s anything you want to change, send it back to me."

Your calmness seems to knock the air out of him. You can see it — the way his shoulders stiffen, the way his mouth opens but no words come out at first.

“That’s it?" he finally chokes out. "You’re just going to accept that I lied to you? That I kept this from you? You’re just... letting it go? You’re not even going to fight?"

You lift your gaze to him, tired, defeated. “Fight for what, Gguk?”

He doesn’t answer.

And you realize he has nothing left to give you.

“It’s over," you say, barely above a whisper. "You’ve won. You’re getting what you wanted."

You rise to your feet, feeling the weight of everything you’ve ever carried pulling harder now.

But there’s one thing you have to know.

You owe yourself at least that much.

"If you won’t mind..." you add, voice breaking just a little, "I just have one question." He watches you carefully, guarded, almost scared. "For once, Gguk... please be honest with me.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, then finally ask the question you’ve been burying for too long.

"Do you love her?"

Jeongguk’s face went pale. Sweat collected along his forehead, catching the light. His eyes—lately that’s been hard to read—were filled with panic now, darting between the folder on the floor and your face. He didn’t expect that question, not tonight.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a quiet, shaky, “When... when did you find out?”

“A while ago,” you said, voice steady but cold. “I went to your office one afternoon to see you. Brought lunch, thought maybe we could eat.”

You looked away, your gaze settling on the wall, anywhere but him.

“Taehyung said you were in a meeting, so I waited. Figured I’d stay at the café nearby in case you had time later. It was Ha-yun’s second death anniversary.”

You paused, the name alone pulling something deep from inside your chest. “We didn’t get to see each other that morning. Thought we could at least talk... remember her together.”

Jeongguk’s shoulders tensed, but he said nothing.

“But when I saw you walking out of the building later that evening, you weren’t alone.” You let the words hang in the air, suffocating.

“She was with you. Was wearing your coat – the faded navy one with the frayed cuff. The one I spent hours stitching together, gave it to you on your first day for your new role. Told me it made you feel like you could conquer everything at that time.”

“And there she was, wearing it like it was just another coat. I saw you laughed at something she said – it’s that same laugh you used to share with me.”

“Then, she kissed you. You kissed her back like you had nowhere else to be.”

You paused, forcing yourself to breathe as the image flooded your mind again. “And then you both got in a cab. Left off to wherever it was you were going. Looked like you didn’t even care that you had me, that you had a wife and a home that was waiting for you.”

He flinched. A small, almost invisible movement—but you caught it.

“I stayed at the café a little longer,” you went on, voice quieter now. “Watched the street like an idiot, hoping maybe I was wrong. That you’d come back, even if I saw everything. Thought maybe you’d call me, apologize, tell me you loved me, that I still mattered to you. Thought maybe it was just a one-time thing. I was going to let it go for that one-time thing. Told myself something stupid that it might’ve been one of your drunken mistakes.”

You let out a shaky laugh, bitter and sad all at once. “But you never came back. It wasn’t a one-time thing. Because I’d seen all of it already it before. The scent on your shirts. The lipstick stains I kept finding. The lemon cake mixes you started buying even though you hated them. The tattoo—God, even the tattoo.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, something flashed there—maybe guilt, maybe fear. You don’t know anymore.

“I saw the moon and stars on your wrist and realized you’d erased me. Replaced the sun—our sun. The one you said reminded you of how I made everything feel warm.”

You looked back at him, met his eyes, hoping to find even a flicker of regret—nothing. Just silence where love used to be.

“You didn’t even remember what that day was, did you?”

 “I’m so—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice breaking. “Don’t say you’re sorry. You’re not.”

Then, you asked again, the one question you hadn’t dared to say out loud until now. “Just tell me. Do you love her?”

The way his eyes dropped to the floor, the way his lips stayed shut—it told you everything you needed to know. He didn’t have to answer. Because he already had.

You don’t say anything else. Just walked away with the weight of the papers still in your hand. Every step toward the closet feels heavier than the last, like your body is finally reacting to the emotional collapse you’ve been holding back. You open the door quietly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, even if your heart already has.

The space smells like both of you—faint traces of cologne and lavender, memories clinging to folded sweaters and hanging jackets. You grab the first largest bag you can find and begin packing what you can—just the essentials. A few changes of clothes. Some things for work. The rest you’ll deal with later, on a day when Jeongguk isn’t around, or maybe you’ll ask your mom to send someone for it.

You move on autopilot, focused on finishing before the lump in your throat can rise too high. Zipping the bag feels final, like the sound seals something off inside you.

When you step outside with the first load, Jeongguk is already there, standing near your car like he thinks he has something to say that could change the outcome. You don't look at him. Don’t have the strength to.

Another trip inside, another bag. Still, he’s there, hovering close like he’s waiting for you to fall apart in front of him. But you won’t—not here, not now.

You toss the last bag in the trunk and slam it shut. He takes a small step forward, eyes filled with something you can’t read anymore.

You pause before opening the car door, glancing back at him one last time.

“There are some conditions I want to add to the papers,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm inside. “But don’t worry. I promise, you'll get what you want."

And with that, you slide in, start the engine, and drive off—leaving him behind in the house that no longer feels like home.

Jeongguk sits at the bar, a glass of his usual whiskey resting in front of him. The ice has started to melt, untouched for too long. He knows he should be enjoying himself. Should be out there with Taehyung, laughing over stupid things, pushing through crowds, stepping outside to smoke and complain about the music being too loud.

But tonight, none of that feels right.

His hand stays curled around the silver ring resting in his palm. The wedding band he once wore every day without a second thought. Now, it’s just something he keeps in his wallet—close enough to hold onto, but not close enough to wear. He hasn’t figured out if that’s guilt, denial, or something in between.

It’s only been a week since you left.

The silence in the house is heavier than he expected. He thought he’d welcome the space, the quiet, the freedom. For years, he told himself things would feel lighter once it was over. And yet, all he’s felt since that night is the slow weight settling deeper in his chest.

The papers still haven’t come back. But he doesn’t mind. Told himself he’d wait however long it took. You deserve that. After everything, it's the least he can do. He’s not holding out hope that you’ll change your mind. Your last words still sit in his mind — your promise to finally let him go.

What haunts him is the way you sounded that night. Blank. Too blank. Like you’d already cried all the tears you had left and didn’t see the point anymore. That steady voice — wrapped around the pain you tried so hard to hide — plays in his head every time he closes his eyes.

In the mornings, it’s the marks on the closet floor that hits him. The faint skid of your luggage dragging out of the house feels louder than anything. A reminder that you left without looking back. That you made it easy for him, even when you shouldn’t have.

The missing car keys by the door breaks his heart the most. The keychain — the one with the little sun he bought you when you first moved in together — is gone too. Just an empty hook now. Every time he sees it, he’s dragged back to the moment to how you left.

Not just that you left, but how easily you did. You packed what you could, walked out the door in the middle of the night, and left him with everything—comfort, safety, warmth—when you were the one who deserved it more.

The vibration of his phone on the bar table pulls him out of the thought.

For a second, he welcomes it—grateful for anything to take him out of the spiral. But when he glances at the screen, the relief disappears just as fast.

Atty. Kim Namjoon: Divorce papers got delivered. On my way to the office to pick up. Let me know if you want to keep this off for tomorrow or if you want to meet up now.

Jeon Jeongguk: My house. Ten minutes.

He lets out a slow breath before grabbing his jacket.

Shoving his way through the crowd, he finds Taehyung still glued to someone on the dance floor. “Let’s go,” Jeongguk says, voice low. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Taehyung groans in protest, but when he catches the look on Jeongguk’s face, he doesn’t argue.

Outside, the cold night hits his skin, but it doesn’t wake him. He’s already too alert. Too aware of what’s waiting for him.

The house is quiet—too quiet—but Jeongguk barely notices. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at the revised divorce agreement spread out in front of him like it’s written in a language he doesn’t understand.

Every asset under both your names will be transferred to him. The Cheongdam apartment—originally meant for rent— will be his, along with any future rental income. Your joint account? Expected to be emptied into his name. Your personal savings, too. Business shares you once celebrated over dinner? All will be redirected to him, including your shares in Seora— the company you’ve poured your heart into. Even the insurance policies, meant to protect you both, will stay with him. You’d even signed the car title transfer.

The only things you requested to keep were the vacation home in Busan, every photo you’d taken together, and both wedding rings.

That’s it.

Jeongguk leans back, the paper feeling oddly stiff. He doesn’t understand. He knows the agreement he'd made. Knows what was on the original papers. None of this makes sense.

“There’s a catch,” Namjoon says, opening a separate folder and handing Jeongguk a new document – a single list, yet the paper feels heavier than it should, as if every word on it carries a weight of its own.

Taehyung, seated across from them, leans in.

“What’s this?” Jeongguk asks.

“Her conditions. She had them delivered with the revised agreement,” Namjoon explains. “Said the divorce won’t be final until these are met.”

Jeongguk reads the page slowly, each point sinking deeper into his chest.

Namjoon watches the way Jeongguk’s expression tightens, the weight of the situation settling heavy on his face. It’s not a new look—he’s worn it often since the divorce talks began—but it still makes Namjoon uneasy.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay on the paper in front of him, the list of conditions still fresh in his mind.

“Why is she giving everything to me?” His voice is low, like he’s talking to himself more than anyone else. “Why is she making this so easy? What's with this list?”

Namjoon straightens. “We can counter. These conditions? They’re emotional leverage. Anyone can see that. This could easily be thrown out or adjusted. If you want to—”

“I don’t want to fight back, Hyung.” Jeongguk cuts in before Namjoon can finish. His tone is calm, but it makes both Namjoon and Taehyung freeze. There’s something cold in it. Resigned. “She doesn’t deserve that. Not after everything.”

He leans back, fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

“If this is all she’s asking for, I’ll do it. I just don’t understand why.” He shakes his head. “I did most of what’s on this list for fourteen years. The rest… I’ve been doing for three. And now all I have to do is repeat it for thirty days, and she signs everything over?”

Namjoon stays quiet. He knows where this is going.

“She’s not angry. She’s not asking for much in return. She’s not even trying to fight me for the things we built together. Why?” Jeongguk’s voice drops. “Why is she still being kind to me after all the shit I’ve done? Why is she making it easier for me to walk away from this?”

Taehyung shifts in his seat but says nothing.

“I don’t deserve easy,” Jeongguk mutters. “I’m not supposed to deserve easy.”

Namjoon knows the answer. Years working through countless divorces, he’s seen this kind of case more often than he'd like. The ones that settle the fastest, the ones that end quietly without dragging each other through the mud.

Taehyung knows it too. Having known you for over a decade, he’s watched how even through all the pain and disappointments, you never stopped choosing Jeongguk.

The unspoken answer hovers between them, heavy and bittersweet.

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look but say nothing, both silently agreeing to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Jeongguk isn’t ready to hear it.

Maybe he never will be.

[rista-senpai]

Love you in the shadows

pairing: Sung Jinwoo x f!reader

summary: You are Antares’ beloved daughter. His biggest treasure, despite him being the CEO of the second biggest company in South Korea. He would give up everything within minutes just to see your smile. Even so, you failed to keep your father just as delightful, since you ended up as the secretary of his biggest rival, the number one CEO in your home country, Sung Jinwoo.

            Being stuck with a so-called ruthless man, feared by many for his authoritarian presence and cold, dark eyes, didn’t sit well with your father. Yet, you found them mesmerizing, something magnetic in those royal purple irises. Little did you know that the exact same eyes would see you beyond professional matters, forcing you to keep your feelings under a key, given the fact that you didn’t want to betray Antares.

            However, how could someone resist him, when it’s just you two in the middle of the night, lights low, soundless rain hitting the wide windows in his office, the air out of your lungs in seconds, when he looks so ravishing, words not being enough to describe him?

tags & warnings -> office au, forbidden love, secret relationship, reader falls in love with the only man she shouldn’t have been near, she fell first, but he fell harder, age-gap (reader is 24, Sung is 32), smut with plot

previous part & next part

CHAPTER THREE

He changed.

You felt it first thing Monday morning, when the usual call for his coffee never came. Not a word, not a glance. Just silence echoing from behind the thick glass walls of his office.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was just in early meetings. Maybe the weekend had drained him too. But by noon, the silence had calcified into something heavier.

He didn’t ask for the economic trend reports. His schedule sat untouched on the edge of your desk, his inbox flooded with unread messages you weren’t sure you were allowed to sort anymore.

Evening came, and that’s when you finally saw him.

Not the man you knew — not CEO Sung Jinwoo in his tailored confidence and razor-edged focus — but someone worn around the edges. Someone... else. His tie was loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Dark circles carved shadows beneath his eyes, and his usually polished hair was an afterthought.

Sleepless.

That’s the word that fits him now.

He didn’t acknowledge you when he passed by. Just a faint nod, as if you were another piece of furniture in the sleek office halls. You stared at your screen long after he disappeared, your fingers motionless on the keyboard. You couldn’t understand what went wrong — Saturday night kept replaying in your mind, forcing you to analyze every word, every look. But there was nothing you had done to deserve this silence. Still, you shoved that feeling deep down, like it would somehow dissolve on its own.

One of your worst ideas ever.

He didn’t ask for you in the following days either.

The clock was ticking. The meeting was just two days away. And he still wasn’t speaking to you.

With the weight of the entire office suddenly resting on your shoulders, you knew you couldn’t let this continue—not like this. Something had to give.

It was late at night, well past midnight, and as usual, you were the only two left in the building.

You found him in his office, the lights dimmed low, city lights casting fractured reflections across the glass walls. He didn’t look up when you knocked. Just muttered, “Come in,” like he already knew it was you.

You stepped in quietly, fingers curling around the file in your hand — a pathetic excuse to be there.

“You didn’t ask for today’s review,” you said softly. “Or yesterday’s. I just thought you might… need it.”

“I didn’t ask,” he replied without looking at you.

“I know.” You placed it gently on the corner of his desk anyway.

The silence dragged. Your hands fidgeted in front of you, unsure what to do, unsure if you should speak again. But the weight in the room was suffocating, and you were tired of walking on broken glass.

“Jinwoo,” you said — quiet, careful.

His gaze finally moved to you. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… guarded.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, voice steady despite the sting it cost you.

He leaned back in his chair, slow and silent. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy. That’s never stopped you from talking to me before.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his brow. “It’s complicated.”

You nodded, even though your chest tightened at the words. “I figured.”

Another silence. This one is less sharp, more resigned.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he said finally. “Something changed after... Saturday”

You felt it too. The way things shifted. Not in the moment, but in the aftermath. How quiet he got. How careful.

“I know,” you said. “But we didn’t do anything wrong.”

His eyes flicked to yours again, this time longer.

“Didn’t we?”

You took a seat across from him, hands folded in your lap. “You don’t get to push me away just because things got real. I work with you. I care about this job. About what we built here. But I also care about…” you hesitated, “clarity.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t. His gaze dropped to the file again.

“You’ve been quiet. We can’t go into that meeting on Friday like this.”

“No,” he agreed, voice low. “We can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to make anything easy. I just… don’t want us pretending nothing’s happened. Even if all we do is decide to keep it professional.”

He nodded slowly. “I respect you too much to pretend.”

That surprised you. The raw honesty of it. No games. No shields.

“Then maybe that’s a start,” you said gently.

The tension didn’t leave the room — not entirely — but it softened. Like air finally moving after a long stillness.

“I’ll see you in the boardroom,” you added, rising to your feet.

He didn’t stop you. But just before you reached the door, he called your name.

You turned back.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t needed.”

You nodded. “You did.”

A small pause.

“But I’m still here,” you said softly.

Then you left.

And behind you, for the first time in days, he let himself breathe.

Of course, you didn’t let yourself think until the elevator doors slid shut behind you.

Only then, as the hum of the descending car wrapped around you, did your shoulders sag, and your lungs finally remember how to work again.

God.

You leaned back against the mirror-lined wall, eyes fixed on the overhead floor numbers ticking down, each one dragging the weight of that conversation further into your chest.

You’d done it. You’d gone in there, looked Sung Jinwoo in the eye — the man who hadn’t spoken to you in days, who could break your career with a single word — and told him the truth. Not just as his assistant. As you.

It felt terrifying. It felt like a victory.

Your hands were trembling.

It wasn’t even that anything between you had been resolved—not really. But something had cracked open. The silence had been broken. The air felt clearer, even if only by a fraction.

When the elevator doors finally opened onto the lobby, you stepped out with the kind of quiet defiance that came after a storm. The night was still, the city outside bathed in streetlight and glass. Your phone buzzed in your bag, but you ignored it. Not tonight.

You needed to process.

Not the work things. Not the reports or the meeting or the way the office had started to feel like a frozen battlefield this week.

You needed to process him.

The look in his eyes. The guilt. The guardedness. The fact that, despite everything, he hadn’t asked you to leave.

And more than anything, the way your heart still twisted when he said your name.

You pressed a hand to your chest.

"Get a grip," you whispered to yourself with a dry, humorless laugh.

But deep down, you already knew the truth. You could pretend all you wanted that it was just tension, just confusion, just proximity…

But tonight had proved it. You weren’t walking on eggshells anymore.

You were standing at the edge of something.

And for better or worse, you weren’t alone on that ledge.

Taglist: @mitsurisupporter @milabyxz @shadyyouthcloud @cjafjatkstke @fianur @sky-casino @lemonninq @raspberrizzz @lavishlyjayda @blackqueen2k17 @livlikelove @uobasu @sylviatherosairy @jammycheese @reth66 @storacy @pikusururu @bubera974 @stormnightingale @emmathecouchpotato4583 @alebrasil0101 @amayakurusu13

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Well Begun…

From: Kill For Me Series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Dark! Reader

Summary: After completion of a contract in Monaco, two super soldiers seem to be hot on a trail. They just don’t know that it’s yours.

Word Count: 2,032

Content/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, dark themes, swears, namecalling, mentions of suicide, killing, and death, mercenary themes, pessimistic reader (I kinda love it tho? What do you expect? She’s a dark villain), no physical descriptions of reader however she is able to blend into many environments, me using google translate for French. I’m sorry.

A/N: If you’re a fluent French speaker and I said something wrong, please don’t be shy to let me know. Otherwise, translations of the few sentences used are at the bottom.

Ty for pushing me to finish this @krirebr

Please enjoy and I’ll give you a forehead kiss if you comment or reblog!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

“Give it up. We have you surrounded.”

You could hear the booming voice of an all-too-familiar public figure through your earpiece. It wasn’t directed at you, though. It was towards your last ally standing. Well, you guess you’d call him an ally only on a good day. He was more of an acquaintance. No, scratch that… contractual obligation. His presence was something that was helping you get paid, but apparently, not anymore.

You watched from a distant window, hardly in range of your coms as the avengers descended on the last remaining member of a team that had been assembled to acquire a relic. One that looked ancient to anyone on Earth who couldn’t be bothered to learn about what lied beyond, but was far more advanced than most human comprehension. Especially that of most of the humans you had encountered lately.

They were all useless meat heads. Probably in this profession because of brute strength, definitely not brain power. That you could be sure of. That’s how that poor scrub ended up cornered by Earth’s mightiest heroes, surely because he couldn’t identify a trap until it was right upon him.

Luckily, his loss wouldn’t ruin the mission. The only reason you’d agreed to take on this one is because you were getting paid more. You always did. And it was deserved.

This was the seventh job you’d been sent on by someone faceless, asking for retrieval of relics that were just like the one tucked up under your bra and the top of your high waistband now, secured by a compression tank and concealed with an oversized sweater and jacket. Oh how you loved European winter fashion. The best for concealing this thing, that you could only describe as a stone slab, slate gray marbled with a translucent yellow streak, covered in runes. You’d say the marbling was a little brighter, more shiny and intriguing as opposed to the similar slab with green instead that you had picked up the month before.

You leaned forward more, looking out at your cornered former teammate, like many of the other residents of the area were doing as the scene unfolded. With everyone hanging out their windows and stopped on the street, so distracted by the event that you could hardly see past the corner of another building in your way, you decided this would be the perfect time to flee.

You pulled out your earpiece and stomped it to flush it down the toilet before you shoved all your belongings into your leather backpack, and slipped on your sunglasses, gracefully running down the stairs and out the door, into the streets of Milan.

If you were right, then just like all the other times, the super crew was still distracted by your former colleague. They were probably already questioning him, lecturing him about goodness, and attempting to tie up loose ends, unaware of the suicide pill in his mouth. Weird die-hard mercenaries. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Only amateurs needed that sort of cop-out. Although, it was surprising none of them had accidentally used the pills thus far, but it wouldn’t be out of the question for such dolts.

Now you just had to get out of here and make your way to Monaco. The quicker, the better, but not too fast as to avoid raising any suspicion. You looked over your shoulder one last time at the crowded street, making sure no one was following you, before slipping into a car that had been planted and driving towards the border.

As you double checked your mirrors for a tail, you faintly made out a spot of blue next to the reflection of the sun off what you assumed to be a metal arm. What you missed as your face pointed back towards the street, though, was the way curious blue eyes under a mop of dark brown hair caught the motion of a vehicle at the back of the crowd.

It was a long drive between the two cities, at least for most Europeans, but this was really nothing for you. Other jobs had been far worse than this one. By the time you were arriving, the sun was just about to sink beneath the horizon, nearly blinding you on most of your drive westward. At least it was a nice view, though. Shame you were only out here for assignments, but maybe one day, once you saved enough, you’d take a vacation.

You pulled up near the outskirts, ditching your car. It was only a short walk to a small bed and breakfast near the center of town. Going to get a room out of sight on the edge would be too expected and easy to find, not to mention isolated where you couldn’t blend in as easily, and all the major hotels wanted forms of payment that were too traceable, plus, you knew they’d have security. This was perfect. Anyone else would probably expect you to be somewhere less traveled first before coming to a crowded city center, and a mom and pop running the place probably weren’t fully up to time with keeping cameras in their old villas. The gorgeous view didn’t hurt, either. It almost reminded you of one you remembered from your childhood. Calm. Serene. Full of life and culture and innocence. Almost.

No time for reminiscing, though.

The jangle of a bell on the door signaled your entrance to the lobby. Out of a back room emerged a stout woman, a smile on her face, as she asked if you needed a room. You smiled politely, not wanting to be memorable for anything, and replying in French. She nodded, going back into the back room and emerging once again with a key, sliding it over to you and stating the fee.

“Est-ce que l'argent liquide est accepté? Je ne suis là que pour une nuit.”

She nodded.

After completing the exchange,

You quickly turned around and headed up the stairs. No need to be in the open more than necessary for this mission. Just enough that you didn’t raise suspicion more than any old tourist. You’d go out again for dinner, and to double check you didn’t have a tail.

Steve sighed with his hands on his hips, pacing the sidewalk outside of the major hotel just outside the city where Bucky had tracked a car to, just to see it abandoned. He was exhausted. It had already been a long day, and there was another suspect lost regarding these mystery missions that were popping up all over the world. All Steve knew was that some type of alien tech or something was being collected for someone powerful. Dangerous with high-paying contracts and ghost mercenaries. Some of which would rather die for their cause than give up information, apparently.

Even as a super soldier, his body was growing weary, but he pushed himself for Bucky’s whim: one that the rest of the team didn’t follow, instead heading back to New York to regroup. Steve trusted Bucky’s instincts, and the opportunity to see more of the world was never something he turned his nose up at, although he knew it would take a backseat to the mission. All he could do right now, though, was follow his friend deeper into the heart of the city where they hoped to gain information, and then take a tactical nap before the jet picked them up in the morning.

As the night began to grow cold, it was almost time for the drop. All you’d need to do was exchange the tablet in your bag with another that was draped off the bench of a couple sitting on a cliff. Remote, but not too much. Just enough seclusion to keep cover. Should be easy. Red dress, white shirt, sandals and loafers was all the intel on the targets you were given. But luckily, that combination was singular tonight.

They sat in idle conversation, looking over the deep blue water. You approached steadily, with grace calm enough to not be spotted, and leaned down to compliment her pearls, your hand reaching behind her to make the swap.

As you slung the new bag over your shoulder, you strutted back to the inn to prepare for dinner.

Steve wiped a hand down his face in an attempt to clear some of the tiredness he was feeling from his eyes. It was only partially effective, at least not as much as Bucky’s metal elbow in his ribs through the dress shirt.

“Look alive, punk. We’re here to gather some information.”

Steve nodded with a deep breath, heading to the bar in the rustic, outdoor restaurant. He stood by the counter and gave his order before sitting down at the only empty seat, next to someone who really caught his eye, that just happened to be you.

Red wine had already started to stain your lips from the few sips you’d had since you sat down. You hadn’t expected to be faced with the two Avengers so quickly, though, but something told you Steve sitting next to you was purely coincidental. All he gave was a curt nod, his eyes scanning elsewhere in the venue.

“La vue est magnifique, n'est-ce pas?”

You looked up from your glass, surprised he was talking to you. You had to play this the right way, though. The inn keepers already knew you spoke French and you didn’t want any discrepancies. Maybe you could pose as a Canadian tourist to him? Just to avoid suspicion. Canadians are rarely villainous, anyhow.

“Oui, le meilleur que j'ai vu.”

He smiled as his glass was placed in front of him. He grabbed it and tipped it towards yours, a silent offering for a toast. You brought your hand up next to his and the vessels clinked.

“Les deux meilleurs que j'ai jamais vus.”

It looked like the captain had picked up some charm over his years, which was a nice surprise. Last you’d heard, he was a workaholic hung up on an old love, but something about him seemed different that that red, white, and blue persona that was so prominently plastered everywhere. There was something deep and sad, yet still righteous. You liked that, but you couldn’t let him see. Not when real feelings were a gateway to the real you.

You had to keep putting across as much feigned innocence as you could. When your eyes met his and you saw that sweet smile, you almost lowered your gaze in genuine embarrassment, but time on the job had made you much more calculated than that. So you still did it, but just purposefully, speaking down into your lap, starstruck to meet Captain America.

“Merci, c'est très gentil.”

And that must have sold him on his observations. You did the accent just well enough that it worked.

“Québécois? You’re Canadian?”

You giggled and nodded.

“I am.”

It was almost like you could see his shoulders visibly relax at the thought of something familiar. Moments like these made you glad such obvious tells were beaten out of you at such a young age. You could never give up your emotions that easily. It could get you killed or worse. But you supposed maybe he was lucky to live a life so innocent.

Steve’s smile grew even more as he offered out his hand.

“I’m Steve. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but have you seen anything suspicious around here?”

Way to kill the mood, golden boy. Internally, you were rolling your eyes, but externally, your brows were knit together in confusion and concern.

“No, but… should I have?”

He shook his head. “No, no. I was just wondering.”

You spun the glass with your fingers.

“Oh, okay. What a relief. I’m sorry to be blunt now, but…I hope that wasn’t all you stopped by here for. Would you maybe want to have a couple more glasses of wine with me?”

And possibly spill some secrets on just how much you know?

Steve grinned, so sweetly you might add. Ignorance truly is bliss sometimes when your enemy is the one whose knee is touching yours.

“I’d like that.”

Next >

Translations:

Est-ce que l'argent liquide est accepté ? Je ne suis là que pour une nuit. “Is cash okay? I’m only here for a night.”

La vue est magnifique, n'est-ce pas? “The view is magnificent, isn’t it?”

Oui, le meilleur que j'ai vu. “Yes, the best I have seen”

Les deux meilleurs que j'ai jamais vus. “The two best I have seen”

Merci, c'est très gentil. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

Taglist: @cakesandtom @steviebbboi @awkwardgiraffe726 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @thiquefunlover63

[lonely-ey3s]

With All My Love : Chapter 15 | fresh start

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Word count: 8.1k

Chapter Summary: Christmas season in the Miller's involves eloping, family dinners, the best morning sex of your life and oh yeah — cinnamon rolls.

Chapter warnings: FLUFF, joel being an absolute lover, soft!joel, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, use of Spanish but with translations, use of y/n, SMUT (18+ MDNI), praise kink, f!receiving oral.

a/n: i'm sorry this one took so long. with writing ride or die and heartlines lets just say inspiration struck! epilogue will be posted sometime in the next week or two, i have an idea in mind but want it to end perfectly. thanks for all your support with this story - i'm sad to see them come to an end

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Main Masterlist

1 week before Christmas

The morning felt like magic — that quiet, weightless sort of magic where everything around you hums with the promise of something life-changing. The sunlight spilled through the windows, soft and golden, making your little house glow.

It smelled like coffee and fresh flowers. Something Maria had bought for you and everyone else to wear to make it feel just a little bit like an actual wedding. 

Somewhere down the hall, Sarah’s giggles floated through the air as Elena and Maria helped her with her hair. 

You stood barefoot in front of the mirror in your bedroom, smoothing your hands over the simple white dress you’d chosen — soft satin, a little fitted at the top before flowing down gently over your small baby bump.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

"Jesus, mi amor..." Joel’s voice was low and full of something that made my whole body flush. "You look... perfect."

You turned to find him standing there, wearing a black suit that fit him as if it had been made just for him. His tie hung a little loose around his neck, like he hadn’t quite finished getting ready because he couldn’t wait to see you. He’d cut his hair since Thanksgiving. He still looked rugged, even though his hair was tousled and a little messy when styled, yet he was put together. 

"You’re not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Almost-My-Husband," you teased, smoothing his lapel, softly straightening his tie.

He caught your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering against your knuckles like he needed the connection.

 "Come here," he murmured, pulling you into his arms carefully, his hand naturally resting against the curve of your bump that you both already adored. Its name changed with each ultrasound or update on the baby app Joel had on his phone — which provided adorable updates here and there on the baby's progress. Currently, the little one has been deemed ‘peach’ – last week, it was ‘plum’.

"How are you and little Peach doin’ today, mi vida?" he asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You smiled, the kind of smile that felt stitched into your bones. "We’re doin’ good. Little one is being good today, no morning sickness, no headaches… one could assume they know the importance of today..."

He hummed and smiled lovingly, "That's comforting to hear... I'm glad you're doin' good Mrs. Miller..." he whispered softly then his lips brushed against yours at first, soft and careful, like he was savoring the moment, like he didn’t want to rush even a second of it. 

You leaned into him instinctively, "Mmm, you've got to wait at least another hour before you call me that baby..." you whispered back against his lips when he pulled away for a moment.

He nudged your nose and hummed, "Not soon enough my love..."

You moved your hands to rest against his chest, where you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms before leaning back in to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss slowly, his mouth moving with yours, patient but full of the kind of love that burned steady and strong.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your cheekbone, grounding you, anchoring you to him.

The world outside the bedroom faded away — the laughter, the music, even the nervous excitement of the morning — until there was just this.

Just the two of you.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you a little breathless but smiling like you knew exactly what you both were walking toward.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly it felt like a secret meant just for me.

A sharp knock sounded on the doorframe.

"Ok you two, calm down…" Sarah said, grinning at you both with one eyebrow raised. "If you two don’t move it, we’re gonna miss the ceremony!"

You laughed breathlessly and turned toward her, Joel adjusting to wrap his arms around you from behind and lean his chin on your shoulder. 

She leaned against the door with a crooked smile, holding a delicate bouquet in her hands. 

She looked so beautiful — wearing a gorgeous dark red dress you picked out together, her hair pinned back into a lovely bun that Maria and Elena must’ve helped her with. 

"You look beautiful, sweets," You said, feeling my throat tighten, tears stinging your eyeline as you looked at her.

She blushed and shrugged. "Thanks, mom..."

From down the hall, Maria called, "We’re ready whenever you guys are! Your mom says if we’re late, she’ll hold you personally responsible, Joel!"

Joel smirked and kissed your cheek. "Let’s not give my mom an excuse to tackle me on the courthouse steps."

You laughed and took a deep breath. "Agreed, " you said as you reached to take his hand and headed downstairs after Sarah.

In the living room, the group bustled, laughter and excitement in the air. There were smiles everywhere, soft murmurs of excitement.

Cameras being checked. Ties being straightened.

They were all too busy to notice you and Joel at the bottom of the stairs, his arms wrapped around you from behind once again.

He kissed your temple and whispered, “Ready, mi vida?” he rubbed your bump softly.

You nodded, pressing your hand over his.

“More than ready.”

The drive to the courthouse was a blur of laughter, soft music on the radio, and the feeling of his fingers laced tightly with yours across the console. Sarah sat in the backseat, humming along to the radio and clutching the small bouquet of wildflowers that Maria had brought for her. Elena sat next to her and watched the two of you with nothing but pride and love for her son and now you, her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. 

Every time you glanced over at him, you caught him smiling — that wide, boyish smile that melted any nerves you might’ve had. He reached over and put his hand over your belly at the last stoplight before the courthouse, and for a moment, you thought you might have seen him tear up. 

When you pulled up, the courthouse wasn’t grand or decorated, just a simple brick building tucked into the heart of town. But it felt monumental to you; this was it. This was the day — you were stepping into a new chapter, one you and Joel had written carefully, lovingly, together.

Tommy and Bill’s trucks were parked close to Joel’s in the small parking lot, and you could already hear Bill fussing over how excited Frank was for the whole ordeal before you’d gotten out saying things like 'This ain't our damn weddin', will you calm down?' and 'Yes you look fine, my god!'. 

Frank had been over almost every day for the past week. He, Rose, and Maria had been helping you put together a small get-together for afterwards — a small dinner party. You’d been dealing with extreme exhaustion for the last couple of weeks. On top of the holidays and part-time photo shoots, you barely had any energy left, but they stepped up. 

Joel helped you out of the truck, his hand strong and steady under yours, and for a second, you both just stood there, smiling lovingly at each other. The rest of the family was utterly oblivious to your missing presence as they continued to walk inside. 

The afternoon air was crisp but not cold, and the sky stretched wide and impossibly blue above both of you. He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat.

"You ready to become Mrs. Miller?" he murmured against your skin.

You smiled, your whole heart swelling so big it felt like you might float away. "I've been ready since the moment you picked me up at the airport — literally picked me up..." you lightly giggled.

Something in his gaze shifted — deepened — and without hesitation, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was deep, hungry, like he needed you to feel every ounce of what he couldn’t put into words for today.

His lips moved over yours with a slow, searing intensity, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck, the other hand sliding down to splay across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You melted into him, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket, completely forgetting for a moment that we were standing in a parking lot with your family nearby.

When you both finally pulled apart, breathless and a little dazed, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "God, I love you. I’m so happy you’re gonna be my wife."

You smiled widely and reached up to touch his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

He took one more moment where it was just you two before his hand was laced with yours, and started walking toward the courthouse.

Tommy smiled as he held the doors open. “You two ready?” he grinned. 

Joel let you in first before he touched Tommy’s shoulder and chuckled, “You have no idea, little brother...” 

Inside, the room was small and simple. It had polished wood floors and large windows that let in the morning light. A few other couples waited in hushed excitement, but somehow it felt like the whole building was holding its breath just for you two.

You and Joel stood in line together. Everyone else in your family lined the benches behind to watch.

He turned toward you, slipping your hand into his. His thumb traced gentle circles against your knuckles as the officiant spoke, joining another couple ahead of you. He kissed your temple then whispered, “I have somethin’ for you…” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “Oh? What’s that?” 

He chuckled softly and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bracelet, one with sapphires around its chain. He took your hand and held up your wrist, softly whispering as he clasped it onto you. “Somethin’ new, somethin’ used, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue…” 

You smiled and looked down at your wrist, then back up at him, whispering, “I… Joel, where…” You found yourself stumbling over your words, speechless. 

He kissed your knuckles gently, “Mama gave it to me last night, making it for us – somethin’ new... also she used it on her wedding day, making it somethin’ used." he looked down at it and fixed the chain shyly, "I’ve been instructed that after we use it, it’ll be Maria’s turn, so technically somethin’ borrowed. Then the obvious, somethin’ blue.” He smiled as his eyes met yours for a moment. 

You nodded and looked down as you turned your wrist, making the light bounce off the sapphires. “I love it…”

He kissed your forehead gently, then retook your hand into his and turned back to listen to the officiant as they read the vows for the couple in front of you.

A few minutes later, the officiant smiled as she looked at you and Joel, “Please step forward….” 

The officiant, a warm-looking woman with kind eyes, smiled at the two of you as you stood hand-in-hand as you walked up to stand in front of her. 

"Today," she began, her voice steady and warm, "is a celebration of love, commitment, friendship, family, and two people who have found their home in each other."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle gently over you both.

"Marriage is a promise. A promise to stand together through every chapter — the ones filled with laughter and joy, and the ones that test your strength. It is choosing each other, every single day, with your whole heart."

She looked between you and Joel and smiled.

"You have chosen to elope today, to make this about what matters most — the two of you, your bond, and the beautiful life you are building together."

Turning to Joel, she said softly, "Joel, do you have vows you'd like to read?"

Joel nodded, squeezing your hand lightly, then turned to take the left one in his. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like he needed the contact.

He cleared his throat, a little unsteady, and looked right at you.

"I used to think love had to be hard to mean something. That it had to be complicated, messy... impossible, even. After Sarah’s mom, I never thought it’d be something I’d get to experience it…" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"But then I met you. And loving you — God, it was like breathing. It was the first time it all made sense."

He paused, blinking quickly.

He smiled and looked down at your hand in his, grounding himself, then looked back up at you, "I vow to always make you feel seen, heard, and cherished. To hold your hand through the chaos, and dance with you through the calm. I vow to be the man you and our family deserve, even when it’s hard or I'm tired — even when the world feels heavy. I vow to love you, exactly as you are, for the rest of my life — and beyond that, if I’m lucky." 

You barely managed to hold back the tears blurring your vision, you nodded at him and gently squeezed his hand, letting him know you heard every single word.

The officiant then gave you a soft nod.

"And now, your vows."

You took a shaky breath, my voice trembling but strong. You let out a small chuckle as you reached into a pocket within your dress and pulled out a piece of paper. 

You softly cleared your throat and kept hold of Joel’s hand. "I spent so many years wondering if I was too much or not enough. So many years alone, never having a family, feeling loved... I never dreamed I'd be standing before my friends and family marrying the love of my life. I saw... the complete opposite." You said softly, feeling your heart in your throat.

"But you looked at me and you found me. You healed something in me that I didn’t know could be healed. You made me believe that maybe love wasn’t something that required magic or wishes on stars... or for us — you just needed to write a letter to a stranger in Texas when you join a pen pal group with your army bunkie..." You softly let out a laugh, which made him chuckle as well. 

You squeezed his hands tighter.

"Joel, I vow to love you in all the ways that matter — with patience, with passion, with laughter, and with loyalty. I vow to stand with you through every storm and celebrate every sunny day. I vow to be your biggest fan, your comfort and safety, and your biggest support. And most of all, I vow to build a life with you that our children will be proud to call home."

You caught sight of Sarah in the front row, subtly wiping at her eyes. It made you smile through your own tears as they fell down your cheeks.

You muttered as you wiped your eyes, “Stupid hormones…” 

Joel let out a chuckle as tears fell down his cheeks. His hands holding onto yours firmly, trying to ground you both in this moment. 

The officiant gave you both a moment, her own eyes a little glassy.

"Marriage is not about finding someone you can live with," she said gently. "It’s about finding the one person you can't live without."

She smiled warmly. “Do you have rings to exchange for this next part?” 

Joel nodded and looked towards Sarah, “Sweetheart?” his voice broke. 

Sarah reached to give him a pouch that contained both the rings you had gotten for each other.

The officiant smiled and looked at him first, placing the ring in his hand.

"Joel, as you place this ring on her finger, please repeat after me."

Joel took your hand, steady despite the tears shining in his eyes.

He slid the ring slowly onto your finger as he said:

"With this ring, I promise you my heart, my soul, and all that I am. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant smiled and turned to you, placing the second ring into your hand.

"And now, would you repeat after me?"

You took his left hand, the one that had held yours through so much already, and slipped the ring onto his finger slowly as you repeated, voice thick with emotion:

"With this ring, I give you my heart and my hand. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant looked between you both, her voice a little softer now, as she felt the weight of the moment.

"Joel, do you take her to be your lawfully wedded wife — to love, honor, and cherish her, from this day forward?"

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he said, sure and full of every vow he carried in his heart, 

"I do."

She turned to you, her voice beaming.

"And do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband — to love, honor, and cherish him, from this day forward?"

Your voice didn’t shake — it soared, full of love and certainty.

"I do."

You and Joel looked back at each other and smiled lovingly in each other's eyes, saying more than you both could ever put into words in your vows, but both understood wholeheartedly. 

The officiant’s face lit up with a wide, joyful smile as she gently touched your hands, which were joined in the middle. "By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, it is my honor and my joy to pronounce you husband and wife."

Joel grinned, that boyish, heart-melting grin, and pulled you into him without hesitation.

"You may kiss your bride," the officiant said happily, moving aside as Sarah stood to capture photos of the moment, tears of happiness streaming down her face. 

Joel’s hand was already at the small of your back, the other moved up to cradle your jaw with a tenderness that made your knees wobble. He pulled you in close, like he couldn't stand even an inch of space between the two of you any longer. 

Everything around you slowed down and became muted. All that was there was the two of you. 

His lips met yours with a sweetness that grew deeper, more sure. You melted into him, your arms sliding around his neck, fingertips threading through the soft hair at his nape. 

His thumb brushed slow, reverent circles against your cheekbone, anchoring you as the kiss deepened — slow and passionate, full of all the promises you didn’t have to say out loud anymore.

You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his hand moving gently up your spine like he needed to feel every part of you to believe this was real.

When you both reluctantly pulled apart, he didn’t let go—not entirely. He kept his forehead resting against yours, breathing you in as if you were something sacred.

"Eres mi cielo…" (You are my heaven) he whispered, his voice breaking a little on the words.

You smiled through the burn of tears in my eyes, running my thumb over his jawline, feeling the scratch of stubble there — familiar and perfect.

"Tu eres mi todo…" (You are my everything) You whispered back, your voice steady, certain.

He smiled, that soft, private smile he only ever gave you. Then, without a word, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles and rings, holding your hand like it were something precious.

He then moved and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear — his fingertips brushing your skin with a featherlight touch — and you felt a lump rise in your throat all over again.

"You’re my whole world, you know that?" he murmured, voice thick and low.

"And you're mine," You breathed.

The cheers and laughter from your family finally broke through, and he gave my hand one last squeeze before turning with you toward them — but he never once let go.

And just like that, it had all begun. 

Forever. 

Sarah and Maria offered to take a few romantic and intimate photos of you and Joel while you were in the courthouse, you also asked someone to take a big group photo as well, wanting everyone in the photo.

Afterwards, you all drove back home to spend the rest of the day together celebrating. 

Once home and inside, you went upstairs to change into something more comfortable. 

Joel had been pinned in the living room by his mom, Rose, and Bill, all of them asking him for details about your last ultrasound the other day, wanting to see pictures. 

Lately you’d been feeling hot and had issues with sweating so getting into something like a cotton sundress versus the silk one you’d had on seemed more than ideal. 

You headed back downstairs to grab a snack as you started to feel a little nauseous.

After grabbing some apple slices you leaned up against the wall and watched your dearest friends and family buzz about the events of today and the last few months. 

After you and Joel announced your sweet bundle of joy, everyone in this room was ready and involved for whatever you needed. 

Rose ran over herbal teas and baby books every other day. When Joel was at work she’d come over to give you company or just to check in. 

Elena called every day and came every weekend for dinner and a movie night. She would end up in the guest room every time but it was everything you could have wanted. You were happy she was so happy and involved. She was also very reassuring when funny things happened to your body, that it was mostly all natural. Always so comforting to let you and Joel know that everything will be ok. 

Tommy and Maria seemed to be the most involved. Maria drove you to your last appointment since your nausea was so bad, as Joel got caught up at work and had to meet you there. She and Tommy called every day and showed up whenever Joel or you said something was off. Tommy stepped up at work so Joel could settle down and be more available for you. The two were yours and Joel's rock.

Bill and Frank were surprisingly just as involved. Bill had already claimed he was going to make you guys a crib and was texting you both with updates. It was sweet — no matter how cold he wanted to seem, Bill had the biggest heart. 

Lastly Sarah. Your pride and joy. She attended the last few ultrasounds with you and Joel; after you told her — she was ecstatic about having a sibling. Some days, she’d velcro herself to you and want to talk to the baby or listen to its heartbeat with a little Doppler monitor. One that you guys got on the internet after a moment of panic about a month ago when you were lightly spotting, thinking you were losing the baby. Let's just say one late-night hospital trip later, and Joel ordered one with overnight shipping. 

You smiled and rubbed your belly as they all were chatting and laughing about heaven knows what – but whatever the topic, it was making them all happy. 

That’s when it hit you fast, you almost didn't realize what was happening.

One second, you were standing there, mindlessly snacking on the last apple slice, and the next — a sharp, tearing pain bloomed along the side of your belly, so fierce it stole your breath. 

You gasped and grabbed the side of the wall for balance, the apple slice hitting the floor.

‘What was that?’

You pressed a hand against the place it hurt, right where your skin stretched taut over the curve of your growing bump. The pain stabbed again, deep and sudden, and a wave of panic washed over you, cold and full of awful thoughts.

‘Is something wrong with the baby?’ 

Your heart dropped. 

‘Am I going into early labor?’

‘Was I — God, what if something was wrong?’

Your mind spiraled so quickly, you barely heard Joel's voice at first, calling your name from the couch he was sitting on next to Elena and Rose. 

You tried to straighten up, tried to breathe through it, but another jolt of pain had you bending forward slightly, blinking fast against the prickle of tears.

"Hey, hey," Joel was suddenly right there, hands bracketing your arms, his face going pale as he took one look at you. "What’s wrong? What happened? Baby, talk to me…"

"I—I don't know," You managed, clutching his sleeve. "My side. It just— it hurts. Bad."

His eyes went wide, full of instant worry, but he kept his voice low and steady, grounding you.

"Okay. It's alright. Breathe, baby. I'm right here," he encouraged.

Everyone’s attention quickly shifted towards you and Joel, the energy moving from light and happy to panic and concern. The room suddenly quieted down.

You nodded, trying to force yourself to calm down, but your mind was a thousand steps ahead — hospital rooms, doctors shaking their heads, everything going wrong. You pressed your hand harder against the sore spot, willing the pain to ease.

Slowly, after a few long breaths, the stabbing edge of it dulled to a tight, pulling ache — uncomfortable, but not as terrifying. You finally dared to look up at Joel, your voice small and quiet.

"Maybe it's just... stretching?" You said, though it sounded like a question. You had read somewhere that growing pains could happen — round ligament pain, wasn’t that what it was called? — but now, in the middle of it, it felt so much bigger and scarier.

Joel cupped your face gently, brushing your hair back.

"Let's call the doctor anyway," he said without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just to be sure. Okay?"

You nodded again, heart still hammering, but starting to settle now that you weren’t alone in the fear. 

His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, steady and warm, and you leaned into his touch. “Go sit down with mom and Sarah, I’ll have Maria get you some water and I’ll call Dr. Benson, yes?” 

You nodded and went to sit on the couch with Elena and Sarah. Maria did as Joel said and went to get you some water. Tommy went over to stand by Joel while he called the doctor, anxiously pacing with him in the kitchen. 

After several tense minutes, Joel came out from the kitchen with a soft smile, kneeling in front of you. He leaned in and softly kissed your stomach, “You were right. Just growing pains…” he looked up at you with those soft brown eyes. 

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. You looked down at him and touched his cheek before laying your head back and taking a deep breath as you put your hand on your stomach.

‘Everything is ok. Little peach is perfectly fine.’

Christmas Eve

The house had finally fallen quiet.

The soft twinkle of the Christmas tree lights still glowed downstairs, casting tiny golden reflections against the walls — presents laid neatly under the tree, stockings stuffed, and the magic of Christmas sprinkled in the little details. 

You lay curled against Joel in bed, your forehead tucked into the warm curve of his neck, feeling the steady, grounding rhythm of his breathing as he slowly traced shapes into your back with his fingertips.

His other hand was resting protectively over the gentle swell of your bump, thumb brushing absentmindedly back and forth — a tiny, tender motion that made your heart ache in the best way.

‘Our first Christmas Eve as husband and wife.’

‘Our first Christmas with a baby growing between us.’

You smiled warmly and hummed, then reached up and traced the edge of his jaw, rough with stubble. “First Christmas together. Married…” You said softly, as if it were something fragile. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “First of many. Next year, there’ll be one more stocking on the mantel,” he softly nudged his nose against yours, smiling happily. 

You grinned, placing your hand on top of his over the swell of your belly. “Four of us under this roof,” You said, “Five, if you count Ellie always being over here with Sarah.” you chuckled. 

He laughed, eyes dancing across your features that still showed in the soft light of the moon coming through the windows. “She still can’t believe she’s getting a little sibling.”

“She’ll be the best big sister,” You said, scooting in closer, your legs tangled beneath the thick comforter. He pulled you in tighter, his palm resting low on your back, warm and grounding.

“You’ve made this house feel like home,” he said suddenly, voice quieter now, like he was speaking a secret aloud. “I used to dread holidays. Now I never want them to end.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. You gently kissed the space just beneath his collarbone, lingering for a second. “Me too.” You paused and looked up at him. “I can’t remember the last time I actually celebrated a holiday.” You softly sighed. 

He hummed as his thumb softly stroked your back as he held you, “What’s your favorite Christmas memory? Something you hold onto during the holidays?” 

You lay your head against the pillow as you moved onto your side to face him. You scrunched your nose as you thought. After a few moments, you suddenly smiled, a memory warming your mind once more. “Levi had me over to his place one year. He bought me a few presents... little things that I think he got from the local thrift store – but to me, it was everything.” You hummed, remembering. “We slept out in his living room by the Christmas tree. I don’t know how he did it… But I woke up to presents under the tree.” Your smile grew warmer, and tears stung your eyeline. 

Joel’s arms tightened slightly around you, his chest rumbling with a low hum of encouragement.

"I woke up to the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air," You continued, voice sleepy and sweet with memory. "We made such a mess... flour everywhere, dough stuck in my hair. He let me ice the rolls, even though I got more on the counter than on the rolls." You lightly chuckled, feeling the familiar, old ache of missing him.

"I just remember feeling... loved. Safe." You said after a moment. 

Joel pressed a slow kiss to the top of your head, lingering there like he wanted to kiss away every ghost of loneliness you’d ever known.

"You’re safe now," he murmured into my hair. "You’re home, mi vida."

You nodded and hummed as you drifted to sleep, wrapped up in his warmth and the soft, perfect hum of Christmas magic.

—

You didn’t feel him slip out of bed sometime in the middle of the night.

Didn’t hear the quiet rustle of his jeans or the soft creak of the front door closing behind him.

You only stirred once, faintly aware of the empty space beside you, but the bed was still warm from him, and you trusted him like you trusted your own heartbeat. He was just getting a drink or checking on Sarah. He’d be back.

What you didn’t know — what made your eyes sting when you found out later that next morning— was that Joel had pulled on his boots, grabbed his keys, and snuck out into the freezing Christmas Eve night.

All so he could find a store still open.

All so he could buy cinnamon rolls — the real kind, yeast and all — because he wanted you to have that piece of your childhood again that was held so closely to your heart with Levi.

He wanted us to make that memory together, to keep it alive—however, this time, with your daughter and the little one on the way.

Christmas morning

The soft gray light of early Christmas morning seeped through the edges of the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The world outside was silent, blanketed in thin sheet of snow, but inside, everything felt warm and alive. 

You stirred slightly, tucked under the thick comforter, and immediately felt the familiar weight of his arm pull you closer.

“Morning, Mrs. Miller,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with sleep, his lips brushing the edge of your ear.

You turned to face him, eyes barely open, a smile already pulling at your lips. “Mmm, still getting used to that name...” you let out a small giggle. 

He smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned in to press a slow, warm kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it. You’re stuck with me now.” he joked. 

You sleepily chuckled and blinked a few times before turning to look at the time, 6 am. 

“Sarah, awake?” you yawned and rubbed your eyes, preparing to wake up for a morning of excitement from her.

Joel moved to prop himself on his elbow on his side before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he did so. His lips moved slowly and deeply across yours, enchanting you under his spell, like he’d done so many times in early mornings.

He murmured as he pulled back slowly, pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you by your waist close to him. “We have a rule in the Miller household. No one disturbs mom or dad until at least 7 am on Christmas morning…” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his hand moving down to cup your ass. 

You inhaled and let out a soft moan as he grabbed the meat of your ass, lightly tugging on the t-shirt he’d had on, “Is this a new rule or one that’s been established before our marriage?” you giggled feeling his lips trail down your neck towards your collarbone. 

You could feel his lips smirk against your skin as he continued littering kisses down your body. “Been established since Sarah could walk outta her room when she was 3…” 

You chuckled softly and threaded your fingers through his hair before pulling him back up to your lips, kissing him slowly and deeply. Your fingertips inching up his shirt, lightly trailing up his skin. You wanted the damned thing off your husband's body. 

He groaned at your eagerness and cupped your cheek again, his hand moving deeper to thread into the hair at the base of your skull, pulling you up and into him. His other hand maneuvered your panties down your thighs and off you like it was some magic trick. He proudly hummed against your lips as he pulled back to take his shirt off and tossed it off the bed. 

You looked up at him and sat up, doing the same, discarding the oversized shirt of his that you had worn to bed.

His eyes looked down at your body, and a type of hunger and lust took over — his eyes darkening. 

Your breasts had grown since becoming pregnant, and between that and your swollen belly, it had Joel going mad for you most days.

“Dios, mírate. Eres tan hermosa con nuestro hijo creciendo dentro de ti....” (God, look at you. You're so beautiful with our child growing inside you.) he murmured leaning down to capture your nipple between his lips, lightly sucking on it. 

You fell against the sheets and panted softly, a blush swelling up your body, arching into his touch. “Fuck that feels so good…” You whined as goosebumps ran up your body from the way his tongue was lightly flicking the sensitive nub. 

He grinned and looked up at you as he pulled off your nipple with a light ‘pop’ before he slid his boxers off and nestled between your legs, his hard cock falling against your thigh.

He shifted, pressing you down into the mattress with the heat of his body, his hand cradling the underside of your bump like it was the most precious thing in the world. His forehead pressed to yours, breath fanning across my lips.

"You’re so damn beautiful like this," he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "Warm, messy, mine."

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, your hands moving down his torso, tugging him closer. He smiled against your mouth — slow, lazy, wicked.

And then he kissed you — really kissed you — deep, slow, and devastating, his hand holding your face like he was scared you'd disappear. One of your hands slid into his hair, the other clutched at his waist, anchoring yourself to him as the world narrowed to nothing but the feel of him, the taste of him.

"Stay right here," he said, kissing the corner of your lips, then lower, along your jaw. "Let me taste my Christmas present nice and slow."

You barely had time to gasp before he shifted, pushing the covers aside to lower himself down your body with sinful intent. 

When he pressed his mouth just above your hipbone, a soft, desperate sound slipped from the back of your throat. He chuckled low, the vibration sinking into your skin like a brand.

"Mmm, that's it," he whispered, lips kissing the other hipbone. "All mine, pretty girl. Gonna make you feel so good you forget there's even a tree downstairs." he cooed.

Your hands flew to his hair instinctively, fingers threading through the messy strands as he nudged your thighs apart, taking his time like he had all morning to worship every inch of you.

And when his mouth finally found you, he drew warm, slow, devastating circles into your clit — making you arch into him and pray the house stayed quiet just a little longer.

“Fuck baby, please don’t stop…” You pleaded, panting softly, biting your lip to hold back a moan. 

His tongue slid up your slit slowly before he began drawing love letters with his tongue on your clit. The coil wound tighter and tighter with each motion. 

You gripped onto his hair and whimpered as you felt a wave of pleasure cascade down your body. Your back arched and nipples perked as your high took you to the clouds as his tongue drank in your sweetness. 

He came to a slow stop and hummed in satisfaction before slowly kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking a love mark into it, “You taste so sweet, mi vida…” he grinned as he looked up at you.

You bit your bottom lip, blushing and breathlessly giggled, “God, you’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller…” 

He chuckled lowly and came up to capture your lips with his in a slow, deep kiss, groaning softly as you pulled him close by threading your fingers through his hair. You tasted your sweetness on his lips, sending a wave of arousal to your core.  

Your lips tangoed in a heated and passionate fit of kisses before he pulled back a few inches and smirked, cupping your cheek as he growled. "Merry Christmas, baby... now be a good girl and spread those pretty thighs for me..." he kissed you once, deeply and slowly, "I wanna bury myself deep inside you..."

Your breath caught somewhere in the middle of your throat at his confession, and your cheeks turned red as a slow grin spread across your lips. “Yes, sir…”

You spread your thighs, and he immediately lined himself up before slowly sinking deep into your warmth. 

You both sharply gasped in unison, his forehead leaning against yours. 

His jaw tightened, and he gripped your waist as you pulled him deeper, grunting and eyes fluttering closed. 

He groaned and began slowly thrusting himself into you. His hips achingly being pulled back in by your tightness, causing him to shiver and let out a weak chuckle, “Fuck baby. If you weren’t already pregnant I’d be givin’ you that for Christmas with how good you’re pullin’ my cock deep inside you…” he grunted. 

You grinned and moaned before you began to grind your hips with his to create just another level of stimulation. You whimpered his name as added friction of his pubic hair rubbing against your clit was just enough to send you barreling towards the edge. 

A sinful grin stretched across his lips as he gently nibbled at your jawline and chin, "Fuck… nothing else I could unwrap today will ever feel as good as hearing you whimper my name while you’re wrapped around my cock..."

You panted and mewled, grinning as your fingers tangled in his hair, “You’re being a very naughty boy with how you’re talkin’ to me Mr. Miller…” You gently tugged on his hair, moaning as he moved down to mark your neck. 

He growled against your collarbone, “Mmm baby you’re not actin’ so nice yourself.” He started to thrust a little bit faster, making you gasp and clench around him. 

“In fact — with how you’re layin’ here... with your legs spread wide, my baby in your belly and still moanin’ for my cock… I’d say you’ve been a very naughty girl this year.” he moved up to cup your cheek and hover his lips over yours as his hips sped up more. 

You grinned and hummed sinfully as your eyes found his, “See I would argue the opposite... that by me doing all that, especially with the child of yours in my womb, I'm a go-…” your jaw slacking open as you felt an orgasm fast approaching, letting out a moan, your hand flying to grab his arm that held your cheek, “F-Fuck... right there…” you pleaded. 

He growled and kept the same momentum, moving his other hand to the back of your knee, pulling it up and out to get more access to you. His eyes never leaving yours as he lowly muttered, “You think you’re a good girl by that logic?” 

Something snapped inside you — hearing him call you a good girl —and you felt a wave crash over you. 

You whimpered and your eyebrows furrowed as you pathetically nodded and murmured over and over a couple times, “Yes… Yes…” as you came on his cock. 

He grinned devilishly realizing the term and its effect on you. He bit his lip watching you come undone as kept the pace and nodded with you, coaxing you through your high, “Mmm, you love hearing that, don’t you? Good girl...” 

You nodded and fluttered your eyes closed, your breath suddenly catching in the back of your throat. Your aching cunt pulsing around him.

He nudged your nose and panted, groaning as he sunk his lips down to mark your neck, “Good girl — now stay just like that.”

He could taste the sweet salty sweat that had dusted your skin under the heavy comforter and heat of his body which drove his hips to snap up in speed unconsciously. 

You felt over-stimulated and began trying to reach another peak of release by pinching your nipples between your bodies as he nibbled the soft spot on your neck — which made you moan a little louder than expected. 

“Shh baby, I need more time,” He moved his head and leaned up. He then began kissing you feverishly, pulling your leg up more as his hips began slowing down — more controlled strokes to settle you down. 

“Be a good girl… give me more time before we’re beckoned downstairs…” he whispered against your lips. 

You nodded and placed your hand over his chest. You felt his heart pounding against your palm. He was also coated in a thin layer of sweat himself. His hair fell forward onto his forehead, some of the hairs curling due to the sweat. 

You reached up to capture his bottom lip gently and pulled back to tease him, “Get on your back…” you pushed on his chest lightly to get him lay down. 

He chuckled lowly and slowly fell onto his back, pulling you with to straddle him, “Mmm you know how much I like this angle don’t you?” he ran his hand up your body — across the swell of your belly and in between your breasts to rest on your heart. It pounded against his palm.

You nodded, "You like to see your work..." You bit your lip and placed your hands behind yourself onto his thighs, arching your back a little so your bump and breasts were on display for him. 

His eyes widened slightly and then fluttered closed shortly after, his hands moved to grip your hips and he whimpered feeling his cock deep inside you, “F-Fuck that’s a good girl…” 

You began slowly bouncing up and down, your heart beating so quickly you could hear it in your own ears, “God, eres tan tonto...” (You’re so thick) Your breathing sped up as you felt a tug starting to bloom deep in your core. 

He grunted and began panting heavily as he felt you tighten around him, “That’s it baby… don’t stop… fuck…” he grinned feeling a deep pull himself in his navel. 

Your voice cracked as your head fell back, moaning his name as you came, your hips stuttering and began circle with him deep inside you. 

He grunted lowly and nodded, “That’s a good girl, cum for me…” 

Your hips stalled for a moment and you looked down at him still reeling from your orgasm. Your breath heavy, and legs weak. 

He looked up at you like he couldn’t hold it back another second — eyes dark, hungry, his hand already sliding around your waist, pulling you down in as close as he could. “Come ‘ere…”

And then he kissed you.

Not soft. Not hesitant. It was the kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs, that made your body burn with desire. One that tasted like want and need and everything you hadn’t needed to say to each other. 

His mouth slanted over yours, lips full and firm, and when his tongue slipped past your lips — slow, deliberate, teasing — you let out a soft sound and melted against him. You began rocking your hips up and down on his cock, riding him nice and slow — giving him more time. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just a little, and he groaned low in his chest, one hand gripping your lower back, the other rising to cradle your jaw tenderly. He sat up to have you more so sitting in his lap and moved your feet to wrap around him. 

His hands were everywhere and your tongues slid together, tasting, teasing, deepening the kiss until it felt like everything else disappeared — like time stopped just to let you both exist here, wrapped up in heat and heartbeats.

When both of you finally pulled apart, breathless — he rested his forehead against yours, groaning softly at the disconnect, “Let me do the work, let me…” he whispered before he began rocking his hips up into you. 

You nodded and panted heavily, exhaustion setting in, “I love you…” you whimpered, cupping his cheeks, pulling him in close to you. 

He brushed your hair back and cupped your cheek as well, whispering as he went back to kissing your lips tenderly, “I love you…” 

He kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, tender and soft but filled with every ounce of passion he could pack into a series of kisses. He moved his hand down and began rocking your hips as he rocked his, slowly building tension and momentum.  

When he felt the pull deepen he pulled from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes shutting and body tensing as he felt the coil snap followed by a wave of pleasure as he came deep up inside of you — whimpering your name like it was a prayer he couldn’t stop repeating, even when his voice was barely there. 

—

After you both came down from your highs, you ended up dozing off back to sleep.

He brushed your hair back, and his voice lulled you to sleep as he told you the story of Sarah coming to wake him up a few Christmases ago. How she and Tommy scared the shit out of him when they both came in together to prank him by jumping on the bed to wake him up. 

You didn't know how long you were out for, but you woke to the smell that hit you like a memory wrapped in a hug: warm, yeasty, and sweet cinnamon.

You blinked awake, stunned to find Joel not in bed next to you.

You quickly got up and dressed before padding down the stairs to find Joel standing in the kitchen — hair mussed, T-shirt wrinkled, flour dusted on his matching Christmas flannel pajama pants you all were wearing together this year. A proud, sheepish grin stretched across his face.

"Merry Christmas, mi vida," he said, holding up a tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls.

Sarah sat at the island grinning wildly, already wearing one of your aprons that was a little too big for her. 

"We saved the icing for you," she said brightly, holding out a spatula.

You covered your mouth, laughing through the tears that rushed to your eyes.

Joel crossed the kitchen in three long strides, setting the tray down and cupping your face in his big, floury hands. He kissed you once, slow and sure, and whispered:

"Let’s make some Christmas memories, my love."

And that’s exactly what you did — laughing, baking, and burning the first batch just a little.

But all in good fun – who wouldn't with the excitement of all the presents under the tree?

Previous Chapter - Final Chapter

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[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deed. [George Weasley x Reader]

Title: No Good Deed. Part 1.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

"How dare they! It's all I have left of him! I've already lost him once and now I have to lose him all over again?!"

You'd never seen George so angry as he stepped into the office, kicking a cardboard restore box under the table that stored this quarter's paperwork in sheer frustration. He tugged off his tie and ran his fingers through his flame red hair, trying to calm himself, his face downcast despite his anger. You silently stood in the doorway of the office, just observing him, not quite knowing what to say or how to comfort him after what had happened earlier that day in the meeting you'd both attended.

"Mr Weasley, there is one final notion on the mandate which must be discussed," the balding, sour-faced man says from the other side of the table, briefly looking up from his typed paperwork as he strains his neck once again, a habit you'd noticed him doing frequently during your hour long meeting which was thankfully coming to a close.

You'd accompanied George to a meeting with his investors in London, notetaking for him and assisting him with the figures that the investors required to see periodically throughout the year as per their contract. You'd always had an affinity for bookkeeping and had found your skills utilised upon employment at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just after you left Hogwarts, immediately taken onboard by your childhood best friends Fred and George Weasley.

After Fred's death and the end of the war, funds had been low due to the long store closure despite their best efforts at an owl postage service and once George was ready to reopen the shop, he had needed to take on investors in order to get the money to replenish products and reopen the store, giving them shares in the company and the overall profits. Fortunately, the business had immediately boomed once again when the store reopened, only increasing in popularity and therefore profit when Hogwarts reopened and Diagon Alley bloomed with old and new shops opening seemingly every day. The investors were largely silent, providing money without any input to the business, proud to be associated with the more popular store in Diagon Alley, at least until today.

"It has come to our attention that you are providing services under a false pretence which we must discuss," another man says, much harder in his expression.

Your eyes flick to George who looks rightly offended and confused at the vague notion, seeing him shift in his seat somewhat uncomfortably.

"As there are no longer two of you, the name 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' is redundant, incorrect and therefore unmarketable as it stands. We propose that changes must be made to change the name to 'Weasley's', moving the apostrophe so that it denotes the true ownership. Mr Weasley, you have 30 days to make the necessary change or else our shares will be pulled and we will no longer be investing in your business."

The meeting had come to an abrupt end as the investors exited, leaving you with a seething George who had surprisingly held it together until you both apparated to the outside of the shop. You'd struggled to keep up with George as he bounded up the stairs towards the office, completely ignoring Ron and a few regular customers who had greeted him. You shot them apologetic smiles, wordlessly trying to excuse his uncharacteristic behaviour as you followed him to the office.

He threw down his jacket onto your chair as you entered behind him and immediately began tugging at his tie in frustration.

"I can't change the name! It was always me and Fred, I've already lost him once I can't lose him again, not like this," his tone was no longer filled with anger or rage but rather deep sadness and heartbreak at the thought. You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to watch any longer as his words hit you like a freight train, the pain overwhelming you not only at the mention of Fred but of George's evident sadness.

You hear him throw himself down into his chair and you open your eyes again to see him looking completely defeated as he clearly plays out his options in his mind to prevent this from happening.

"Ginny's about to become a Potter, Bill and Charlie aren't in the bloody country, Percy's… well, Percy and Ron can't join in as a co-owner, the deeds are in mine and Fred's name. Six, well, five siblings and not one of them can help. Unless there's a way of bringing Fred back through the bloody veil, which I've exhausted all options in my bloody mind believe me, then I'm fucked. Everything Fred and I built is ruined."

You watch as his long fingers run over his face, rubbing his eyes which you suspect are brimming with unshed tears judging by his emotion filled voice.

Your words flew out of you before you could even comprehend what you were saying, surprising even yourself for a moment.

"I'll marry you."

George looks utterly astounded by your words as his eyes shoot up to yours, confusion evident over every single one of his features as your words sink in.

"Eh?" His brief reply conveys every inch of perplexity that his features show and at any other time the look on his face would have made you double over with laughter.

"Angel, I don't think now's the time," he says with a gentle frown, clearly treading carefully with his words despite his confusion. You fight to get the words out to explain yourself, knowing that somewhere before your unexpected outburst there was solid reasoning in your mind.

"You need another Weasley and the only way you can override the shared deed is by entitlement, like by marriage," you say, moving forward to stand in front of him before taking a seat on his wooden desk. Your leg brushes against his as you hop up and you don't miss how his eyes briefly flicker to the point where your legs touched just for a second.

"I've seen it with my parents, when my mum and dad divorced she was entitled to the interest of his business as a matrimonial asset. We'd have to check if there's a time limit on that but with Fred gone, it's the only way you'd be able to get another shareholder in his place."

You were trying to keep your explanation simple, pulling from your firsthand experience in similar matters but as you fought to explain yourself, you found yourself rambling a little under George's intense gaze.

"If we got married you wouldn't have to change the name, I'd take your name and we'd both be Weasley by law, cancelling out their demands. You'd have to put me on the business documents but we could draw up some sort of contract that doesn't actually entitle me to any money or profit from the business, but they don't need to know that."

Your words hang in the air for a few moments, tense silence lingering between you as your words replay over and over in your mind, wondering if you'd gone too far and made things too awkward.

"I couldn't ask you to do that," George says quietly, averting his eyes.

"Georgie I'd do it for you without a second thought, it might be the only way you could keep the business exactly as it is," you say, reaching out to touch his shoulder, trying to urge him to listen to you.

He fell silent again for a few more tense moments and you could see the conflict on his face as he considered his options, allowing your proposal to sink in. He's quiet again when he replies and if anything he looks a little timid as he speaks.

"But you and Fred," he weakly argues, his words making your stomach lurch painfully. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. You hadn't considered this part, the mental and emotional conflict of your proposal. You and Fred had been something throughout your later school years and a little while after, but had never wanted to make anything official, a secret shared between you both that never allowed you to commit to each other.

"Are in the past," you unwillingly admit with a sad sigh, "Fred's gone, it's taken me a really long time to mostly accept it, but if this means keeping his memory alive just as it is then I'd do anything, for him and for you."

Things were a little awkward for a couple of days following your outburst and each time you saw or crossed paths with George you inwardly cringed. You'd shut yourself in the office most of the time, trying only to see him before store opening and packing up and rushing off just before close, ensuring you wouldn't have to spend any prolonged time together.

"I know you're avoiding me," A familiar voice behind you says as you gather your bag and mug off the desk just before the end of the day, 3 days after your outburst. You turn slowly and see him leaning on the door frame with a little knowing smirk on his face, though his eyes look sad. You bite your lip, knowing you'd been caught out and flick your eyes to your bag, to the clock on the wall and then back to George, not really knowing how to respond.

"It's okay, I understand," he says, taking a slow step into the office, "but there's no need to feel awkward, not with me, I don't take it personally that you regret offering."

"I don't regret it," you reply quickly with a frown, effectively cutting him off. Your words make his eyebrows shoot you a little in surprise, or maybe it was the conviction in your voice that surprised him. "I've been avoiding you because it's been painfully awkward to offer yourself like that and be rejected."

"I didn't reject you," he replies quickly but with a gentle tone, now cutting you off. Your eyes widen a little at the quickness of the reply and you can't help but look into his eyes, seeing his tongue poke out and wet his lip as he looks nervously back at you.

You both look at each other for a moment as a little tense silence falls and you both breathe out a chuckle at the awkwardness in the room.

"So to make it clear, I could still marry you?" He asks, walking forwards towards you.

"I think the agreement was that I'd marry you," you teased, smirk tugging at your lips which earned you a roll of his eyes. "But yes," you said, now with a more serious and honest tone. "My offer to get married is still very much open, for the sake of the business."

He stands before you and you crane your neck upwards towards his familiar height and there's an intimacy that passes between you both that had never existed before as you look at each other, communicating only with your eyes.

"Then I accept your proposal," George says, taking your hand mockingly and you gasp at him, pulling your hand away to smack his arm lightly.

"I didn't propose to you!"

"That's not what I'm going to tell our grandkids," he jokes, pulling you into a hug. You can't deny that even though his words were mocking, your tummy did a little nervous and excited flip at his words.

"Thank you, so much," he says as you pull apart, completely serious as he looks at you with such intensity if makes your knees a little weak. "This means so much to me."

"And me."

It was Saturday night and you'd invited George around to your flat after work, to talk over your agreement. You'd opened a bottle of wine and ordered a takeaway, a benefit of living in muggle London that you loved, and started writing out some plans to your agreement as you both sat on the sofa beside eachother, the coffee table littered with notebooks and paper.

"We should move in together, make it believable," George says, taking a sip of his wine. You look at him in surprise, not having expected those words to fall from his lips.

"Who are we trying to convince?" You ask, a little confused at how deep this was going.

"Oh yeah, right," he says, looking away, taking another sip of wine. You immediately felt a little bad seeing his apparent negative reaction to your words and considered his idea for a moment, thinking of the implications.

"Unless the investors ask for character references," you said, picking up your own glass. "I suppose it's possible, we'd have to tell your family wouldn't we."

George nods slowly, on the same wavelength as you.

"Would your family be able to lie if they were questioned?" You ask, looking up at George.

George snorts into his glass and shakes his head in reply, "About hiding Harry, yeah, about this? No way."

"Then we'll have to convince your family that we're actually married," you say, feeling a little uneasy at the thought of lying to the family you cared very deeply for. George made a vague noise of agreement and placed his empty glass down onto the coaster on the coffee table, smoothing the creases in his trousers out with his long fingers.

"How long would we have to be married for?" George asks with a frown and you can't help but feel a little stab in your chest at his words, as silly as it was.

"Oh I don't know, until the investors drop the demand? Or maybe get new investors?" You ask, placing a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen into your face. George watches your every move and you can't help but stare back at him, seeing him paying close attention to you.

"How far away would we be from being able to do away with the investors? Business is good right, maybe I could cash in their shares and become sole owner," he says, flicking his eyes down to your work bag by the door, knowing that there's his accounting documents in there.

"Good idea," you say, placing down your glass and moving over to reach for your bag. You begin calculating the investors shares against the profits of the business and try and work out a timeline for how long it would take for George to earn the money to buy out the investors, assuming business stayed as good as it was now.

"Looks like two years, based on the projections," you say, placing down your pen. "If business stays at the rate it is, you'd be clear from all investors in just under two years."

"Is that, is that okay with you?" George says, looking up into your eyes, his voice suddenly quieter and a little more timid.

You smile at him and nod in reply, genuinely okay with that. "What about you?"

"Of course," he smiles, chuckling to himself a little as he picks at the tweed of his trousers, "you're doing me the biggest favour imaginable, I have the easy deal."

"You have to be married to me, I'd say that's not easy," you tease, picking up your glass and drinking the last sip of wine left.

"I don't know, I can think of many worse things than being married to you," he says with a grin, reaching out to refill both of your glasses. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you bite back a smile.

"I have to admit," George says, handing you back your glass, "I feel as if I'm treading on Fred's toes a little, he'd probably be conspiring to turn my eyebrows purple if he knew I was stealing his woman, that or he'd shave them off whilst I slept," he says with a laugh. You chuckle, picturing the scene in your mind but it doesn't stop the little pang of sadness running through you. You wanted to tell George the whole truth but you couldn't, especially not now and so you simply allowed yourself to laugh and took another sip of wine.

"He'd understand," you say, perhaps a little quietly as you try to tell yourself that it was the truth, trying to justify your actions in your mind. George makes a sound of agreement and just as his glass reaches his lips, the buzzer rings out alerting you that the food had arrived.

"So, we have to convince your family that we're getting married, without dating beforehand?" You say, both of you still chatting as you eat your Chinese food. At this point you were feeling a little buzzed from the wine and everything felt a little easier to get out, the hesitation and trepidation of your words no longer bothering you.

"Good point, though we've always been really close so I don't think they'd think it was too out of the ordinary," George says, taking a huge bite of fried rice. "Did anyone know about you and Fred?"

"I don't think so," you replied, thinking of all the time you'd spent at the Burrow and of each family member, "I think Ginny had her suspicions but she never asked me about it. Thank god you were identical, we could always lie and say it was you if anyone did notice something," you chuckled, earning an enthusiastic laugh from George.

"How do we explain the divorce though?" You asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, your thoughts drifting into all possible outcomes. "I don't want to lose your family because I become your horrible ex-wife," you say, feeling sad about the potential of that.

"You'd never be horrible, not to me and not to them," George says, reaching out to touch your hand. "We could always say we were just better off as friends? That marriage was too constricting for both of us? That way no ones to blame."

"Yeah that could work," you say, feeling a weird sense of sadness at the concept of divorcing George.

"On a serious note though," he says, temporarily placing down his cutlery as he looks at you, his eyes staring intensely into yours. "If you don't want to do this, I completely understand. It's asking too much of you and I'm very aware of that. It would mean no open dating or seeing anyone else until everything was over," he says carefully. You hadn't really considered that but it was a price you were willing to pay. The fact that George had said no open dating had made you feel a little off, knowing he intended to still date even though you were married, which of course was normal in the circumstances but it still made you feel a little funny.

"You'd still want to date?" You asked, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, immediately mentally cursing the wine you'd drank that had apparently released your filter.

"Merlin no," he says with a little self deprecating chuckle, "I meant for you."

"I don't want to," you said, perhaps a little too quickly as it earned you a confused flicker of a look from George. "I mean, everyone would think I was cheating on you and I couldn't do that, not to you."

He seems to understand as he nods his head, once again picking up his fork and loading it up with the food.

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, with a determination in his voice that seemed to settle your anxious thoughts. "So, I suppose we really should move in together."

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[acourtofthought]

"Why would Gwyn be in the bonus chapter if she wasn't Azriel's endgame??"

I'd like to ask a better question. 🙋🏻‍♀️

Why would Elain be in the bonus chapter if she wasn't Azriel's endgame?

Objectively speaking - SJM has written the interaction with Elain and Azriel to be obviously - explicitly - romantic. They are about to jump each other in a hallway - like... there should be no question that these two want each other romantically.

The interaction with Gwyn - regardless of what people have theorized - is not inherently romantic. Azriel comes across Gwyn while she is training, then indirectly decides to regift a necklace to her (for whatever reason - mates, lightsinger, who cares), then pictures her smile. That interaction I could replace the names with Feyre & Cassian or Mor & Rhysand - and I wouldnt bat an eye. It's a platonic action/scene - regardless of how you interpret the deeper meaning.

Now realistically - if this Azriel POV was hinting at his book next and Gwyn as his endgame ... why would Elain be there???

Like first of all .... why would SJM introduce us to Azriel's endgame ... but start the chapter off with him down bad for ANOTHER WOMAN?

I don't know why SJM would do that... but let's just say that was her plan (for arguments sake). It still doesn't explain why she would use ELAIN.

It's not like them getting hot and heavy in a hallway was buildup for Elain's relationship with Lucien. Lucien didn't even see them - only Rhys did.

So why include Elain, of all people? Why not have it be some random woman at Rita's?

Why go through this elaborate setup of having Elain and Azriel wanting to kiss each other, having Rhysand intervene, order Azriel away -

Like if the end goal was to introduce Gwyn as a LI for Azriel - the first half of that bonus chapter is unnecessary. Nobody was 100% certain Elain & Azriel even wanted each other until that BC. It's not like they were entwined so explicitly on the page before the BC and SJM had to "tie up loose ends".

I'm sorry if this is annoying but one of the things I learned this year from working on my fantasy manuscript and having to cut down my word count - is that every single scene an author writes should have multiple purposes. You can't just add a scene for "drama". That's a telenovela, not a fantasy novel. Every scene has to advance the character arc or set up the plot in some way.

SJM isn't going to waste words writing an elaborate Elriel almost romance situation to end it in a bonus chapter. That's a waste of every single word.

Elain can't be there to just "add angst" for Azriel's arc. Rhysand can't have forbidden them to "add drama".

Like that is not a story.

There is only one way everything about that bonus chapter makes sense and that's to introduce Elain's book, AND cement Azriel as the LI. Gwyn is not there to be a LI for Azriel, she is there to advance the plot of the overall storyline.

"The end of a matter is better than its beginning"

"Where you start is not nearly as important as where you finish".

Elain's portion began the bonus and served it's purpose. To show Az in an unhealthy state of mind and fixating on the wrong things.

Gwyn's portion ended the bonus and will be the thing to set up Az's future. It is the first glimpse into him feeling the right things for the right reasons.

Gwynriels scenes didn't need to be romantic in order to feel right and that's all we really need to understand.

Both females were in the bonus to demonstrate wrong versus right. Unhealthy versus healthy.

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 62 analysis // spoilers

skip to loafer reiterated its message of "i love you as a person" in a soft and fun chapter. and with that, takamatu-sensei prepares us for a new arc that promises to be full of unforgettable moments.

(since the translation is still very fresh, i'll try to focus more on using the raws not to spoil anyone. i hope you understand that!!)

honestly, i find light chapters like this the hardest to analyze on their own, especially ones like chapter 62 that brings back several loose ends in order to tie up another knot before continuing the journey. so, instead of analyzing the chapter itself, i'm going to bring back some old debates and fit them into this new phase of each character.

even though friendship was the main point of the chapter, in my opinion mika also deserves her own spotlight since, in one way or another, she basically served as a bond between the two groups.

in the case of the boys, her name is brought up when shima reveals that he invited her to his travel group, without much thought of the consequences. this causes a certain amount of anger in mukai, who was the person who witnessed very closely mika's reactions before and after the confession (and even later, when she was talking to nao by the beach). however, he’s also one of shima’s oldest friends, so he knows exactly what he been through, which is te exactly reason why he acts impulsively. 

it's as if he were between two different oceans, not knowing which way to go, since both are too turbulent for him to navigate. it's hard for mukai to completely side with his friend, since mika's feelings are still very vivid to him, but he knows all the difficulties that shima went through regarding her own internal terrors, that’s why he holds himself back to not curse him or anything. what he ends up choosing is the safest rote, which is to scold him with an open heart, making sure to show that what he did was wrong. in the end, he won’t explain it to shima the exact reason why he’s mad because he knows he doesn’t have the rights to speak for mika, that’s why the message gets a little confusing for shima, who’s still learning and growing (and honestly, the reacting of stop to understand where mukai was coming from is actually a big step for him, which i appreciate). 

in the case of the girls, mika is also the only one who, up until now, knows about the events before and after the confession. she can see the sincerity and kindness behind shima, who continues to respect and see her as a friend, but it's hard not to assume a protective position when the new person to be affected by the same feelings is mitsumi, someone who she became so important to her. and that's where her growth as a character is slowly revealed.

mika has always created her own barrier and has had difficulty opening up to the girls. and that didn’t start recently, since she have been dealing with her insecurities for as long as she can remember. mika spend most of her childhood alone and had a hard time to make friends when she started her teenage years, which led her to have a very abrupt start when she met mitsumi, yuzu and makoto. for her, it has always been very difficult to see herself in a group of friends and to be comfortable with herself to the point of expressing her mind clearly. 

as the story go by, we can see how comfortable mika is now with the girls, but old habits are hard to erase. even with all her conversations with nao and the peace she feels around her friends, there are still a lot to be unfold and a lot to grow. 

however, for her to grow, she needs to keep trying. and that’s when she choses to shine in this chapter: she finally manages to open up to mitsumi and reveal the secret that corrupts her so much. 

ever since mitsumi confessed the relationship she and shima had, mika has been struggling with indecision about whether to open up or keep the event forever as a bad memory from the past. it's hard for her, since she doesn't want to lose mitsumi's friendship or the other girls', but she also needs to accept what happened in order to finally say goodbye to them. it's not that she doesn't have her feelings cleared up inside her or that they still have a chance to blossom again. what really hits her is the fact that she's hiding something she considers important from her best friends, which might results in a awkward situation later on. 

the moment mika admits out loud that mitsumi is much more important in her life than any past crush, mika is finally saying goodbye to this weight she's carried for so long and can finally start another chapter in her life. now, she no longer has anything hidden or needs to walk on eggshells — the love she embraced and the love she receives are enough for her to stand tall. 

the development of skip to loafer's friendships is indeed something that needs to be celebrated. throughout the narrative, we are constantly reminded that the story itself is built on the idea that love doesn't need to be romantic to be true, it just needs to be felt. loving someone is accepting their flaws and understanding their scars, like mukai and shima; loving someone is being vulnerable, like mika and mitsumi; loving someone is going out together to buy clothes for a trip they've been waiting for.

it's beautiful to see how the girls care about mitsumi and her feelings, but still root for her happiness and are excited for her. it's beautiful to see how they're always together in difficult times, whether they're big or small (or even medium, like what's the right outfit to wear on a date. that's very important for a teenage girl). 

and for shima and mitsumi, it’s cute to see how shy they are around each other and how they are allowed to slowly understand their feelings. the narrative doesn’t force them to anything at any point or rushes them to a resolution, what it does is explore the nuances and difficulties of dealing with your first ever romantic love, specially when you were never allowed to explore your own feelings in the first place (like shima), and the fear of losing a best friend that you cares so much (like mitsumi feels). 

i don’t think this is the calm before the storm, but i do believe takamatsu-sensei is getting us ready for what’s coming next. i do believe this will be a very decisive arc for a lot of characters, but it will also birth many more plots for us to explore.

thank you so much for reading 💛 don't forget to support the author if you can and also thank the translation group!!

and if you're interested, i wrote a while ago an analysis about skip to loafer's "i love you as a person" message. just click here to find it!

[fandomobbsessedb]

Your Favorite Players Favorite Player.

Young-Il/ Frontman / In-Ho/ Player 001 x Gi-Hun's Sister Reader)

Chapter 5 / The Things We Do In The Dark

Warnings: swearing, sexist behavior, verbal assault a little bit, heavy make out scenes bordering on nsfw but not enough, blood, guns, gore. Implied physical intimacy. I got. a lil high while writing this. Blood, needles. Vomit.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the third game. Now, here are the results of the third game.”

My lips quivered as I watched the money fill the piggy bank, there where so many people that died in the last round, squashed like bugs on the ground, and I don’t know how much longer I could stand it.

I was sitting with Hyun-Ju and Geum-Ja along with Young-sik, wallowing in my grief over Young-mi. I found I couldn’t watch the bank anymore and turned into Hyun-ju hiding in her clothes. Her arms came around me and held me loosely. When that Shaman walked past us uttering about how we would follow her, Geum-ja started spitting and patting us down, trying to get her evil energy off of us. I felt her patting at my leg and brushing me off before moving the Hyun-ju. I slowly leaned away to give her room.

“We will once again conduct the vote in reverse order from highest to lowest.” The guards announced. “Player 456, please cast your vote. To ensure this process remains fair and democratic, starting now, disruptive acts of any kind are strictly prohibited. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Gi-hun pressed the familiar button and went to stand on his side of the room.

“Player 432.” I stepped away from where Hyun-ju and I stood together and quickly made my way down the aisle. I stopped right before the machine and shyly wiped my tears away. I looked up to the guards who appeared to have physically tensed at my sad face. I pressed X as always and went to stand with Gi-hun. When I got over to him he bowed his head down at me in a single nod, he opened his stance a bit more, inviting me in for a hug but I simply turned away and held myself. There was something cooking in his mind and I was done with all the plans and schemes to win and just, everything.

More and more players voted and the scores varied right up until the end. Jung-bae counted players that switched teams, leaving us in sick anticipation for the outcome. We only needed five more people to vote for our side and we would win. However, I had an itching feeling that something would turn.

We watched as the player right before Young-il selected O over the X. I felt the crowd around me get tight and suffocated, I turned to follow her line of sight and saw her bowing the that filthy Shaman. I recoiled in anger, feeling my insides bubble with sick, gooey, fury.

“Player 001, please cast your vote.” I turned to watch Young-il choose. He stopped in front of the console and paused for a moment and I thought back to what happened in the mingle room.

If he too was willing to kill people to win, he was almost no better than the guards and my brother. But when he turned I saw his gaze meet mine as I heard him press the X. The fear melted away from my face as he swiftly made his way towards me. That’s when I realized it. Gi-hun was here to stop the games yet had made…. Zero progress….. these guard’s jobs are to kill people, they’re just numbers to them. Young-il could’ve gone with anyone, he could’ve gone to any other room. But he chose me, he protected me, he saved… me. He was just another player but, he was given multiple chances to better his chances in the games and he didn’t, he only did that once… for me.

When he got over to me I smiled softly and took his hand, turning us back to the front to see the tied scores.

“Clause three of the consent form: Should the initial vote result in a tie, the players will vote again. To ensure you have enough time to properly consider your options, the second vote will be conducted tomorrow. Until then, please take this opportunity to think carefully about your future.”

You let out a soft sigh and grasped both of your hands around Young-ils. The endorphins from the anticipation flushed away, and all you were left with was a tired sagging body. Letting you go for a moment he quickly wrapped you in his arms and led you away towards your beds.

“Are you okay?” His heavy voice melted in my ear. I felt the warmth of his embrace slowly caress the worry inside of me. I silently nodded as a few tears escaped me. My hand came up to his arm that was wrapped around my torso holding me up and squeezed it tightly in my trembling hands.

“I’m so scared.” I whispered under my breath, facing the ground, though he wasn’t as tall as my brother he felt much… bulkier. His arms felt like a weighted blanket wrapped around me, securing me from the outside world. He whispered back reassurances to me as I silently wept into his jacket. His hug trapping me inside our own little bubble, securing me and filling my need for comfort.

“C’mon, let’s go sit down.” He suggested, keeping an arm around my waist and guiding me to a bed.

————

Gi-Hun turned away from the group to look for his sister. He saw it written earlier on her face, but had no clue how far gone she would be emotionally from the tie. Not seeing her where he left to searched the crowd for her ponytail. Only to see it walking away.

He quickly shuffled through the players to get to her until he saw… Young-il.

His arm tightly holding her waist, as if he was completely holding her on his own as he escorted her away from their circle. They disappeared into the beds. With an annoyed sigh he turned back to the group to figure out what move was next… if only he had kept watching-

————

Young-il sat me down on the bed, but not before looking off into the distance. Tilting my head up to meet his gaze. I wondered what was troubling him. If it was the same worries as me, or if he had his own doubts.

He looked back down at me, realizing I had been staring and quietly whispered. “I don’t like the split. It’s just too close to call.” He confided reaching out. I took his much larger hand into my own and traced my thumb across his knuckles in a comforting manner. Looking back down at me, he squeezed the hand I was holding, and looked deep into my eyes. He leaned in close after looking around once more and held my chin the same way he did back in the room.

“I will get you out of here alive.” He declared quietly.

“You can’t guarantee that” I whispered into his palm, my voice cracking at his declaration. He reached both hands down and squeezed my shoulders, looking like he had something else to add, but before he could, Jun-hee was coming over to the beds where we were sitting.

“They’re going to hand out food, they told us to get in line.” She said looking between the two of us. With an out held hand Young-il helped me up as we made our way to the lines.

After everyone got their food and was sitting on the steps, I slowly nibbled at my gimbap, too sick to full eat a piece. My throat felt dry and my nerves were shot. I tuned out the people around me and focused on how close Young-il’s hand sat to my thigh, like a rock, strong and reliable, it sat there comforting me in my worry. Knowing there was someone I could lean on.

“All we’ve had to eat is this dry gimbap, and when people get hungry, they start to miss home.” Geum-ja said reflecting on her own meal. I let out a sniffle and nodded my head as Jun-hee rubbed my back in response. I turned to Gi-hun who sat behind me and shakily asked him.

“When we get home, will you make me moms dak gomtang?” I pleaded. With a soft smile he nodded his head and pet my hair just like our mom use to do to comfort me.

I turned back around to finish my piece of Gimbap when I felt Young-il brush my hair away from my face to brush a piece of rice off my chest. I felt his hand slightly itch my collarbone causing my body to tense.

“Sorry you’ve just got some food stuck on you.” He told me, brushing it away and then pulling my hair over the opposite shoulder. Feeling him move my hair around sent pleasuring tingles down my spine. Followed by his hand which went to slowly rubbing my back in what was meant to be comforting, but got lower and lower the longer he brushed.

“Hey! Don't agonize over your decision while eating this dry gimbap. I just want one of you to come over to our side. If we get out of here tomorrow morning, we could get Korean beef!I'll tell you what. It's my treat!” Young Sik yelled, distracting me from my intense feel-up contest with Young-il.

“And after that, the noodles are on me!” Geum-ja laughed.

“Come over to our side! Anyone!” “Come on over!” The former Marines yelled beckoning someone over.

“Guys please don’t antagonize them.” I asked, they turned back to look at me confusingly before talking back to the other side as they whooped and hollered.

“Once you all die in the next game, we can all leave with 800 million each! With 800 million, we could buy a freaking cattle ranch!” The old guy shouted. I crinkled my nose in disgust at the general entitlement. Doesn’t he himself have 100 billion won debt????

“ That's right! You can join us!” “That's right! Come on over!” “Come over to our side!” Their little gaggle group taunted right back. Nam-gyu stood from where he had been eating and raised a hand up, using two fingers in a ‘come here’ motion.

“Hey, 432, yeah I’m talking to you pretty girl, why don’t you walk that fine ass over to our side.” He laughed a deep throaty laugh in mock appreciation. I scoffed and turned away with them, grasping at Young-il’s arm that was tensed when I got closer.

Dae-ho joined in at my disgust at the offensive display “You'll get 800 million? Who are you kidding? Do you think you'll still be alive after the next game? If you don't get out now, you're all going to die!”

The guy on the other side called back at him, “So let's play one more game to see who dies. Stop trying to run away like a goddamn coward.” He and Nam- Gyu laughed at their own theatrics. “You can run towards us though cutie, bring that hot little body over to the winning team.”

Young-il clenched his fist tightly and went to stand along with Gi-hun who knew that was a crossed line, unfortunately for them Dae-ho beat them too it.

“What did you say? Hey, come here. Come here, asshole! What makes you think you can just say that to a girl fuck face?” He marched over to them.

I just buried my face into my hands in embarrassment. I felt Young-il move to sit in front of me, effectively blocking me from their view. I pat his shoulder in appreciation. And went back to my food. My mind drifted to my thoughts about Young-il. Our shared kiss just minutes ago tantalizing my brain. It was something hot and electric and warm and welcoming all at the same time. I lightly brushed my lips thinking about how.. right… his felt against them, and how much I missed having them there.

How had a complete stranger, which I probably never would have met in ANY other circumstance, manage to wiggle his way into my heart, my life, my mind. Why did I find such comfort in him?

Was it the way I felt the structure and security from him where it had been absent in my life. Or the way that he doesn’t seem to act as though we have our own separate lives, like our life is one combined entity, that we just work for each other. How did I feel so safe with him?

A comotion caught my attention a few minutes later when the group of people that went to the bathroom came back all bloody and sweaty looking. Apparently a fight had broken out and five people died. Gi-hun deduced that we still had more people than they did, easing the nerves in my stomach a bit.

Lights out in 20 minutes. All players, please prepare for bedtime.

Nevermind…

“Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us. Because if they kill us, they'll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.” GI-hun said looking over us from where he stood. He started telling some bizarre story about a ‘frontman’ and ‘VIP’s’.

“Wait this front man, what does he look like?” I interrupted.

“He wears a black mask, and a long trench coat.” He replied. I looked at him quizzically,

“How do you know?” I asked him. He sighed and ruffled his hair before turning away to look at the other team.

Okay so that wasn’t an anwser Gi-HOE.

Jung-bae sighed, “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

“We'll fight them with guns too.” GI-hun replied eyeing the door up and down.

“But we don't have any.” Jung-bae remarked.

“We'll take their guns.” Gi-hun nodded.

“From those masked men?” I was starting to get a bit irate with the amount of questions he was asking.

“That's too dangerous. Even if we manage to take a few guns, we'll still be outnumbered.” Young-il crossed his arms as he leaned against the poles of the beds.

“What then? Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want, Young-il?” Gi-hun accused, starting to stand taller and squaring his shoulders.

“Do we stand a chance?” Young-il asked remaining composed compared to my brother.

“We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they're the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.” He said, squatting down on his knees to be on a closer level to the rest of us.

“How are you going to take their guns?” I asked, almost like a jest.

“Once the fight begins tonight, we'll have our chance. Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends. Don't get caught up in the fight. But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage.” I grunted and stood wiping invisible dirt off my hands, hearing his bogus plan he started sounding just like the thing he was trying to stop. Sacrificing the few for…. The few???

“Where are you going?” GI-hun asked me angrily.

“If you really have to know, I’m going to the bathroom.” I grunted, tying my hair back and stomping off.

“Y/N! They called the last bathroom round ten minutes ago!” Jung-bae yelled after me.

“I don’t care! I didn’t have to pee then but I do now!” I yelled back making my way to the door.

Young-il stood there, watching her leave. Quickly looking around the group he boldly started walking with her.

“I’ll go with her to make sure she’s okay.” He said. Gi-hun stood to try and stop them but yelled a simple be quick in response.

————

The triangle gaurd took one last look out the door before switching out his shift. When he saw player 432 storming up to the door and the player who was secretly their boss behind her, player 001, he set to work quickly unlocking the door.

————

I splashed my face of at the sink and stood there for a moment, exhaust creeping its way into my bones. I stared down into the white linoleum, a bunch in my pocket diverting my attention.

I took out the handkerchief Young-il had given me a few days ago. Staring at it I thought about the relationship between us. The stolen moments during mingle, the never ending physical contact, the doting on me,he’s like… everything I wasn’t getting from my relationship with GI-hun, the romantic love versus the familial love. That’s why I-

“Y/N” Young-il spoke up from the doorway. I jumped in surprise at his intrusions. “Are you okay?”

“Young- il, you startled me. What are you doing in the women’s bathroom?” I asked. He looked down at me with those gateway eyes, locking my attention in place on him and him alone.

“I simply wanted to check on you, you were in here for awhile.” He walked towards me quickly backing me up against the farthest wall. Almost like he was upset at my absence.

“Young-il what? What… what are you doing?” I questioned, fear written in my eyebrows. His arms came up beside me trapping me between him and the wall.

“I’m not letting you go back.” He told me, running a hand down my face a bit roughly.

“To what? The room?” I giggled. He blinked in confusion before realizing his mistaken statement.

“Yes the- the room, lights out is in three minutes and all the fighting will start. Everyone else is safe where they are.” He replied, his hand dropping down my jacket and lightly resting on my waist.

“The gaurds will make us leave event-“ before I could finish his other hand wrapped around the back of my neck like someone picking up a kitten from the scruff, the hand on my waist felt heavier and he pulled me in, smashing our lips together. After a brief moment of confused anger, I relaxed into his hold. Like there was some magic about him, I forgot about everything about to happen just a few staircases away.

His lips felt like my missing puzzle piece. The interlocking pieces showing off a whole picture. My hands rested on his shoulder when he released my neck, and in turn wrapped around my own back and pulled me in tight. My fingers traveled up to the nape of his neck, lightly pulling at the ends of his hair.

Our bodies molded together against each other like we were a marbled statue carved by the hands of a god. The feeling of unfamiliar, magnetic, desire was like seeing a flame and wanting to sit closer and closer to watch the hot carbon crackle and shift, your interest peaked. His arms now felt like those licks of fire tickling my skin, burning my face and crisping my hair.

He disconnected our lips with a heavy breath only for his face to turn into my neck, attaching and sticking like a fly on sticky paper.

Letting out an indecent moan, (Y/N) crumbled in his arms as he licked the edge of her ears, his warm breath heated her core slowly like a hot bath, seeping into the skin and melting your insides.

His hands slowly made their way from her hips upwards, underneath her shirt. He tore away from her for a moment to rest their foreheads together. He trapped her deep in his gaze. Looking into the depths of each-others souls, they lightly nodded to one another, a silent understanding.

“Don’t worry about the games, don’t worry about the world, don’t worry about your brother. I just need you to worry about being right here, right now. With me. Nobody else.” He whispered heavily into her ear. She took a deep breath and relaxed further in his hold as she felt him slowly start peeling away her sweat-pants.

————

The moment they left the bathroom (Y/N) Realized the gaurds had stayed outside the bathroom…. The whole time they were in there. With a bright pink face and mis-matching clothes she walked her way back to the room, Young-il trailing behind her.

They reached the door back into the room and noticed no guard on duty.

“Get behind me and physically stay behind me.” Young-il ordered, grabbing my wrist and pulling me. He quickly opened the door the reveling the room flashing its lights above like a rave. As splatter after splatter of blood shot into the ceiling. Young-il pushed me to my knees.

“Hey! You said we would stop that when we got back.” I whisper yelled at him. He clapped a hand over my mouth, and with his other made a shushing sign.

“Not a word, not a sound and no helping.” He seethed. He got down too and pressed us against the wall so that we had something to blend too. We quickly and quietly ran over to our beds. A few bodies tripped me here and there, and some bodies fell from above us. Everytime when I went to whimper or scream, Young-il would wrap his hand back around my mouth preventing any noise.

We got back by our beds and Gi-hun grabbed my ankle hauling me under the bed, Young-il hot behind us. For some reason the screams and blood felt even louder from below. We kept watching as bit after body dropped on the sides. Whatever sick bastard was playing with the lights was gonna give me an aneurism.

Thud

I laid my head on the ground to peer under Young-ils chin.

A nose ring caught my eyes.

A nose…….

A nose ring?

Noticing my tensing muscles, Gi-hun wrapped his arms around me and held me down. Young-il covered my mouth again as both did their best to muffle me.

“MMMMMMMMMPH, SSSMEEE, MM!” I screamed against his hand. I wiggled and fought against the two but it was no use. My breath quickened like I couldn’t get enough. My blood ran cold as I saw her brown warm eyes watching me as she died. I was suddenly hyper aware of how cold the ground was, and my sweat stuck to my body like scotch tape. When Young-il released my mouth I had cried so hard no sound left my lips. My lungs begged in unison for air but I couldn’t find it in me to let them have it, I felt like I was about to push my heart out of my body, my chest was so tight. When I could finally inhale the salty tears rinsed down my eyes, mixing with the small trickle of blood that came from under her head. The warmth of her blood drawing me in for comfort since I couldn’t reach out to her. My neck grew tired as I held my head above the puddle I was aching to lay on. The overwhelming pain of everything finally hitting me like a dump truck. My sobs didn’t go unnoticed however and Young-il gently released me and held me close to his chest as I wept. I cried against him, feeling like he was the only thing I had left in this whole world. As more terroism and destruction befell our surroundings, I felt ill, and warm, and sick, and cold, and tired, and angry, and a million different things all at once. I wasn’t sure what else I could turn to: Mentally, I screamed out, and felt like my brain was thrashing around inside of my head as I prayed to whoever might be listening to end this, to get us out of here…to get me home.

The light stopped flickering as the big ones flashed on, revealing the total carnage of the room, again the wooshing of the door opening released the guards hiding safely behind it.

The pink guards enter the room with their guns raised. One started firing into the air to get the attention of the rest of the room as the others went around apprehending the fighters.

I released Young-ils jacket from my grasp, stretching out my now stiffen fingers. I took slow and steady deep breaths in while Young-il his Se-mi from my view. Gi-hun delicately grabbed a blanket on the floor and soaked up the puddle. I slowly stretched out the rest of my body and a move to start crawling out. The tight cramped hiding place of ours suffocating me. Gi-hun and Young-il pushed me back under. Looking at them confused they simply responded by grabbing some blankets from the beds above us and draping them on the metal above me effectively hiding the rest of my body.

I watched as they laid down on the floor next to some of the other dead players acting as if they were ones too. My insides came up into my throat picturing them dead, but the logical part of my brain finally worked and reminded me they weren’t actually. Instinctively, when a guard came over, my hands flew up to my face, covering my mouth attempting to hush my breathing. I held my breath in anticipation as I watched one guard with a square mask, inspect Young-ils body. When he reached for his radio Young-il sprang up and tackled him to the floor, initiating the rest of our groups attack.

One by one guards were shot down left and right as I stayed hidden in my dark sanctuary. I couldn’t take listening to any more of the shots, so with physically weak arms, I laid my head on the ground and covered my ears, wishing it was Young-il comforting me instead. The doors whooshed shut again as one final bullet rang out across the room, like an unsatisfying end to a quiet song.

I slowly uncovered my head, daring to lift it up, so as to sneakily peer outside the open parts of the blanket. I saw Gi-hun walking up the steps, grabbing one of the soldiers by his shoulder and pushing him down demanding information out of him. The rest of our group followed his lead once they had the gaurd in captivity. They called everyone out from their hiding spots.

Deciding it was safe enough I crawled out myself and looked around, finally witnessing the total of the end of the fight. My intestines garbled and groaned at the sight of the bodies. Like it was some sick painting meant to represent something deep. Grabbing at the metal pole on the side of the bed I could feel my throat start tightening as a retching feeling came to my guts.

“BWAAGHH” I leaned towards the wall so that it at least wasn’t out in the open as I felt that nasty dried up gimbap roll coming back up.

Oh god I really hope it’s not chunky-

“BUUURGH” I retched, thankfully it was only a bit, and Geum-ja had come over holding my hair for me. After another minute or so of dry heaving, I stood up and took a breath. Geum-ja led me around to the front of the beds again, sitting me down and using her jacket sleeve to wipe the dried sweat off my face. 

“Everyone.” Gi-Hun spoke up, grabbing my attention. “We will now head up to the masked men's headquarters. We'll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward.”

With a breath I gently pushed Geum-ja’s hand off of mine and stood up, only for Young-ils gaze to stop me. With one finger he made a sit down motion, and strangely, I found myself obeying his wishes. Almost nobody walked up who wasn’t already in line, save for a few players who stepped up, slowly raising their hands and grabbing a weapon and radio when instructed. Seeing the lineup a few people started to disperse, still not caring about what could happen.

“ oh I hope they stay safe,” Geum-ja rung her hands in worry. Her son placed his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in what looked like it was meant to be comforting, but came off more apprehensive. Jun-hee joined us standing around talking about what was possibly to come. Not finding any interest in their conversation, however, I slightly turned my head tuning in to what Hyun-ju was saying.

“Attention!! This is the MP5, a submachine gun. First, if you press this lever in the middle and pull the magazine,it comes off like this. If the selector switch is down, it's set to full auto mode. Up is single-fire mode.We don't have many magazines, so set it to single-fire mode. Lastly, insert the magazine, pull the handle, and then release it. That's how you load it. Are we clear?” I slightly nodded in response knowing she couldn’t see me but memorizing the information nonetheless. All attention drew back as we heard Jung-bae sounding brave, for once, and demanding the solider take his mask off.

He slowly lifted his hood off, removing a black burka next, followed by his square mask. Looking at his scared young face, I felt as though he was no different from us in here, just scared, and alone. Nobody in their line up seemed to notice, but I did, as his eyes slightly flickered to Young-ils face then blinked back to the lineup. I glared at the man questioningly as I watched Young-il give the slightest head nod. So small that you would think he was just shifting but really he was masterfully responding.

What the hell?

“Good God. Do your parents know what you're doing here?” Jung-bae slowly lowered his riffle as he looked concerningly at the man. Gi-hun pushed him away, still high off the adrenaline from shooting, something he thought he would never do.

With a demanding voice, he cocked his gun and with an unwavering tone demanded “Take us to your captain.” The group made their way out of the room following the pressured gaurd. I stood again with intention to follow. When Young-il stepped out from behind the door they had smashed in.

“You stay here.” he pushed using his hand on my shoulder to turn me around and practically shove me back into the room. With a scoff I turned back around and placed my hand on the top of his gun. “ Stay? What do you mean stay ?” I asked angrily. He shook his head and bent his neck down to meet my ear.

“ I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know where we’re gonna go and I don’t know who is going to die, but as much as I can help it, you can guarantee it won’t be you.” he said sternly. Turning back, he started following the group again. I went to take a step about to disobey his orders, but found myself stopping my feet at the edge of the threshold of the door. It was true, though I didn’t know what laid beyond the hall, however, they didn’t either. Yet I still found myself, hesitating…with a sigh as the nagging voice in the back of my head told me to listen, I stepped back and retreated into the room.

I stood slightly pacing in front of our beds, unsure of how things were going and uncertain about where they were. One gentle voice in the back of my head told me to stay and to listen to young eels command, the other, however, pushed me and bugged me to leave the room. My inner curiosity stabbing at the voice, encouraging it more to leave the room, to find out what was happening. To see this so-called front man my brother kept going on about.

Geum-ja took a breath in and looked at our small gathering. “I wonder what they’ll find up there” she started trying to distract us from our worries, “ it would be interesting to see who is behind all of this to see what sicko found enjoyment in this.” She huffed.

Weak, small talk littered throughout the room doing fuck all to try and cure my boredom as the voices in my head grew louder and louder. I couldn’t help but walk around and try to distract myself. I took another glimpse at one of the dead guard’s bodies and noticed a bulge in the side pocket.

I slowly crept towards the body, thinking it might spring back to life and attack me, I stayed hesitant. With shaky hands, I slowly undid the clasp of the pocket and reached my hand in inside. I found an extra round of ammunition, looking at it like the holy Grail I crawled over to the other side to check the other pocket and see if there was more there. Unfortunately no but standing up, I quickly gazed at the rest of the dead soldiers, and noticed all of their left side pockets seemed a bit bulky than the other pockets.

I looked over to June-hee and Young-sik and pointed at the bodies “Quick, their left pants pocket, grab the rest of the ammo!” I demanded, they quickly followed suite and helped me compile all of our findings on top of a loose jacket. I turned my head up once again to look around the room and see if there were any willing volunteers to take the jacket. All I was met with was the back of heads as they all turned away, cowardly. With a huff, I wrapped up the jacket in my arms like a newborn baby and started making my way towards the door.

“Are you sure you should do this, it’s dangerous up there.” Geum-ja worried.

“ Well somebody has to, and I don’t see anybody else volunteering.” I shrugged, opening my arm in a gesture around the room.

“Just be careful.” Jun-hee nodded at me in understanding, I nodded back and reached around her for a hug. “I will be” I closed my eyes and succumbed to the warm embrace. I heard a small sneeze and turned my head up above to see Min-su rocking his head back and forth between me and Se-mi’s body. I though he looked so scared and lost like a baby bird. I went to Se-mi but before I could bend down Young-sik pulled me away.

“Please… let me.” He said understandingly. I stepped back watching as he closed her open eyes and draped one of the yellow blankets atop her resting body. I looked back at Min-su who slowly shook his head no urging me to stay with his eyes.

“I’m going for her, and for you.” I looked from my friends body to the one atop the beds. “She will not have died in vain, and you will not suffer the same.” I vowed looking back at Jun-hee. “You’ll have your baby.” I turned to Young-sik, “You will go on living,” and finally, I looked at Geum-ja, “Your life will not end in here”. She took a deep breath and nodded at me, patting my full arms. Looking around the room I saw a few people who had watched the interaction with teary eyes start hugging themselves or some of their friends, looking like they now regretted if they should have gone or not.

“Regardless of if you had wanted to stay, or end , nobody deserves to die this way.” I grimaced at the bodies around me. Turning to the door I anxiously stood in front of the threshold, feeling that nagging voice of doubt creeping back into my brain, but thinking of what might happen if I didn’t get them the ammo fueled me even more. With a strong breath in I stepped over the entrence and started jogging down the hall.

As I came across dead guards I emptied their pockets and kept briskly walking. My shins growing sore at the tightness I kept myself in. Stopping a few times to see where the next bloody trail of foot prints left, I craned my neck up to see how high this place went. The light from above shining onto the brightly colored space, not giving much room for shadows to creep in. Following the steps higher and higher I felt almost like I was in a maze. I noticed some broken glass on the ground and looked up to see a camera shot through, now facing the ground, spotting more of them like a trail I no longer felt the decision part of my brain working, as I concluded I simply had to follow the cameras.

I counted as I stepped till I got to one that wasn’t shot through.

How did they miss this one?

I walked past before a crunch under my foot distracted me again. I look down to make sure no pieces got in my shoe, and saw the white handkerchief Young-il gave me. He had taken it back in the bathroom, it must’ve fallen out of his pocket…

Remembering his defending warning from the door I felt my stomach sink thinking about if something might’ve happened to him, and how he would react to seeing me out of the room. Part of me wishes he’ll pull me in and kiss me for my bravery, the other part of me hopes he won’t be too upset. But deep down there’s this other, scolding feeling, what if he’s really upset with me? What if he hates me for it?. I couched this white symbol of worry closer to my chest as I carried on following the broken cameras.

————

A light on the camera flickered, waking itself from its shut down state. As it slowly turned to follow the way (Y/N) walked. It recorded as she stopped to grab more ammo and zoomed into the bundle in her arms.

“The girl has extra ammunition.” The black masked guard reported on his walkie. “All triangle soilders approaching your stations, load an extra round of ammunition into your inner pocket.” He ordered, as the pink guards around him fiddled with their computers, he turned to the nearest one who was saving every moment of footage they had before their cameras where shot.

“Number 6,”

The gaurd stood and turned to face his supervisor, the right hand man of their boss the front man.

“Follow player 432” he bowed aknowledging his command and made a swift exit to catch up to her.

“Don’t let her out of your sight…”

————

I crawled on the ground almost army style, as I got closer and closer to the sound of the gunshots. Using the sleeves of the jacket to tie it around my shoulders I hastily made my way around the corner as I laid on the ground. Hyun-ju spotted me and yelled for a cover fire. The walls next to me were torn up from bullets as their non-stop rain of shots, but for a brief moment there where more shots going out then coming at us.

I noticed Dae-Ho shooting aimlessly before he looked over to me. I threw the jacket over to him as his shaking arms caught it. He opened the bag reveling the ammo and diving them out. He looked between me and the bag, and tossed me his gun. I quickly caught it making sure the barrel was aimed away from me, now my shaky arms looked around in confusion.

“DAE-HO, I’VE NEVER USED A GUN BEFORE!!” I shouted at him, inspecting the gun wearily, never thinking I would hold one. Our parents raised me and Gi-hun in a peaceful household, never in my life did I think I would ever hold such a harsh weapon. I turned to Hyun-ju but before I could ask her she yelled at me and pointed to the pink guards.

“MAKE THE CROSS IN THE SMALLER BARELL LINE UP WITH WHAT YOU WANT TO HIT AND SHOOT!” She yelled turning back to her own mission.

I grabbed it and started taking single shots at the oncoming barrage. Looking through the sniper attachment I zeroed in on one of the triangles shooting at our side. It turned towards me with its finger on the trigger. I quickly ducked down but heard more shots aimed at the spot next to me. I looked back through and saw they had turned away from me. More guards ran up behind them and aimed towards my very open position first, before they turned their attention to other spots. I looked in the air in confusion. If I was to stand up not a single bullet would hit me right now.

What the hell?

I turned to watch the shots next to me as our team did their best to return fire. Looking at the smaller size of the group I look at Hyun-ju confused.

“Where’s Young-il?!” I shouted over the fire storm, not seeing him with the others. A sinking feeling in my stomach appeared as I thought of him. The square guard from before was also no where to be found. I didn’t notice his body as any of the ones I picked clean. But all I could think of was how I might’ve been right earlier, that something did happen, oh god is he dead? Did he have to hide somewhere? Did he loose his radio?

“They went to find the control room with Jung-bae and Gi-hun.” She yelled back. We heard the radio scratch on as Gi-hun asked if they could get any back up. Without a moments hesitation I grabbed an extra two rounds of ammo and made a run for it. Wherever Gi-hun was, Young-il was there too.

————

As fast as she had loaded them, the extra rounds seemed to run out. Hyun-ju grabbed another round and counted the singular shots she made. 15 rounds…Only 15…. They were only half full.

————

Now that the walls were closer I felt even more compressed. Like a hamster in a cage. I followed the dead guards till I found Gi-hun and Jung-bae taking cover a few stairs up. When he saw me his face crunched in confusion.

“(Y/N) what are you doing?!” He yelled from above. I held up the extra rounds I brought with me and quickly stuffed them in my pockets as I felt bullets start brushing against my hair.

“Jung-bae! Cover fire!” I heard him order, always so bossy, I felt the bullets stop for a second, and ran like one towards my brother and his best friend. I passed them each a round when Jung-bae placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Young-il went up those stairs with two other men, we gave them our last rounds, they need some too.” I nodded at him, the weight of my heart as heavy as my pockets, knowing he was just around the corner but not knowing if he was okay. The walls were torn up around us, the air heavy with the smell of gun powder wafting around, further fueling my emotional state.

I side stepped to to try and push to the stairs but Gi-hun held me back.

“No, stay here, their looking for a way to get around the gaurds, we’ll move together as soon as they radio us that their okay.” He insisted. I shook my head and tried to get around him again when he harshly pushed me back.

“No (Y/N), stay. Here.” He pushed. Shoving me back again he held me to the wall with his gun. I scoffed and harshly pushed him back. “What the hell, what is your problem Gi-hun? They need ammo too!” I exclaimed.

He turned around quickly to return fire before returning his attention to me.

“Because, we haven’t heard back from them yet, they could be dead and more soilders could be coming this way.” He reasoned, a few ricocheting bullets made their way towards us as Gi-hun held me close to the wall with his arm. I struggled against him, not realizing before how much stronger he had gotten over the last few years. My weak muscles barely meeting his force.

“Ughhh! Gi-hun let me go!!” I yelled at him. If Young-il was in trouble, and I had a chance to save him, damn it. I was gonna take it.

“No, you’re staying here.” He returned. With a harsh grunt he somehow held me tighter to the wall, I pushed and pushed against him to no avail. Finally deciding that I might have to hurt him to let me go, I bent his elbow in an un-natural way. He retracted before any damage could be done and I attempted to make a run for it. He quickly caught my arm and yanked me back. With both hands on either side of my head he caged me into the wall, glaring holes through my head. “I’m not letting you leave, we don’t know anything yet!” I shoved and kicked at his chest but his stance was unwavering. As he drew in closer to me, the gun wrapped at his chest pushed heavily into mine. Feeling the heavy weight of the metal dig into my skin, I turned my attention to it, trying to push it off of me.

“OW, Gi-hun you’re hurting me.” I angrily stated, he turned and motioned to Jung-bae to keep firing. In his distraction, I unclamped the gun from the strap he was keeping it on and turned it upwards to under his chin, resting my finger ever so lightly on the trigger. When he turned back I felt my soul turn as dark as coal watching his eyes dilate in reaction.

I held the gun firmly in my trembling hands.

"I'm... going... to Young-il," | panted out. He took his hands off the wall and steadily walked backwards. "(Y/N), put it down." His voice slightly wavered, his attitude now flipped. We both knew I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't shoot him. Slowly making my way back to my gun, I delicately picked up the heavy metal. I left Gi-hun's gun where l once stood and ran.

"(Y/N)?(Y/N)!!" He shouted after me. I was over this, I dashed around the corner before he could catch up to me.

Turning around I made no effort to hide or shield myself. My mind set on finding one person and it wouldn’t rest until it got that person. He was like a drug in that way. Changing my brain and chemicals to become dependent on them and then alone. He had been there for me the entire game, he watched over me and made me feel safe. How could I not be addicted?

I reached around corners like someone who had no fear of death, of consequence. I could have sworn I heard something behind me but the acoustics of this place would make you think you were insane. I raced up the stairs, whipping my neck at every corner, I turned at one and saw that mass of black hair standing out against the purple stairwell. Giving myself whiplash I turned to him and went to touch his shoulder when I saw Young- il raise his gun towards his teammates. Before I knew what had happened I saw the bodies drop to the ground. One fully dead and the other simply wounded. Freezing in place as though that stupid doll was in front of me once again, I tightly clenched myself inwards in fear.

I retracted my hand slowly watching as Young-il slightly shifted backwards fixing his stance. He turned the barell to the wounded man and without remorse went to shoot at him, finishing what he started. I flinched when he pressed the trigger waiting for the gunshot but heard only a click. I saw him hold steady as he clicked it a few more times before realizing he was out.

With an annoyed sigh Young-il took out his magazine and replaced it with the full one, taking aim once again only for the radio scratching to life pausing him in the ending of others.

“YOUNG-IL? YOUNG-IL COME IN. (Y/N) is heading in your direction with more ammo!! What’s going on up there?!” Gi-hun shouted through the receiver. I held my breath hoping he wouldn’t turn around. Picking up the radio, I watched as he walked calculated towards the dying man on the floor.

“We lost Gi-hun. It’s over…. I’m sorry.” He hushed out. I could feel Gi-hun’s disappointment from the radio as he yelled at Young-il for more information.

Holding the button of the transmitter down, he shot the man with the other. No holding back, he shot the man just as quickly as he thought up a lie for Gi-hun. He stood back up from his knees, resting the gun on its strap and switching the radio channel.

“Start wrapping this up.” He firmly executed. Right as he switched off the radio he heard the familiar sound and turned to look at me. I cocked my gun and held it tightly in my hands but loosely in my arms.

His deep sharp knife like eyes cut right through my resolve, unlike Gi-hun who backed away he slowly inched closer.

“Put it down.” He commanded moving slower than time itself.

“What are you doing Young-il?” My voice cracked out in betrayal. He took the hand not holding the radio and wrapped it around my own hand where mine was set on the trigger.

“(Y/N)… put it down.” He said softer now, “come on darling… give me the gun.” He spoke in the same voice he just used to Gi-hun. My fave dropped in sadness as my limbs went weak. He swiftly but softly ripped the gun away from me, taking out the magazine and throwing it to the side.

“Why are you here?” His once tantalizing voice now felt harsh like a parent scolding a child. He wrapped his hands around my arms effortlessly holding me up and close.

“Why did you-“ I cut myself off as I let out a small tear. I could feel my throat getting tight and my nose getting stuffed. “Who are you?” I muttered out as he raised a hand to cup my cheek. I shook my head in disbelief as he shushed me.

Pulling me into his chest I let out soft sobs, wrapping my arms around myself. He tilted my chin up with his hand, grasping it in a vice grip when I tried to push him off of me.

“Nobody you need to worry about lovely.” He whispered back, he softly kissed my forehead holding me tighter as I struggled against him. I started punching at his chest angry, confused, and scared.

He tilted his own head up and nodded behind me in my direction. The second I felt his hands loosen I shoved him away only to bump into another body. I saw a pair of pink arms wrap around me. One on my torso and the other around my mouth. I saw Young-il take something from another gaurds and open the black case he had been handed. I felt fear bubbling in my guts, mixed with a sick arousal of curiosity.

Out of the case he picked up a needle, the tip so small and so reflective all I could see was a little light on the end.

“Shh, sh sh sh sh sh, it’s okay… this won’t hurt a bit.” He hushed me, gently caressing my face and arms, whatever he could get his hands on. I struggled and bit the hand of the person holding me like a toddler being out in timeout. He let me go with a hiss but simply moved his hand to my forehead to keep me still. I kicked at shins and elbowed stomachs but considering I was much smaller and much weaker then them it was of no use. I screamed an ear piercing screech. Considering how echoey it was in here I saw a few of the people around me flinch in annoyance as the needle tip got closer and closer to my neck.

I felt the small prick right under my ear. My screaming stopped as I felt my body drop limply. My vision became blurry and I saw Young-il pulling away, and placing a kiss where he had just injected me. When he moved his lips were tinted dark red, and when he opened his mouth to speak I saw a small line of blood on his tongue. I couldn’t hear what he said next but he wasn’t speaking to me, it was to others behind me.

I pushed against my own head so hard to stay awake that I was giving myself a headache. After a quiet second or two the ringing in my ears stopped as my body gave way to whatever drug it was and went under.

————

“Now witness the consequences of your ‘heroic’ actions…” the front man taunted at the man he beat. With no remorse he shot Jung-bae and watched the pain and wollow that followed on Gi-Huns face. When he tried to attack him the gaurds held him down firmly as the front man turned to head back to the control room.

“DID YOU KILL MY SISTER?!” Gi-hun shouted angrily causing In-ho to stop walking. With a slight movement over his shoulder he further taunted his enemy.

“Let’s see how many more people die due to your foolishness…” he trailed off, leaving Gi-hun without a straight answer, forcing his own mind to torture him trying to fill in the blanks.

Finally having won, the front man entered the elevator and watched on a screen as Gi-hun was taken back to the room, forced to walk past his once small but ample military. In-ho could see the distraught and pain sewn into his features,

and it was delicious…

AN: WHEW I’m finally done with this chapter, stay tuned because there’s one more and while we wait for season three I’ll post little blurbs here and there to keep you all entertained. Thank you for waiting so patiently and I hope you didn’t wait TOO long.

LOVE YOU ALL LOTS

<3 FandomObbsessedB 

TAGLIST: @blacksnape123 @newtsniffles @missmollya @watasinekoru @justaproudslytherpuff @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @tinylawyerbluebird @connorsandroids @foulbreadpaenut @starlightluvsu @machipyun @melaninatedhorrorqueen









[animasola86]

🏚️ BONUS: THE HOUSE

misc!monsters x f!reader 🔥 words: 2.7k

You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, promising a night full of surprises - which all came true, one way or another. Now it's the next morning, and you're going back to finish that chapter of your life once and for all.

WARNINGS: None? Fluff! Mystery! Some (sexual) implications and references to previous chapters/adventures. Shapeshifting. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is a bonus chapter for my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE story A NIGHT TO REMEMBER. This references chapters 1, 2 and 6, so it's best to have read those or even better the whole story to understand it. It's just a way to tie up some loose ends. Cameo by an infamous masked man. Spoiler: there's no actual smut here, but it's somehow referenced (come back soon for the smut bonus chapter!). 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

During breakfast (turns out the hairy man is not only a great lover but also a brilliant chef), you find yourself on Bear's lap, feeding and getting fed in a way you've never experienced before. It should be weird how fast you feel this comfortable with him. But it isn't. It's almost as if you've already accepted your new life.

If it wasn't for one thing. The absence of your purse and the remnants of your old life it entails.

“Can we go?” you ask quietly, wiping your index finger over his upper lip, teasing his mustache.

“You sure you left it there?” he responds, watching you closely, a little crease between his heavy eyebrows.

You shift on his lap. “Well, I can't fully remember, as you know,” you start, thinking back to your time at the party that brought you here (and ultimately into his arms). “But I think I left it in the bathroom. I had it when I entered the house, but if I still had it when I ran into you, you would have seen it it, right?”

He hums, nodding slightly as his eyes travel past you through the window. His hand lies heavy on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “I don't want you going back there, though...”

“I know,” you whisper, eyes wandering over his bearded face. “But I need it. As much as I just want to throw my old life away for you, I have to cut off some ties beforehand, and tell people where I am, or at least how I am. I hope nobody's worried yet...”

His hum turns into a low growl. You reach up and cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over the corners of his tight lips. His dark eyes snap back to yours.

“I want to stay, I told you. I'm not going anywhere. But I have to get some stuff, too, you know? Like clothes? I only have this blouse and skirt with me. Unless you really just want to keep me in a cage, bound and gagged and naked...” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Tempting image,” he grunts, a chuckle escaping him. “But no, I want you to be comfortable here. And I guess clothes do their part, hm?”

“Yes, they do. I'll still wear your favorite cape whenever you want, don't worry,” you whisper, leaning closer until your nose brushes against his. “I do like red...”

He huffs a loud exhale, warm against your skin, before he tilts his head and presses his lips to yours for a short kiss. “By the way, whatever happened to your underwear, huh?” he mutters into you with a smirk.

You blush deeply, leaning back, your hands moving down to his shoulders. “Well, good question. Maybe I went commando in the first place?”

His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hmm, I'm not sure I can believe that. You may be the adventurous type, or at least, you're open for a little fun, but no panties in late October? I bet your mother taught you better.”

You scoff, smirking back at him. “If I only did what she taught me, I wouldn't be sitting on the lap of a strange mythical creature, would I?”

He gives you a wink. “Little Red sure is known for leaving the beaten path, isn't she?” He watches you for a moment as you smile softly, before he throws his arms around you and hugs you tightly to his chest. “Fine, we'll go. Get that damn purse, you do whatever needs to be done, and then, as soon as the moon rises, you're in for a treat, missy,” he adds, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

You chuckle, snaking your arms around him as well. “Can't wait,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a moment.

Half an hour later, you walk up to the imposing house, Bear's hand tight around yours as he leads you through the garden. Everything looks so different during the day. It's eerily foggy, but the sun still tries to fight its way through the clouds. As you round the building to get to the front door, you realize just how old it looks. The paint is chipped, the wooden sidings aged and weathered and rotten in some places, the metal accents rusty and crooked, the whole structure looks as if it's holding up by sheer willpower (or by the magic that cursed it).

The windows are dark, there's an air of stillness around, and you wonder if anyone is even there to open the door. As you approach the steps leading up to the large entrance doors, Bear nudges you to stop. You turn to him, his tan face almost a little pale as he stares up at the big house. You mirror his concerns. He told you the house calls to the lost souls, trying to trap them with its original inhabitants. You may have found what you were looking for in the hairy man beside you, but what if that's not enough? What if the house won't let you go if you enter?

“It'll be fine,” you whisper, to ease your worries and the creases on Bear's forehead. He looks down at you, his brown eyes almost black. You reach up a hand to caress his cheek, trying to distract yourself with the scraping sound of his beard against your fingertips.

“Maybe you don't have to enter,” he growls quietly, putting his large hands protectively around your waist, pulling you closer. “Try not to tempt fate, okay?”

You lean up on your toes and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, holding his gaze. “It'll be fine,” you repeat. He sighs deeply, but then nods, reluctantly letting go of you as you slip out of his grip.

Giving him a smile, you slowly turn again and face the double doors. Your knock sounds loud through the quiet space. For a long moment, nothing happens. As you raise your hand again to rap your knuckles against the door, you suddenly hear footsteps. The creepy squeak of the door opening is almost comical.

A maid, a young woman, probably your age, in a neat uniform, looks at you, almost a little bewildered, confused, as if she hasn't expected anyone to just knock or even approach the house. “Yes?” she asks, staring at you.

“Uh, hi. I... I've been to the party last night and it seems I've forgotten my purse inside,” you reply hastily, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Party?” the other woman whispers, frowning deeply, causing you to stare at her with your lips parting.

“Yes, party,” another voice suddenly sounds from behind her, and she is shoved to the side unceremoniously as a man steps next to her. “Silly Daisy, she seems to be a little forgetful today.”

You look up at the stranger, and something comes over you, like a cold wave of déjà-vu. He's tall, muscular, wears black pants and a tight black shirt, his large hands rest on the maid's shoulders for a moment, and you stare at them, following the pronounced veins up his arms. When you reach his face, the feeling is gone. You've never seen this man before, you're sure.

“Go be useful with the others,” he tells the servant girl, and she nods, blinking in confusion as he gives her a gentle push away from the door into the large lobby. You can see others shuffling behind him, probably cleaning up. “Excuse her, it's been a long night,” the man focuses back on you, and you still stare at him. His voice sounds strangely familiar, low, deep, but something's different. It sounds too clear.

“Uh, oh, no problem,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows as you look up at him. His eyes are so bright, blue or gray, almost icy in his pale angular face. A smirk plays around his lips.

“So you've lost your purse, huh?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his chest.

“Yes!” you call out, glad to remember why you came here in the first place. “Have you seen it? It's, uh, this big,” you show him the dimensions with your hands, ”a red clutch, with a red leather strap.”

“Well, we do have a box of forgotten items right here,” he says, tilting his head to indicate to something behind him. Inside the house. “Come have a look.”

You freeze. Your first instinct is to turn around to look at Bear, but to your biggest surprise, you can't see him. Where did he go? Confusion washes over you as you look back at the strange man. Those arms... and hands... the voice. You can't shake the feeling that you know him somehow. When you meet his gaze, he smiles at you. It doesn't reach his eyes.

“Come on, we don't bite,” he says quietly, unfolding his arms to take a step back, giving you the potential space to walk through the door.

“I... I'd rather not... uh... I don't want to invade. You look busy. Can't you just show me the box? Or look for the purse?” you stammer, wringing your hands.

“I would be less busy if you would just come inside and take a look yourself,” he insists, raising an eyebrow.

Your heart sinks. How important is that purse anyway? Then again, why are you so afraid to enter? Surely they won't just abduct you. Your mind goes back to Bear, to his cabin, to the life he's promised you. And you want that, want to be with him, and you will be, if you just think hard enough so that no ancient magic can get its hooks into you. It'll be fine.

Inhaling deeply, you take another look behind you, hoping to see him somewhere. Maybe he isn't allowed near the house, so he waits somewhere behind a hedge or something. “Okay,” you whisper as you turn back to the man waiting for you to enter. “I'll be quick,” you add as you take the first step, your foot already crossing the threshold.

He steps aside, extending an arm to show you which direction that box must be. Your heart beats faster when you hear the door clicking shut behind you. Trying not to fuss about it, you keep walking until you find a large cardboard box on a little table near the pompous staircase leading up. You see various items. Phones, sunglasses, jewelry, scarves, and –

You freeze as your fingers brush against a large white mask. Suddenly another hand moves to grab it, veins and tendons working under tight skin as the man from the door picks up the costume. You gasp as he turns the mask between his long fingers. His icy eyes stare down at you, a smirk dancing around his lips.

“What a silly thing,” he says quietly. “What a lazy way to conceal oneself, hm?”

You blink as your mind reels with a strangely feeble memory. Your stomach tenses up, something hot gathering low in your body. Clearing your throat, you look away, focusing back on the box, your fingers pushing aside all kinds of things, until you finally see something red. Your purse. Clutching it eagerly, you pull it out and inspect it, sighing in relief when you find your wallet, your phone and all the other small things you brought with you.

“Everything in order?” the man beside you asks, still fingering the eerie mask.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a step back as you hug your purse to your chest. “Thanks. I... uh, I'll best be going now. Long way home,” you say, giving him a nervous smile.

He tilts his head, and between his fingers the mask does the same. A cold shiver crashes down your spine. “Sure,” he says. “Best of luck.”

You swallow hard, slowly walking backwards to the entrance door. Your eyes scan the adjacent rooms where people in costumes move about like zombies, slow and uncoordinated, trying to pick up dropped cups, wiping at surfaces. They look familiar as well. A sexy ladybug next to a guy with a white T-shirt that says This is my costume. You frown. You feel like you should remember them more clearly, but your mind is fuzzy.

Clutching your purse, you try to look away, and when your back hits the door, you gasp, your hand finding the door knob. You turn it, and it won't budge. Panic settles inside you. You try again, nothing happens.

Then you feel a body next to yours, towering over you, a hand reaching out to close around your own. You stiffen, bracing yourself as long fingers move your hand around the knob, and the door suddenly opens. Cold air hits your nostrils, and you inhale deeply. Looking over your shoulder, you see the man behind you, except now he is wearing that stupid Ghostface mask, making you jump and shriek as you realize how close he is.

A muffled chuckle escapes him. “Oh little Red, it's so sad to see you go,” he says quietly, his hand moving along your arm until it rests on your shoulder. “You really can't stay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the burning between your thighs. “No, I... I don't belong here,” you whisper, slowly inching away from him, your feet so heavy you can barely move.

“Hm, you sure?” he replies, tilting his masked face ominously. “I thought we fit quite well together last night...”

Another gasp escapes you, the memory rushing back into your head with a force that makes you stumble backwards, but as soon as you cross the threshold, standing on the porch, outside, you blink in confusion as it fizzles away again. All that remains is the man in the mask, staring at you, his face unmoving, eerie. A sigh sounds from behind the thick plastic.

One of his hands moves to his pants pocket, and as you watch him, frozen to the spot, trying to figure out what happened, he pulls something out that looks strangely familiar to you. The red cloth you chose to match your costume. Your panties. He unfolds them between his long fingers, and you feel a different kind of heat creeping into your cheeks.

“At least I have this to remember you, hm?” he says quietly, waving the garment at you in a mocking fashion.

You take another step back, breathing harder. “I... I don't know what you're talking about,” you reply, forcing the blurry images away.

“Whatever makes you happy, Red,” he sighs, scrunching up your underwear in his big hand before he pushes it back into his pocket. “Say hi to Bear from me, will you?”

His last words make you pause, your eyebrows furrowing. Before you can inquire what he means, how he can possibly know you're with Bear now, he closes the door so slowly it lets off another eerie squeak. You blink, staring at the old wood.

Somehow you manage to turn around, your feet dragging down the porch steps until you hit the gravel. Your head is spinning. And it only gets worse, when you hear a sudden rustle in a bush close to you. With a low snarl, a big black wolf jumps out of it, yellow eyes boring into you. You shriek in fear, stumbling back, but the animal has already grabbed the hem of your skirt between his sharp teeth, pulling you away from the house.

You loose your footing, landing hard on your already scraped knees, but at least the cold stab of pain is finally enough to clear your muddled head. Breathing harder, you sit on your knees, looking back at the large house behind you, before the wolf nudges your cheek with his wet nose. You turn to him, all the terror gone as you look into his bright eyes. There's nothing malicious about this animal. Your hand reaches out to pet his surprisingly soft black fur.

“Bear?” you whisper, sinking your fingers deeper into his pelt.

The wolf huffs a warm breath against your face before he licks his long tongue all over your cheek. You giggle as you try to get away.

“It's fine, Bear,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around the wolf's neck to get back up on your feet. “It's done. Let's go home.”

End notes: There will be one more bonus chapter after this: The Marking, focusing back on our werewolf friend. Stay tuned!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[maryo274]

SPOILER ALERT FOR MY HERO ACADEMIA'S VOLUME 42, EXTRA CHAPTER 431.

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It took QUITE a while but now they're FINALLY and canonically TOGETHER!! 💚🩷🤩

Although, they need to get better at the handholding thing, they'll get it right. 😂

Sorry, again, for the lack of updates. I've gotten to that point in my life where after another day at work I just like the motivation or energy to do anything other than lay in bed and try to find my place in the universe. But after the MHA Volume 42 and the new extra chapter after the finale that's made to tie some loose ends and add some extra story, Deku and Uraraka finally getting together reignited my interest to take a pencil again.

Hope you guys like it. 😊

Kohei Horikoshi ©

Art by Maryo274©

Help by leaving a comment or a reblog.

[ckret2]

Chapter 23 of human Bill being the Mystery Shack's prisoner is honestly becoming a bigger inconvenience for them than for him, featuring: Bill's ex-girlfriend.

Bill wants to avoid being seen in a human body (humiliating), Mabel wants to know everything about Bill's love life, and Ford and Soos just want to get rid of the safety hazard. And somehow they start here—

—and end up here.

After going through the entire pile of library books on lucid dreaming, Bill found one to recommend to Mabel that had glossy full-color illustrations, simple little meditative exercises, and—most importantly—no information about astral projection. (It was galling enough that her brother had somehow picked up the trick without realizing it; like heck would Bill help Dipper master it unless Bill could think of some way to take advantage of his skill.)

But for himself, Bill elected to follow a slim decades-old guide that advertised full control over your dreams in four weeks or your money back. A frustratingly long wait to master his own dreamscape, but surely Bill could find a way to fend off his execution at least another four weeks. And anyway, Bill was already a dream expert—maybe he could take shortcuts a human couldn't. He'd picked this book for two reasons: it was the shortest of the books Mabel had brought home; and it had Bill's face on the inside cover page, a triangle containing a grayscale human eye. If Bill couldn't trust advice dispensed by his own face, who could he trust?

He flipped to the back of the book, to the section on all the advanced dream tricks the author promised readers could learn once they'd mastered the basics. Telepathically sharing a dream with a lover. Prophetic visions. And of course, astral projection.

He gazed wistfully at the drawing of a body with its humanoid soul floating above it, loosely tethered to its physical shell's belly button by a ghostly cord. When Bill got out, no tether would tie him back to his flesh prison, and the little soul floating free wouldn't look so human.

He hoped it wouldn't, anyway— No. It wouldn't. Surely the Axolotl had only imprisoned him, not altered him... but then, the Ax had strange ideas about mercy.

Well, Bill wasn't getting to those tricks until he mastered the basics. He flipped to the front of the book. Step one of this four-week journey was to establish...

Bill scoffed under his breath. "A dream diary? Seriously?" A primitive travel journal for psychically-stunted creatures who could only peer through the doorway of the mindscape without properly exploring it.

But right now, Bill was one of those creatures. This book was for him, no matter how condescending he thought it was.

He sighed. All right. Dream diary. Fine. Luckily, he'd already assembled all the supplies he needed.

Mabel had spilled out her crayons in front of Bill plenty of times; sometimes she even let him use them. It had taken some careful timing and preparation, but a few days ago he'd grabbed the unloved grey and greenish-yellow crayons—the sharpest in her collection—during a moment she'd left him unsupervised. So that there wouldn't be any gaps in Mabel's meticulously rainbow-ordered crayon box, he'd had to unwrap the crayons, break off the tips and butts, roll out two tubes of Claydough to fill in the gaps, rewrap the false crayons, and stuff them back in the crayon box before Mabel got back. The middles of the crayons were safely spirited away in his hoodie. He was a genius. The humans underestimated him without his powers, but he was the smartest creature in the universe.

Bill was loathe to pull out Ford's Journal 4—he'd entertained some vague fantasy of filling it with the secrets of reality and slipping it somewhere Ford could find it, make him really regret turning his back on Bill's wisdom—but it was good quality paper and it was already in Bill's possession, so he couldn't afford to pass it up.

The lucid dreaming guide recommended keeping the dream diary under his pillow. Considering he was still sleeping on the floor on a couple of stolen couch cushions that he shoved aside as convenient, not likely. If he was supposed to have easy access to it whenever he slept, he couldn't leave it in his usual hidey-hole, either. He pulled the cushion off the window seat, chewed a tiny hole in the seam on the bottom edge, and carefully plucked out the thread to open up a gap along one side where it wouldn't be seen.

He pressed the stuffing out of the way, slid in the journal and crayons, and put the cushion back in place to await his next dream.

As Bill straightened up, he glanced out the attic window—and flinched in surprise.

Just outside, by the trees, was someone he knew. The most beautiful, graceful, desirable person in all the world. Someone he half thought he'd never see again. Bill stared in shock.

And then she turned toward the shack.

Bill ducked out of the window's view. "Heck."

####

"Star girl, we've got trouble." Bill was standing grimly in the kitchen doorway. "My ex is back in Gravity Falls."

Mabel's brain short-circuited so hard that she momentarily lost the ability to see as she processed the revelation that Bill Cipher had a love life. A whole new multiverse of matchmaking possibilities had just opened up. "Your what?!"

Bill pointed upward.

Mabel bolted out of her seat to follow him upstairs.

"Anyway, I assume we're exes," Bill said. "I usually dump people when they die, I'm sure she did the same to me."

Barely listening to him, Mabel gushed, "Bill, you sly dog, you've been holding out on me! I didn't know you dated!" She took his elbow to help keep him from tripping as they headed upstairs. "What's she like? Tell me everything!" Mabel hoped she wasn't evil. She probably was, but Mabel still had her fingers crossed for some sweet alien princess with a taste for bad boys who may yet lure out Bill's tender side.

"Oh—she's a stunner." Bill used his free hand to pantomime a shape that didn't conform to any silhouette Mabel could imagine, "Curves in all the right places... Down for anything..."

Maybe it was that pink Henchmaniac. She had curves. And was also the only one Mabel remembered who looked like a girl. "You must miss her a lot."

Bill grimaced uncertainly and muttered, "I miss what she does to my body, let's leave it at that."

He steered them toward the attic window and heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay, she's still here. Don't let her catch you staring."

Mabel pressed her face to the glass, eager to see who could have won the heart of Bill Cipher, Most Villainous Triangle Ever.

Below, a gigantic veiny eyeball flopped through the air on gnarled bat wings.

Mabel glanced up at Bill skeptically. "The eye-bat?"

"Mm-hm." Bill was biting his lip and gazing at the bat with pained, shiny-eyed yearning. His face reminded reminded her of the time her parents had dressed for a fancy grown-up dinner, and the way her dad looked when her mom came out in a slinky fuchsia cocktail dress.

Well, who was Mabel to judge? Everyone is beautiful to someone. Good for them. "What's her name?"

"Iris." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "You've gotta help me."

####

"Hey, Ford? You got a minute?"

Ford looked up as Soos hovered in the door of his study. "I suppose I do now." He swept aside his lunch—his desk was littered with the remains of formerly-undead teriyaki chicken and the cheap wooden chopsticks he'd jabbed through the meat like wooden stakes—and slid the notebook paper with Bill's fowl resurrection spell back into his journal. "What's on your mind?"

Soos stepped fully into the room. "We've got a supernatural problem I was hoping you could help with," he said. "You know those little eye-bat things that hang around the farm? Well, there's a really huge one flying around the shack, and all the tourists are out-of-towners, so they don't know the eye-bats will swoop at your face unless you pretend you're blind? So the big guy keeps attacking the customers. I had to give away all our souvenir sunglasses to let the last tour group escape to their cars."

"A giant eye-bat?" Ford frowned. "How large?"

"Uh..." Soos held his hands apart. "Like a big beach ball? Yeah. One of those novelty oversized beach balls. But not like, so comically large you can't do anything with it. You could definitely still play beach volleyball with it. But you'd have to deflate it to get it through a door."

It sounded like one of Bill's minions. "It's not turning people to stone, is it?"

"No, just swooping at people's faces and being terrifying."

####

Bill watched from the kitchen window as the eye-bat folded in her wings, like a hawk preparing to snatch up a mouse, and dove at a tourist's head. The tourist screamed and ran the other way, chucking her purse at the eye-bat. Bill shouted at the window, "You don't know what you're missing out on, lady!" He dragged his hands down his face, groaning. "Man I wish that was me."

####

Ford nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

It was a welcome distraction. With Fiddleford currently pursuing their best lead to kill Bill, Ford hadn't felt motivated to keep researching long-shot plan B options; but he got antsy without work to do. Maybe dealing with an eye-bat would make him feel useful enough to quiet his nerves. 

Soos heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I've gotta head back up now—there's a tour bus coming and I need to scare the eye-bat off with a broom so they can come in."

As Soos got on the elevator, Mabel bounded off. "Hi Soos. Grunkle Ford! I need your help. You'll never guess who's at the shack: Bill's ex-girlfriend! Whaaat!"

Ford opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. He tried again. "His ex-girlfriend."

Mabel nodded excitedly.

Ford was momentarily stunned silent as he, too, processed the revelation that Bill had a love life; although his reaction had less to do with matchmaking possibilities and more to do with trying to reconcile the eccentric, intellectual, standoffish alien that Ford knew with the concept of romance. "She doesn't happen to be an eye-bat, does she?"

Mabel's face fell. "Did he tell you about his girlfriend before me?"

Once Mabel had explained what she knew about the situation, Ford frowned. "This could be gravely dangerous. One of his 'Henchmaniacs' is a potential ally. If he catches her attention..."

"Actuallyyy," Mabel said, "he's super trying to avoid her."

Ford blinked in surprise. "What? Why?"

####

"I can't let her see me like this," Bill told Mabel, pacing across the attic floor. "I'd be a laughing stock! Look at me—stuck in a human body, powers locked away, and hideous!"

"Don't say that," Mabel said reassuringly. "You know I think you make a really beautiful human, right?"

"True, but that's like saying Caesar is delicious for a salad. It still doesn't compare to a hot fudge sundae, does it?" He pointed toward the window. "You have to hide me."

####

"So do you think you can help?" Mabel asked.

Ford reluctantly got to his feet. "I suppose there's not much choice, is there?"

"Wait—" Mabel stood in front of Ford, blocking him with her arms. "You can stay here! I just meant if you know how to make some kind of magic anti-eyeball forcefield or something! You don't have to—you know—talk to Bill..."

It was sweet of her to try to spare him. "Unfortunately, I do. I don't trust his story." Why would Bill drive away a Henchmaniac, ex or not? Maybe this "ex" was actually Bill's enemy—some sort of interdimensional bounty hunter or law enforcement officer hunting for him. Bill was too sly, too opportunistic, too manipulative to throw away a useful ally.

But then, Bill was also vain and arrogant. Once the portal was finished, how fast had he thrown Ford away?

Ford headed toward the elevator, gesturing for Mabel to follow him. "Come on. Let's find out what he's really up to."

Mabel cringed, but followed.

####

Bill's face lit up as Mabel came in from the gift shop with Ford. "Look at you, Shooting Star, you brought reinforcements!" From his position seated cross-legged on the cushionless sofa, Bill gestured grandly at the unoccupied living room chairs, like a lord inviting two guests into his parlor.

"Yeah," Mabel laughed nervously. "Reinforcements. Sure." She took the chair closer to Bill. 

Bill beamed at Ford. "Welcome back to the surface world, Stanford. If I'd thought you were coming up, I'd have made tea."

Ford remained standing. "Cut the chatter, Cipher. Why is your 'girlfriend' back on Earth attacking people? How did she get here? Is she looking for you?"

Bill's eyebrows raised in surprise at the abrupt confrontation; then he slowly leaned back in his seat, his expression cooler. "How should I know? Maybe she never left Earth."

"How? The rest of your thugs were dragged back into the Nightmare Realm when you died."

"So I've been told," Bill said dryly, glancing at Mabel like he trusted her eyewitness testimony over Ford's.

Mabel nodded. "Like they got sucked into a big invisible rainbow tornado!"

Bill spread his hands in exaggerated bafflement. "Then I don't know what to tell you. It's not like I was around to see it. Maybe she was out visiting family when you kicked out my pals."

"Of all the absurd—family? On Earth?" More likely she had been sucked out with the rest, but found her way back to Earth through—what?—a small rift they'd failed to seal that Bill was trying to cover up...? "For once in your life, why don't you give a straight answer?"

"You wouldn't know what to do with a straight answer if I did give it! You walk in looking for a fight and act like I'm the one who picked it." Bill gestured between Ford and Mabel, "You think I can't see you two trying to pull some good cop/bad cop routine?"

Defensively, Mabel said, "I'm not—!"

"I'd be happy to give you straight answers about anything you want, Stanford," Bill said, "but if you're treating this like an interrogation instead of a conversation, then I'm pleading the fifth until my lawyer gets here. And you do not want to meet my lawyer."

Bill had lost the privilege to have "conversations" years ago. But—as much as Ford hated to admit it—starting a fight was a poor way to gather information. "Fine." He forced himself to sit down. He wasn't about to be nice to Bill, but he could at least hate him civilly.

Bill made a gracious, open-handed gesture, as if to say proceed.

Now that Ford had taken a moment to turn over the idea—perhaps Bill wasn't lying about the eye-bat visiting "family." Here were two facts: there were eye-bats in Gravity Falls; and there were much larger eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm who'd been there before the dimensional portal ripped open. Ford hadn't been able to inspect Bill's variety, but... "That's another mystery I've been wondering about. What's the nature of the relationship between your eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm and ours in Gravity Falls?"

"Pfff, come on." With an air of smug intellectual superiority, Bill rolled his eye and said, "You clever little pattern-seeking humans want to find connections everywhere! Who said there's any relationship between them at all?"

"You did," Ford said.

"A few seconds ago," Mabel added.

Bill's smug look disappeared. He considered that. "Hm."

So much for getting straight answers out of Bill. He couldn't go one minute without contradicting his own lies. "Unless you're saying she was 'visiting family' because she is from Gravity Falls? Not one of your Henchmaniacs," Ford suggested. "Just some local eye-bat you mutated and magically enthralled into doing your bidding when you arrived?" Bill wouldn't like that.

And sure enough, Bill laughed harshly. "I'm flattered you think I can woo someone that fast," he said, blithely gliding past Ford's implication that mind control might have been involved, "but no. She came with me from the Nightmare Realm and we've been going out for... I don't know, a century and a half now?"

This information immediately activated the household romantic. Mabel gasped. "What! Bill that's so long! You're basically triple married."

Bill shuddered. "Yeesh, don't say that. It was a casual physical thing! We were seeing each other until we found better options, that's all. She's hot, but not my type."

"You have a type?! What's your type?"

"Don't answer that," Ford said. (Mabel pouted, but didn't argue.) "How is the same species in two places? Are the eye-bats in Gravity Falls descended from the eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm...?" But how would they have gotten in?

"Other way around," Bill corrected. "A few leaked into the Nightmare Realm from Gravity Falls. I wouldn't be so rude as to call them an invasive species, but they've taken really well to the place! I'm proud of the gals."

"But then how did the eye-bats get into the Nightmare Realm before the portal was complete? That's the whole reason you needed the portal—there was no other access."

Bill hesitated—and Ford got the sense that Bill had once again accidentally talked himself into a corner. Then there was some other passage to the Nightmare Realm, and Bill didn't want them to know about it. But what? Where else in Gravity Falls was there an opening to other dimensions?

The answer came to him before Bill had a chance to try to make up one. "The bottomless pit," Ford said. He couldn't believe he'd never made the connection before. "That's it, isn't it. The eye-bats could have fallen through. One of its exits leads to the Nightmare Realm. You said so in my journal."

There was a flash of irritation across Bill's face, and then he was all smiles. "Oh, you finally figured out that code, did you."

"Please, it was a simple substitution cipher. It wouldn't have taken me nearly so long if someone hadn't kept me sleep deprived for weeks."

Bill didn't respond to the jab—but it was clear from the way his mouth twisted that the restraint took an effort. "I'm not making any plans to jump into the bottomless pit, before you get worried." Said like somebody who had definitely considered jumping into the bottomless pit. No wonder he'd been so evasive about his eye-bats' origins. "The odds I'd actually make it back to the Nightmare Realm are way lower than the odds I'd either end up right back here or somewhere worse." 

"'The lady doth protest too much,'" Ford muttered. He'd have to find a way to seal off the pit. "Is that why the eye-bat wasn't sucked out with your other minions? It has some... ancestral, genetic link to this world—?"

"What, do you think the fabric of reality is running DNA tests to see what does and doesn't 'belong' here?" Bill scoffed. "Most universes aren't sentient and yours isn't one of the exceptions. Still, you might be on to something. Most of my guys are built on biological blueprints and laws of physics that aren't compatible with this dimension; I had to use some of my power to 'translate' between their bodies and your universe. That magic connection probably reeled them back into the Nightmare Realm. And the eye-bats were the only ones I didn't do that for."

"Really." Ford's fingers itched to pick up a pen; he wished he'd brought his journal. "If you were supporting them, why did they get sucked back through the rift when you died? Rather than just dying when your power dissipated? Was that some sort of safety measure you left in case—? No, that's not like you." In order to plan for his death, Bill needed to admit he could die. "Is the source of your power in the Nightmare Realm?"

Bill said, "Frankly, I'm taking your word for it that they survived at all. I wasn't exactly around to watch."

"You're dodging the question." Trying to get anything out of Bill was like chasing a dancing ghost while wearing lead boots. "I want an answer."

"Then ask a different question."

"Fine!" Ford had plenty of questions. If Bill wanted another one so badly— "Why did you need the interdimensional portal?"

Bill stared at Ford. "What?"

"The bottomless pit is ancient—and you clearly knew about it. If you already had an opening into Gravity Falls..."

"The pit only goes one way."

"So why didn't you build something on your end of the exit to reverse its direction? You certainly had the time to work out the science! Or—there are thousands of openings from other dimensions into the Nightmare Realm, natural and artificial alike. Why did you never use them?"

Ford had wondered for decades during his travels through the multiverse. He'd told himself he would never know, that Bill's motives were incomprehensible—ineffable like a god's, unintelligible like a madman's. But Stan had asked the same question a few days ago, and Ford hadn't been able to get it out of his head since. "If you had a trillion years to refine your plan, then why did you give me blueprints for a portal that would tear my universe apart, instead of any other��design? Why here, why now? Why me?"

He expected some catty quip or a dismissive brush-off. But instead, Bill gave Ford an appraising look. A chill ran up Ford's back. Bill's face was blank now—no trace of the smirk he'd worn while tossing out contradictions and cryptic riddles—but his eyes had the same hard, heavy look he'd worn in the penthouse, talking about "liberating" his dimension. Bill asked, "Do you really want to know?"

It felt like they were back in Ford's dreams, and his fickle, wonderful muse had finally decided to stop teasing, get serious, and tell his student some precious secret. It felt like he was about to get a real answer. Ford did want to know. Of course he did.

"No."

Bill would only lie. Everything he'd ever said about the portal had been a lie.

Disappointment flickered across Bill's face.

Before an uneasy silence had a chance to fully settle over the room, Mabel shifted in her seat. Ford started; she'd gone so quiet, he'd almost forgotten she was here. "Grunkle Ford, is that everything we needed to know?" It wasn't like her to sound so timid. "We know she's not looking for Bill, she just—got stuck here last summer. Right?"

Why were they talking? "Right." The eye-bat harassing the tourists. Ford shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "And the eye-bat is from the Nightmare Realm, but it's descended from Gravity Falls' eye-bats—which means it has the same weaknesses as local eye-bats. Right?" He opened his eyes again, directing the question at Bill.

"Oh, now you're interested in what I have to say?"

"Good point; I'm not." Ford stroked his chin. "I have a recipe for an eye-bat repellant spray I learned from Old Lady Sprott, we could use that to keep it away from the shack. I wrote it down in... my first journal..." 

"Ah," Bill said. "You mean the incinerated one." He said it so coolly, like he wasn't the one who incinerated it.

"Actually," Mabel said, "after everything went back to normal, Grunkle Ford's journals got un-incinerated!"

Bill made a poor show of trying not to look surprised. "You don't say."

"Yeah, good as new! They regrew their torn pages and everything," Mabel said. "And... then we kinda chucked them into the bottomless pit."

Bill cracked up, kicking out a foot in mirth. "You what?! You idiots, don't you know you had an invaluable occult encyclopedia in your hands? The second journal alone was the most important human grimoire of the last five hundred years!"

Ford was too irritated to be flattered. What business did Bill have mocking him, thirty seconds ago Bill had thought he was the one who destroyed the journals. Ford snapped, "I didn't want to keep anything you'd tainted."

He was gratified by how fast Bill stopped laughing. "Then burn down your shack and lobotomize your hippocampus," Bill muttered. "Fine! Are we talking about the eye-bat repellant made with gnome wizz?"

Bless this insufferable, all-seeing pest; maybe he was good for one thing. "That's the one! You know the recipe?"

"That's the only ingredient I remember."

Ford mentally retracted the prior blessing. "It's the only ingredient I remember." He sighed. Maybe Old Lady Sprott had taught her son...

Bill said, "But wasn't that was back before you turned into a hermit, when you were still interviewing the human neighbors about the freaks in the woods? All those little interview notebooks—"

"Yes! That's right, I'm sure I kept them somewhere—"

"Filing cabinet under your globe. Second drawer."

Ford shot Bill a dark look.

"You're welcome," Bill said.

The insufferable all-seeing pest didn't need any blessings, he was smug enough already. Ford got to his feet. "Then as soon as I find the recipe, we can chase this eye-bat off and put this whole mess behind us."

"Finally," Bill sighed. "Always a pleasure to work on a project with you, Sixer."

Ford glared at him again; but as he turned to go, his gaze fell on Mabel. Sitting in her chair with her hands under her thighs, with that big-eyed small-mouthed look children got when the adults were talking about something they had no part in but they were paying keen attention to it anyway. Ford winced at himself. "Mabel. I'm sorry that got... a bit heated."

She gave him a small smile. "It's fine—"

"And whose fault was that?" Bill cut in. "I was being perfectly helpful."

Ford swallowed back the urge to retort. 

Mabel didn't. She blew a raspberry at Bill. "When you weren't lying to us?"

"When did I lie! Tell me one lie I told—"

Ford wasn't getting dragged into this. "I think you can handle him from here," he muttered to Mabel. "I've got work to do." He escaped back to the gift shop; but the tension in his shoulders didn't start to loosen until he was back in his study.

####

The door swung shut behind Ford; and Mabel waited a few more seconds before she said, "Sorry about that." She sighed. "I thought Grunkle Ford could think of some way to help. I didn't think he'd actually come and talk about it."

"Not your fault." Bill smiled ruefully. "He was probably looking for an excuse for another confrontation. And to think, for a moment I was excited when my old friend showed up." He sighed deeply. Oh, how poorly he was mistreated—

"What?" Mabel laughed. "What are you talking about? You're not friends—"

"Hey! Shush-shush-shush!" Bill blocked Mabel's words with a hand. "Shooting Star, I'm about to tell you something that'll put you ahead of the competition for the rest of your life. Once you've figured out lucid dreaming, go back to the library—"

"Are you about to give me more homework?"

"I'm giving you more homework. Go look up the law of attraction. Master that, change your life. If you want something to happen, the first step to making it happen is saying it's happened. Say it until you believe it; believe it until it's true. So I don't want to hear any of your negativity, buster."

A thoughtful look crossed Mabel's face as she considered that. She was such an attentive listener once you figured out what caught her attention. Best student Bill had had in eons. She'd go far. "So..." She lowered her voice. "That means you really do want to be friends with Grunkle Ford!"

"That's not what I said. I said we are friends." Bill was sure she'd pick it up. It was an easy game and she was a quick study. "Even if he clearly doesn't know it. Sixer's such a grump these days." He sighed, again. Woe was him—

"He's not that grumpy! Only around you," Mabel said.

"And how is that fair? After everything I did for him—"

"You mean everything you did to him?"

Bill shot her an exasperated look. Mabel's impish grin stretched wider. Bill said, "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on the side of truth and tough love!"

"Oh, truth. Truth's a fickle god. Does your version of the 'truth' include all my contributions to his work that he never brings up—"

"Nope, I don't care about what you're saying!" Mabel bounded over from her chair to join Bill on the couch. "We're done talking about your dumb grudge and pretending you're not evil."

"'Pretending'—!"

"There's only one thing I'm interested in!" Mabel leaned into Bill's face. "I wanna know everything about your love life."

"Wh—?" Bill's train of thought veered off track as the conversation swung from Ford back over toward Iris. "I'm flattered by the attention, but don't you think 'everything' is a little personal?"

"Nope!" Mabel got comfortable in her seat. "So have you ever gotten married?"

This was what Bill got for being so open and forthcoming with the personal details while Ford was in the room. He'd wanted to look like he was an open book, and what happened? Now Mabel thought he was an open book. Funny how that worked out. "You don't even know if marriage is a thing where I'm from."

"Is it?"

"Next question."

"Do you want to get married?"

"Next question that isn't about marriage."

"Who do you consider the top ten most attractive people or creatures in Gravity Falls."

It was beginning to dawn on Bill that he was in danger.

####

Soos passed from the gift shop through the living room. (Mabel had put on the Color Critters Valentine's special—Prisma the Rainbow Fairy and Glory Unicorn were explaining to Misty Dolphin why it was important to give a Valentine to all your friends, even the ones you weren't as close to, because it might hurt their feelings to be left out and including everyone might make you a new friend.) Bill was sitting upside down, legs hooked over the back of the sofa and head bright red, as he said, "No, I just don't see relationships as eternal. Romance is a short term commitment. Like a fashion trend, or, or—"

"Like gum?"

Bill snapped his fingers. "Yes! Exactly like gum—"

"Hey dudes." Soos awkwardly squeezed around behind the TV to avoid blocking the screen. He looked at Bill's face and said, "Hey, all the blood's rushing to your head. Be careful, Abuelita says if you do that too long your head could pop."

"She's right," Bill said.

Mabel said, "He's making his face red on purpose so I can't tell when he's blushing."

"Not true! You little tattler!"

As he headed upstairs, Soos heard Mabel say, "So when a romance starts to lose its flavor, you just—" and Bill cut in, "You spit it on the sidewalk, grind it under your heel, and float away without looking back, never thinking about it again..."

A few minutes later, after changing out of his Mr. Mystery suit into a more comfortable question mark t-shirt, Soos headed back downstairs. Bill was still talking, "... and all you get out of it is sickly sweet spit, you're just—swallowing all this sweet spit until it makes your mouth sour and it's dripping out around your eye, and you're hungrier than if you'd never eaten at all, and all your friends say 'oh Bill, you're always griping about your gum, why don't you settle down to eat a proper meal,' and you say 'how about you mind your own business, Kryptos, I don't lecture you about your diet,' and then your other friends accuse you of choosing inedible snacks so you don't have to commit to swallowing them, because they don't get that you're a flawless energy being, you don't need 'nutrition' or 'sustenance,' this is just a hobby to you—and finally you just, you get sick of the taste of gum altogether, you never want to chew gum again as long as you live, it's always so needy and your jaw hurts, and everyone thinks it's your fault if you can't focus on chewing the stupid thing all day every day, like maybe you have a life of your own, did anyone consider that? And at this point you're so disgusted by the very idea of gum that you burn down a gum factory so you don't have to look at their stupid ads! And then an eon later you find yourself craving a stick of gum, so you find a different brand and cram a new one in."

Mabel, who'd been listening to Bill's monologue in wide-eyed stunned silence, finally smiled in relief as he landed on a familiar sentiment. She pumped her fist in the air. "Yeah! Cram a new one in!"

"You get me, kid."

Probably none of Soos's business, but he thought Bill needed to work on his relationship with gum.

He took the elevator down to Ford's study. "Sup, dawg."

"Hm?" Ford was sitting on the floor in front of an open filing cabinet, completely surrounded by skinny reporter's notebooks like the kind Abuelita used for shopping lists, intensely focused on flipping through one. "Soos. Yes?"

"How's the eye-bat problem going?"

"I'm working on it," Ford sighed. "Somewhere I have a recipe to repel eye-bats, but it's been thirty years since I've seen those notes, so..." He shrugged helplessly. "But I'll find it before I go to sleep and we'll deal with the eye-bat tomorrow."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Mr. Pines."

"In return, can I ask you to take care of something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Could you find a way to block access to the bottomless pit? If Bill gets outside the shack, he could use it to escape to his own dimension."

"Yeah, no problem. I've got the perfect thing for that," Soos said. "Hey, don't stay up all night, okay? I kinda think the eye-bat's attracted to bloodshot eyes."

"That's not the worst thing she's attracted to," Ford muttered. "Thank you, Soos. I won't be too late."

That was, of course, a lie.

####

(Took a week longer than planned, but it was worth it to get this hammered out properly! As always, I DEEPLY appreciate any thoughts, comments, and feedback y'all have—hearing from you guys is what saves me from feeling like I'm just shouting thousands of words into the void. Thanks for reading!)

[couldawouldashoulda50]

From Completely Different Worlds - William Nylander

The Sweden Chapter - Part Two Link to Part One is here

A/N - So, I know I've mentioned a baker's dozen times that my tendency is to write longer fics, even than what I initially intend to. So I'm introducing Part Two now...with the understanding that a third part is required to hopefully tie up all the loose ends between William and Loren. Nevertheless, @misshoneyimhome, we're getting there! Again, thank you for always being so open AND encouraging to talk it out whenever a Loren/Willy thought comes up that I need to work through. Notes and Warnings - goes without saying - profanity, smut (basic p in v, oral - m receiving). Any references to past "goings on" between players and an ex, or current girlfriends, friends etc. in this piece is strictly fiction.

Word count - 5.9k 18+ only please.

Recap - Round One for the Leafs seemed to be plagued with a string of unfortunate events right from the very beginning. After the “Where’s Willy” fiasco began to dissipate, more unusual circumstances took hold which further casted a shadow over the Maple Leafs. As the games in the round progressed, the Leafs lost their grip in Games 3 and 4, finding themselves in a precarious position by Game 5. To add to matters, star player Auston Matthews fell ill, and even more speculation swirled about the almost 70 goal scorer’s dedication to winning. The situation reached a boiling point when cameras caught the 3 star forwards arguing on the bench which quickly went viral. As some headlines alluded to, it really seemed like the team was a total dumpster fire. The team had reached new heights of pressure and scrutiny within Leafs Land.

However, just when all seemed lost, the Leafs mounted a remarkable comeback. After Game 5, William, with an extraordinary performance, single-handedly scored all goals in both Games 6 and 7. Given the tight defense known in playoff hockey, scoring those goals, 3 in total, was an impressive feat. As if the Leafs got a shock from a defibrillator, the team and the city suddenly had renewed hope in mounting a surge to take Game 7.

Joe Woll stood tall, delivering an almost flawless performance in Game 6. He came excruciatingly close to securing a shutout, showcasing his outstanding ability under pressure.

Unfortunately, Woll's sustained an injury late in Game 6, leaving the team without their hot starter for the crucial Game 7.

With Woll sidelined, the responsibility fell to Ilya Samsonov, affectionately known as "Sammy" by his teammates and fans. Samsonov fought hard in the crease in Game 7, making several crucial saves to keep the Leafs' hopes alive. Despite his best efforts and the team's perseverance, fate had other plans. In a heartbreaking turn of events, the Bruins managed to clinch the series victory in overtime, sending the Leafs to yet another first-round exit. The tortured fans, players, and franchise were once again dejected—while others were spurned and filled with outrage.

In the aftermath of the disappointing playoff run, Loren and William maintained sporadic communication. Their interactions were affectionate but brief. Loren was back working several overnight shifts at the group home while scheduling and making lesson plans for her French students. She also wanted to give William the time and space that she felt he needed in the days after Game 7.

William had taken the loss hard, and as much as he wanted to feel Loren's presence, he also wanted to steer clear of feeling the void once she left him again. Instead, he navigated through exit meetings, locker clean-out day, and catching up with friends. He began to feel a sense of excitement as offseason travel plans were confirmed, as well as family get-togethers at their lake house in Sweden.

The day William was scheduled to leave for Stockholm hit Loren harder than she anticipated. She wasn't sure of the time of his flight, but it didn't matter anyway. She already had a pit in her stomach just with the knowledge. She told herself that perhaps by the time William returned for the 2024 season, something between them would be solidified, whether it would break her heart or not. A lot could change for both of them in the coming months.

Outside his building, William loaded his SUV with some additional hockey gear when a message from Loren appeared on his cell. It was a heartfelt note—humorous, nostalgic, and positive. He'd planned to make last-minute stops for Toronto souvenirs for the younger kids in his family, but suddenly, seeing Loren seemed far more important.

Truth be told, he was only planning on video-calling her once he was at the airport. He had a lot of emotions swirling around, especially for Loren. He didn’t want do that Hollywood scene of him driving away, leaving the woman he cared for behind.

However thoughts lingered in his head that it was a shitty thing to do given all the support she gave him, and well - just her being her.

William, who rarely made impulsive decisions, changed his mind. He decided to surprise her and to say goodbye in person before his departure.

The 40-minute drive north felt oddly therapeutic, trading the shadows of the city's high-rises with the shade of mature trees. William thought to himself how much he enjoyed escaping to Loren's here and there after they met. Pablo and Banksy had a yard to run around in, while William and Loren snuggled in a lounge chair on the deck, mouths red from making out.

William had checked that Loren was home before he departed, thanks to her location settings still enabled on her phone. It was weeks ago that William asked her to turn the share location settings on, just to see who would arrive at his condo first - him from the airport and her from the suburbs. He won the race - but she got the reward of him, impatiently waiting and hungry for her to get there.

He pulled along the curb to her house, finding her outside, engrossed in yard work with her earbuds in. She had her long mane pulled through the back of a baseball cap, and the rest of her exposed skin was streaked with dirt and covered in sweat.

William couldn't help but be impressed by the sight of Loren working in her yard. Not to mention that he found her absolutely stunning this way. He surveyed her house, she had accomplished a lot since he was there last. Her porch was adorned with flower containers that had started to blossom with vibrant colors, and had large hanging ferns which added an almost tropical flair. This house represented more than just a roof over Loren's head, and the way she cared for it spoke volumes about how much she effort she put in her surroundings. For a moment, William found himself imagining what it would be like to come home to her, knowing how calm and peaceful she made his space feel too.

Loren turned and spotted William walking up the path. Her eyes lit up and she flashed him a bright smile as as he approached her.

He started to pull her in for a hug her when she stopped him, shaking her head. “I’m filthy, sweaty and probably smell like…hmm….well, never mind - just not good…” she laughed.

William brought her into him and hugged her tightly anyway.

He told her she looked like she could use a break and commented that her yard looked phenomenal. The two walked into the house together, making the typical small talk - Loren asking questions, William answering and then a little bit of teasing each other.

Loren offered William a drink, which he accepted. They sat under the pergola of the back deck, which also boasted lush green plants that provided additional privacy.

Although the conversation remained easy, there was a weight to the overall mood and tone. Loren mentioned how strange it was not to see the dogs trotting through the house after him. Once she said it, her throat tightened with emotions that she had been fighting to subdue. Knowing Pablo and Banksy were already in Stockholm underscored the finality of William's departure.

William could see Loren's efforts to remain composed and positive, knowing that there was a cyclone of feelings that churned inside each of them. She continued to show interest in how the first weeks back in Stockholm would look for him. He wanted to ask her more, but she'd always turn the subject back onto him, almost as though she assumed her plans wouldn't interest him.

It's not how he felt. Not by a mile, but he had a flight to catch, so his questions were left unanswered.

Loren glanced at her watch and knew that William needed to leave. She reached for his empty glass as he stood, following her back into the house.

She set the glasses down on the counter and they began to walk to the front door. Loren was beginning to say her goodbyes, her voice not yet breaking but on its way.

He took a chance and pulled her tightly against him, telling her how deeply he appreciated everything she did for him. He had thought of a million ways to thank her but, knowing how stubborn she'd be in accepting any gratitude, he set his thoughts aside. Yet, he wanted to make sure she heard him now.

Loren's throat tightened as she fought to maintain composure. She endured the firm embrace, yearning for it to never end. William’s kiss followed, a moment so intense it seemed to lift her off her feet. And once again, he was gone.

As William drove away, he grappled with conflicting emotions. He felt he shouldn't be leaving her—she should be coming with him. He understood Loren's past necessity to "live to work," but he admired her tireless efforts to shift towards "working to live."

All the same, it frustrated him that she'd probably never accept anything from him costlier than a meal in an expensive restaurant. Even if he offered to take her on a trip, she'd likely decline, unable to afford "her half” of the cost. Shaking his head at the thought of her stubbornness, he continued his drive back to the city.

Meanwhile, Loren began to undress and have a long, hot shower. The tears that had welled up in her eyes after William had left had fallen, been swiped away, and now had vanished. As she stood in the steady stream of warm water, she contemplated that she had the same thought as the last time he left. She would miss him. She felt he was inherently good and kind, and would always cherish her moments with him.

At the same time, Loren knew the months ahead for each of them would be totally different.

William's days would be filled with seeing friends and family, attending get-togethers, celebrations, and just catching up with loved ones.

He would travel, eat, and drink, while meeting the most beautiful women, whom one, or even a few, might be blessed by his touch throughout the night.

Loren's imminent future, albeit not nearly as glamorous as William's, still excited her. From her staunchly frugal ways in the past, she had learned to save money, which she squirreled away for something unusual—special. She was considering a much-needed break. Two weeks in the Caribbean sounded heavenly, and she almost had the funds to make the trip happen, plus cover whatever time away from work that her vacation pay wouldn't cover.

The additional funds she had begun to make with her tutoring were making other dreams she had more of a reality as well. Loren felt like she was getting control of her life, and it felt good.

—

The remainder of May, and throughout June was spent in William’s traditional manner, a much-deserved period of decompression after a rollercoaster of a season. The 2023/2024 season was one to remember for William. He began the season breaking personal and franchise records, dominated the headlines on and off the ice at the Global Series in Stockholm, and was a fan-voted addition to the All-Stars. He broke his season point total, and scored 40 goals for the second season in a row.

He earned every bit of rest, relaxation and time spent doing whatever he wanted.

William's calendar quickly filled up with an array of engagements. His phone buzzed constantly with invitations from friends eager to catch up. There were tennis matches to watch, exotic vacations to take, golf games to win, and family to visit. With a constant jammed-packed itinerary, moments when he was alone were rare. Nevertheless, William happily immersed himself in the vibrant social life that accompanied his stardom.

However, in those moments he found himself alone, he would occasionally scroll through pictures during his times with Loren. Some were posed shots but some were candid moments. Either way, her beauty and her sweetness was captured in each one. He thought about messaging her, but with hundreds of message notifications every time he accessed his phone, he continually put it off. He considered for a brief moment to call, but he was stuck in a suspended state in his mind - wanting to talk to her but inevitably talking himself out of it.

In late June, William was out to dinner with friends before he departed for the annual Nylander family vacation. It was a fun and casual dinner with one of his closest friends and former teammate, Rasmus Sandin (aka Sandy), as well as few hockey players from Modo, his former hockey club in Sweden.

William’s phone buzzed as it did continuously throughout the day, but this time, the sender caught his attention. It was Max Domi, William’s teammate. Max and William were friends, but at that moment, William found it odd that Max would message him outside of their customary group chat.

Sandy saw the perplexed look on William’s face and leaned in to glance at his phone. The two shared no secrets so William angled his phone for Sandy to see.

Max’s note to go with the accompanying picture was fairly simple.

M - Look who came to visit Estelle today…

A picture of Loren appeared. Estelle, Max’s girlfriend who is a professional make-up artist, took a candid shot of her new model, as Loren touched up her lipstick.

Loren’s image jolted William. He felt an ache deep within him as he absorbed every detail of the photo. Her hair was loosely pinned on either side, her long, sandy blonde curls fell across her back. The little simple satin little black dress that adorned her curves perfectly.

Sandy’s brows lifted on his face as he turned to his long-time buddy. “Who’s that? Wait…that’s - is that Loren?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Fucking Max, man - I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“What- so he sent you the picture? What is she doing with him?” Sandy shook his head. “Does he know you two were sort of dating or whatever it was?” Sandy’s expression was a mix of confusion and wariness on William’s behalf.

William exited the picture and re-read Max’s tex. “Hold on - he said she was visiting Max’s girlfriend. Ok, yeah….they’ve met, I knew they had been talking here and there, but I don’t get why she’s all dressed up, like hair and make-up sort of thing.”

Sandy rolled his eyes a little, feeling the answer was pretty obvious. “Probably club-hopping…”

It was William’s turn to roll his eyes. “At 2 in the afternoon? C’mon man.” William chuckled.

Sandy shrugged his shoulders. “Couldn’t been taken at a different time….fuck’d if I know….just guessing.”

William’s stomach was turning, which turned him off the rest of his burger. He texted Max back, and the two quickly caught up with their whereabouts and other goings on.

He was glad the boys just wanted to head home after dinner - William was in no mood for going out to a bar. All he could think about is going home and calling Loren. And that’s exactly what he did.

William messaged Loren first to find out if she was busy. It didn’t take her long to respond, first with a buoyant greeting, followed by she’s at work but she can talk for awhile.

Loren was outside at the group home taking a break on the patio when William video called her. She still had whatever make-up hadn’t evaporated or rubbed off from her visit with Estelle. William was completely mesmerized for a moment when he saw her on the screen.

The pair chatted enthusiastically as Loren asked a million questions, while William willingly answered them all.

In reality though, he was the one with the burning questions and he patiently waited for the right moment.

It came when Loren apologized for bombarding him, and asked if everything was ok.

“Oh, yeah - everything’s good….I just - Max sent me a pic of you today and —”

Loren interrupted with an apologetic groan. “Fuck, I’m so sorry - I told him not to bug you with that.” Loren continued with a slight laugh. “I don’t know if you have to use reverse psychology to get Max to listen - I just didn’t want him to bother you on vacation.”

“Loren - it’s no bother - it’s a beautiful picture…I’m glad he sent it but I didn’t really understand…I mean, are you and his girlfriend hanging out or….like three of you or….?” William’s voice trailed off.

“No, I - not really. Estelle and I sort of kept in touch after we met that first time you brought me out at that lounge. I needed some advice from her and I reached out. Ended up taking some pictures at her little studio.”

William's nerves began to settle. He realized that he had a certain possessiveness towards Loren, especially a) when he was thousands of kilometers away from where she was and b) she was in close proximity to Max, his current teammate. Max had a "shared" experience with a girl that later dated William, which added to his overall unease.

Loren explained that an unsolicited and unexpected opportunity arose which just happened to be right up her alley. The catch, however, was that it involved Loren teaching French dialogue to mature students, which would be recorded and posted across a number of social media platforms. Loren was never one to post much online, and William saw the humor in Loren landing a job that would shove her completely out of her comfort zone.

Loren heard William laughing as she rhymed off every self-deprecating thought she had about being in front of a camera. She jokingly scoffed at William not to make fun of her as she laughed along with him.

Despite her own misgivings, the company that hired her was thrilled with what they saw, but they wanted Loren a little more "glammed up," so she reached out to Estelle to help balance her makeup with the ring lights used for recording content.

William asked how the company discovered her in the first place.

Loren sighed. "Oh god—it was Chelsea, my friend's daughter, who roped me into doing this thing for her new position at her work. She's the one who lent me all of those clothes—you know, that red dress and—"

William fucking loved that dress on her. "I remember it well—you surprised me in it one night… that was a fucking good night…"

"Mmmm… it was," Loren said affectionately. She remembered it well. too. William had invited her to stay after returning from a road trip to Buffalo back in late March. The minute William walked in and saw her in that dress, he bent her over the arm of his couch. It was the first time he had been more dominant with her, and she couldn't get enough of him that night.

Loren had to veer off the memory lane of past sex-capades with William and get back on the subject.

"I just—I have never really gotten into the whole influencer, content creation stuff… I didn't really realize how it all worked. I've known Chelsea for a long time—she's always asking to style me. When I agreed, she kind of interviewed me about the tutoring thing after I was all dolled up. She presented it to her company, they loved it and she got the green light to post it. One thing led to another and all of a sudden, I get hired doing this. It's unreal how quickly it's all happened."

William had a sinking feeling. Loren truly was a rare diamond, and he knew how lucky he was to know her. But with her beauty, both inside and out, she was going to garner a lot of attention online. William knew how unfair it was to feel this way, but he didn't want others to know how amazing and special she is—like she was this exquisite secret that only he knew about.

"So would I be considered a mature student? Could you give me a French lesson for free? Heading to Saint-Tropez in a few days so I could use some help," William smiled as he spoke.

"Mature might be a stretch—," Loren laughed.

"Hey now—be nice…," William teasingly warned.

"Hmmmm….knowing the things you’ll get up to, one phrase should suffice. I’m surprised it's not in your normal Saint Tropez repertoire. Ready? Okay - here it is. 'Voulez-vous… coucher…"

"Oh my fucking —come on…," William laughed.

Loren drew out every single syllable. "Avec moi… ce soir."

William could feel the heat rising in his face. She assumed he would be on some sort of fuck fest while on vacation. Maybe that was accurate once upon a time but not as much nowadays, and certainly not while he was with family.

"That hurts that you think that… I'm not with a different girl every day…," William played it off as a joke but it did hurt his feelings a little.

Loren thought about uttering one more jab, but he did sound a little miffed. "Sorry, just jealous I suppose… I admit it." William could hear her smiling as she conceded.

After ending the call with Loren, William felt the same unsettling sensation growing in his core. once again. He threw a few more items in his suitcase, closed it up and wheeled it aside while he tried to calm how aggravated he felt.

He sent a text to female friend from his Stockholm roster. A beneficial friend that he felt might help take the edge off.

He received a quick response. She’d be over in an hour.

—

The pairing between the Nylanders and Saint-Tropez is like discovering the perfect wine to pair with a gorgeous meal. Life is so good when they're together.

This year's trip to the south of France expanded beyond the immediate family and significant others. William and Alex invited friends to join them at various points during their stay at the villa. Alex had rekindled his relationship with his former flame, Isla, whose closest friends also arrived as part of the group.

Their place of sunny refuge was usually buzzing with people, either staying back to enjoy some peace by the pool or venturing into town for some shopping.

When "the boys" were there, they worked out together on the pool deck, every muscle group being worked—their darkening skin glistened with sweat in the sun.

When "the girls" were there, they lay in the sun by the pool, their perfectly formed ass cheeks tanned golden brown.

William generally kept his distance while harmlessly admiring Isla's friends from afar. Margot, one of Isla's closest friends, admired William too, but she made her intentions far more obvious than he did on a few occasions.

Isla was thrilled with the thought of Margot getting with William. One of her best friends with Alex's brother who was also his closest friend—it would be a dream. As they got older, they'd get married, children may come, their summers spent together.

Isla could picture it all.

Alex, on the other hand, tried to temper Isla's expectations. He was aware that William, who remained stoically single, might not have any long-term interests in Margot. After hearing how Loren stayed with William during his episodes, and noticing the way William looked when he talked about her, it was clear to Alex that his brother's interests remained tied to Loren.

Meanwhile, William was thoroughly enjoying his time with family and friends, but the inkling he had back in Stockholm—a feeling he couldn't pinpoint or define—would materialize every now and again.

When it was there, it nagged him… like the feeling of walking into a room and forgetting why he was there. There was no pattern or explanation that William could think of for why he sometimes felt a yearning for something that seemed to elude him.

Other times, he knew he was envious while watching Alex and Isla kiss and hold hands as they walked in town.

These unresolved feelings were what motivated him to put his guard down with Margot, allowing her to make a move late one evening in the pool.

Her advances were initially playful as she toyed with him under the water's surface. Soon, her hands moved more explicitly over William's swim shorts, charming his cock with the palm of her hand.

Mouths were soon attached to skin, breasts were exposed, and one need pressed firmly against another.

William followed Margot as they quietly made their way to William's bedroom. She had a towel wrapped around her lean, naked body while William had her string bikini wadded up in his hand.

Margot was young, pretty and slender—a description which seemed totally interchangeable with the females in Isla's friend group.

William lay on his back, naked—his erection levitated his cock slightly. Margot slid her body between his legs as she ran her fingers up his chest.

"I saw the pictures from your first vacation," Margot purred. "Loved your bare chest."

Given that William's chest hair was starting to grow back, he was confused if she was complimenting him or not.

Margot soon had William's cock in her mouth. She felt good, but the sound of her slurping seemed to increase and echoed throughout the room. William really didn't want anyone to overhear, so he gently asked Margot if she could go more slowly, to which she obliged.

William tried all of his usual moves to get the mood going within him. He smoothed back her hair as her eyes fixed on his while she sucked his cock. As he watched her, suddenly a flash of Loren's face exploded in his mind. William laid back, remembering how Loren's gaze was so hypnotic, it always rendered William defenseless as she took her time feasting on him.

William's mind snapped back to Margot as she rapidly stroked his shaft. He thought he heard her call him "Daddy," but he wasn't sure. He had nothing against being called that as a rule, but he was not in the mood for it right then.

Enthusiastically, she climbed on top of him, lowered herself down onto his cock in a slow squat using his outstretched arms for leverage. William's body bounced against the mattress as Margot whimpered, gliding up and down his cock. William cupped under her ass cheeks to help alleviate the muscle strain in her legs of each squat as her pussy slid up and down his shaft. Margot's long blonde hair looked like hand-spun gold silk as she threw her head back and continued to bounce on top of him.

Much like the slurping, the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to reverberate rather loudly.

William propped himself up, allowing Margot to hold onto his shoulders and slide down his shaft while he began driving himself upward. The sex was quieter until Margot began to slap her own ass and moan.

William politely told her they had to be a little quieter. His parents and sisters were just down the hall.

Margot nodded as she switched from squatting to straddling his cock.

As she laid him back, another image of Loren appeared in William's mind. The memory of their last time together where Loren took complete care of him in every way. How she took her time, wanting him to feel the very heights of pleasure. And he did, with the two orgasms she skillfully coaxed out of him.

William's fingers tweaked Margot's nipples as she rode him rhythmically.

Margot began grinding furiously on his cock. She gripped William's wrist with one hand while stroking her clit with the other. She tried to stifle her cries as she clenched and quivered with the intensity of her release.

There was nothing William could do about the loud creaks from the bed or the panting from Margot after she climaxed.

If anyone does hear, maybe they'll assume it was Alex and Isla, William hoped.

After Margot's orgasm, she focused on William. She sucked, licked, and stroked his cock but frustratingly, his orgasm was just out of reach.

Taking a breather, she lay on her back stroking herself as William took the reins and began lightly and rapidly stroking near his tip. As he kneeled beside her, Margot smiled up at William, biting her lip as she played with her pussy.

The room was quiet, minus the sound of wetness from between Margot's legs and the distinct jerking motion of William's hand. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth as the pressure of arousal began to build.

He heard Loren's soft voice playing inside of his head. He would hear her say that she wanted so badly to taste him. She would moan his name, telling him how incredible he felt. She would breathlessly say how amazing he was to her.

He felt his orgasm taking hold. "Can you touch my balls—just touch them gently," William quietly instructed Margot.

That's what Loren would do. She had a natural sense of what would provide William the most intense pleasure, despite her limited sexual experience.

Margot began to fondle his balls and lick the tip of his cock as he continued to pump himself faster.

William's muscles around his torso began to clench as his orgasm hit and spurts of cum landed on Margot's cheek and lips.

She promptly wiped herself off with the bunched-up sheets that felt moist to the touch from their bodies' bliss. She stood up on the mattress, kissed William, and sauntered into the washroom to freshen up.

William sat at the edge of the bed, his cock softening as he focused on the light from the washroom.

This was the second time he had trouble finishing. He had faced the same frustration with the tryst he had in Stockholm before he left for Saint-Tropez.

He felt a deep-seated frustration now. This was not a Margot issue or his friend-with-benefits issue.

This was a William issue.

He pulled on his shorts and waited for Margot to exit the bathroom. He wasn't keen on having her sleep there—it would be awkward enough if they had been heard through the thick walls of their villa. Seeing them exit his bedroom together would add to the quiet and questioning looks he might receive from his parents.

Margot meandered back towards the bed with a fresh towel wrapped around her. "I probably should go back to my room. I don't know what everyone will think if they find me in bed with you tomorrow morning."

"Oh, yeah?" William made it sound like the same thought hadn't occurred to him. "Maybe, yeah… don't need to take the risk right now. Good idea." He smiled as she approached him, giving him a light kiss on the mouth.

"Thanks, Willy—that was fun… maybe we can figure out another time when no one's around before I leave?" Margot was hopeful she'd have another chance with him, but she wasn't going to hold her breath.

William nodded. "For sure we can." It was somewhere between a fib and the truth.

After Margot closed the door, William grabbed his phone.

Loren was all he had on his mind now.

He opened up YouTube and searched "Chelsea" plus "Loren Girard". He immediately got a hit.

William's eyes were glued to the screen watching as Chelsea, whose personality was as spicy as her wardrobe choices, interviewed Loren while her hair and makeup were done, adding an intimate behind-the-scenes feel to the segment. Loren was simply charming with her humble yet vibrant disposition, while articulating genuine and thoughtful responses.

William had expected to see Loren nervous about being in front of a camera, based on her own admissions. If she was nervous, it never showed—only her grace and poise were apparent.

At the end of the interview, they showed Loren in five outfit ensembles, all from budget-friendly sources. Loren made her little plug, encouraging everyone to keep the art of verbal communication alive in any language, and mentioned her tutoring venture as her last point.

The segment was exactly as it should be: informative, entertaining, and uplifting.

William rested against the headboard of his bed and looked back down at his phone.

It dawned on him what the feeling was that had been plaguing his mind—his insides.

He had to try and fix it and do something about it.

He swiped open his message app, found Loren's name and their last text exchange.

William typed in a simple statement.

W - I miss you so much.

—

Loren sat at her new-to-her desk that she had salvaged, repaired, and repainted with relative ease. Part of her new third job, which took up a minimal number of hours per week, was learning to edit the videos that she records.

While she replayed, layered, and snipped each recording, she snacked on her dinner, which was a small meal of avocado toast. It was far too hot to cook.

Her phone chimed right at the point where she was about to add animations to the reel. Whoever texted her would have to wait.

Loren sighed deeply as she turned her focus back to the screen. Replaying her segment, she tested some filters and made other enhancements until she was satisfied with the end result.

Once she clicked save on the final edit, she rubbed her eyes under the reading glasses she finally accepted that she needed. She stretched while padding to the kitchen and grabbed herself a vodka cooler from the fridge. She headed outside with her phone to enjoy the waning hours of the day with a cold drink.

She sat on the front step of her porch in the balmy evening air and took a long swig from the can. The carbonation made her hiccup loudly — she hoped her neighbors weren't outside to hear it.

Loren tapped the screen, and upon seeing William's name, her pulse jumped and her face flushed.

"I miss you so much." Such a simple statement, but the weight it carried was enormous. The words felt laden with sadness and regret. Words that Loren never anticipated William would ever feel for her, much less say.

Loren missed him too, but she had kept this knowledge as a safely guarded secret.

Letting him in on that secret made her vulnerable to more heartache in the future — she was almost certain of it.

Opposing thoughts clashed in Loren's mind, and she could not decipher if her worries were fear-based or just simple logic.

But this is William. William, who gave her a spark. Made her laugh until her sides hurt. Made her want to remain forever in his kiss.

Loren exhaled deeply and decided that when in doubt, stick with the facts.

Apprehensively, she responded.

L - I miss you too, William.

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Eight | What To Do

Chapter Eight | What To Do

Rey was never really a light sleeper, but the recent sickness had thrown his whole schedule off. Every little sound woke up something in his brain, especially in the dead of night. His bedsheets felt weird, like they were too loose and trying to tie him up while he slept, and his pajamas made his skin crawl. Food didn’t quite have the same taste, which Soren said was because of his sinus stuff.

Also, more annoyingly, he’d been waking up in the middle of the night for a drink of water or to go to the bathroom.

Rey wasn’t the only one. Dorian had also been getting up too, but he didn’t like admitting it for whatever reason. Maybe he was just trying to seem tougher? Rey didn’t really care one way or the other.

What did concern him was what was on his bedside table right here, right now.

The only reason he’d rolled over was because he was feeling a bit overheated, followed soon after by the sound of someone throwing up. He had called out to his brother, but when he received no answer Rey’s concern increased.

“Dorian? Are you getting si-… what the?” Rey had cracked open his eyes to check on his brother when, quite distinctly, he saw something on his bedside table doubled over and making sounds. The hair on his arm started standing on end and he knew something was different about what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure what, but some curious part of him drew him in and, instantly, he was awake.

He pushed himself up and reached over toward the light, watching eagerly as the figure stumbled and fumbled their way off to the side by the tissue box, tap it a few times, and then vanish between the box and the light. He couldn’t wait for another moment.

The young boy wasn’t unfamiliar with this level of excitement. Every invention that didn’t immediately fall apart made him absolutely giddy and curious about what he could do next. It was the same kind of excitement he was feeling now.

“Wha-? Rey? What’s your problem? Turn off the light,” mumbled Dorian. It was obvious he was still fast asleep and annoyed with him, but Rey didn’t care. He needed his brother’s help and needed to know what was on their bedside table.

“Dorian, something’s on the table. I just saw it. It’s behind the tissue box,” Rey hissed. Once again, he saw the shadow move. They needed to act quickly if they were going to see what this thing was.

“You were probably just dreaming,” his brother grumbled.

“No! I wasn’t. I thought you were getting sick and saw something dart around the lamp by the tissue box. Come on. Help me look real quick,” said Rey. The youngest managed to catch his brother’s eyes and, in that moment, Dorian seemed to see that Rey was serious and not just messing around. He rolled his eyes and mumbled some kind of agreement, but Rey didn’t really care. He was already pushing himself up out from under the covers and preparing to reach for the lamp.

He reached over and flicked the light on.

Rey wasn’t sure what he saw, but what he did know was that something was leaving a shadow right behind the lamp. As he slid out from under the covers, Rey never tore his eyes away from the spot where he saw the shadow.

And then he saw it.

Her.

At least, he thought it was a her based on her facial features.

She was small, and pale, and she looked absolutely exhausted. It was absolutely fascinating, seeing something that looked so human and yet be so small. Rey gazed into her blue-gray eyes for what felt like an hour before she coughed and wretched, getting sick all over the bedside table. Rey could also see evidence that she got sick by his old medicine cup too, but he decided to worry about that later.

“Woah… did you hear that?” asked Dorian. Rey subconsciously nodded as he slowly inched his way forward and to the side to look at the small figure again.

“Dorian, you’ve got to see this,” breathed Rey. Rey had moved cautiously, as if one of his experiments would topple at the slightest tremor of the ground. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the figure. Dorian, on the other hand, hadn’t seen or noticed the anomalies and flopped out of his bed as if he was going to be late for pancakes.

“Wha-… woah…”

Dorian spotted her too, and immediately he understood why Rey was acting the way he was. From where he was standing beside his bed, he could see better over the tissue box and spotted the small figure that was too small, too real, to be just a toy or some weird invention of Rey’s. Without words, both boys advanced at a snail’s pace in hopes to keep the thing on the table.

Dorian watched as it fell to its knees, absent mindedly tapping at its sides as if it were searching for something that wasn’t there. It looked scared, if that was possible for something so small to have facial expressions like that.

He and Rey exchanged a quick glance before Rey reached out and grabbed the lamp while Dorian pulled the tissue box aside, revealing the small figure immediately behind. Fascination flooded the boys’ minds as they watched the figure.

She was wearing what looked like clothes, layers of them. Some kind of light tan shirt and brown pants with what looked like a green cloak or poncho over her shoulders. There was something that looked like a lightbulb on one side of her hip and a bag slung over the other shoulder. Features gaunt and hollow, she didn’t look like she was doing or feeling well in the slightest. How she looked reminded Rey of how he and his brother looked for the past few days – sick.

“Rey? That’s not… one of yours… is it?” asked Dorian, barely whispering.

“No… no way,” Rey muttered, watching how the blue-gray eyes flicked back and forth between him and his brother.

“Then what is it?” Dorian hissed back.

“I… I don’t know, but… I think it’s a she, and I don’t think she’s feeling well,” Rey muttered back. He cleared the tension in his throat with a few light coughs as he directed his words at the small figure. “Hey, are you okay?”

“You think it, or ‘she’, can understand us?” Dorian asked.

“I don’t know,” Rey stated. “But she’s looking from me to you, so she can at least hear us.” Rey watched as the figure’s shoulders began to shake, vibrating as her chest heaved rapidly. In and out, she was obviously hyperventilating. Rey, if he held his breath, could almost hear her small gasps.

“This isn’t a dream, right? I mean, she’s real.” Dorian’s hand was already in motion before Rey registered his question. Everything moved so fast.

Ashlynn, who was listening to the boys talk back and forth about whether or not she could understand or if she was real, was starting to feel lightheaded again. The corners of her vision were blurring. She wanted to vomit again, but nothing was left to give. Every sense she possessed was deteriorating rapidly, and now she was backed into a corner.

She was trying to recite the Borrower rules in her head when a massive amount of movement caught her attention. Her eyes snapped up to see the older of the two, Dorian, reaching his hand out toward her.

Fingers were extended.

Palm easily eclipsing her body.

Ashlynn felt her instincts take over her aching body as she forced herself to her feet and threw herself backward away from the child’s grasp. Sadly, she overestimated the force she would need. She jumped up and back so violently that her back actually hit the wall beside the bedside table.

She’d managed to get away, yes; but there was something she didn’t account for – the gap.

Between the bedside table and the wall, there was a gap about an inch wide, which was just enough for her to slip through. For a brief moment, Ashlynn’s body was perfectly posed against the wall and the table before her center of gravity shifted again and she began to plumet into the shadows.

A scream was lodged somewhere in Ashlynn’s throat as she began to slip, but it didn’t stay there for long. As her body fell, an immense shadow fell over her and pressure surrounded her right arm. She heard a distinct popping sound from her shoulder, as if she were cracking her knuckles but on a much larger, louder scale and the scream that was trapped erupted out of her. Her body hung limp momentarily before her body began lifting from her throbbing arm.

She didn’t want to look, but impulse overrode her and she glanced up only to see her arm was being pinched between the fingers of the one called Dorian. He was lifting her by her throbbing arm, and there was nothing she could do. Those immense fleshy columns and their vice like grip around her aching appendage would not release her, no matter how she struggled; not that she had the strength to.

The Borrower swallowed the cries of pain she wanted to release and replaced them with choked whimpers and groans. She closed her eyes tight and averted her gaze from her arm. She wasn’t sure if she was about to have it ripped from her body or if it was about to be broken into tiny pieces. Whatever the case, she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to look at the human child’s face as he examined her now fully exposed body.

There would be no escape now.

The words of the youngest boy sounded muffled and distant, but Ashlynn was still able to make them out in some form.

“Dorian! What are you doing?! You’ll hurt her!” Rey’s harsh whisper was followed by a scuffling. Rey had watched as the little figure had backed up and had started to fall from the bedside table to the floor. Dorian was faster and had managed to grab her arm, but the scream that followed told Rey that Dorian had either grabbed too hard or that she didn’t like being touched.

Whatever the case, Dorian had managed to keep her from falling at the cost of injuring her, so he was grateful for that much at least. Rey saw how the figure looked away from where her arm was being grabbed and felt his heart ache for her.

She was terrified beyond words, and he and Dorian were causing it.

“Dorian, you’re hurting her. Don’t pinch her arm like that,” Rey urged. Dorian grunted frustratingly and held out the partially limp figure.

“Well, then you hold her,” Dorian hissed back. Rey didn’t have time to object as Dorian lowered the tiny woman into his hands. Rey cupped his hands and prayed she didn’t do anything rash like try to run or jump out of his hands. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be able to do either as she crumpled into a ball in his hands and pulled her arm toward her torso.

The sensation was a novel one. The life was so small, but so much like his own. Rey had held his friends’ pets before like hamsters and guinea pigs. He’d even pet a few fish before.

This was something entirely different.

In the dim lamplight, he was able to see more of her features now that she was so much closer to him. He could make out her fingers and the way her hair fell across her sweat chilled cheek. He could see her fingernails and how they grasped at the fabric of her clothes.

It hit Rey all at once that she wasn’t just some creature – she was a living being. Practically human except for her size.

Rey glanced up at his brother just in time to see him dumping out the contents of a drawer from their bedside table, the pieces and parts scattering while others stacked and lumped together. That’s what they got for shoving their random knick-knacks into the thing in the first place. Rey also saw Dorian was getting together what looked like a set of bundled socks, some of the crackers, and a lid of water.

“Dorian, what’re you doing?” asked the kid.

“What do you think? Setting up an area for her until we figure out what to do with her,” replied Dorian. Immediately, Ashlynn turned her fear filled eyes onto Rey and then to his brother. She attempted to squirm, but weakness overtook her. Not even adrenaline could force her body to flee now. Rey noticed this and felt a pang in his heart.

She seemed so scared. So helpless.

“Dorian I… I don’t like the sound of that,” stated Rey.

“Well, what else are we going to do with her?” Dorian asked harshly.

“I… I don’t know. Let her go? I mean… I don’t know… It just doesn’t feel right keeping her in a drawer,” mumbled Rey. He noticed the eager gleam in the small woman’s features as she looked up into his eyes for only a moment. It took everything the boy had to tear his gaze from the figure to his brother. “I just… I don’t know. I think we need to wake up Soren. You know? Get his help?”

“You saw Soren and how tired he was. We went to bed early and everything. He’s tired. You’re tired. I’m tired. She looks tired. It’s just for the night,” rebutted Dorian. “You want to wake up Soren when he’s feeling sick and tired?”

Rey chewed on his bottom lip in confliction before mumbling, “No.”

“And, do you see her? She looks sick too. She might’ve been the one to get us sick for all we know. Remember what Soren said about keeping the mice in the walls as pets?” pointed out Dorian.

Rude! You little germy twerps are the reason I’m sick! Ashlynn thought as her heart raced faster and faster. That lightheaded feeling consumed her again. I can’t. I can’t let them take me. I can’t break the rules, but I can’t let them keep me. I’m going to be a pet. They’re going to get me a cage and I’m going to be a pet! This is bad. This is really really really really bad! Curses! I should’ve just stayed in the walls! Why did I think medicine was going to help? That’s a human thing.

“Yeah, but…”

“Good, then it’s settled,” interrupted Dorian. “She’ll be safe in here for the night and then Soren will know what to do with her. Now, put her down in there, let’s get some sleep, and we’ll get Soren in here first thing tomorrow. Besides, he can’t do anything if he’s just as sick and tired as the rest of us.”

Rey looked down at the little figure again, the same pang hitting him again, before relenting to his brother’s idea. He walked over to the bedside table carefully and lowered his hands into the hard wood box.

Ashlynn seized the opportunity to get off of the child’s hands as fast as possible, scrambling to get off and instantly regretting her quickness of movement as her body screamed in agony, especially her arm. Whatever that boy did made her fingers tingly and numb. Already, there were bruises forming on her arm in the shape of finger pads.

She stumbled backward and pressed her spine against the hard wood directly behind her and stared up from the shadows at the faces of the two boys.

Please don’t close the drawer. Please don’t close the drawer. I can maybe get out if you don’t close the drawer. Please. Just let me go. Ashlynn’s silent thoughts went unanswered as the older boy reached out and pressed his hand against the edge. She wanted to cry out and beg them to stop, but instinct stopped her once again as she was sealed in darkness, barely the width of her hand open at the top of the container.

Ashlynn choked on a sob that rose up in her throat. Sliding down the back of her wooden prison, she curled in on herself. Her body shook like a leaf in a hurricane, but she had no tears or energy left to maintain her fear. She listened as the two boys talked for a little while longer in hushed words before the bedside light finally flicked out, leaving her in complete darkness.

No. It’s over. It’s all over. I’m caught. I’ve been seen and now I’m caught. I don’t even have my weapons to protect me. Their dad is going to put me in a cage and I’ll live off of pellets and goodness knows what else until the end of my days. Poking. Prodding.

Ashlynn shivered as she thought about the boy’s hands holding her. The warmth. The tiny flexes each finger or muscle made as he adjusted to her weight. It was a living nightmare, but what was worse was the thought that it would be all she ever knew from here on out.

Exhaustion dragged her eyelids further and further down. It wasn’t even a matter of sleep now. Between the pain and chills and sickness and the fate she knew she would have to endure, it took everything she had left in her to drag her way over to the bundled socks and lied down. For just a moment, she wanted to enjoy the simple comfort of her hip lamp, but even that was a disappointment as the lamp flickered on and off.

Even the battery is failing me. Truly the last thing to go wrong.

Ashlynn recited the Borrower rules in her head, mainly the three that truly mattered.

Don’t be seen. Don’t get caught. Don’t talk to the humans.

Well… if this is how I end, I can at least follow the last rule. Then again… is it worth it? Maybe if I talk to those boys, then they’ll let me go. The one seemed to think so.

Oh… who am I kidding? Who am I trying to convince? Myself? I’m not making it out of here. This is my life now.

Ashlynn felt a single tear drip down her cheek as, finally, the last life of her hip lamp battery drained. Lying there in complete darkness, Ashlynn curled into the top of the stiff sock and let her exhaustion overtake her.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[madewithlove-sophie]

Chapter I | Beneath the Mask | Simon Ghost Riley Fanfiction

Dangerous Territory | Previous | Next | Masterlist

The café buzzed softly with the murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of porcelain. Laswell sat in her usual corner, a steaming cup of tea resting on the polished wood table.

She glanced up as Price slid into the chair across from her, his cap casting a shadow over his sharp features. Without preamble, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small stack of files, setting them on the table between them.

“General Shepherd pulled the files you asked for,” Laswell began, taking a measured sip of her tea before placing the cup down softly. “What’s this about, Price?”

Price leaned forward, his voice dropping low. “A task force.”

Laswell arched a brow, her tone skeptical. “We already have loose ends.”

Price smirked, the hint of conviction in his eyes. “And I’ll tie them.”

Laswell shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “I fund assets, not outlaws.”

Without a word, Price stood as if ready to leave, tipping his cap slightly. “Enjoy your tea, then.”

She exhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes as he turned away. “We need you to get Makarov”

Price froze mid-step, turning back slowly. His expression was unreadable as he lowered himself back into the chair, this time leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Then get me what I need.”

Reluctantly, Laswell reached into her bag again, pulling out another slim folder. She slid it across the table, her hesitation evident. “Here.”

Price opened the folder, flipping through the pages with a practiced ease. His sharp eyes scanned each detail, his lips pressing into a thin line of thought.

“Who’s your crew?” Laswell asked, studying him closely.

Without looking up, Price answered, “Sergeant Garrick.” Handing her the file.

Laswell tilted her head slightly. “Kyle?”

“They call him Gaz,” Price said, smirking faintly. “He’s sharp, adaptable, and quiet where it counts.” He slid a file across the table. Laswell glanced at it briefly, nodding in approval.

“John MacTavish, SAS sniper—demolitions expert, Goes by Soap” Price continued.

Laswell arched a brow. "Why?”

Price’s smirk widened. “That’s classified.”

Laswell chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Of course it is.”

Sliding another file across, Price’s chuckles lightly. “There he is. Simon Riley.”

Laswell picked up the file, flipping through it. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the sparse details. “There’s no picture.”

“There never is,” Price said simply.

Laswell closed the file, placing it back on the table. “You’ve got your three. What’s next?”

Price leaned back in his chair, his voice steady and commanding. “Now the rest. That’s need-to-know. Unless we have a deal.”

Laswell crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as she studied him. “What are you calling this task force?”

Price’s faint smile returned. “141.”

Laswell picked up her tea again, sipping as she evaluated him. The silence between them was filled with the hum of the café’s ambiance. Then her eyes drifted to the manila folder still resting by Price’s hand.

“And the fourth file?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and caution.

Price paused, his hand hovering over the folder.

Laswell’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t part of the General’s list. Who is it?”

Sliding the folder toward her but keeping his hand on it, Price met her gaze steadily. “Y/N Shepherd.”

Laswell froze, her expression tightening as the name sank in. “That’s dangerous territory, John. You’re talking about General Shepherd’s kid.”

Price didn’t flinch, his voice calm and deliberate. “She’s under Commander Graves right now. A Shadow soldier.” He leaned forward, his tone unwavering. “But she’s more than that—a wild card. An experienced sergeant. Skilled sniper. Quick and deadly.”

Laswell’s eyes remained fixed on him, her skepticism clear. “And she’s tied directly to Shepherd.”

“Exactly.” Price’s voice dropped, his words deliberate. “Her connection provides unique training—black ops protocols, leadership under high-pressure scenarios. Shepherd shaped her into a weapon, but she’s not his anymore. Her insight into his operations, his mindset—that’s gold, Kate. We can use it.”

Laswell’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup, her skepticism cutting through her next words. “Or she could be playing both sides. Have you thought about that?”

Price’s jaw tightened as he leaned back, his gaze unwavering. “If she wanted to stay in Shepherd’s shadow, she’d still be there. This isn’t loyalty to him—it’s survival. And if we bring her in, she’ll fight for us. Her father’s influence can be exploited—for infiltration, misdirection, psychological advantage.” His voice hardened, carrying the weight of conviction. “She’s a soldier, Laswell. Not a pawn. We can’t ignore that potential.”

Laswell exhaled sharply, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her cup. “And her skill set?”

“Tactical intelligence,” Price continued smoothly. “She spots patterns most miss and predicts enemy movements on the fly. Psychological warfare—breaking morale or negotiating under fire. She’s got Shepherd’s training, but she uses it to outthink and outmaneuver.” He slid the file closer. “We don’t have a medic. She can stabilize a squad under fire, keep us moving.”

Laswell hesitated, glancing at the folder. “And what happens when Shepherd catches wind of this? He’ll come for her.”

Price smirked faintly, his voice low. “Then we'll see what true loyalty means”

Laswell leaned back in her chair, the weight of Price’s argument settling over her. She hesitated for a long moment before finally picking up the folder. Her eyes scanned the first page, her frown deepening as she read.

“If this backfires,” she said quietly, setting the folder down, “it’s on your head, Price.”

“She won’t let us down,” Price said confidently as he stood, adjusting his coat. He tipped his cap slightly, his voice steady. “Enjoy your tea, Kate.”

Laswell watched him leave, the folder still open in her hands. Her tea had gone cold. The child of General Shepherd, a Shadow turned soldier for Task Force 141—if she truly was a wild card, the stakes had just been raised.

[justabigassnerd]

'Till The End pt. 7

Pairing - JJ Maybank x reader

Word Count - 4,003

Series Warnings - swearing, smoking, angst, fluff, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, death, some canon divergence, drugs, alcohol, mentions of physical abuse

Summary - After coming back from your adventures discovering El Dorado with the Pogues, you thought your treasure-hunting days were behind you. However, soon enough, you and your friends are dragged into another race for a priceless treasure with twists and turns you never could’ve anticipated.

'Till The End masterlist

'Till The End playlist

A/N - another chapter ladsssss. the plot is kicking off now I'm excited for y'all to read this. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and I hope you enjoy!!!

After you and the Pogues finish talking with Wes Genrette at the party, he invites you all to visit him at his house on Goat Island so you can talk more in private and as night falls, you and your friends get on your boat and make your way over to the infamous island.

“Does anyone else feel really weird about this?” You ask, leaning against JJ’s side as the boat motors along the channel as everyone murmurs in agreement.

“Do you know them? They’re Kooks so you gotta know them, right?” Pope asks, glancing over at Sarah who shakes her head.

“No, they kept to themselves. I mean, you’ve heard the rumours, haven’t you?” Sarah asks, glancing between you all as you nod.

“About the daughter drowning with her baby?” JJ comments, his arm hanging loosely around your shoulders.

“I heard that too, but I heard that she was possessed first or something,” Kiara adds, making you glance up at her.

“I kinda feel bad for the guy. Imagine losing your daughter and your grandchild in the same day and then people make up rumours about her being possessed or something.” You mumble, resting your head against JJ’s shoulder, your heart panging with sympathy for the Genrette family.

“Yeah, it must’ve been tough on him.” John B agrees quietly as you notice the island growing closer and closer. As you approach the island, you can’t help but get an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You had heard the whispers from the inhabitants of Kildare about the various rumours surrounding the Genrettes due to the loss the family had experienced and you were beginning to let doubt seep into your mind about the rumours and began to worry about what you were all about to come across.

“Why are we doing this again?” Cleo asks, glancing between each of you.

“We need the money.” Pope and Sarah say in tandem as the island grows closer.

Approaching the dock of Goat Island, you see a figure waiting, not someone you recognise and your eyebrows furrowed as you try to identify whether the figure would be a threat to you and your friends or not. As the HMS Pogue pulls up at the dock, Pope holds out the rope to the man greeting you at the dock. For a moment, the man remains quiet, regarding you and your friends in turn before speaking.

“Welcome to Blackstone.” The man says gruffly before moving to tie the rope to the dock while you and the others get off the boat. Once you’ve got onto the dock, you follow the man as he leads you towards the Genrette household.

“So, what were you digging?” JJ asks, noticing that the man has a shovel in hand.

“Ditches.” The man retorts, continuing to walk as you exchange a glance with Kiara.

“At least it’s not graves,” Kiara mutters.

“All the same to me.” The man replies, making Kiara’s eyes widen as she glances back over at you, both of you worried about the implication behind his words.

“That’s reassuring.” You whisper to Kiara, watching JJ closely follow behind the man, eager to get to the Genrette house and make some money.

“So, how long have you been working for Mr. Genrette?” John B then asks, noticing the tension and trying his best to ease it.

“For as long as I can remember.” The man replies, barely glancing John B’s way as he responds to the question, leading you all up a staircase that leads up to a large house. You would’ve said the house was majestic, but its beauty was overshadowed by the overgrowing plants and dingy atmosphere. You would’ve thought the house was abandoned had you not been invited by the homeowner.

“There.” The man says finally, pointing at the house and allowing you all to approach it.

“Thank you,” JJ says, leading you all towards the house and using the large doorknocker to rap on the door, calling to anyone who might be inside.

“Oh, just an FYI, they drug you before they chop you up. So, don’t eat or drink anything.” JJ then says, turning to look at you all.

“Not funny JJ.” You scold, fighting back a shiver as you glance around, wondering if the inhabitants of the Genrette family held any ill intentions.

“Guys, I think I’ve changed my mind about this one,” Sarah says nervously, shuffling in place.

“I really don’t wanna be here,” Kiara added, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen her. Just as everyone begins to protest, beginning to wonder if it is worth leaving, you hear footsteps approaching the door.

“Someone’s coming,” JJ says, silencing you all as you wait for the door to be unlocked and opened. When the door is opened, you’re greeted by a smartly dressed man who offers you all a smile.

“Hi. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It’s quite a big house, and I’m afraid the servants have all gone. All except, good old Demp. Just can’t seem to get rid of him. You must be the Pogues. The Great Seekers.” The man says, greeting you all with a smile as you exchange glances with Pope and Cleo.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” John B starts, attempting to downplay what you’ve all done together.

“Oh, now, don’t be modest. I’ve read of your adventures. It’s quite thrilling. Oh, come in. Come in. I’m the son-in-law. Chandler Groff. Wes was really, really hoping you’d show. He’s been waiting.” The man you now knew to be Chandler Groff introduced himself, beckoning you all in as you stood nervously, watching your friends exchange looks before JJ took the first step, heading into the house, encouraging you to follow after him, not wanting to be alone if anything happened.

As all the Pogues enter, you are directed to a large living room and you glance around, taking in how dusty and gloomy the room is, with no sign of warmth anywhere despite the blazing fire. You couldn’t help but feel your eyes draw towards the large portrait hung above the fireplace, depicting a beautiful, blonde lady with piercing blue eyes.

“Come in, warm yourselves by the fire.” You’re greeted by Wes as he gestures for you all to enter further, all of you hesitantly entering one after the other.

“Ew.” You mutter to yourself as you watch Cleo pull at a cobweb hanging off one of the lamps before you all move to sit on the various dusty couches and chairs. All apart from JJ who remains standing, surveying the room silently.

“I apologise for dragging you all out here. I just don’t think I could speak about this in public. I know I mentioned Blackbeard. But I assure you, my interest is not for treasure. My ancestor, Francis Genrette, was the British officer who caught and killed the notorious pirate.” Wes explains, gesturing first to a painting of Blackbeard before glancing over at another painting of a soldier in uniform, leading you to conclude that it was Francis Genrette.

“Hold on. Your… direct ancestor?” Pope asks, all of you watching Wes carefully for his reaction.

“Yes, unfortunately. After he had beheaded Blackbeard, he killed the pirate’s wife, Elizabeth. And since then, for three hundred years, generations of Genrettes have been haunted by Elizabeth’s ghost and have died violent deaths, including my daughter. Larissa, Chandler’s wife. My daughter saw Elizabeth a week before she died.” Wes says, bringing your attention to the portrait above the fireplace, all of you regarding it quietly.

“Now, I’ve had a visitation. So I know I don’t have much time.” Wes then continues, all of you then exchanging worried looks amongst each other.

“So, we’re really sorry that happened to you, but what do you want from us?” John B gets the courage to speak, glancing over at Wes who nods.

“Of course, you’re right. Let’s get to business. Chandler, if you please.” Wes says while pacing, pointing over to Groff who takes over.

“We believe that we’ve found a way to break the curse on this family. Right before she was murdered, Elizabeth begged Francis to retrieve from her husband’s ship a keepsake that he’d given her. Her most prized possession. An amulet. He denied the request and then murdered her.” Groff says, crossing to the portrait of Elizabeth Teach and pointing at the amulet around her neck.

“Isn’t Francis just a ball of sunshine?” You mutter sarcastically to Kiara, folding your arms across your chest.

“If we find that amulet, and fulfill Elizabeth’s last request, I believe it will break the curse that has haunted my family for over three hundred years.” Wes continues, nodding as he speaks, full confidence in his words.

“I’m sorry. Where did you say the necklace thingy is?” Kiara asks, just as confused as the rest of you.

“Blackbeard’s last ship. The Aventure.” Groff says as Kiara nods curtly, unimpressed.

“Perfect.” She mutters, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“According to all records, the amulet was still on it when it was scuttled right off Goat Island.” Groff continues, pointing off in the direction of the ocean surrounding the island.

“Yeah, but the Coast Guard excavated that site years ago,” Pope speaks up, all of you looking to Pope before returning your gaze to Groff.

“The excavation team didn’t know what we know. They didn’t know we had this.” Wes says, opening an old book and handing it to Pope.

“There’s a secret lockbox hidden behind the headboard in the Captain's chamber. Do you dive?” Wes explains further before glancing around at you and your friends as he asks his question.

“We dive. All of us do. It’s just, we only do it if the price is right.” JJ speaks up, nodding confidently as you shoot him a confused look. JJ had been the main person behind the diving expeditions the surf shop offered and other than the one time John B went diving the day your initial treasure-hunting journey began, none of you had even dared to dive.

“Excellent. We are prepared to offer you a premium for your services. Fifty thousand, plus expenses. Five thousand up front. We’d very much like your immediate answer.” Wes offers, making your eyes widen at the amount of money Wes was willing to pay you all just to find an amulet. Just as JJ went to respond to Wes’ offer, John B leapt up and clamped his hand across JJ’s mouth, preventing him from talking as you all begin to mumble amongst yourself about needing a couple of minutes to think it over before following JJ and John B into another room to talk.

“Okay, guys…” Sarah starts as John B closes the door to the small office you are now occupying.

“What was that?” Kiara then adds, making you nod in agreement to her words. You had no idea what you had just been a part of.

“Guys, this is so weird. Maybe we should just slip out the back or something?” You ask, gesturing towards the large windows you could all easily climb out of.

“y/n, are you serious? This is fifty thousand we’re talking about here.” JJ hisses quietly, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“JJ I don’t know about you but I’m getting some major bad vibes from this so forgive my self-preservation for doing its job.” You retort, slightly frustrated that your boyfriend was being blinded by the promise of money over the reality of the task you’d been asked to complete.

“Are we seriously going to listen to a guy who probably needs to be in a white padded room? Visitations? Curses?” John B asks, glancing around desperately, hoping you all share his thoughts about the situation you’ve found yourselves in.

“He’s a madman,” Cleo states simply, folding her arms across her chest.

“Obviously he’s batshit, but he’s in there crying about his daughter. He needs help.” Sarah says, her empathy clear in her tone as she speaks.

“Sarah, he needs therapy not whatever that necklace thingy is,” Kiara says, raising an eyebrow as she looks across at Sarah, her stance on the situation clear.

“It’s obvious this guy is nutty. We don’t even know if anything he’s saying is true.” Pope adds on.

“We cannot ignore the fact that there is a ghost and a curse. Y’all aren’t getting a weird-ass vibe?” Kiara continues, making you nod.

“I’m with you, Kie. This whole thing has weird written all over it.” You agree, moving to stand nearer Kiara, comforted by the fact you share the same views on the situation.

“Okay, guys. Let’s just say we take this job. Is it even possible?” Cleo asks, glancing around at everyone.

“Yes,” JJ answers like he holds all the answers in the world.

“I knew what you’d say. What about everyone else?” Cleo says, cutting JJ off and addressing the rest of you.

“That shipwreck is probably eighty to one hundred feet down and the currents are probably ripping,” Pope says, thinking logically about whether the task was doable or not.

“Guys. Are we really going to worry about the details right now?” JJ asks, glancing from Pope to John B.

“Yes, JJ. I’d rather us not all die.” You insist, as all of you agree that knowing the details now is important.

“Are we really gonna turn down free money? No, that’s not like us.” JJ argues.

“It’s not free,” Kiara argues back, her words lost on JJ as he continues to speak.

“The worst that can happen is we walk out of here with five G’s in our pocket. End of discussion.” JJ declares, making a beeline for the door.

“Someone grab him.” You say quickly as JJ moves towards the door, knowing what he’s about to do but before anyone can stop him, JJ opens the door and steps into the living room.

“Sir, we’ve come to our conclusion and we’ll do it. We’ll take the job. Is that the initial five K? You can just give that to me.” JJ says, crossing to Groff and taking the envelope from his hand with a smile as Pope darts to his side.

“You know what? I’ll take this.” He cuts in, taking the envelope from JJ’s hand and nodding at Groff to assure him the money is in safe hands. You watch as Groff shakes JJ’s hand.

“Hey, JJ. I believe in you.” Groff says with a smile, making you raise an eyebrow at the moment, confused about what would’ve prompted such a thing.

With the money secured and the promise that you’ll try to recover the treasure, you’re guided back out to the HMS Pogue by Demp and you all climb onto the boat, eager to get back home.

“I am glad to be out of there.” You say to Kiara as you settle down next to her on the boat.

“You and me both. JJ seemed to be in his element though.” Kiara says, nodding over at JJ who had opted to sit alone at the helm, watching the waves.

“Yeah, I know. It was probably the promise of money that had him all excited.” You mumble quietly, trying to shake off the weird thoughts you were having about the way Groff was acting towards JJ.

“You’re right. We know how he gets when money is involved.” Kiara says, making you scoff lightly as you nod. You and Kiara continue to chat until you moor back at Poguelandia, all of you grabbing drinks before heading to the porch above the shop to go over your plan. Pope flicks between a map of the island and the Captain’s log Wes had let you borrow, informing everyone that Wes wasn’t lying about the secret compartment.

“So we know he’s not bullshitting and we know where we need to dive, it’s right in this area,” JJ says, pointing at the ocean surrounding Goat Island.

“Except we don’t know exactly where it is.” John B says, emphasising that no one knows where Blackbeard’s ship went down.

“I bet the Coast Guard know where it is. I’ve heard coasties are quite chill so I bet we could just ask them.” JJ says, leaning back on the couch.

“Wait, Pope. Your uncle is in the Coast Guard isn’t he?” John B then asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

“Uncle Roger? No, he won’t tell us anything like that. He’s the most by-the-book man I’ve ever met.” Pope says, getting up from the couch and pacing as you all begin to grumble.

“Look, JJ, don’t you have that friend in the Coast Guard?” Pope then says, redirecting the attention to JJ who continues to lounge on the couch.

“Boogs? He’s in the reserves. Besides, he’s a marina rat, living paycheck to paycheck which means we’d have to bribe him.” JJ explains.

“We can’t afford that,” Kiara says, all of you knowing that a marina rat like Boogie would try to rinse you all dry of cash if he could.

“Pope, you won’t even try?” You ask.

“What happened to Pogues for life, man?” John B adds, all of you beginning to gang up on Pope who watches you all incredulously before holding up a hand, silencing you all.

“Fine. I’ll try to talk to him but no promises.” Pope says, making you and the others exchange high-fives. With a plan set in motion, you all hop in the Twinkie while JJ takes his bike to head over to Pope’s parents to find his uncle. You all wait patiently for Pope to attempt to get the location from his uncle but when he approaches you all with a dejected expression, you know you are about to be forced into plan b to find Boogie. It is agreed that just JJ and John B will go to find Boogie so you, Kiara, Pope, Cleo, and Sarah are dropped back off at Poguelandia while the other two go to find Boogie.

With nothing else to do, you, Sarah, and Cleo decide to open the shop while Pope and Kiara did some more research into Blackbeard’s ship. You get a good flow of customers, selling various products and trying your best to pull your weight. Eventually, Sarah takes over running the register and while you’re sitting with Cleo, watching her scroll through pictures of Blackbeard on her laptop, a man approaches the register.

“Hello. Y’all remember me?” The man asks, making you roll your eyes. He was the man who tried to outbid you at the auction for the Maybank plot and you had truly hoped you wouldn’t have to see his face again after the auction.

“Unfortunately.” You mutter under your breath.

“How can we help you?” Sarah says, leaning against the counter with a forced smile.

“I’ve got something for you.” The man says as he slides a piece of paper over the counter towards Sarah.

“You shouldn’t have.” Sarah retorts through gritted teeth.

“I can take this place off your hands at any time. For a fair price of course.” The man tries, glancing at you all as you shake your head.

“Nice try. We’re not selling so if you’re not buying something from this shop, move along.” You say, crossing to stand by Sarah’s side, keen to defend the work you and the Pogues had put into this place.

“You know, y’all are gonna lose this place. It’s best you sell now. I’m sure I’ll see y’all around.” The man finally says before leaving, making you all offer him a sarcastic wave as he leaves before you all turn your attention to Sarah and the paper that is now in her hand.

“What is it?” Cleo asks, both you and her watching as Sarah’s eyes scan the paper in her hand, mumbling as she reads it quietly to herself before she hands it to Cleo.

“My dad used to do this all the time. It’s changing the zoning. It’s a way to force the owners out of their property.” Sarah explains as both you and Cleo read the paper.

“That can’t be legal.” You mutter, looking to Sarah and hoping she’ll crack a smile and tell you that she’s just joking. But instead, she remained in place, chewing anxiously at her nails.

“If you have the money to do it, you can do anything,” Sarah says, making you dip your head, scrambling to try and think of a solution.

“We’re going to need more than five thousand dollars.” Sarah then says.

“So we have to find the amulet.” You conclude, knowing the offer from Wes Genrette was your only shot at protecting Poguelandia.

When JJ and John B finally returned from talking to Boogie, both of them informed you that they had the location of Blackbeard’s ship but JJ had to trade his bike in for the knowledge and you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink at the news. You knew how special JJ’s bike was to him. It was his one way to feel free when he felt like the world was getting too much for him. You had fond memories of riding on the back of his bike, your arms wound securely around his middle while he drove the two of you around. As JJ dismisses himself to check on the Snapper, you follow after him.

“Hey, we’ll get you a new bike with the money Wes gives us.” You say softly, helping JJ load stuff onto the boat.

“Maybe. It’ll be hard to replace her.” JJ admits, his voice quiet so no one else caught on to his upset.

“Maybe Boogie would let you buy her back?” You offer, watching as JJ shrugs.

“I’ll worry about that after we get the money from Wes,” JJ says, checking the oxygen tanks as you watch him carefully, taking a deep breath before speaking up.

“I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think it’s safe for you to dive down there alone.” You begin, wringing your hands nervously.

“I’ll be fine, y/n/n.” JJ insists.

“Well, I’m going with. That way I can make sure you’re fine.” You say, folding your arms across your chest as JJ stops what he’s doing and looks over at you.

“It’s eighty feet down in the dark. And moving through structures. Even for experts, it’s a hairball situation.” JJ says, studying your reactions carefully and looking for any hesitation so he can talk you out of it.

“You’re not an expert.” You say, pointing out the obvious.

“Neither are you.” JJ retorts.

“You’re not talking me out of this, J. We gotta save Poguelandia and I refuse to let my parents see this place fail.” You fire back strongly, watching as JJ falls silent for a moment before nodding.

“Okay, that’s that. You’re my new diving buddy.” JJ says finally, moving to hand you more gear as you continue to get the boat ready.

Before too long, John B and the others emerge, crossing to the boat as you all stand ready to hear the plan one final time before you attempt this.

“Okay, we’ve got the nav points and we’ve got the gear. This is a one-night-only thing I want us to be in and out, all right so we gotta stay under the radar. JJ, you’re going down.” John B begins, glancing over at JJ who nods.

“I’m going down too.” You say, cutting John B off and sticking your hand up so everyone is aware that you intend to dive as well.

“Okay, JJ and y/n go down. Me and Pope stay up. Sarah, Kie, and Cleo, you guys drive out to the lighthouse by the Coast Guard base and stand watch. If we do this right, we could be home by midnight.” John B says as everyone nods. Everyone bar Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo climbs on the boat, all of you waving goodbye to each other as JJ starts the engine, beginning your journey to the wreckage of The Adventure.

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