#this needs another chapter to tie in the loose ends

[skyland2703]

"Do you have any idea how much I wished to take it back? To just go to your house and apologize?" "I would have waited for you. I did wait for you. Even if it took some time, you are here now." + aaaaaaand I am very torn on whether to imbibe in encouraging Coinless Billy x Skull or simply Older Billy x Skull; but I trust your judgement ^^

Once and Always gave me the perfect plot for Billy and Skull to meet after 20+ years and get to know each other and all that sappy stuff~

[pixiedustandpetrichor]

this chapter is not writing itself

how rude

[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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[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!

[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!)

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS XI | SOMEONE TO STAY

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 6,369

summary: ted has some news to share with the team that unexpectedly leads to other secrets coming out. 

A/N: here it is - the penultimate chapter of distractions! i’ve had the events of this chapter planned out for what feels like forever, and i finally get to share it with you all. thank you for reading and i can’t wait to see what you think💙💛

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

It should come as no surprise that you and Jamie end your night after the Man City win doing some…not-so-innocent activities to celebrate. You’re hesitant at first, not wanting to agitate Jamie’s ankle, but your attentiveness only turns him on more. You’re not entirely sure what time you actually fall asleep, but in the early morning light, you’re awoken by Jamie leaving a trail of kisses on your face and down to your neck, and before you know it, you’re going another two rounds. 

You bask in the afterglow side by side as you catch your breath. When you look at Jamie, there’s a dopey smile on his face.

“You happy or something?” you ask teasingly and his smile only widens.

“Just a little,” he murmurs, leaning over to give you another kiss.

You lay on your sides facing each other for a few quiet moments, as you trace the tattoos on his arm. 

“Have I mentioned how much I like your tattoos?” you whisper. 

“Mm-mm,” Jamie shakes his head.

“Well, I do.”

“Have you ever thought about getting one?”

“A couple times, but not seriously,” you tell him, “Not sure what I’d get.”

“I think you should get a big number 9 plastered across your back,” he suggests with a faux-serious expression.

You snort, “And why would I do that?”

He shrugs innocently, “So you can have a piece of your favorite footballer wherever you go.”

“That’s funny because you and I both know my favorite footballer is…”

“I swear to God if you get the number 24 tattooed anywhere on your body, I’ll scream.”

You laugh out loud, placating your boyfriend with another kiss. “I think I’ll have to keep thinking of other tattoo ideas before I commit to anything officially.”

“Fine,” Jamie agrees.

You move your fingers up the length of his arm to run gently across his face, “With everything that happened last night, I never got the chance to ask you about your dad. Was he at the game?”

Jamie looks down, but covers your hand with his, “No, he wasn’t. Which I think honestly messed with me more. I ended up texting him afterwards, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” you whisper, knowing their relationship was complicated, but that he still begrudgingly cared about the man, “I think reaching out could be good. You don’t have to forgive him, but you deserve a little closure.”

Jamie nods, “Yeah. Ted said something like that, too.”

You smile internally. Of course he did. 

Jamie lifts his head to glance at the clock on your side of the bed, “I think we overslept.”

You roll your eyes light heartedly, “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Jamie smirks giving you yet another kiss, “We should get ready. Can I drive you to the club today?”

Your heart flutters at how excited he seems to publicly take you to work for the first time. Unfortunately, you had a few loose ends to tie up this morning, so you’d be going to the club later this afternoon, getting the all clear from Rebecca over text on your way home last night. 

“I’ll actually be in a little later today. I have some things I need to do first,” you’re attuned to the way Jamie’s face falls, so you quickly reach out to stroke his cheek again, “I promise there’s nothing to worry about. I want to tell you everything. I was thinking over dinner tonight? I can make my lasagna that you like so much.”

Jamie’s expression relaxes, though you can tell he’s still a bit weary of what exactly you’ll be telling him. Still, he gives you a tiny smile, “That sounds great, babe.”

“Good. Now hurry up and get ready. Don’t want Roy to yell at you.” 

Jamie groans, but reluctantly pushes himself out of bed. You eventually manage to get up yourself once he’s ready, pulling on one of his tee-shirts so you can kiss him goodbye at the door. 

Once he’s gone, you take a deep breath. Despite your indecision about your job situation, spending the night carrying on with Jamie, Keeley, and Roy made what you wanted to do become clear as day. You weren’t sure how everyone would react, especially with the trouble Keeley and Rebecca had gone through, but you knew in your heart you had to follow your dreams on your own terms. And that’s exactly what you were going to start doing this morning.

Jamie arrives at Nelson Road with a sense of self assurance he’s never had before. Sure, he’s always had an air of confidence and cockiness about him his entire life, but today Jamie feels a special sense of pride when he enters the locker room. Not only had he helped his team win a game in his home city the night before, he was dating the most incredible girl he has ever met and now everyone knew it. 

As if they didn’t hype him up enough about it the night before, his teammates greet him with pats on the back and teasing remarks about the match, and about you. Jamie rolls his eyes, joking right along with them, but on the inside he’s admittedly enjoying the praise. He knows the team loves you, and is very protective of you. And while he knows they’ve grown to love him too since returning to Richmond, it warms his heart that they not only approve of his relationship with you, but are almost as excited about it as he is. Almost. He was definitely the most excited.

The Greyhounds go about their morning, getting ready for training, and the spirit continues to be high. For whatever reason, though, Jamie senses a shift in the mood when the coaches enter the locker room. They’re probably going to want to get serious about their final game of the season, he assumes, but another piece of him worries that something else is going on.

“Hey, everyone listen up,” Ted calls out and he’s missing the usual pep in his voice, “I’ve got something I want to say to you all before training.”

The team instantly stops whatever they’re doing to give their coach their full attention. Ted exchanges a look with Coach Beard who nods reassuringly. Roy and Trent stand off to the side, seemingly in the loop as well, and they don’t look thrilled about whatever it is. 

When Ted turns back to face the team, he’s scratching his face nervously, but he takes a deep breath and continues, “There’s been a lot going on in my life lately, mentally, as you may know. And while I’ve been handling things better, there’s still one thing I can’t fix here, and that’s my relationship with my kid. He hasn’t said anything himself, but I know I’m not present enough in his life. So, that’s why I decided after our season’s over, I’m going to go back to Kansas. Permanently. So...this will be my last week as your coach.”

It takes everyone in the room a second to process this, but when reality hits them, there’s an uproar of confusion, sadness, and frustration. It's unclear what each of them say, as they talk over one another, but most are just trying to tell Ted to stay in their own way. 

Ted nods his head, letting them get it all out, before raising his hand to calm them down. “Hey, hey, hey. I know it’s sudden, but trust me I didn’t think this through lightly. Coaching you guys the last few years has been one of the greatest honors and privileges of my life. But now I need some time to focus on my family and I hope you all will come to understand that.”

Silence blankets the room again, before another chorus of murmurs echo their understanding, though the mood in the room is still solemn. For Jamie’s part, he’s mostly remained silent from his seat on the bench, too shell-shocked by the news to say or do anything. He understood that Ted was leaving, but the actuality of it wasn’t hitting him completely yet. Probably because he didn’t want to let himself believe it, with how important Ted was to him, even if he didn’t always acknowledge that. 

“So, who’s gonna be our coach next year?” Dani asks, and few teammates tack on ‘yeahs’ in equal curiosity. 

Jamie notices Ted’s eyes briefly flit to Roy, but the assistant coach just continues starting straight ahead with his arms crossed.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet. Think that’s up to Rebecca, but I just told her the news this morning,” Ted answers honestly. 

“Coach Beard, are you leaving, too?” Colin questions this time.

Everyone’s heads whip to the man in question at the front of the room next to Ted.

Slowly Beard nods his head, “Yeah. I’m leaving, too.”

Another round of depressed groans carries through the locker room as the team processes a second loss.

“Wait, what about Y/N?” Sam brings up before he can even stop himself, but as soon as he sees the alarmed look on his coaches faces, he realizes his mistake. “Shit.”

The team grows quiet again, their heads turning to Sam this time, and Jamie’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your name.

“Uh, what does Y/N have to do with this?” Isaac questions.

“Yeah, just because she’s American doesn’t automatically mean she’s leaving, too.” Jan Maas adds on.

While Jamie’s equally confused, his heart continues to pound against his chest. With furrowed brows, he looks between a guilt-ridden Sam, and Beard and Ted, who exchange looks of their own. An uneasy feeling forms in the pit of his stomach, as he and the rest of his teammates wait for an explanation.

A nervous Ted clears his throat, nodding again, “I think what Sam is referring to is that...Y/N is actually my niece.” To the chorus of gasps, Ted continues, “Yeah. She didn’t want you fellas to know, so you didn’t think she got her job because we were related.”

Jamie’s heart drops. So many things become clear in that moment; why it felt like you’d been keeping something from him, how you’d become so close to Ted in a short period of time, why you were so good with Henry when he visited. You’ve known him your whole life. He can barely hear Ted continue as he processes all of this. 

“I’m sure this isn’t how she pictured you all finding out. But either way, me leaving doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll want to go as well,” he tells everyone.

However, no one has time to feel relief when a small voice pipes up.

“But what about that job she’s interviewing for?” Will asks from the back of the room, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Suddenly nervous with everyone’s eyes on him, he carries on with a stutter, “I-I heard her talking to Sam in the boot room about it one day. She’s interviewing for a writing job in New York.”

Once again, everyone’s heads sharply turn to Sam, who looks apologetically at Jamie across the room. That’s when it sinks in for everyone. You in fact could be leaving them too. 

Jamie can barely hold eye contact with Sam, turning his attention to his shoes. His breathing goes heavy, and he barely makes out Coach Beard ordering everyone to start heading towards the pitch for training. Sam is the last one to file out besides Jamie. He wants to apologize to his friend, for helping keep your secret, and letting Jamie find out this way, but he doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better. So, he just defeatedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room doors.

Jamie’s not sure how much time passes when a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

“Hey, Jamie,” Ted’s soothing voice says to him, “Want to chat in my office for a sec?”

Jamie nods absent-mindedly, rubbing his face before following behind his coach. He passes Roy who only gives him a pat on the back before leaving with Beard and Trent. 

Ted shuts the door behind Jamie, before rounding his desk to sit in his office chair. Jamie fidgets for a few seconds before leaning against the shelf near the door. 

After it's clear Jamie’s not going to start this conversation, Ted speaks up again himself, “Well, first off I want to say I’m sorry that you found out about everything this way. I’m sure she wanted to tell you all of that herself, and I’m sure Sam didn’t mean for it to come out that way either.” 

Jamie nods, still not looking at Ted. Internally, he laughs bitterly. You were probably going to tell him all of this tonight; feed him a nice meal just to break his heart.

“If it’s any consolation, this is the first time I’m hearing about this job in New York, too,” Ted adds, “So it has nothing to do with my decision to go back to the states, if that’s really something she’s considering. In fact, I haven’t had the chance to tell her my news either.”

“So, she’s really your niece?” Jamie finally says. He definitely knows it's the truth, but he’s still in disbelief that it's been right under his nose the whole time. 

“Sort of,” Ted snorts, “Her dad is Michelle’s brother. So, in a way she’s not technically my niece any more. But she’s still my family in the way that matters.” 

Jamie nods again. A piece of him is touched by the way Ted has clearly been looking out for you the last few months; especially after your breakup. But another part of him is horrified that he’s been sneaking around with a relative of Ted’s this whole time. 

It’s as if Ted can sense his uneasiness as he speaks again, “I’m really happy for you two by the way.”

“Really?” Jamie asks, making eye contact with him for the first time.

“Really, really,” Ted nods, with a kind smile on his face, his head resting in his hand, “I think it’s great. I mean, I just found out yesterday, but she is clearly very smitten with you.”

Jamie’s cheek’s flush and he prays Ted doesn’t notice. “You’re not going to threaten me or tell me I’m not good enough for her?”

“Nah, that’s more of a dad’s job; and she’s got two so I’m sure you’ll hear that speech plenty,” Ted teases, “But I also know you, Jamie. I’ve seen you come into yourself the last few years, and that person is a good guy. Getting to see your growth has been one of the best parts of coaching this team, and one of the things I’ll miss the most. I don’t need to tell you not to hurt her, because I know you won’t. Besides, I can see that you’re just as smitten with her, if not more.”

If Jamie wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now. Not only because of his comment about his feelings for you, but also due to Ted complimenting him. He was once again overcome with sadness thinking about Ted not being around anymore, but he couldn’t handle that thought right now. And he certainly couldn’t handle thinking about how he’d feel if you were leaving, too.

Unsure of what else to say, Jamie just settles on a simple thank you. 

Ted gives him another supportive smile. “Don’t mention it. Just go easy on her about this whole job thing. She’s probably confused by it all, and she might not even go. Just talk to her about it, okay?”

Jamie nods, managing a tiny smile of his own. “Coach?” he asks softly, “Would it be okay if I skip training today? Think I need to clear my head. Might end up going for a run on my own anyway.”

Ted nods assuringly, “Of course.”

As Jamie stands up and heads for the door, he turns to Ted one last time. “Coach?”

Ted looks at him curiously.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me the last three years. I think it really sucks that you’re leaving, but I understand why. You’ve got to do what’s best for you and your family, and I’m sure your son will be glad to have you back around. I know the rest of the team’s bummed, but they’ll probably be over it by tomorrow and support you, too.”

This time Ted is the one overcome with emotion, knowing it's rare to get this much sentiment from Jamie Tartt. Trying not to show it, Ted just nods and gives him another smile. “Thank you, Jamie.”

With one last tight smile, Jamie pulls open Ted’s office door and disappears around the corner.

Your plan to have a productive morning was very successful. After treating yourself to a big, homemade breakfast, you hunkered down at a local café to get some things done regarding the job options you had. In effort to not get distracted, you turned your phone on ‘do no disturb’ and then spent a few hours drafting emails, tightening up your manuscript, and preparing what you were going to say to Jamie later in the day. 

After feeling satisfied with your work, you close your laptop and decide you have a bit of time before you need to be at the club, so you plan to go to the grocery store to get everything you need for dinner with Jamie. However, when you open your phone to type out a list, you see dozens of missed calls and texts.

Your first instinct is that someone had to have died. But that was ridiculous. Still, your nerves are spiking as you check your texts. There were a slew of them from various members of the team, and even Roy and Trent Crimm. In some shape or form, they were all asking about your relation to Ted, whether or not you were leaving Richmond, and if you were taking that job in New York. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick. How the fuck did they know all of that?

You get your answer when you finally listen to the one lone voicemail you had. It was from Sam.

“Hi, I can’t talk long, I’m meant to be at training, but I need to tell you that I fucked up and I’m sorry. The team knows about you being related to Ted. And about the New York job. It all just came out and I can explain more later, but I just need you to know that I’m so, so sorry. And I’m sorry if it hurt Jamie, but I know you two will work it out. Okay, I gotta go. Beard and Roy are coming. I’m sorry again. Okay, bye.”

There’s not an ounce of you that can be mad at Sam, especially with how distraught he sounds. And shit. Jamie. The one person that didn’t reach out. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking right now.

Running out of the café, you furiously navigate your phone to order an Uber to the club, furiously cursing yourself for not being able to drive on the left side of the road. Stupid England. 

Once you arrive, you race through the halls to the locker room. It's about time for lunch, and you count your blessings that most of the team must have already left the premises to eat. Among the few stragglers is Sam, who is anxiously sitting on the bench staring at his phone. His head shoots up when you enter, causing him to stand with wide eyes, meeting you halfway.

“Oh, my God, Y/N, I am so sorry, I completely messed everything up,” he begins, desperate to fix it all.

You shake your head as aggressively as you can, “You do not need to apologize to me. It’s okay. I just need to find Jamie, is he here?”

Sam frowns, “No. He didn’t end up training with us today, and no one’s heard from him since this morning.”

“Shit,” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. You rack your brain for where Jamie could have possibly gone, but one thing still isn’t making sense to you. Dropping your hands, you return your gaze to your best friend.

“Sam, why did this all happen?”

Sam’s shoulders sag, his expression unreadable. His eyes eventually leave yours to look at something over your shoulder. The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you spin around to see Ted standing in the doorway to the coaches’ offices. He nods his head for you to join him.

Glancing back at Sam one more time, he gives you a small smile and squeezes your shoulder. He apologizes one last time, to which you assure him  that everything is okay. But you were finding it hard to believe that yourself. 

Ted shuts the office door behind you and you dramatically fall into Beard’s chair as Ted sits in his own. 

You don’t bother beating around the bush, “What the hell is going on? I don’t come to work once and Sam ends up spilling the beans on everything. Did something happen?”

Your uncle gives you a sympathetic smile, “Yeah. I spilled some beans of my own.” At your confused expression, Ted plows forward, “I’m going back to Kansas.”

“For the summer?” you ask, though you fear you know the answer.

“No, Kiddo,” he sighs, “After the season’s over, I’m moving back to be closer to Henry. And Beard’s going back, too.”

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, but still find it hard to process, “When did you make that decision?”

“This morning, after my mom left,” he admits sheepishly, “But I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

You sit across from him in silence, taking it all in. The only reason you were here in the first place was because of Ted. What were you supposed to do now?

“The team didn’t exactly take it well,” Ted explains, “And in the midst of the chaos, Sam asked what me leaving meant for you. Everything sort of snowballed after that.

You inhale deeply, taking it all in. 

“And Jamie?” you ask quietly, “How did he take it?”

“I think he was just caught off guard and trying to figure out how to process it all,” Ted tells you, “He was surprised about the family thing. And the whole job in New York thing.” 

“Jesus, he’s probably pissed at me again,” you groan, “I was literally going to tell him everything tonight. I just needed a few more hours.”

Ted’s lips quirk up, “That’s life, Kiddo. It doesn’t always go exactly how we’d like it to.”

You scoff, “Yeah well life is stupid.”

“Yeah, it can be,” Ted chuckles, “I think it sounds great; a writing job in New York. That’s what you’ve always wanted, right? To write and live in the Big Apple?”

“Yeah. It was,” you say quietly, “But I wasn’t sure if that's what I wanted still, so I was trying to figure it out before I told Jamie. Or anyone.”

“Hey, that’s fair,” Ted nods supportively, “If you want my humble opinion, I think it’s great if you want to go for it in New York. I also think it’s great if you decide to stay here and continue to figure things out. Heck, it would even be great if you wanted to come back to Kansas, too. But Kiddo, you have to make that decision, whatever it may be, on behalf of yourself. Not for me, not for Jamie, not for anyone else. Just for you.”

Ted’s words settle in the air and you take it all in. While you were already pretty dead set on what you were going to do, you definitely agreed with his sentiment. You had to follow your own gut for once, not anyone else’s.

“You’re right,” you eventually say softly, “I think I know what I’m going to do, but I think I owe it to Jamie to finally have him be the first to know.”

Ted gives you a supportive smile, and your stomach flips.

“So, you’re really leaving?”

Ted nods solemnly, “I’m really leaving.”

“Then who the hell is going to make ridiculous puns around here to annoy Roy?”

This makes Ted snort, “I don’t know. I’m hoping I’ve rubbed off on enough of them, that they’ll carry on the tradition.”

You laugh along with him. You wonder if Ted will ever fully understand the impact he’s had here. On the club, on the team, and even on you these past months. You have a feeling even if he did, it wouldn’t be enough to change his mind. 

You spend the next few hours trying to track down Jamie, hoping the sooner you could find him and explain things, the less damage would accrue. 

However, he wasn’t answering your calls or texts, and no one seems to know where he is. You fear, even after your promises to communicate with each other after your last falling out, Jamie had once again resorted to pushing you completely away.

Lucky for you, Keeley happened to pop by the club that afternoon, and after getting caught up on the drama, insisted on driving you to Jamie’s to see if he’s there. Unfortunately, after searching every nook and cranny of his lavish home, you resign to the fact that he’s not there. You feel defeated as you resituate yourself in Keeley’s passenger seat, unsure of what to do next. She offers to drive you around Richmond, suggesting that Jamie could be blowing off steam, running somewhere, and maybe you’d pass him. You take up her offer, less so because you hoped to catch a glimpse of him, and more so to avoid going home to any empty home for a little while longer. 

It was nearly 6PM by the time Keeley drops you off at your flat. Suffice it to say, you didn’t find Jamie jogging around Richmond. You also didn’t find him wallowing in Crown and Anchor, but that didn’t stop you and Keeley from doing so yourself over a quick pint before calling off your search for the night. As she drove you home, you briefly wondered if Jamie could have possibly fled back to Manchester, to see his mom again. But that was four hours away, and there was no chance you were asking Keeley, or anyone for that matter, to make that drive. And the Uber fare would be atrocious. 

As you climb your apartment stairs, you resign to a night of waiting by your phone, hoping to hear from him, and if not, trying to find him again tomorrow. 

When you walk into your home, you’re instantly overcome with the feeling that you’re not alone. You’re proven right when, as you’re discarding your coat and shoes, Jamie enters the living room from your kitchen. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, after getting over the shock of seeing him, “Have you been here the whole time?”

Jamie shrugs, “I went on a run for a bit. But eventually I got the urge to come here.”

You nod, still on edge, “You, uh, didn’t think to answer any of my calls or texts?”

Jamie cringes, “So, I’m pretty sure I left my phone in my bag in the locker room.”

You scoff in disbelief, “Jamie…”

“I know. I know. That was stupid. But I left the club in such a hurry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“I was worried sick all day, I thought you were shutting me out again,” you whimper tiredly, unable to stop yourself from giving into the emotion that built up all day.

“Shit,” Jamie mutters, taking large steps to close the gap between the two of you to gather you in his arms, “I’m sorry.”

You allow yourself to feel comforted by his embrace for a few seconds before you’re shoving him away abruptly, “Fuck! I shouldn’t be making you apologize to me, when I’m the one who lied to you and hurt you. Again!” 

You cover your face with your hands, frustrated at yourself for making Jamie feel even an ounce of guilt, when you were once again in this situation because of you.

Gently, Jamie pries your hands from your face and interlocks your fingers together. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, though! I keep messing things up between us because I don’t know how to communicate like a normal human being. And you don’t deserve to be jerked around like this. But I promise, I can explain everything if you give me the chance.”

Jamie swallows, taking in your words, though a tiny smile plays at his mouth. “I promise I will give you the chance, but is it okay if I say some things first?”

You hesitate, your eyebrows furrowing over what he could possibly have to say, but eventually you nod. 

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, giving your hands another squeeze and then he takes a deep breath, “You’ve been spending a lot of time lately reassuring me that I’m good enough, but I feel like I haven’t done enough to assure you that you are more than enough for me. Yeah, it has sucked to feel like you were keeping stuff from me. I knew you couldn’t have been doing anything wrong, but it still hurt that you either didn’t want me to know or trust me enough to let me in. But now I understand that it has nothing to do with me. I get that letting people in is hard and that you were afraid that the secrets you were keeping would make things harder. Sure, it would have been nice to know you were related to Ted from the get-go. I might have not tried so hard to sleep with my coach's niece the first chance I got.”

You manage a small laugh.

“Obviously, I don’t regret that though. And I get why you did it. I get that it might have made your job more complicated, and then even more so once we got together. Telling family is a big step. So, I get it, I do.

“I even get why you didn’t tell me about the job in New York. The thought of you leaving…I can’t even think about it too much. But I also know that it's your dream. And the last time you told a guy you wanted to go after your dream, he discouraged you. And even though I would never do that, I know deep down that still scares you. But I want you to know that I think it's amazing; that you’re writing again, and that you have the opportunity to do it in the city you’ve always wanted to live in. I’m so proud of you, and want you to be where you need to be. Even if it's not here with me. So, that's why, as much as it kills me to say, I think you should do it. You should take the job in New York.”

Jamie’s words weigh heavily on you. Firstly, you’re heartened by his reassurance that you were more than enough for him. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that. Secondly, you were simultaneously surprised and not surprised that he was encouraging you to pursue the New York job. It wasn’t a direction you had been expecting this inevitable conversation to take, but it was Jamie you were talking about. Of course he’d say exactly the right thing and support you, even if it meant you moving back to another continent.

Overcome with complete adoration for him, and since words are failing you at the moment, you can’t help but to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. As you pull away, Jamie is clearly surprised by the act of affection, but he’s also not complaining. He looks at you expectantly, hoping you do eventually have something to say in response to his speech. And you do. You just need to figure out how to word it best. 

You eventually inhale your own shaky breath, meeting his eyes once again, “Thank you, for saying all of that. It means a lot to me. Even if you say you understand, I’m still sorry for keeping everything from you, especially now that it has come out this way. It really all stemmed from not wanting to mess anything up between us, but of course the opposite still happened.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about Ted for so long, but like you said, telling family is a lot, and Ted’s an important part of your life too, so I didn’t want to make things weird between you two. 

“And the job…I knew you’d be excited for me. But I think I just never wanted to see the look on your face when you heard it was in New York. And then things got more complicated when Keeley told me she knew a literary agent, here in the U.K. who might be interested in meeting with me.”

“Oh?” Jamie’s eyebrows shoot up in hopeful curiosity.

“Yeah. So, as you may have guessed, I needed some time to sort out what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go.”

“And,” Jamie asks timidly, “Have you decided?”

After a few beats, you nod. “Yeah. I decided I can’t work for that agency here.” Jamie’s face falls and you’re quick to latch back onto his hand, “But I also can’t take the job in New York either.”

Jamie stares at you in total confusion, “What?”

You smile slightly, finding his expression oddly adorable. “I want to write more than anything, and part of me is happy doing it by any means necessary, but I also hate the idea of not being able to prove myself on my own. Back in Chicago, Mason got me the job at the advertising firm. Then, when I got tired of that, Ted and Rebecca got me the job for Richmond. My friend from Chicago got me an interview in New York, and Keeley knows a literary agent here. Everything I’ve done has been because some else suggested it or did it for me. I’m not naive enough to know that sometimes connections are how people get work these days, but I don’t want that to be my story. I want to succeed because I did it on my own. 

“So, this morning, I told the publisher in New York I was no longer interested in interviewing for the reading position, and then spent hours refining my manuscript and submitting it to a few small, independent publishing houses to see if any of them would be interested in working with me. I know it won’t be as lavish as the publishing houses in New York or the one Keeley had connections to. But all writers start from somewhere, and I want to start somewhere on my terms.”

Jamie digests everything you said, and eventually gives you a shaky smile, “And where are these publishers you submitted to?”

You give Jamie your own shy smile, “Right here, in England.” Jamie’s grin widens as you continue, “I’ve never felt more at home, than I have here. And with the exception of my own family, I’ve never been surrounded by more people who genuinely care about me. I feel more like myself than I ever have before and I’m not really keen on losing any of that.” You bite your lip, “And I also sorta really like a certain footballer that lives here, too. So that’s kinda the cherry on top of it all.”

Jamie lets out a disbelieving laugh, “So, you’re staying?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Is that okay?”

Instead of answering, Jamie places both his hands on either side of your face and kisses you with as much passion as he can muster. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate, sliding your hands up his stomach to rest on his chest. You knew better now than to make a decision on behalf of a man, but god, were you glad that you got to keep doing this for the foreseeable future. 

When Jamie pulls away from you a few moments later, his eyes are watery, “I know I said I was okay with you going to New York - and I meant that - but, God, I’m glad you’re not.”

You giggle, “I’m pretty happy with my decision, too.”

Jamie leans in to kiss you again, but you lean back with your nose scrunched up. Your brain is less clouded by emotions now, and you finally pick up on the aroma flooding your home.

“Are you cooking something?”

Jamie smiles awkwardly, his face flushed, “Yeah, so during my run, I had this grand idea to surprise you with dinner like you usually do for me. So I grabbed what I could from the store and attempted to make your lasagna recipe. It’s probably nowhere near as good as yours is, and the garlic bread is store bought, but that shit still tastes fucking good, if I do say myself.”

You can’t keep the bright smile off your face, “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

Jamie squints, “Yeahhh, maybe wait to try it first before you give me too much credit.”

You giggle and shake your head, before pulling Jamie in for a warm hug, which he accepts without protest.

You couldn’t care less how the food was going to taste. It could be burned to a crisp and you still knew it would be the best meal of your life. Because Jamie, your Jamie, took the time to make it to make you happy. And push you towards a decision that he thought would be what you wanted, even if it hurt him. 

You were so lucky to have him, and you were comforted by the fact that he seemed pleased to have you as well. And now there were no more secrets between you threatening to unravel everything. Jamie wasn’t going to disappear on you again, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere either. Richmond was your dream home now, and the fact that your person lived here too was the best kind of bonus.

A/N: THERE IT ISSSS CANT WAIT TO HEAR EVERYONE’S REACTIONS! ALSO, was anyone else bummed we didn’t see the team’s reaction to Ted leaving in the show when they first heard? i’ve had the scene in my head as the ted reveal since i thought of this story between season 3 even came out because i knew they’d take ted away from us and i was shook we didn’t get a reveal. i get why and part of me appreciates them not focusing on the sad, but i really took away from my story haha

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[acidinduceddaydreams]

Speak Now ｡𖦹°‧

Bang Chan x reader

Synopsis: in which he's waiting for you to speak now, and you're willing to forever hold your peace.

Warnings: angst, lots of it.

a/n: this piece is loosely based off of speak now by taylor swift as well as the scene between blair and chuck at blair and louis' wedding in gossip girl. Also if you dont have a sister, pretend you do for the sake of the first part of this fic.

Not proofread, sorry for errors!

You still sucking on your third sour patch kid of the morning are surprised yet annoyed at the knock on your apartment door, not wanting anyone to see you in the isolated, dragged down state you were currently in. Your ex was getting married today. You were invited but opted out of going.“Ugh, I’m coming.” "Well hurry!" said a thick, deep Australian accent. "Yeah, hurry!" you heard your sisters voice.

“What the hell?” What are you two doing here. Felix don’t you have somewhere obvious to be? “I do, but so do you” Seeing the visible confusion on your face your sister decides to step in. “Look, Y/n I know you won’t want to do this and you have every right to feel that way but you need to talk to Chris.” Felix nods looking at your puzzled expression. “She’s right. We all know that you’re the one Chris is meant to end up with. This other girl is great and all but you’re his genuine soulmate. Don’t lose what you guys had.” “Are you guys crazy? I’m not doing that. I don’t even have any idea what to say.” “We broke up two years ago. That chapter is done in both our lives.” Your sister stops your ranting by looking in your eyes and it made you believe what they were saying was true. Sighing somewhat alarmingly Y/n said, “where is he?”

Y/n had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit hallway. Her heart thumped against her ribcage, each beat seeming to echo through the empty space. She glanced at the door leading into the dressing room, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the key that dangled in her hand given to her by Felix. Minho had already gotten everyone out of the room much to Chan’s dismay. It was to “leave Chan alone with his thoughts.” though Chan didn’t buy it. With one final deep breath, Y/n reached out and twisted the key, the click of the lock turning sending a shiver down her spine. She pushed the door open slowly, revealing Chan standing in front of a full length mirror fixing his tie. His back was to her, his attention fixed on the tie he was carefully adjusting. The air in the room was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of his cologne. Y/n took a tentative step forward, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "Chan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own racing pulse.

He spun around, startled, his eyes widening when he saw her standing there. "Y/n?" he breathed, looking her up and down. "What are you doing here?"

She took another step forward, her eyes filling with tears. "I came to ask you not to go through with this," she said, her voice breaking. "I came to tell you that I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you, not again."

Chan looked torn, his expression pained. "Y/n, I don't know what to say," he started, his gaze flickering between her and the door."I know, but…Please, Chris," she pleaded, her hands trembling. "Don't do this. We can work things out. We can be happy together."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Y/n," he began, "I care about you too, but I have to think about my future. I have responsibilities."

She took another step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "But our future is together," she insisted. "We can face anything together. Don’t you remember? Those were your words."

Y/n felt a surge of desperation rise within her. "Chris, please," she begged, her voice breaking. "It should be us up there and you know it. Don't give your life to someone else when you and I and everyone else in that room knows you belong with me."

He looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. "I can't just abandon her like that," he said, his voice strained. "She doesn't deserve that."

Tears streamed down her face as she took one final step forward, reaching out to touch his cheek. "But I do?" she whispered. "Please, Chris?”

The room was filled with a warm, golden glow, the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows and casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the aisle. You stood in the back, watching as the crowd of people slowly filled the pews, their faces a blur of anticipation and excitement.Maybe you had known him for so long. Maybe it was because you had always felt like a person Chan just dated because he pitied you. Or maybe it was just because you wanted to see the most handsome man you've ever met and had the privilege of dating, that’s what you tell yourself when the question arises inside of you “why’d you stay?”

The music changed, and the organist began to play the wedding march. The doors at the end of the aisle swung open, and there she was, walking toward him, her face beaming with happiness. When they meet the love in her eyes are evident. His, however, hurts you more because you know that his love, his heart, his soul, his being, was once yours and you let it go and now you are going to be stuck with that truth forever.

The ceremony is passing and every second you feel a piece of your heart being chipped away. You know you deserve this but the pain in your heart just won’t subside. As the preacher starts his next sentence you feel your whole body go cold and numb. "If anyone has any objections to these two being wedded in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." Your idea to stand at the back of the church and not sit in the pews was to both yours and Chan's detriment. You both have a clear almost humorously mocking view of one another, seeing the hurt on your face breaks Chan and seeing his eyes wonder if you'll object hurts you.

This is wrong. Chris shouldn’t want you to step in and object to him marrying someone he loves, infront of the people he loves. So why does he deep down try to plead with you to do just that?

You can't do it. You can't ruin his and her wedding, you had your chance so why do you feel as though not objecting and ruining this wedding and not giving into your own desire is the worst mistake you'll ever make? You felt a lump form in your throat as you heard the pastor’s words . This wasn't meant to be easy but suddenly it felt like the hardest thing you'd ever have to do.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Amongst all the cheers and applause Chris still wished that it was you up there with him. And you wished for it too.

Chan was meant to happy, his smile was meant to be real. He was meant to forget about you the instant he said I do. Why was he still thinking about you? Goodness! Could you just leave his head for one second? Truth is you never did, not even when you both broke each other's hearts.

As the ceremony came to an end, the guests filed out of the church, congratulating the newlyweds and offering their well-wishes. You lingered at the back of the church outside not wanting to intrude on their special moment. "Hi" you hear someone talking to you but truly nothing was registering anymore. "Oh, hi" "You look like you wanna get out of here. I don't blame you, so do I." "Really, does my face betray me that bad?" you say almost jokingly but both know that you're not joking. “I’m Daniel by the way. It’s very nice to meet you.” “I’m Y/n and likewise.” You said giving him the first genuine smile you’ve given in a while. “So I’ll get the car?” “I don’t think it’s safe to get in a car with some guy I don’t know.” “Well I clearly can’t be worst than the guy who made you cry.” He said hinting at Chan standing behind you. “I’ll bring the car around.” And with that he left.

"Well," Chan said, turning to face you, his expression a mix of regret and pain, "thank you for coming."

You hesitated, searching for the right words to say. After a moment, you took a deep breath and began, "Chan, you shouldn’t be here. I think it’s best I go but I know we could have been good together, I guess you were just always meant to wake up to her every morning, to be giddy as your eyes light up when you call her your wife, not me."

His teary eyes never left your own. Speaking softly. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. For everything." The silence that fell between you two was deafening, but you didn't want to leave just yet. There was still so much you wanted to say, but you knew that this was probably your last chance. You took a step closer to him, your heart racing as you reached out and took his hand.

"I know that we're not meant to be alone together right now or even be talking but I want you to know that," you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you'll always be the one in my heart and I'm sorry for the part I played in the end of us."

His grip on your hand tightened for a moment, and then he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don't be sorry because you," he whispered, "will always be the one I love."

Your face betrayed your words. You were both hurt and you both made decisions that ended up screwing over the both of you. "Well you should be getting to your wife, I have to go now."

"Y/n" you heard your name being called and as you turned around you saw Daniel. "Goodbye Chris." and with that you walked towards the car door that Daniel was opening for you.

As you enter the car you feel the fabric of your almost floor length gown rip and you hear a tear as the door of the car closed because of the caught fabric.

And with the rip of your dress, so too did the sheer cover you were using to keep it all together rip. Tears erupting as though they came from a broken faucet.

He really was the one that got away and now driving in this car with the memories clouding your head, you became his too.

[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.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #26] January, Still

warnings: anyone familiar with bd will see the header image and know exactly which chapter we're on lmao, the tie chapter!!!! starluvrs are their lovely awkward selves, dominant jk, oc is tied to.... a pull-up bar? jk is a perv who just likes looking at her lol, kissing is banned!! the word 'baby' is not!! titty worship, titty sucking, fingering, oral (f receiving), clit spitting, babe likes it messy <3, nose nudging, finger sucking (f), gentle kook <3, bratty oc, ass eating (f receiving (minimal tbh (big sad for jk))), prone bone, unprotected sex, he finishes on her ass!! lovely lovely lovely... until the red witch is mentioned!!! argument!! heightened emotions!! the introduction of the cu ajummas!!! big pouty ending :( fluff, smut, angst

wc: 11k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

If there's one thing you've learned about Jeon Jeongguk in your time, it's that he's a giggler .

In all situations, of any severity, it's not uncommon to see his nose scrunching with dimples in his cheeks, as he presses his lips together to keep them quiet.

Standing at the end of his bed in a pair of boxers, hair dishevelled and the sheen of your glitter sparkling on his skin in the low light of his lamp, he is, again, giggling.

There's something about Jeongguk's laugh - the way it always sounds different and yet entirely 'him', how he stutters for breath and the way his eyes will squeeze together, little puffs beneath them, nose scrunched like a bunny - that always gets you laughing, too.

In bars, in coffee shops, in the gym - wherever he is, the ambient sound of happiness will surely follow.

You echo it back; join in with him. A melody not unique in composition, but wholly yours nonetheless.

Laughter comes easily with him, in the place of awkwardness or uncertainty.

The uncertainty, at the moment, comes in the form of decision-making. Not a good, nor a bad one - the bad decision is already in progress - but a simply inconsequential one.

In either hand, he holds up a tie; one black, one a mixture of blue and purple paisleys.

"Black is sexier," you consider out loud, and Jeongguk thinks the thought you're putting into the decision-making is ridiculous - but he's also a little nervous so he's letting you take your time. Smiling, because it's more fun than succumbing to the nerves.

"Sexier," he nods in agreement. "But it is also my funeral tie."

Your face contorts with mild disgust, a stunted mumble of objection catching in your throat.

"We are not using your funeral tie," you whisper-shout.

Cross-legged on his bed, there's a glow to you. It's probably the post-sex aura radiating, but Jeongguk thinks you look right at home in his sheets. Thinks that maybe it'd be nice for you to stay the night. He's not sure if you will, yet. Hasn't asked. Probably won't.

It's not that he doesn't want to ask. Just knows that things between the pair of you aren't as simple as they feel.

Yet simplicity bubbles around you both as he giggles (again) and tosses the black tie down onto the floor. Will put it away later. For now, he's getting back onto his bed with you, sitting opposite, mirroring you. "Yeah, that's probably a good shout."

Taking his tie from his hands, you run your fingers over the pattern; feel the ridges, how smooth it is, tug it a little to test out the structural integrity of the woven threads.

"So..." you say somewhat apprehensively. It's like both of you are slightly malfunctioning. Sex in and of itself is not new to either of you. Sex with one another? Again, tried and tested. Happy customers all round. There's no need for tension.

"So..." he repeats back in exactly the same tone.

When your gaze drops to your hands, and the tie that's in them, some of the hair tucked behind your ear falls loose. Jeongguk thinks he should push it back, but doesn't. Is trying to wise up to what you deem intimate, and knows that it would likely count towards it.

"Why are we so terrible at this?" you ask with a smile as you look back up towards him. He's like a mirror in the way he reflects your expression, eyes sparkling as if he has tiny little disco balls in them.

"Fuck knows," he shrugs, forgetting himself, and reaching over to tuck the hair back. Just felt right. He'll probably lament it later. "How'd you wanna do this?"

Jeongguk's headboard is flat and upholstered. There are no bedknobs to tie any wrists to. It perhaps would have been better done at your place, but there's no reason why it can't be done at yours another time.

The only real alternative is just binding your wrists together behind your back or above your head. Both are fine with you, but are also things you've done before. You wanna spice it up a little.

Glancing around his room for an alternative, your eyes land on the pull-up bar above his door. You tilt your head, considering possibilities, and Jeongguk follows your gaze. Clocks what you're looking at. Feels a throbbing pump of blood going directly to his cock. Gets a little plumper.

"Yeah?" he questions, knowing exactly where your thoughts are going. "There?"

You nod. "Yeah. There. I think. Maybe. I don't know. What do you think?"

"What's this then, huh?" Jeongguk grins, nudging your knee a little. "Nerves? From our resident Disco Ball?"

"Oh, piss off," you laugh, nudging him right back, unfolding your legs as you hop off his bed and look him directly in the eye. You pull his shirt over your head. Let it drop to the floor. Don't drop your gaze - but he does drop his jaw a little. Nerves? Please. You hold up his tie. "Now are you gonna put me in my place, or should I put you in yours?"

If there's one thing Jeongguk likes, it's a challenge - and the way you're looking at him? Brows a little raised? A smirk on your lips? You're the human embodiment of a challenge, and the one thing Jeongguk likes more than a challenge? 

Winning .

He stands. Says nothing as he comes to tower in front of you, stiff in his underwear, nodding ever so gently as he looks down at you, bottom lip beneath his teeth. His hand skirts up your waist. Strokes. Squeezes.

Guiding you slowly to his door, Jeongguk worries about Jimin coming home unannounced. There'll be no explaining this away.

Still, he wants to fuck you more than he wants to worry about Jimin getting an eyeful.

He positions you where he wants you. Knows it's gonna force you on your tiptoes. Kind of thinks it serves you right for challenging him.

Jeongguk jokes with you, repeatedly making sure you're okay as he ties your wrists together above your head, and then secures the rest of the tie around the pull-up bar. It's perfect.

His knots are tight, thanks to a grandfather who was keen on teaching him the law of the land when he was younger, but he knows how to get you out of them quickly if needs be. He's surprised he's not really used them before in the bedroom.

Standing back to admire his handiwork, the way you look at him is unlike anything he's ever seen before; wanting, needy, restrained.

Nudging his nose up against yours, Jeongguk is reminded of his own desires. Wonders if you'll let him indulge him again. Knows that he'll have to ask.

"What's the rule on kissing?" he husks against your lips.

You smile. Shake your head, and let your nose nudge up against his. "You only get one vulnerability at a time. Either I'm tied up, with no kisses, or I'm untied with kisses. Your choice."

"You're so fucking mean," he says softly, pulling back with a teasing groan.

Jeongguk looks at you now there's a little distance; down, then up. Smirks.

Doesn't look away as he pulls his desk chair out and spins it to face you. Doesn't look away when sinks down into it. Doesn't look away as he slouches into a recline, legs spread, a hand resting by his crotch as his elbow is propped up on the arm of the chair.

Tongue toying with his lip ring, he looks like a fucking asshole. Arrogant . 

God, he's worthy of it, though. 

If you looked like him, you'd probably be a wanker. Toned abs, strong arms, darling eyes full of cosmic entities. He's equal parts saint and sinner, and the way he's looking at you? As if he's deciding whether or not he wants to drag you down to hell or lift you up to the heavens has you apprehensive.

The music hums from Jeongguk's speaker, and you're thankful for it, 'cause you're sure you're breathing far heavier than you should be. Lips a little pouted, resting ajar, the way your eyes don't drop from his gets him all hot and bothered, too - he's just better at hiding it than you are.

"Are you just gonna stare at me all night?" You question, a little attitude in your voice.

Jeongguk's lips curve upwards. "Maybe."

You go to bite back, but notice the way he's palming his crotch beneath his boxers. They're black, so obscure the hardening length within them, but you know him. Know exactly what he's gripping onto.

"Looking at me gets you hard, huh?" You tease.

Eyes dancing over your body, finding his favourite parts and then finding new ones, Jeongguk feels an overwhelming sense of contentment.

But he simply smirks, instead. Plays it cool. "Maybe - but let's not pretend like I don't get you wet."

With a roll of your eyes, painfully aware how exposed you are, you press your thighs together. The trepidation - anticipation - of what's to come has you excited. Nipples hard, pussy wet. Denying it is a blatant lie, but Jeongguk enjoys the thrill of your chase.

"You're cute, Gguk, but not that cute. Don't oversell yourself."

He laughs now. Stands. Walks towards you; brooding and dark in gaze. Tilts his head.

You expect his hand to dip; to spread your legs and first out how much of a dirty little liar you are.

But he doesn't.

He nudges his nose against yours, smirk present. You're not entirely steady on your feet, the restrictive nature of the position you're in unbalancing you. He senses this. Lets his fingers trail up your hips and stroke against the curve of your waist.

Pulling back slightly, dark eyes on yours in the shrouded gloaming of his bedroom, Jeongguk grips your waist a little tighter.

"You're so mean to me," he simpers, trailing one of his hands further up. He ghosts your chest, and secures it by your neck, thumb stroking over your jaw and onto your cheek. He angles you to face him. You've never wanted to touch him more, the tie keeping you bound away from him your new worst enemy. "You really think I'm that hideous, huh?"

Oh, he's sin . Jet black hair and eyes to match, warm skin and sculpted muscles, artwork embedded in his skin, just like his touch is embedded in yours.

"Repulsive," you simply nod. He smirks.

"Shame," he husks. You half think he might kiss you. He doesn't. "I think you're gorgeous."

It's just sex. Just sex. Just thinking with his cock. Doesn't mean it - oh, but what a nice fantasy to indulge in. Maybe he does mean it.

"Hmm?" he teases when you fail to formulate a response. "Did you hear me, B? Hear what I said?"

You nod. "I heard."

"What did I say?"

"I'm gorgeous."

He nods. "Yeah. You are. So fucking hot. Get me so hard," he grits, gripping his cock over his boxers.

Intrusive, is the thought that wonders if Jeongguk is like this with other people.

You wonder if he showered Jiyeong in compliments; if Hayun received such heavy words of adoration. It's not an idea you want to entertain but you can't seem to help yourself.

And so, vulnerable and a little shy, you edge back. Feel a little stupid being so bare for him. Want control over the situation, but you can't get it. Not when your wrists are bound above your head, kept firmly in place thanks to the knots tied by Jeongguk.

He notices the slight shift, but doesn't realise why. Tilts his head. "Tell me what you want."

You look him in the eyes, a little unsure of yourself. He can sense your nerves. Understands something's not quite right. Draws you closer to him.

The warmth of his skin on yours soothes the cold sweat of comparison. 

"Go on," he encourages. "Tell me, baby."

You nudge your nose up against his. Know that raising your worries about other girls will only make things awkward. Of course, Jeongguk would rather know your discomforts, but you don't think they're worth sharing.

So instead, you just say, "want you to make me feel good."

It's a simple answer, but you really do mean it. You think it will distract your brain.

Jeongguk nods. Presses a kiss against your jaw. Lingers. Repeats, just an inch lower, on your throat. Trails down. Is firm with his pressure, tongue wet, teeth grazing. You moan into his touch; one of his hands pulling your waist closer, the other firmly keeping your neck where he wants it.

Amorous in his display of desire, Jeongguk wants you to know how badly he wants you. Kisses with intent. Breaks from it only when he has to. Mumbles against your skin. Tells you how hard he is. How much he wants to fuck you.

Shameless and brazen, Jeongguk pulls away for just a moment. Looks at you, eyes dark, chest heavy as his heart beats beneath his ribs. Darts his gaze from your eyes to your lips.

You mirror him. Chest heaving, the pressure of his touch lingers on your throat. His hands massage your chest. Thumbs stroke over your nipples. He squeezes. Asks, "Can I?"

Mewling ever so slightly, desperate for more, you nod. "Please."

The second his lips come into contact with your chest - delivering pretty kisses, until his tongue swirls around your nipple - your head leans back.

He smiles when you moan, the movement of his lips so subtle but so heavenly, and strokes his hands up and down your body - waist, hips - until he settles on supporting your tits. He squeezes. Toys. Plays. Makes sure the nipple that isn't in his mouth is still getting attention.

There's something about your moans and the way you can't seem to hold them in whenever he's sucking on your tits that just really excites him. Gets his cock twitching a little harder. Makes him deepen the pressure with which he's sucking on your nipple.

He switches sides. Lets a long, flat, wet, lick of his tongue tease you before swirling around the hardened bud. He's gentle in how he sucks, now. Short. Quick. Feathery. Like little kisses, again and again and again.

The sensation has you pressing your legs together as wetness seeps from your pussy onto your inner thighs. All you want is to put your hands in his hair; keep him fixed in position.

But you can't. You're restricted. Forbidden from touching him. Makes you whimper as he builds momentum, moving from side to side, teasing you, stimulating you in a way that you can't ever remember feeling before. It's too much but also not enough. You want him in your cunt; fingers, cock, whatever. You don't care. Just need something. Anything.

"Fuck me," you beg; hushed in the darkness of sin. "Please."

Jeongguk eases up on his teasing, and looks at you with unadulterated hedonism. He's so hard in underwear; precum pooling at his tip. He wants to fuck himself into you so badly, feel your hot walls clamping around in, but knows as soon as he's inside you he's gonna cum. Is so horny he thinks he might die.

Thing is, he doesn't want this to be over. Wants to fuck you endlessly.

You get him so hard. So firm, and thick. Fat . His cock is never redder , never angrier , never leakier , than it is when he's with you. You make him wanna commit sins all in pursuit of an unholy feeling that somehow feels like heaven on earth.

He's gonna die, and it's gonna be all your fault. He knows this. Knows that fucking you is such a bad decision. Knows that he's struggling to separate how good the sex is from how he's feeling.

But desire is dictating his actions now, and you're begging him. You want this as much as he does.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" He grits as he pushes his middle finger between your soaked folds. Even he's surprised by how fucking wet you are. Smirks to himself. "Fucking hell, B. You do want it, don't you?" You whimper. "Tell me what you want. Go on. Tell me, baby."

Oh, the dreaded B word. Has your head all fuzzy and tummy all ticklish. Makes you feel all sorts of strange; worries you about what the fuck is happening between you both.

And yet your eyes stay wide and wanting, lips all pouty. His finger strokes between your folds. Isn't aiming for your clit, nor entrance, just teasing. You raise to your tiptoes, fingers grabbing onto the materials of the tie. He's so fucking mean in the best of ways.

"Huh, baby?" he teases again.

"Fuck me," you rasp, because it's all you can manage as he sinks his finger into your entrance. The muscle in your torso tense immediately, the feeling of him entering you both satisfying and yet not enough. "More."

With a lazy smile on his lips, and heavy-lidded eyes looking down on you, Jeongguk pushes a second finger into your soaked hole. "That better?"

You nod. Whine. Chest heaves. "I wanna touch you, too."

He laughs ever so sinfully, lustful in the way he licks his lips. Swallows. Breathes a relieved sigh; and if he's just started breathing again after a minute of holding it.

And then, he shakes his head. He raises his spare arm, and you're confronted with a sight reserved for only the luckiest of girlies - of which right now? You most definitely are.

The muscles in his torso move beneath his skin; tense. Tight. He's sculpted in such a way that you can't believe he's human, the curve of the socket connecting his arm to his body seemingly just as alluring as the rest of him. A small stripe of hair covers the skin, a little damp, the heat of desire forcing him to work up a sweat - not that you mind. Not in the slightest. 

If anything, it just makes you feel even crazier for how badly you want him. He extends his arm upwards and clasps his large hand around both of your wrists.

The position keeps him just inches or so from you.

He thinks it's too far.

So, he closes it. 

Sinks his lips back beneath your jaw. Licks. Trails to your earlobe. Sucks. Nibbles.

God, you'd do anything to touch him. Your body writhes, any sense of balance lost and entirely depending on him. His hand is so close to your fingers, and you're dying to lace yours with his. The restriction makes it impossible. You whine.

"Let me touch you."

He smiles. Shakes his head ever so gently, keeping his lips locked on your neck. Kisses. Says, "No."

And so you bring out the big guns. "Please, Koo."

He pulls away. Looks you dead in the eye. Says, "Don't call me that. I'll fucking cum in my pants if you call me that."

You pout. Tease him, now. "Don't call you what, Koo?"

Oh god, he's gonna die .

Decides you need a little death first, though, so ignores your taunts and drops to his knees. Buries his face in your cunt. Wastes no time.

He knows how much you struggle to formulate sentences when he's eating your pussy, so thinks it's the safest bet to shut you up. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder for better access, and licks thick slow stripes between your folds. Flicks against your clit. Massages. Sucks.

"Fuck."

Oh, he's pleased . Loves how much you enjoy his mouth. Could eat your pussy for days. Wishes you'd let him do it; just eat you for hours.

Although when he thinks about it, he's got you tied up. He can do exactly that.

But then... an idea brews.

If you were to say that men can't multitask, Jeongguk would take great offence. This, right now? Prime example. He's got leaking on his tongue, pussy wet and plump from arousal, but is also thinking about other ways to get you coming undone. If anything, he's got, like, the biggest brain ever. Very sexy of him.

His tongue toys with your clit, flicking, before his lips press a pretty kiss against it. You need your hands in his hair. Need to hold him close. Need his nose nudging up against you as he dips down to your entrance.

He's got a hand gripping your ass, keeping the leg hooked over his shoulder in place, while the other reaches to massage your breasts. He alternates between them, keeping his mouth busy delivering pleasure to your pussy.

The pressure of his lip ring is almost impossible to feel thanks to the sheer amount of ecstasy you're in, but every now and again, you notice it. It mostly occurs when he's sucking on your clit, and it makes your legs so weak. Gets your pussy leaking so much. Has you whining. Whimpering.

Jeongguk fucking loves it; the way you sound, the way you taste, the way you feel.

His adoration of your anatomy makes it so hard for him to stop. He doesn't want you to cum yet, wants to wait it out - but fuck. He's gotta have it. Gotta steal this orgasm from you. Needs it.

As he sucks on your clit, the hand that had been keeping your leg steady creeps down to your soaked entrance. Doesn't fuck about. Wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into you. The fullness catches you off guard. Almost has you losing your balance.

"Untie me," you moan, desperate for your hands in his hair.

Still sucking on your clit, he shakes his head and pulls away, releasing your sensitive bud from his lips with a pouty squeak. 

"You know the word, B" he reminds you, looking up for the first time in a while. He doesn't think he's ever seen your eyes so wide, lips so pouty. Your chest is heaving, his fingers scissoring inside you. "Say chess."

You wanna whine. Wanna tell him he's mean - but he feels so good. His nose glistens in the low light, drenched in your pussy and his own spit. Chin, too. God, he's pretty, you think. So fucking pretty. Belongs between your legs. Keeps pushing his fingers into you. Gets you moaning.

For all the times Jeongguk has claimed to be an ass guy, he's somehow entranced by the way your tits look from this angle. So round, and tell proportioned, and - fuck - he wouldn't mind sucking on them again. He's got a plan of action, though. Can't let himself get distracted.

"No?" he teases. "No chess?"

You glare at him. "Fuck you."

He laughs. Shakes his head. "Not yet, baby. Gonna make you cum first."

If he doesn't stop calling you baby you're gonna fall in love with him. It's just science. How the brain works. You've never been good at science, but it seems like a plausible hypothesis.

It's exactly why you need your hands free, so you can keep his mouth on your pussy to stop it from saying shit that makes your tummy feel funny.

But then you realise you do have leverage. You have legs - one of which is hooked over his shoulder. You alter its position slightly; hook it further around his back. Pull him in closer.

He laughs. "Needy, aren't you, baby?"

"Gguk," you whine.

Yes , you are needy. Yes , you want him. Yes , you wanna cum - but fuck !

He makes it so hard to just let yourself. You wanna fight . Wanna prove that you aren't weak. Prove that you have just as much control over the situation as he does.

But then his tongue licks between your folds and swirls around your clit. He retracts. Teases, once more, with his tongue. Flicks against your bud. Kisses.

He pulls back, again. Looks at the mess all over your pussy. Grunts in approval. And then? He spits .

"Fuck."

Jeongguk delves back in. Spreads his spit with his tongue. Laps against you like a thirsty dog drinking from a puddle. Doesn't stop. Keeps fucking his fingers into you.

The sensation of pleasure charging through your body is electric. It builds and builds - and then he's sucking again. 

It's too much . Too good . Gets your toes pointing. Your leg clamps behind his back, keeping him in position, as the walls of your pussy do the same to his fingers.

Your whines echo in the room, Jeongguk holding your hip to keep you steady with his spare hand as you begin to shake. Wants to speak. Wants to encourage you. Knows he can't pull away. Doesn't wanna ruin your orgasm.

Instead, he hums as he sucks, lips vibrating. You're almost fucking crying from how good it feels. Moaning his name, cursing to the high heavens, breaths velvety as you whine.

"There," you can barely manage. "There. Gguk, I'm gonna - fuck. Gonna cum."

You don't need to tell him. He knows. Hums again. Yeah, baby. I got you.

The build of electricity reaches capacity. The voltage is too high. Gets you shaking - trembling - as you writhe in position. Your balance is totally gone, Jeongguk is entirely responsible for keeping you in position as your walls throb around his fingers. He keeps his mouth on your cunt, not wanting to part from it, until your body jolts from the overstimulation. He's fucked around with you enough to know when you're spent. Know this is it.

He pulls away slowly. Is gentle as he withdraws his fingers from you. Kisses your thighs as he holds your hips to keep you steady. Gets to his feet gradually, leaving kisses all the way up your body; below and above your belly button, between your ribs, sternum, above the heart of yours that is beating a mile a minute. Stops only when he reaches your lips. 

Instead, he nudges his nose against yours. It's still wet from your pussy, though his chin mostly left the stain of you on your own skin as he journeyed up it.

And then, delicately, he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. Smiles. "Hey."

As you reply with a small, giggly, exhausted 'hey', he stands up straighter, and presses a kiss against your forehead.

"You good?" he asks.

Nodding, you mumble a response for him. You're so spent. Looks so pretty, eyes glassy, skin sparkly. He's got a hand on your throat, stroking gently, but keeps the other one away. It's covered in your pussy, and he doesn't wanna dirty you - but as you notice it, your lips part. His lip ring? Does the thing

Eyes wide on his, you move your gaze between them and his hand. Don't wanna speak yet - still a little giggly - but want him to know you wanna clean him up. He gets the message pretty easily. Brings his fingers to your lips. Presses his own lips together as yours part.

"Christ," he curses as he watches you suck on his fingers. Can't believe you haven't sucked him off yet. Knows he'll die when it eventually happens.

Jeongguk lifts his spare hand. Fiddles with the knots keeping your arms above your head. They ache. You're pretty sure there's no blood left in your hands. He sort of realises they'll be sore, so doesn't let them fall.

He keeps them bound around the wrist and lowers them gently. Keeps your arms straight, and loops them over his head, your elbows resting on his shoulders for a little extra support. Finally withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and strokes your arms with both of his hands.

"You okay?" he checks again.

"Think my arms are gonna fall off," you pout, but he just smiles. "I mean it. So mean."

"Always couldda said chess," he reminds you - and he's right.

"Didn't wanna."

"Well, then it's your fault if your arms fall off."

"Would you still fuck me?" you hum. "If my arms fell off?"

Jeongguk furrows his brows and shakes his head with a little confusion - but not denial. Instead, he says, "I'd miss your hands - and your wrists - but, yeah? Course I would."

He can't see a reality or version of you he wouldn't wanna fuck. It's the curse of knowing how good your pussy is; hates he can't have it forever, so will bury himself in it as often as he can while he still can.

The certainty of his answer makes you feel all fuzzy. You put it down to the orgasm.

He reaches behind his head to fiddle with the knots around your wrists and loosens them for you. As you pull your hands back around, he rubs at your wrists, making sure you can move them okay. Worries that maybe he tied you up a little too tightly. Tosses the tie on his bed so can be fully present.

Gentle with you when he needs to be, Jeongguk really is the best person to help you through your issues. He's attentive and careful, conscious of your needs while never making you feel like he's sacrificing his own.

The truth of the matter is that he never is. 

The biggest turn-on for Jeongguk is having a partner who enjoys what he does. He likes praise. Likes compliments. Feels fulfilled when a partner cums, and even more so when they give him that look after he's done. The same one you're giving him right now.

Almost as if you know what he needs, you smile and whisper, "thank you."

"What for?" he whispers back, a little obtuse but wanting clarity.

You run your hands up his chest, and settle them by the base of his neck. It's so nice to touch him again. "For making me feel good. You always make me feel so good."

"Yeah?" He asks with a teasing smile, keeping you talking because he can't stop thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. Doesn't realise he's looking at your lips.

"Mhmm," you nod, not noticing his eyes - mainly because you're looking at his lips, too.

The space between you both is so minimal that it would take the smallest of movements to sink into one another. You wanna kiss him so badly, but know that it's unwise to make a habit of it - so you pull away.

He regretfully lets you go. Watches as you walk to the bed, and kneel onto it. Lowering yourself into position, Jeongguk lets a smirk linger on his lips.

Face down, ass up, you're a fucking vixen - and the way you hold your hands behind your back? Encouraging him to tie your wrists again? God . You're a deviant. Hellish. So fucking hot Jeongguk can barely control himself.

Slow as he gets himself into position, Jeongguk grazes the curve of your ass with his fingers. Looks down on you like a man possessed.

"Sure?" he asks. Knows you came hard. Worries this won't actually be all that great for you.

"Do me a favour?" you hum into his sheets.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

Jeongguk exhales a stunted laugh, the smile on his lips fond as he shakes his head. "You've such a way with words."

"You should see what else this mouth can do," you tease, not looking back at him. Hearing the swipe of the tie being lifted from his sheets, your walls clench . It would be embarrassing how easy it is for him to turn you on, if it wasn't for how much you know Jeongguk likes it.

Fingers clasping around your wrists, Jeongguk takes his time. The fabric is smooth and silky, but there are marks from where it dented your skin before. He doesn't secure you as tightly, but is still firm as he knots the fabric together. Hands secured by the small of your back, Jeongguk knows he isn't gonna last long.

There's a soft sound of cotton against skin; Jeongguk ridding himself of his underwear. You can picture it - how hard his cock is, the slight wobble as he moves, prick firm and standing to attention. You imagine how tight his balls must be, and how leaky his pretty head is, precum seeping from his tip.

Expecting to feel him enter you, you relax your body. Sink into the downward position with a curved arch to your back.

Instead, Jeongguk sinks a single finger into you. Mumbles to himself. "Still so fuckin' wet."

He withdraws. Strokes the supple skin of your ass. Spanks it softly. You squeak quietly, satisfaction lacing your tone, all pleased and purry. Jeongguk might die.

Still, he's determined to take his time. Crouches behind you. Anyone else and you'd probably feel a little insecure, but you know how weak Jeongguk is for ass in all capacities. It's hard to feel shy when he drools at the fucking sight of it. It's not just your ass though. He's pretty sure he's never liked another pussy more. It's just right for him; in how it feels, and how it looks. Exactly the kind of cunt that makes his dreams wet, cock hard.

He licks a thick slow stripe up your folds. Drags his tongue from your clit to your entrance - and then sinks it into your hole. Holds onto your thighs as he gets as deep as his tongue will allow him, stroking at your walls. His nose presses against your perineum, and - fuck .

You'll let him do it, you decide. If he asks to eat your ass, you'll let him. Won't say no.

But the most cursed thing of all? You want it. The anticipation, the knowledge that he wants it, god, it just makes you want it so badly.

So badly, that you have no control when you say, quite out of the blue, "higher."

It's a single word that could be interpreted in many different ways, but he knows. His tongue is still in your cunt, but he knows you're asking for his tongue to be higher.

And so he does it.

He withdraws from your creamy hole and flicks his tongue upwards. Teases your perineum. Gets you moaning even harder than you had been before. Kisses. Moves to your thigh, so he can sink his teeth in a little.

And then, with one slow, flat lick, Jeongguk drags his tongue from your clit, up your folds and past your entrance, until his wet tongue is on your tight muscle. He doesn't press down. Just licks. Spits. Spreads it with his tongue. Gets you feeling all sort of fucked up. He mumbles a groan of satisfaction against you. Is barely even eating your ass. Not like he knows can. Not how wants to. He's saving that. Will eat your ass properly, one day.

He pulls away. Smirks when your moans sound all whiney.

"Fuckin' love your ass," he husks as he stands behind you and lines his cock up with your entrance. Spits down, and watches as it trails over your asshole and down to the tip of his cock. Resting his thumb against the puckered muscle, Jeongguk puts a little pressure on it. He's not gonna penetrate it, but he is gonna think about it.

Just wants you to see how good it can feel; have you imagining how much better it could feel if he did toy with your ass like he wants to.

He sinks his cock into you slowly. It's a miracle you can stretch enough for his girth, but Jeongguk's correct when he thinks that your pussy is made for him. The fit is just right. Snug and warm, all wet and wanting, it's like coming home.

It's so comfortable. Exactly what he needs to come undone, and as his hips buck against your ass, his hand gripping the tie around your wrists, he knows it won't take long. Your pussy strokes him to perfection; and he wants it to. Wants you to make him cum. Wants to return the orgasm he took from you.

He pushes into you, deeper, deeper, until he's mewling. "God, you feel so fucking good."

You wanna encourage him but all you can do is moan. You're still sensitive from earlier and know that It won't take much to get you cumming again - and when his spare hand comes around the front of your body to toy with your clit? You're a goner.

His name lingers in the back of your throat as you whine. He's delirious. Keeps fucking himself into you because he's building and building and is so close to reaching his climax. Can feel everything. The clamping of your walls, the wetness of your cunt seeping around the base of cock, god it's all so good.

"Cum for me again, B," he encourages. "Let me feel you."

Hypnotic in the way his commands have you doing exactly what asks of you, your body unravels like a tie coming loose - but it's not at all. You're fixed in position and it makes you cum even harder.

The pressure of your orgasm around his thick length has Jeongguk cursing. He's there. Can't hold back. Pulls out only cause he feels like he has to, and continues jerking himself over your ass until he erupts with thick spurts of cum.

He paints your hands with his orgasm, every last drop being spent on you. It soaks into his tie, but he doesn't give a fuck. Squeezes his shaft to make sure sure the evidence of his pleasure is all yours. Watches as a white bead gathers at his slit, the final dregs of his cum all yours.

He collapses beside you on his back, a hand over his chest, lungs heaving beneath his ribs. Stares at the birds. Wonders how the fuck he got here.

Your body copies his, your chest and tummy now flat against his sheets, arms still bound behind you. Just as whimpery as Jeongguk is breathless, you can't imagine ever having a better fuck than that. Eyes closed, your lips settle into a pleased smile.

"Fuck," you sigh.

"Again?" Jeongguk jokes. "Don't think I'm ready, B."

You laugh and shake your header further into his sheets. "Think I'll need a few days."

This amuses Jeongguk, mostly because he knows he'll probably wake up with a boner, and you'll probably end up with it in your cunt. Just makes sense.

"You okay?" he asks as he turns to face you. The pleasant hum you nod is ethereal, as if you've just been blessed by an angel, not fucked like a devil. He reaches over to undo the tie, and doesn't care about the fact he gets covered in his own cum. Just tosses the tie to the floor and wipes his hands on his sheets. Will sort it out later.

Flexing your fingers, you turn to rest on your side - again, not giving a shit about the small puddle of cum on your back. Whatever. It's his problem.

"Thanks," you smile.

"For which part?"

"Untying me," you confirm, then adding, "and for tying me up, actually. And the sex. Now that I think about it, especially the sex."

You could listen to Jeongguk's post-sex laugh for hours. It's so breathy and light, free of all stress. A world away from the mood he was in when you arrived, you're so pleased to have Jeongguk back. Happy to exist with, and happy that he seems happy, too.

Reaching over, you push some strands of hair back from his face. He looks sleepy. "Tired?"

He nods, and closes his eyes.

"Sleep?" You suggest.

Again, he nods.

"Where should I sleep?"

He shrugs.

"Here?" You ask.

He nods. You're secretly pleased.

"Am I taking the bed or the floor?"

He pouts. Thinks you don't need to ask. "Bed."

"And you on the floor?" you grin, pleased with how his lips purse, brows scowl, at such a suggestion.

"No," he huffs. "Me. Bed."

"Both bed?"

"Both bed."

Who are you to object when he's all pouty and sleepy, face squishy and dewy in the comedown of a fuck that was way too good to be a fluke?

You're staying.

The pair of you clean yourselves up. Brush your teeth together and grab a glass of water to share. Boundaries seem to be null and void these days. You sleep in his shirt, and he in his boxers, as if that's a totally normal occurrence for a pair of besties. You don't think it's that odd.

As he tries to sleep, Jeongguk questions the morality of what's going on between you. Wonders how healthy it could be, knowing full well the road you're embarking upon rarely ends well.

He thinks he's in a good spot with Hayun, now. Went for coffee with her last week to make sure she wasn't mad at him for the way he spoke to her in the club. She apologised. She explained herself. Said it felt weird to have been replaced. She knows she only has herself to blame, but it still stings.

You've put a lot of trust in Jeongguk. He never wants to hurt you in the way that Hayun hurt him. Never wants to cross those lines, and yet he knows how intimate you think sharing a bed is. The lines are already a little blurry.

If you want to keep things platonic, then outside of the sex, it should be platonic.

He sighs. Stares up at the birds. Doesn't know what the fuck to do.

And so as much as he'd like to, he doesn't hold you in the night. Doesn't shuffle in closer, or rest his arm over your hip like he knows would feel far more natural to him than turning over and away from you.

He showers with you in the morning. Fucks you again, 'cause he remembers that without the sex, it's entirely romantic to share such an intimate space with another person. Makes you both breakfast as a thank you for dinner the night before.

Hair waving around his features, a flannel shirt hanging over his broad shoulders and light jeans hiding away just how toned his thighs are, he's every bit the heartthrob as he insists you leave the dishes.

Your hair is pinned up, and just as dishevelled as his is, but he likes it. You're still in one of his shirts, but it's a smaller one. Fits you better. Is still baggy on you, but he'd watched on as you had tucked the back hem of the shirt up beneath the strap of your bra where it fastens shut.

Was confused at first, but is well aware of how fantastic your ass looks in the jeans you're wearing thanks to the shirt not getting in the way, now.

Large enough that the excess fabric reaches the waistband of your pants, the shirt billows ever so slightly. Untucked at the front, Jeongguk wonders what kind of magic women must hold. He's seen girls wear shirts like this before. Just had no idea how they did it. Thinks maybe he shouldn't know the secrets of womanhood, but likes learning about you, so doesn't think about it too hard.

The shirt is from a concert he went to with Tae while he'd been at uni, and it just reminds him of those days. It's why he never wears it. Reminds him of the early days with Hayun, when there had still been the promise of something great.

You're redefining it, though. Making it brand new. Not changing his past, per se, but altering the way it impacts his future.

"Promise me you won't study too hard?" You plead as you get your shoes on to leave.

He refuses.

"Jimin's keeping tabs on you for me," you tell him. "If you go more than 4 hours without a break, he'll text me and I'll show up and force you to."

"Oh yeah?" Jeongguk entertains your threat. "How so?"

"Dunno," you shrug with raised brows, standing straight now your laces are tied. Tote bag over your shoulder, loose waves framing your face, Jeongguk wonders how many people will give you second glances on your walk to the subway station.

So much so, he doesn't really realise he's putting on his shoes, too.

"Oh?" you hum. "Going out?"

He pauses. Realises. Plays it cool. "Need to get some stuff from the shop. Will come with."

Jeongguk counts four middle-aged men, one girl in her twenties and three teenage boys who look at you a bit too long for his liking. He's not territorial, and especially not over you, but he's very recently fucked you. Maybe he is a little possessive. Sue him . He just doesn't like sharing. It's been well-established.

And in fact, it only gets further established the next weekend, when he picks a sticky note off the wall and reads it aloud: " threesome ."

It's his handwriting, and he definitely did put it up there, but he still looks at it with such shock he can't believe either of you would suggest such a thing.

"Good job Jimin's home," you deadpan. "Will make this a lot easier."

"What! No! Byeol!" And then he whispers, but also kind of shouts when he says, "You're not fucking Jimin again."

"Oh, so you can?" you retaliate, face straight, because you're trying to appear deadly serious. He's falling for it. "But I can't? That's not fair, Jeongguk."

"Wait- What?" He exasperated. "I'm not fucking him either! Neither of us are - Christ Alive. We're not fucking Jimin."

"But it makes sense!"

"We," he signals between you both, eyes struck with horror. "Are NOT fucking Jimin."

"But-"

"Byeol!"

"Koo," you pout, and he thinks if he doesn't die, then maybe he'll just kill you instead. "What if I want it?"

You absolutely do not want it - but you do want to keep winding him up. It's so easy when he's in moods like these, a little stressed and fuse far shorter than usual.

"I- Byeol," he sighs. That's fucking name. Always weakens him. You're a menace, he thinks. "That is beyond the point."

"Please," you pout even more. God he hates how cute you look. So much harder to stand his ground. "Would be so hot."

"How?!" He pushes his head back in disgust. "How would me and Jimin fucking be hot in any way shape or form."

You smirk. "Really want me to answer that?"

"Absolutely not."

And so that sticky note is placed to the side; one to revisit when Jeongguk is less stressed and you're less hellbent on insisting it should be with Jimin.

You know that a threeway with Jimin would probably be fine, but don't wanna risk anything that could impact their friendship. A neutral third party is needed, and as far as you're aware, Jeongguk's preference is girls. It makes sense for you both to seek out someone together that won't impact your daily lives.

You'd rather bring another girl into the mix. Think another guy could maybe give Jeongguk a complex. He's already stated before that he doesn't wanna be cucked, and watching another guy fuck you might make him feel that way. Mutual comfort is needed - plus who doesn't love a good pair of tits?

If he's still spewing bullshit about being an ass guy after watching you play with another girl's tits? Then he'll forever be a liar.

You've also had two mildly disappointing shags with Jimin. You don't need to add a third. Reckon that maybe seeing how well Jeongguk fucks could give Jimin a complex, too.

The topic of conversation comes up again after the next sticky note - spooning sex - is completed. It was ideal because you could remain incredibly quiet given that Jimin is in the apartment, but is also secretly one of your favourite positions. One that always makes you feel so incredibly safe. And the way Jeongguk hugs you afterwards? Doesn't leave you? Presses his torso to your back, not caring for the fact it was where he finished? Oh, god, he's a dream.

"Sorry for being so defensive about it all," he mumbles into your hair. Loves the way it smells, today. Thinks you might have gotten a new shampoo. Doesn't ask cause he doesn't wanna be a weirdo.

"I was only winding you up," you admit. "I don't think it should be with Jimin."

"No?" he confirms, a weight lifting from his chest.

"No."

"Good," he whispers. "It shouldn't be someone we know. I'm no good at sharing."

A laugh catches in your throat. Hardly news.

"I'm not yours," you remind him.

"I know," he says softly. Presses a kiss against your hair. Squeezes you tighter. "Placebo though, init. Sometimes when we're fucking, it feels like you are."

He's not wrong - but it doesn't mean it's right . Both of you know that sex is just sex.

The birds above you watch on with great curiosity. None of them have dropped in quite some time. It's almost as if they're waiting. As if they know something neither of you don't.

You don't think it's safe to indulge in such thoughts. And so you change the topic. Divert feeling of the heart elsewhere.

"Have you spoken to Hayun lately?"

Jeongguk is silent. Doesn't let you go immediately, but eventually rolls onto this back. You stay positioned just as you were; avoidant of his eyes.

"Do you really wanna know?"

You shrug. "As the girl you just fucked? Not really, no. As your friend? Yeah."

It's an answer he can't fault. He's so fucking nosey when it comes to Seokjin but never forces you to talk. Knows that if you started talking about him now, he'd find it incredibly... saddening? Hurtful? He's not sure. Just wouldn't like it.

But you're asking . You want to know.

"Uh, yeah," he admits. "We're fine. She like, apologised for being difficult on New Years, so I sorta buried the hatchet. No point crying over spilt milk."

You nod. 

Feels like the hatchet is in your back, now.

The full details of their argument was never disclosed to you, but it doesn't matter. She was still awful to you. You're never gonna like her. Refuse to play nicely.

Sitting up, you reach down for Jeongguk's shirt to wipe off your back. Would get a tissue or something, but sometimes he has to deal with his own messes, and think that maybe this is one he should have to clean up.

He knew you didn't want to know. Is frustrated with himself for not listening to his gut. Should never have fucking said anything. You grab your underwear and pull them on, hiding yourself away from him as you do so.

"B..." he says quietly, not really sure what he's supposed to do.

"What?" you snap a little, even though you don't mean to. 

It's not fair for you to be mad at him. 

They've got a shared history that runs deep. He was never gonna cut her off, and you never would have wanted him to. All you want, really, is his happiness and - regretfully - she seems to be a big source of it. Not that you've actually seen any evidence of this.

"C'mon," he pleads, as you cover yourself up as you scan the room looking for your bra. It's somehow by the window, so you get out of Jeongguk's bed and head towards it. Don't turn around. Don't wanna look at him with anything you deem to be intimate exposed. "You asked ."

"Well, I shouldn't have," you say quickly, and that's when you realise how fucking mean you're being.

You asked for honesty. You can't punish him for it.

Pushing your hands back through your hair, you sigh. Don't wanna face him, but know you have to. Clasp your bra together for the sake of a little dignity.

"Look," you groan, tilting your head back. Sort of feels like you might cry, and when you turn to face him? Oh, god. It's even worse. Jeongguk watches you with such pain embedded in his features that you can feel his hurt. "She's your friend. I get that. You can talk to me about her... I just..."

Jeongguk considers staying silent, but you can't formulate your words.

"It's just that sometimes when we fuck, it feels like I'm yours," he offers, repeating his earlier thoughts back to you, switching the roles around.

And all you can do is nod. "Yeah. Sometimes it does."

You drop your gaze. Sniff. Apologise. 

Jeongguk's out of his bed, underwear quickly pulled back on, and in front of you within a second.

"Hey," he shushes you, pulling you in for a hug. "B, c'mon. Don't get all soft on me. What's happened to little miss bad bitch? Hey? Where is she?"

God, he's too fucking nice . Skin warm, heart thumping steadily in his chest, he's so soothing. He rubs your arms as he holds you tight. You don't really cry, but it sort of feels like you will at any given moment.

Eventually, you just shrug. "I think maybe I'm bad at sharing, too."

"You're not sharing," he says, and really hopes you know he means it. "And hey, I've seen your ex's name on your phone notifications before. You can't be mad about me being okay with Hayun if you're still okay with him."

And then you realise he doesn't get it. He thinks you're jealous .

You pull away. You look at him with confusion all over your contorted features. "Sorry?"

Now is not the time to say 'forgiven', but he considers it. You look pissed .

"Huh?" Is all he can manage.

"I don't give a shit about you being okay with exes," you exclaim, affronted by the mere suggestion. "Like... I... What ? You could be the best man at their weddings for all I care! We're not together - but you're my friend , and Hayun fucking dickhead to me."

"I know we're not together," he retaliates, defensive now because it seems like you're gunning for him. "But she's my friend, too. I can't throw away years of friendship just because she was mean when she was drunk. Everyone says shit they don't mean when they're drunk."

"Oh fuck off," you say with a little too much gusto. You really don't want to fight - but he's being so fucking obtuse. "She didn't seem to care about throwing away your friendship when she screwed you about! When has she ever done anything remotely friendly?"

Jeongguk rarely looks mad. Rarely looks angry.

But his eyes are black, now.

Your 'welcome' is about to be outstayed and you damn well know it. You grab the dress you had been wearing - one you knew would get him all horny and excited because you were looking forward to hooking up with him again - and pull it over your head.

He mirrors you. Pulls on a pair of sweats. Scoffs.

"I lived a life before I knew you, B. She's got a good five or six years on you. Just because you've not seen any of the good doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

You've got to be kidding me. Your blood is boiling; sizzling up in your veins. ' A good five or six years on you'.

Prick.

The way you laugh is scornful. "You sound like a fucking kid who believes in fairies."

"Maybe I do," he seethes back. "But at least she's making an effort to fix our friendship. What about you? You're still texting your ex. The fuck is Seokjin doing, huh? Other than running off after using you for a quick f-"

He stops himself. Realises just how awful he's being. Looks down. Exhales. Shakes his head.

You're frozen, mouth ajar. Not once has Jeongguk ever been so careless in the way he addresses the Seokjin situation. Never once has he ever made it seem like it's your fault... but he is, now.

Jeongguk fucked himself into you half an hour ago. Whispered shit about how perfect you are for him. And now he's tearing apart your character just to defend some girl who fucked him over for sport.

"What the fuck are we doing?" he asks quietly. Shame washes over him. Good . "Why the fuck are we arguing like this?"

Silence echoes around his room. It's so loud it feels like your ears will bleed. Neither of you enjoy this. Neither of you want to back down, though, either. You're cursed to let it play out.

"Because sometimes when we fuck, it feels like we belong to each other," you say quietly, echoing the sentiment you both felt earlier. "But we don't, and it's pretty clear that there's someone else at the top of your priority list."

"B," he says, with genuine pain in his voice.

You shake your head. Shrug. Lie, when you say. "It's fine. You're not top of mine, either."

He reaches for your hand as you push past him, but you shake him off. Don't wanna stay. Don't wanna look at him. Don't wanna do anything with him.

Jimin's in the kitchen. Sort of looks at you with horror, as fresh, silent tears roll down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your palm, heading towards the door.

You need to put your shoes on, so just say, "please don't ask, Jimin."

He doesn't need to. Heard it all. Is furious with Jeongguk for defending fucking Hayun, yet again. Thought that progress had been made, but apparently not.

"Sorry about him," he just says.

You shrug. Look at Jimin. He can't distinguish your glitter from your tears. "Don't be. Sorry for the noise."

Jimin shakes his head. "Don't be."

Knowing better than to get involved in Jeongguk's disputes, he simply nods. Sends you a text after you leave telling you to check in when you get home so that he knows you're okay. Is aware you'd normally text Jeongguk letting him know, but doubts you'd fancy doing it, now. Waits for a moment, until he hears something smash in Jeongguk's room. Sighs. "Boys."

Rummaging through one of the cabinets for plasters, knowing that Jeongguk most likely needs them, Jimin has no fear as he approaches Jeongguk's room. Knows his frustrations would never be taken out on another person, but has come home to Jeongguk repairing one of his display cases after a particularly bad fight with Hayun once before.

This seems less intense, and yet Jimin can't help but feel like this one is also so much worse. Far more detrimental.

He doesn't knock. Walks straight in to find Jeongguk sitting on the floor against his bed, arms tight around his knees, head down. As predicted, one of the display cases has shattered. He doesn't know how , doesn't really know why Jeongguk thought it would be a good use of energy, but does know that his knuckles are bleeding.

The bed is unmade, and the air is slightly musty but also sweet. Jimin's incredibly familiar with the lingering scent of sex, and knows exactly what will have preceded the argument.

"So," he stays, tossing plasters down to Jeongguk's lap, and taking a seat on Jeongguk's desk chair. Spins lightly. Tries to remain ambivalent. "Still gonna pretend like you're not fucking?"

"Jimin," Jeongguk growls. Doesn't wanna fucking talk about it.

"DB would never do the shit to you that Hayun did to you," he just shrugs. Thinks Jeongguk is in need of some cold hard truths.

"Don't wanna hear it."

"I don't care if you're fucking her or not-"

"Can you shut the fuck up?"

"-but she's done more to help you in the last, what? Eight months? Than any of us could have done for you. She really cares , and if you throw away your friendship with her for the sake of Hay-"

"Oh well, why don't you fuck her, again?" Jeongguk snaps.

Jimin grates his jaw, but doesn't interrupt. Wants to hear what Jeongguk has to say for himself. Kid's clearly hurting, so fuck it. Fine . He'll let him get it all out.

"Third time lucky, right?" He sneers, not looking over at Jimin while he chews him out. " You fuck her again, and you deal with how much she cares , and all her fucking glitter and everything she fucking does for you. Let her hold you to this unreachable standard of being fucking perfect. You can be the one that disappoints her. You can be the one who fucks up. You can be the one that hurts her. You can."

Deep down, in his heart of hearts, Jimin knows that all of Jeongguk's little rant is projection. Rolls his eyes at how much of a baby he's being.

"A little bit of glitter seems like an easy compromise for someone who adores you," Jimin says softly, and that's when Jeongguk finally chokes out a pained sob that he'd been holding in. He doesn't understand why his brain is making him be so fucking mean. He loves your disco ball eyes. "So no, I won't fuck her again, Gguk. And nor should you until you figure this mess out."

Jimin stands up to leave, knowing that Jeongguk needs a little space to breathe. Reminds him, "Hayun's taken, Gguk. She made her choice. Made it over and over again. Fucked you ov-"

"She's single," Jeongguk's voice croaks. He's quiet. Sniffs. Heads all a mess. It's part of the reason he's been pouring himself into his studies. Doesn't know how to cope with it all. "S'why she was here for new years. Is looking for an apartment in the city. Asked me to help next week."

Jimin doesn't know what to fucking say.

A heaviness resides in chest, crushing down on his heart. It hurts.

For Jeongguk, his heart aches.

"Gguk..."

"I don't know what to fucking do."

And though the answer is clear for Jimin, the waters are muddy for Jeongguk. Can't see the sea nor the shore. It's all just murky. Dark. Scary. Out of reach and yet all-consuming; like a tidal wave towering above him, sure to crash down.

"Anyway," Jeongguk sniffs back the tears that reside in his eyes. Shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Got an exam to study for."

For once, Jimin doesn't object. Leaves him be. Texts Yoongi. Code Red. Hayun's single.

Yoongi replies almost immediately.

Fuck. Off. Really?!

It's funny - you think the exact same thing as you get off the subway by your apartment, only to see Tae and Danbi getting on board. Not unusual. You'd say hey, normally.

But it's not normal, not today. Not when Nabi and Hayun are with them, too.

Nabi catches your gaze. Smiles. Waves. You really do like her, just hate the fact that Hayun is her best fucking friend - and why is she still here?! Why can't she just go back to her fucking boyfriend and go live her best life in Seoul? Why does she need to be down here in the city you call home?

She's overstayed her welcome - and as she follows Nabi's smile, she falters when her eyes land on you, just before the carriage rolls away. Pursing her lips, they settle into a smile. Dead behind the eyes, though.

Danbi is facing away from you, so doesn't even notice. She's your best friend - but she's been so busy with Tae and you so busy with Gguk that it feels like you've barely seen her recently.

It feels like you're losing everything you love into the abyss that Hayun is.

"Fucking witch," you scathe to yourself, earning you a confused look from the ajumma beside you. "Sorry. Not you."

She laughs a little. Points to her eyes, then yours. "So pretty," she says, and you know she's talking about your glitter and - oh, you don't mean to be such a mess, but you just can't help yourself when you start blubbering all over again.

Before you know it, you're sat with a gaggle of old women outside the CU, crying over Jeongguk while they give you fucking advice. It's all so mortifying. One of them rushes in and gets you some tissues for your mascara, while another insists on a slice of cake.

All dressed in mismatched florals and gilets, with perms to rival poodles, they're happily talking about your drama because "Eunyeon divorced her husband six years ago and there's only so many times we can hear about his new girlfriend" - although the latest scandal is that he's now seducing the lady who works in the tailor shop around the corner from your apartment. It's why the gaggle of gals are here - they wanted to scope her out.

Instead, they're now cooing over a picture of Jeongguk, agreeing how handsome he is.

"Men like him were made to break hearts," one of them sighs, which earns her a swat against the arm from a friend.

"Oh, shush, Minsu," one of them tuts. Squeezes your hand. " You were made to break hearts too."

They all agree. Nod.

"If I were your age, and I looked like you, I'd have a new boyfriend every week!" Jinnae, the lady who first complimented you and invited you to her gossip session, says.

"I don't even want a boyfriend," you whine. "I just wanted to get over my ex."

This is a fatal error on your part, for they then demand to see Seokjin, too - and if there's one thing Seokjin does better than any other man, it's winning the hearts of women beyond a certain age.

You half think Minsu might have a heart attack when she sees him.

"Men didn't look like this back in my day," she sighs after she's caught her breath. "Oh, honey. I feel sorry for you. I really do."

The pity party continues until one of them notices Eunyeon - the jilted wife - across the road. They make for a speedy escape. Can't be caught spying. Insist you join them for tea next week. Given the fact you've lost both Jeongguk and Danbi to the devil incarnate, what other plans could you possibly have?

When you finally arrive home, you sigh. Kick your shoes off. Get changed, and head straight for the shower. Need to wash Jeongguk off your skin.

And as you take off your necklace and rest the bird by your sink, you can't help but feel disappointed in Jeongguk. A little used.

You've been using one another, granted, that's never been a secret - but you've helped each other. Progressing as people. Healing . Now? Just feels like he was biding his time until Hayun was interested in him again.

Sinking down the wall of your shower, you sit with your knees to your chest, holding them tightly.

Just like Jeongguk still is, in his bedroom, right where you left him.

Your phones both vibrate at the same time - his on his desk, yours by the sink. It's the big group chat. The one with everyone - except Hayun (thank God).

The Usual Suspects [MYG, JJK...(+8)]

Yoongi : May 6th.

Namjoon :... What of it?

Yoongi : You're busy.

Namjoon :...?

Jimin : It's like 4 months away???

Yoongi : So? Keep it free.

Taehyung : ???!!!!!!

Seoyeon : what my darling husband-to-be means to say, is..... save the date!!!

Seoyeon : we've booked our venue!!!!!

Jimin : oh, holy shit

Nabi : AHHHHHHHHHH

Jeongguk : FINALLY!!!!

You : stop, i'll cry omg

Seoyeon : the venue is small - we'll tell you more about it when we see you next, but it means no plus ones :(

Yoongi : You're all single losers anyways...

Taehyung : Ahem.

Yoongi : It's been two weeks.

Danbi : Still counts x

And even though today has proved to you that even the purest of hearts can become weaponised, true love still exists; and what an honour it is to witness it.

Maybe one day, you'll get to experience it.

For now, you'll tuck the bird necklace in your jewellery box and ignore Jeongguk when he finally texts. You've muted your chat. Still check it constantly. Just in case.

You wait all night.

He doesn't text.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[penguwastaken]

Danganronpa 2 Never Said Chiaki Never Existed

In Danganronpa 2, AI Chiaki shows surprise when seeing her profile in the book that Nagito got. A lot of people use this as proof that chiaki never existed, but that's really never said at all.

I figured it was pretty obvious, but the reason she is surprised is because she never knew there was a real Chiaki.

In chapter 5, both Monomi and Chiaki herself aren't aware of how Chiaki got her personality, so they just assume it might have come from the people that made them.

Of course, Danganronpa 3 later gives us an actual answer and says she was created by the memories of Class 77, directly building off of this mystery in the second game.

Point is, Chiaki doesn't know where her personality came from, who she's based on, or even that there was a real Chiaki at all.

"Erm but Pengu, they say that Chiaki's profile is fake"

That is never actually stated in game, all that is told to us is that Monokuma slipped in false information.

However, Monokuma DOES confirm that everything in the book is reused from information provided by the former headmaster (Jin Kirigiri obviously), which causes Nagito to question if the traitor is a former Hope's Peak student.

Once again, Chiaki's presence in Danganronpa 3 seems to be here to tie up these loose ends and mysteries.

So then what false information did Monokuma include then? Simple, he left Chiaki's profile in. He didn't fake a profile, he just included the profile of someone who wasn't actually in the killing game.

He even admits to ignoring the traitor, which is kind of a weird thing to say if you went out of your way to fake something for their sake.

AI chiaki is NOT the same as IRL Chiaki

They have different lives, memories, personalities, etc. All they share is the same persona, but ultimately AI Chiaki is just an ai that takes the appearance of Chiaki.

AI Chiaki is her own person, an AI created by Chihiro designed to create a chaperone like student based on the needs and experiences of those involved with the Neo World Program, and it just so happened to result in taking the form of Chiaki because of that. However, it is still not Chiaki. So leaving Chiaki's profile in and implying Chiaki is a part of the killing game is inherently false information.

At most, Danganronpa 2 leaves whether there was a real Chiaki or not in the open, however it never confirms or denies the existence of one. Nothing in the game outright says that a Chiaki never existed, only that the one we see is an AI of vague origin.

And if that isn't enough to convince you, during the scene with Chiaki's memory and Hajime, Kodaka says that he felt like Chiaki there felt more real which inspired him to make Chiaki a real person.

"Actually, now that I think about it, when I started making DR3, I got stuck on something from DR2. After Nanami dies in Chapter 5, she comes back in Chapter 6 through a glitch, and when I was writing Nanami for that, I had the idea that she was 'a little bit off'. She’s not like the Nanami we’ve seen so far, I thought; she was never that tender. I had that gnawing at my brain when I was making DR3, and I thought, 'Maybe that really was a different Nanami,' and that’s how I came up with the Nanami in Zetsubou-hen." -Kazutaka Kodaka in an interview

Of course this does not mean Kodaka intended that Chiaki in this specific was meant to be the real Chiaki when making Danganronpa 2. However it DOES show that Kodaka never ruled out the posibility of a real chiaki, because if he did he wouldn't have even come to that conclusion.

If you want my opinion, this seems like another scenario of people who don't like Danganronpa 3 having their personal interpretation of the story proven wrong and instead of admitting that they were wrong about something they just call it a retcon. The same thing happened with brainwashing, it happened with Mukuro, and I'm certain that's what happened here. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[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

[ponyosmom35]

you and I

simon ghost riley x reader

Liability chapter twenty two

synopsis: after the betrayal, simon is scrambling to make things right. trying to push reader away for her own safety, but she's too stubborn to agree.

read the previous part first!

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She paced back and forth, waiting for him to return. Her mind was in shambles. Never had she actually expected someone as wonderful as him to want her. She was in awe of their kiss. Unlike anything she’d ever felt before. The passion, the longing. She’d do anything to kiss him again, to never let him go. She wanted to show him how much she fucking loved him. She sits on her cot, braiding her freshly washed hair mindlessly to pass the time. Her body ached, begging for sleep, but her mind refused to let her close her eyes. She knew that Simon had responsibilities, but right now he was the only one who could comfort her. She needed him to tell her it was gonna be okay. 

It wasn’t for nearly another hour when Simon finally walked into the room. She instantly stands and moves over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle, burying her face in his best. He holds her and rubs her back. He takes his mask off and throws it to the side. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah” she nods

“So whats the word? What do we do now?”

“You’re going home” 

“You’re coming with me right?” 

“No”

“Hassan?” she asks 

“we've gotten intel on Hassan, we learned he's planning to take things nuclear. got a set up in Chicago, we're flying out in the morning” 

“Okay” she nods 

He looks down, refusing to meet her gaze “I've debriefed with Laswell and we're transporting you back to base in the UK immediately. From there you’ll take the first flight back to the states where you’ll be personally escorted home. Pack up we've got 20 minutes till your transportation arrives”

“And what about you?” she asks 

“I'll be joining the rest of the team for Chicago in the morning. just need to tie up a few... loose ends here”

“When will you be back?”

“it's up in the air at the moment, we'll try and get him fast but we can't be sure. could be a day, could be a week... or longer” 

“I should come with you then -”

Simon’s jaw tenses as he steps closer to her “its not safe for you, I’m trying to keep you out of harms way”

“I don’t wanna leave you, what if you get hurt -”

“This is for the best” he says coldly, she stares up at him and takes a step back, recognizing the cold tone. “This isn’t going to work out… between us”

“Why?” she asks as her heart stops, tears instantly fill her eyes “why would you say that to me?”

“I just... can't put you in danger like this anymore. I need to put the team first, we just got too invested and its a mess now. I'm sorry. I need to break things off before it gets too deep”

“If you’re saying this because of what happened, it was nothing! I’m fine! Don’t push me away again” she asks 

“I knew this would happen and I was too fucking stubborn to stop it! I tried so hard to keep you away, I destroyed us both for nothing. this is my life the people who get close to me die! I never should've let you in” he shakes his head, turning his back as he runs his hands through his messy hair. This was hurting him just as much as her, but he knew it was better this way. 

“Simon don't say that, I'm here, we're here! I'm gonna go back to base and you're gonna deal with Hassan and I'll still be here when you come back!”

“not this time love... this is it. I'm not letting you risk your safety again after what happened back there. this time. you're better off without me.”

“no I'm not! every second we're apart I feel like I can't breathe! I understand why you think we're a bad idea, but it's not a crime to let yourself be happy! what happened here with Graves was not your fault, you saved my life, you brought me home! you're a fucking hero Simon!” she pauses and take his hands 

“don't push me away again, you’re the only thing that makes sense to me” she admits 

“You have no idea how hard this is. You're everything I've ever wanted. How can I possibly face you again after this? how can I let you near me? the darkness in me will take us both”

“I won’t let that happen”

“you've seen my face! you know my name! now that we're associated you'll be used against me!”

“if that's the price I have to pay for you then so be it! I don't care!”

“But I do! I can’t fucking let you get hurt again don’t you understand?”

“If association is what you're worried about then I quit, I won't work on base anymore! Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it!”

“I don't know! I don't know anymore! everything's such a god damn mess and I'm sick of losing the people I love, okay?!” tears well up in his eyes as he finally breaks. 

“I know, but you’re not gonna lose me Si” she says gently as she walks over to him on the bed and pulls him into her. He leans his head on her chest as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. He holds her tightly as she runs a hand through his hair. 

“I'm sorry, I just can't let you go through this any-”

“I don't care! I want it all, give me the pain if you're my reward”

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?”

“Not in my nature”

He kisses the top of her head and caresses her cheek with one hand. his lips are soft and teasing as he pulls her in closer for a deep and intense kiss. he holds her tightly, not breaking the kiss until they’re both short of breath. 

“You win” he says “anything you want, I’ll do it love” 

“All I want is you”

Tag list:@vivi123abc

[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapters 3 and 4

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

Link to Chapter 5

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

Warnings: None

More chapters will be posted as I continue writing this multi-chapter fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Family

“Damn it!”

Five threw his pen onto the table in frustration, resting his head in his hands while aggressively raking his fingers through his hair. They had been working for hours, and he was starting to feel that familiar brain fatigue creeping in. With his suit coat and vest discarded on a nearby chair, and his tie hanging loosely down over his wrinkled shirt, Five could have really used another drink. He thought about telling his other self that, or even just going to help himself from the bottle stashed in the desk drawer, but he thought better of it.

“What’s the problem now?” the other him grumbled from the other side of the table. He had the briefcase torn apart, inspecting its inner workings and trying to apply his own research to rebuilding it.

“The problem is that none of this makes any god damn sense!” Five spat out. “The only way to make the closed timeline curve even possible is to have a temporally orientable spacetime. And with these numbers, that’s not happening.”

“The numbers are fine. You’re just not utilizing them correctly. Non-temporal orientability is not an obstacle for the CTC if a given general relativistic spacetime is not temporally orientable…” the other Five started to say.

Five, aggravated with being lectured to by his technically younger self, finished his sentence, “…in a spacetime that is everywhere locally the same as the given spacetime and is itself temporally orientable. You think I don’t know that? I’ve been working on this theory longer than you’ve been alive, shit-for-brains.”

“Well, considering you couldn’t even calculate your correct physical age, I’d say you still need to keep working on it.”

Five stood up and leaned across the table, his teeth gnashing together. “At least I’ve been able to actually do something with my powers. Instead of this…” he gestured at the room around him. “Theoretical nonsense! You egotistical moron!”

The other pointed a finger in his face, which Five promptly swatted out of the way. “Listen, you little jerk off, I have no qualms about kicking your ass into the ground right now.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, fetus-brain.”

With a blink, the other Five was across the table, ready to strangle his smaller doppelganger. Anticipating himself doing that, Five created his own portal, appearing on the other side of the room. As both versions stood there with clenched fists, staring one another down, Five rolled his eyes and relaxed his posture. Apparently, you don’t have to be in full psychosis mode to want to kill your other self.

“Fuck, I’m too tired to do this again,” he said out loud, tipping his head back with a sigh. He faced his other self again. “Just sit down, ok? We don’t have time for this.”

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired as hell. I’m going to bed; I’ll work more on this in the morning.”

Five scoffed and attempted a strained smile. “Fine. Do you mind if I continue down here?”

The other him shrugged before heading for the stairs. “Just don’t mess up any of my shit.”

As he watched him trudge up the stairs, Five plopped down onto a chair again. He was exhausted, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight, either. But his siblings were all camped out in the living room up there, after Marie had insisted they stay, and Five had no desire to answer any of their questions at the moment. Let the other jackass deal with them. He just wanted peace and quiet and to let his mind clear for a moment. And to maybe have one more drink.

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

“Jesus Fucking Christ, what happened to you?”

Five’s eyelids slowly peeled back, feeling like they were permanently fused to his eyeballs. The light was piercing and he groaned loudly before closing them again. His head was splitting open with the world’s worst headache, which was not helped by the fact that he was apparently lying on a very hard surface. His mouth filled with saliva as his stomach churned. As a few more seconds passed, he remembered where he was. And who was talking to him. Fuck, can’t this guy give me a break?

Slowly, Five lifted his head, the movement making the acid in his stomach roil dangerously. With another groan, he sat upright and peered through bleary eyes at the face staring down at him with equal parts concern and disgust. His own face.

“Shit,” his other self murmured with a shake of his head. Reaching out to pick up the empty whiskey bottle that was lying on its side next to Five, he replaced it with a mug of steaming hot coffee. “Here.”

Five gave a short snort of appreciation before picking the mug up and taking a small sip. It was rich and flavorful and he sighed with relief at having finally found a decent cup of coffee. It was more than decent, actually. It tasted like heaven.

The alternate version must have noticed the look that had crossed his smaller self’s face and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, Marie makes the best coffee. One of the reasons I married her.”

Five nodded before wiping a hand down his face in an attempt to wake up. He had passed out while sitting at the desk after polishing off the last of the whiskey. The framed picture of his alternate universe family was lying face down next to where his head had been resting. He remembered staring at it while working his way through several glasses, until finally he had turned it over, unable to torture himself anymore. He quickly righted the frame, hoping that the him that was now sitting in a chair on the other side of the small room hadn’t noticed.

As he peered over at the older-looking face of himself, Five noted the morning stubble that had grown overnight. He passed a hand over his own chin, feeling nothing but baby-smooth skin. With another heavy sigh, he took a sip of coffee to hide the frustration he felt at being stuck in his current body. Look on the bright side. You didn’t wake up with a boner this time, which is a small miracle. Probably too drunk for a boner. Can you get whiskey dick at thirteen?

“So, if I had known you were going to polish off my best booze in the course of a few hours, I wouldn’t have left you unsupervised.”

Five gave another sarcastic snort. “Well, if we end up saving the world, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I don’t really care about the whiskey; I’m more concerned about the teenager that looks they just got back from a three-day bender in Vegas that is currently sitting in my basement.”

“Not a teenager,” Five mumbled into his coffee.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re an old man and much wiser to the ways of the world than myself. Which you have so clearly demonstrated.”

“So, now what? You going to give me some long heart to heart lecture on the error of my ways?”

The other Five shook his head. “Nope. I figure whatever you’ve gone through has been hellish enough to warrant all of this. I could be right there with you if it weren’t for my family.”

Five’s head was pounding and he closed his eyes again. He didn’t really need to hear from this asshole about how wonderful his life could have been.

“Well, we can’t all be as lucky as you,” Five murmured while rubbing his temples.

“I’m lucky now, I’ll admit it. I have my wife and my kids. But it wasn’t always like that. Remember, I started out the same as you. I was part of the Umbrella Academy and Reginald Hargreeves was my father.”

Five had actually forgotten that part. He nodded. “Did Dad give you the same stupid acorn lecture that I got?”

The other man smiled. “Sure did. Unfortunately, the old bastard ended up being right about that. We weren’t ready.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.”

“So, what happened to you?” the alt Five asked with genuine concern.

Five had not been anticipating having to get into all the gritty details, but he also felt trapped and his body was not in any shape to be blinking or even walking away at the moment. He sighed.

“I jumped, same as you. Thought I was a hotshot, too. Until my last jump landed me seventeen years in the future, with the world destroyed and me as the only inhabitant.”

“Shit,” the other Five whispered. “And you couldn’t get back?”

“Nope. I tried everything, but I was stuck. So, after burying the bodies of our siblings, I vowed I’d figure out a way to get back and warn them all about the end of the world. Dad always said that was our destiny. To save the world. I figured he must have been right, and the only ones to fix it were the Umbrella Academy.” He gave a short sarcastic laugh. “Turns out, we’re the ones that caused it.”

The other Five paused for a bit, thinking. “But you did make it back?”

“Forty-some odd years later, yeah, I made it back. In this wonderful body you see here. Just had to do a few side jobs involving conspiracy and multiple murders before being pumped full of bullets by my ex-boss, rewinding time, saving these assholes again, and ending up here. Where, as you can see, things are going great.”

“I see,” the other said. “I’m sorry.”

Five looked up in surprise before staring back down at his coffee. “Yeah.”

“You know, it wasn’t all great for me, either. Not that it was as bad as what happened to you, but it took a while to get where I’m at today.”

Five resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What happened? You stubbed your toe once? “Oh yeah?”

“When I jumped, the same thing happened. It was going great until my last jump that I thought was the same day and time as when I left. I was so cocky and sure of myself. I was so excited to get home and show Reggie how wrong he was that I didn’t even notice the bird on the door where the umbrella should have been. When I burst into family dinner time, that’s when the horrible realization set in. My home wasn’t my home anymore. My entire family was gone and their replacements were sitting there looking like they wanted to kill me. When I saw Ben, though, I was so relieved. For about two seconds, until he called for Dad and Reggie came strolling in.”

Five waited for him to continue. When he did, Five noticed his voice was a little shakier and his eyes looked far away.

“You should have seen how he looked at me. Not that he was ever known for giving any affection, but this was worse. Like I was a bug he wanted to crush beneath his foot. Like he had never seen me before; which of course, he hadn’t.” He swallowed hard. “I tried to explain; to plead my case. But he refused to listen. That was the only home I’d ever known. My siblings were gone and my own father didn’t recognize me.”

“So, what did the old man do?” Five asked, genuinely curious.

“Threw me out. He didn’t even ask if I had a place to go or people I knew that could help. Just…kicked me to the curb like I was some piece of garbage he couldn’t be bothered to deal with. I was thirteen.”

Five nodded sympathetically. “Then what?”

The other version sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “Then I spent a couple days and nights on the street, trying to avoid some unsavory people and stay hidden. But eventually the cops caught me loitering around the back alley of a restaurant and they took me in. They didn’t believe my story, of course, even though I had the last name Hargreeves. They also didn’t try real hard to figure out where I came from, so I ended up in the foster care system.”

“And that’s when you were adopted?”

“After about a year of being bounced around to different homes, some of which were not great, I ended up with my current parents. They were kind and they had never had any kids of their own. They were patient with me when I wasn’t very nice to them, and they weren’t freaked out about my powers. After a while, they decided it should be official and they legally adopted me.” He paused. “Because I was already a teen, they asked if I wanted to keep the Hargreeves name. I said yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted the reminder of where I came from and what my first adoptive father put me through.” His voice hardened as Five stared back at his own familiar, cold eyes. “I have been tracking Reginald since that day he threw me out. I know he’s more than just an eccentric billionaire that adopted super heroes for the greater good. I know he’s going to do something horrible. Because he’s an evil man that is only interested in his own self gain.”

Five cleared his throat, not sure what to say. He understood, because of course, he was him, but he was able to look at it from a different point of view.

“You know, that’s not the same Reginald that raised either of us.”

The other Five narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding slowly. “I’m aware. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an evil, self-serving bastard that could very well be at the bottom of this kugelblitz stuff.”

“Well, I’ll give you the self-serving bastard part. I’m not sure he has anything to do with the kugelblitz, though. I’m fairly certain we’re the cause alone.”

When he didn’t receive a reply, Five looked into his empty coffee mug and felt his stomach rumble again. He was also starting to realize he probably was not smelling so great.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” he asked his other self.

“Yeah, sure. Upstairs at the end of the hall, past the kitchen.”

Five nodded. “Thanks.”

Five managed to blink directly into the hallway he needed to be in, effectively avoiding his family that he could hear arguing and laughing in the other room. He needed to sober up just a little more to deal with them. As he headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall, Five noticed the walls on either side were lined in framed pictures. He slowed to look at them as he passed.

Most of them were of the kids. Baby pictures, toddler pictures, first day of school pictures. The boy looked like his mother and the girl was a spitting image of himself. He shook his head, not quite believing how that happened. He stopped when he came to a large portrait near one of the bedrooms. It was a wedding photo, taken during what must have been the bride and groom’s first dance. The version of himself in the photo held his new bride in his arms on the dancefloor. The newlyweds’ foreheads were touching and their eyes were closed, but they were both smiling. The love between them was obvious.

Five swallowed back an emotion he wasn’t sure what to call. Longing maybe? He wasn’t sure, but his chest tightened and he found it difficult to breathe again. Out of habit, he reached to loosen his tie, but found it had been discarded at some point and his shirt collar was already unbuttoned. He took in a gulp of air and tore his eyes from the picture.

“That one’s my favorite,” a voice said behind him and Five jumped.

It was Marie, and Five hastily tried to compose himself, coughing and shoving his hands into his pants pockets. He looked at the floor. “It’s nice.”

Marie came nearer, standing a few inches taller than him. She was holding a plastic shopping bag in one hand. After smiling at the picture on the wall, she looked down at Five. “I just can’t believe how much you look like him.”

“Well, I am him.”

She laughed and Five liked the way it sounded. “Yeah, you’re right. This whole thing is so weird.”

Five chuckled. “That’s for damn sure.”

“I’m sorry for everything that you’ve been through,” she said, her eyes full of concern. When Five’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, she explained, “Your family filled me in.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing nervously around. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he probably smelled like a distillery. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“With what?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

“Letting us into your home is more than enough. Hopefully I can get my half-wit siblings out of your hair shortly.”

Marie laughed and shook her head. “I like having them here. Five always talks about them, from his other life, and it’s so nice to put faces to names now.”

Five paused for a moment. “He talks about them?”

“Of course! He really missed everyone after he left. He said he never realized it at the time, but he was lucky to have a family like yours. Even if you did all drive each other crazy. He said he knew deep down that if he ever needed anything, they were there for him.”

Five scoffed and looked away for a moment. “I highly doubt that. We aren’t a real family. Just a bunch of people thrown in a house together and bonded by trauma.”

“Well, sometimes that’s all you need to be a family. From what I’ve seen, they love you very much. And I think you love them, too. At least…I know my Five does, so I assume you’re the same.”

Five didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. After a minute, he cleared his throat and pointed toward the bathroom. “Mind if I wash up?”

“Oh, not at all. There are clean towels in the cupboard in there. And here,” she held out the bag she had been holding.

“What’s this?”

“Our neighbor has a teenage son, so I asked to borrow some clothes for you. I figured you probably wanted to get out of that suit. Although you do look very handsome in it.”

Ignoring the fact that Marie’s comment was something you’d say to a child that had dressed up for Sunday church, he took the bag she offered. Inside were some jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and clean underwear and socks. He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Marie. That’s very nice.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, before turning around and walking away.

Five stared after her for a moment, before making his way to the bathroom again. He tried to imagine meeting Marie as a young adult and whether or not he would have ended up dating and then eventually marrying her just like his other self. It was hard to think about since he barely knew her. She seemed nice enough, and was pretty with her light blue eyes and petite frame. But there was no instant connection or swooning feeling that pointed towards the concept of soul mates. He didn’t feel anything towards her except being grateful for her hospitality. Which thank god for that, because the last thing Five needed was to be lusting after his alternate self’s wife while stuck in a teenage body.

After showering, Five stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his pale, hairless body. He knew he should be a little happy that he hadn’t ended up an infant or a ninety year old man when he screwed up the math. Being young did have its advantages and he hadn’t had this much energy in years. But somewhere closer to nineteen or twenty would have been preferable.

The jeans and black t-shirt that Marie had given him fit surprisingly well, and after changing he went to the kitchen, where his siblings were gathered. Diego was at the stove, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, looking like a short-order cook while taking breakfast orders from everyone.

“One at a time! Damn, you people are animals!” he yelled, while whisking a bowl of scrambled eggs and pouring them into a hot skillet. On another burner was a frying pan with sizzling bacon, and another filled with bubbling pancakes that looked like they were about ready to be flipped.

Five strolled over to the coffee maker, trying to hide his amused smile. He actually had no idea Diego knew how to cook. He realized he didn’t know a lot about any of them. As he poured himself a cup, he took in the mass chaos surrounding him. The kitchen table was filled with his siblings, all talking over one another.

“But I don’t like blueberries,” Klaus whined.

“Too bad, Viktor wanted blueberry pancakes, so that’s what I made. You can have eggs if you don’t want any,” Diego huffed while turning the bacon.

Klaus glared at Viktor, who just gave him a smirk in return. Allison sighed loudly and dramatically.

“You guys, Diego cannot possibly make all of our requests, he’s just one person.”

“Thank you, Allison,” Diego said with a smile.

“Now, if you don’t mind, can I just have some egg whites with a tiny piece of bacon on the side, but make sure it doesn’t have too much fat?” she said in her sweetest actress voice.

“Oh! If you’re going to make egg whites, can I have some too? Maybe with some avocado toast? Thanks, babe,” Lila said, coming over to give Diego a small slap on the butt.

“Don’t worry about me, bro. You know I’ll eat whatever. Just make sure the portion is big enough,” Luther added.

Diego growled. “I can’t believe Mom did this all those years without ripping all her wiring out. You guys are unbelievable.”

As Five observed everything, he smiled into his coffee mug, trying to hold in a laugh. What a bunch of assholes, he thought affectionately. Maybe I really did miss them.

“So, Fivey…did you get the time thingy straightened out yet?” Klaus asked, leaning back so that his chair balanced on two legs. Luther stuck out his hand to lower it back to the ground with a stern look. Klaus rolled his eyes.

“No, not yet,” Five replied. “We’ll make some headway today, though, I’m sure.”

“He’s pretty great though, right?” Klaus said.

“Who?”

“You! I mean, the other you. He seems pretty chill.”

“Chill?” Five asked, feeling his jaw tighten.

“Yeah,” Luther added, “Once the psychosis resolved, he seemed like a pleasant guy.”

“And?” Five asked, gesturing in the air with his coffee cup. “Your point?”

“Well, you know…it’s just surprising because…” Luther stammered.

Diego spoke up after flipping a pancake in the air and catching it expertly in the pan. “What the big boy over here means is that this other you isn’t a dick. Which, I think we can all agree, is a bit of a shock.”

Five glanced around the kitchen at his family that just a few seconds ago had actually been giving Five a good feeling. Now, just like always, they went and ruined it.

“Well, if he’s so goddamn amazing, why don’t you ask him to take my place in this family, because quite honestly, I could use the break.” Five gave a sarcastic chuckle and shook his head. “It’s never enough with you people, is it? I am working my ass off to try and get us back home AGAIN, but once more I seem to be the bad guy here.”

“Five…that’s not…” Viktor started to say before Five cut him off.

“No, really, let me apologize. While I am running on no sleep, inside a body that is smaller than one of Luther’s turds, having to deal with another version of myself that, let me tell you, is not as great as you think he is, all while trying to figure out the complexities of time travel, I will be sure and work on my manners so as not to offend anyone.”

The others glanced around nervously, but remained silent. Five waited to see if anyone had any smart-ass comments for him, but seeing as how they all looked like he would disappear from their sight, he would happily oblige.

Angrily topping off his coffee and swiping a few pancakes off a stack that Diego had just plated, he shoved one of them in his mouth before turning to walk out.

“Fuh-ing uh-gra-ful,” he mumbled with his mouth full as he stalked away to the basement again.

Chapter Four: A Different Angle

“I think I’m making some progress here,” Five said as he stood a few feet back from the white board and crossed his arms while reviewing his work. “What do you think?”

The other him glanced up from the miscellaneous parts that were strewn about the table in front of him. After looking the proofs over, he nodded. “Yeah, that looks right.”

From above, Marie’s voice called down to them. “Five?”

“Yeah?” they both answered in unison before looking back at one another.

“I think she means me,” the other Five said with a slight smile.

Five blushed, turning away. “Right.”

“Yeah?” he called up to his wife.

“The garbage disposal is doing that thing again. Can you come look at it?”

“Be right there!” He turned to Five. “I’ll be right back. Meanwhile, take a look at this over here; tell me what you think.”

As the other man left, Five began looking over the instruments and mechanisms on the table. Some were from the briefcase and some were of the other Five’s design. To the average person, it looked like a bunch of coils, wires, and dials, mixed with other things that looked like tiny spark plugs and fuses. Five started to play with a few of them when he heard small footsteps coming down the stairs. When he looked up, the little boy he’d seen from the pictures was standing at the bottom.

“Hello,” Five said.

“Hi,” the boy replied. After they regarded one another for a few moments, he spoke again. “You look like my dad from the pictures at my Grandma’s house.”

The boy was about seven or eight years-old, with blonde hair and blue eyes that matched his mother’s. He was small and skinny for his age, though, which Five could relate to.

“Yes, I’m sure I do,” Five answered.

“Are you my dad?”

“Uh, well, it’s complicated.” When the boy continued looking at him, as if expecting a better answer than that, Five continued. “I’m not your dad, no. But rather I’m a different permutation of him from another timeline. We are the same person, but yet not.”

The boy nodded, pursing his lips together in thought. “That makes sense.”

Five smiled. The boy appeared older and wiser than his age. Which, again, Five was familiar with.

Just then, a flash of blue appeared out of nowhere, revealing the little girl from the pictures, as she blinked directly in front of her brother. She was younger, maybe by about two years or so, and she stuck out her tongue at her older sibling.

“Haha! I didn’t use the stairs!” she gleefully sneered at him.

“Good for you. No one cares, Maddie,” the boy retorted, although Five could see he looked embarrassed.

“You can blink?” Five asked, surprised.

“Yep!” Maddie said with a proud smile. “Jack can, too, but he’s bad at it.”

“That’s not true!” the older boy shot back.

“Ok, then blink. I dare you,” she taunted.

Her older brother’s face turned red and Five was afraid he might start crying. Instead, he clenched his fists, emitting a small glow of blue around them, before relaxing them again. Letting out a loud exhale of air, he looked defeated.

“See?” Maddie laughed. “Told ya!” Then she stuck out her tongue again and blinked away.

“She’s so annoying!” Jack complained, stomping his foot and crossing his arms over his chest. “She thinks she’s so cool.”

Five nodded. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to get involved in this matter. But he was fascinated that his power was passed on to another generation.

“So, what’s the problem? Why couldn’t you blink just now?” Five asked, not sugar coating anything.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I can do it, but then sometimes if I start thinking too hard, my head gets all messed up. It’s like all the numbers get scrambled up in my head and then I can’t do it. My dad says I just need to concentrate and try harder.”

“Does that work?”

“Not really. I don’t know, maybe?” Jack scratched at his arm and looked at the floor. “I mean, I try to concentrate, but then either nothing happens or I end up blinking to the wrong place. My dumb sister has always been able to do it good, even though she’s younger than me.”

“Well,” Five corrected.

“Well what?”

“Your dumb sister has always been able to do it well.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You sound just like my dad.”

Five let out a small laugh. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m sure you don’t need two dads telling you what to do.”

Jack shook his head with a smile and then cocked his head to the side. “How old are you?”

“Fifty Eight. How old are you?”

“Seven. How come you don’t look old?”

“It’s a long story, but let’s just say I understand numbers getting scrambled in your head and blinking to the wrong place. It must be genetic.”

When Jack just nodded, remaining silent, Five continued to look at him thoughtfully. There wasn’t much physical resemblance between them, but Five felt a small kinship with this boy. Annoying sibling, failed blinks, a father that tells you to try harder…Five could sympathize.

“Have you tried concentrating less?” Five asked.

Jack slowly shook his head. “Less?”

Five sat down in one of the chairs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “If I tell you a secret about blinking, will you promise not to tell my family up there? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Jack nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I promise.”

“It’s not always about the math or how smart you are. A lot of it is feeling, and just allowing your mind to relax. Don’t think so hard about it. Rely on your instincts.”

“What’s an instinct?”

“It’s like listening to your body when it tells you to do something.”

“Ok…” Jack said, looking at the floor again.

“Do you want to try again?” Five asked.

Jack shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, which Five noted with amusement. “I don’t know, I guess. I probably can’t do it, though.”

“Well, just try. I promise I won’t even look.”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

Five turned his chair around, so he was facing away from Jack. “Now, pick a spot that’s fairly easy, like the other side of the room. Run a few quick numbers and then clear your head. Relax and let your body do the rest.”

Five waited for a few minutes. He kept his promise and didn’t turn around, letting the boy have his space. He could hear him breathing loudly and muttering under his breath. After a while, Five was beginning to think he had put too much pressure on the kid and he wasn’t going to be able to do it. Until he heard the familiar sound of the air warping near him and Jack appeared on the other side of the room, facing Five.

The small boy’s face was still screwed up in concentration, his eyes shut tight and his hands clenched into fists. When he opened his eyes, though, and realized where he was, his face broke into a huge grin.

“I did it!”

Five nodded and gestured to him with his hand. “I told you. You just needed to look at it from a different angle, that’s all.”

Jack laughed before balling up his fists and ripping open another portal; appearing near the stairs again. He squealed and pumped his fists in the air.

“Yes! I can’t wait to rub this in Maddie’s face!”

“Alright, big shot, don’t get ahead of yourself. Blinking across a room is one thing. Don’t be thinking you’re hot shit with these puny little jumps you just did. You need a lot more practice before you try anything big. Otherwise you might find yourself on the roof in your underpants and no one wants that.”

“Did that happen to you?” Jack asked with big eyes.

“Maybe once or twice. But remember, you promised you wouldn’t tell my family.”

Jack laughed again, just as his dad came down the stairs. “Oh, I see you met Jack.”

Five nodded. “We were just having a little lesson in blinking.”

The other Five’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at his son who was grinning up at him.

Five gestured to the boy. “Go ahead, show him. But remember, keep it small.”

Jack nodded before closing his eyes and biting his lip in concentration. Then his shoulders relaxed as he opened his eyes, at the same time disappearing in a flash of blue. When he popped up a few feet away, he looked up at his dad, waiting for his reaction.

His father’s mouth dropped open and then his face broke into a giant smile. “Holy shit, Jack! That was amazing!”

Jack laughed, right before reversing his new skill and jumping back to where he had been standing. His dad scooped him up and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, dad! Now I can blink just like you and Maddie and she can’t make fun of me anymore.”

“Now, just remember, don’t try anything big yet…” the other Five started to warn him.

“Oh yeah, I know. I need to practice more so that I don’t end up on the roof in my underwear.”

“Uh..yeah…” Five’s other self agreed in confusion before setting his son down.

“Can I try to the top of the stairs?” Jack asked eagerly.

“I suppose so.”

In a flash, Jack was gone from their sight and the two Fives could hear his excited voice and the sound of his feet as he hopped up and down excitedly on the floor above them. “I did it! Hey mom, look!”

Both men regarded one another and Five was wondering if he’d overstepped his boundaries. But his other self just smiled and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to work with him on that for months. How did you do that?”

Five shrugged. “I just gave him a different way of looking at things. Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

The other him nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for that.”

Five was caught off guard by his sincerity and he looked away, uncomfortable. “No big deal. Seems like a good kid.”

“He is. He’s the best.”

Five nodded again, staring at the table of weird electrical parts in front of him. Suddenly, he jumped up, knocking his chair over in the process. “Holy fuck! I see it! I see what we’ve been missing! God, we’re so stupid!”

“Speak for yourself. What do you see?”

Five took two gears off the table and held them up. “We’ve been looking at time dilation all wrong. Instead of trying to produce special relativity, we should be producing—”

“General relativity,” the other him finished. “Shit, you’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t we see that earlier?”

“I don’t know, but this makes so much more sense now. Do you see it?”

“Yeah,” his alternate nodded, a smile starting to form on his face. “Yeah, I see it.” He chuckled. “If we can get this up and running, then maybe I can finally figure out what our old man has been up to.”

Five frowned, a little concerned that he seemed to be so focused on Reginald. “Let’s just start with stopping the world from imploding, ok?” He looked back down at the table full of tiny, metal pieces. “Alright, we’re going to need more of your wife’s coffee, because this is going to take a while.”

Thanks for reading and if you want to be tagged for future chapters, let me know!

@kaybreezy3000

[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.

[mellifluous1melodies1]

Playing Pretend

Before Sylus I didn’t even LOOK at another love interest in LND. Obviously, that has changed. 

Warnings: Smut, Guns, Fighting, Slight blood mention, light choking, 

Synopsis: You and Sylus go to a black market ball in the N109 Zone where together you must retrieve the other half of the Aether core before someone else does. The success from your mission allows you to finally resonate with Sylus. 

A/N: *Loosely based off the Roleplay chapter with Sylus. MC is black afab but you can change the appearance as you like. I just figured I’d write for someone who looks like me since its hard to find on here :) Please like and or repost if you enjoy this! That way I can write more if people are interested in reading this. *

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The mirror in the dimly lit room captures the uneasy expression plaguing your face. The night grew darker and you hadn’t moved from the spot before the mirror, staring at the ball gown that clung to your body. A long breath escapes between your lips as you hold your curly hair up in a makeshift bun on the top of your head. Dissatisfied, you let it down, letting your hair cascade down your bare back as you try several different styles to better flatter the gown Sylus had made for you. Your fingers play with the crimson lace and black embroidery that decorated it, highlighting her curvy figure. 

Sylus’ presence is felt before you even notice him standing behind you in the mirror. “You wear it well.” His low voice reverberates through the room. He towers over you, straightening his matching suit, studying his reflection as well as your own. The perfectly tailored suit matched him perfectly, exuding his intense aura and power as his fingers shifted a stray piece of his silver hair from his face.“The limo is ready. As am I."His voice had a hint of impatience despite trying to hide it.

“The door was locked.” You grumbled in response, still playing around with your hair. 

“It’s my house. Nothing’s ever really locked.” He leans close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

“What’s the plan exactly?” You turn with a heavy sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

In his hand was a long pistol, one of Sylus’ own guns that rivaled your very own. “Keep this with you. I’ll tell you the plan when we get there.” 

Your eyes look up at him then back at the long pistol. Carefully, you take the weapon, slipping on the safety as you walk over to the king sized bed. You lift your leg onto the ottoman at the food of the bed, lifting your dress from the ground until your honey thighs peeked out at him. Sylus’ ruby eyes trail up and down your long legs, him watching you clip the gun to your thigh holster. You hide your legs back under your gown once you were sure the gun was safely attached. “How am I supposed to fight in a dress like this?”You quizzed, ruffling the hem.  

“Not everything needs to end in a fight, sweetie.” Sylus winks. 

“I am a hunter, unless you forgot. And you still haven’t told me the plan. You don’t have one do you?” You narrow your eyes at him, the soft lighting in the room only illuminating half his face, but you could still read him like a book. 

“I have a plan.” He states, clearing his throat and fixing the tie around his neck. “You just need to follow my lead.” Exiting the room, Sylus stops right by you, leaning forward as he looks right into your eyes. His eyes stare through yours, lingering for a moment before they fall down onto your figure one last time. When he looks back up at you again, he stands up straight. “Wear your hiar up. You can show off your earrings.” He suggests, before leaving the bedroom, shutting the grand doors behind him. 

 ****

“Nice plan!” Your sass rings through the now empty ballroom, painted red with the blood of your enemies. The once extravagant ball had now been cleaned out with tables knocked over and bullet holes decorating the walls and dead bodies. Your heeled foot was perched on the still body of a man in an all white suit, a red stain erupting from his chest. The barrel of your gun was smoking as it pointed at the top railings of the ballroom, where you successfully shot a man down from the high angle. 

“Yeah, well he wasn’t supposed to be here.”On the other end of the ballroom, Sylus stood from his kneeled position, checking the pulse of the man he just knocked out underneath a fallen chandelier. “We need to go. Now!” Sylus’ voice was hurried, almost panicked as he pulls out a lighter from the dead man’s pocket. Quickly, he flicks a small flame to life, pressing it against the giant curtains that covered the blacked out windows. A fire erupts almost instantly, spreading through the grand hall before you could even object. 

“But the aether core!” You watch Sylus as he storms towards you, grabbing you by the waist as he leads you towards the doors where all the remaining survivors fled. 

“We got it!” He tells you through gritted teeth. “Kieran and Luke will take care of it. We just need to get out of here.” He glances down at you, checking you briefly for any injuries.

Sylus guides you to the front entrance where a black limo screeches to a stop at the bottom of the diamond staircase. With his hand on the small of your back, Sylus opens the last door for you, letting you crawl inside as he intensely watches your surroundings. Before he could even shut the door with you both inside, the limo takes off at high speeds down the roads back to the mansion. 

“How did that go so wrong?” You managed to catch your breath, counting your remaining two bullets in his gun that you never loosened your grip on. 

The last thing you remembered before the fight ensued was a man with a heavy entourage interrupting your waltz with Sylus. The annoying guests and bright lights began to blur as you two enjoyed a quiet dance to the string band that played for the guests. 

Sylus only took his eyes off you when the small moment of peace disappeared when a man in an emerald green suit joined the party, six guards in all white suits following him closely. Sylus was able to spot more white suits high up in the balconies, standing with her hands holding something concealed on their hips. “We may have trouble.” Sylus whispers into your neck. 

“Wha” Before you could even ask for further clarification, Slyus spun you away into the arms of a stranger to approach the man in the green suit. 

Uninterested in your new dance partner, you leave him to stand by the drink table to watch them chat for a while. The conversation seemed tense from the distance you stood on the dance floor, but Sylus made sure to give you a soft glance every once in a while to ensure your safety from the people around you. 

Then, everything flipped like a switch. 

When your back was turned. One of the guards in the white suits had placed his hand on your soldier, whispering too close to you for comfort. “Come with us and no one will get hurt.”

At the sight of his hand touching you, the room erupted into havoc as Sylus began to beat and kill anything that stood in his path that threatened to harm you. 

And now you were barely escaping, unscathed in his limo back to his mansion. “How did that go so wrong?” You racked your brain for an answer. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. He just showed up…even I couldn’t have predicted that.” 

“Who’s he?” 

“My old partner.” Sylus admits, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He knew I was coming here tonight…” 

“Your old…partner?” You wait for clarification. “Are you enemies now? What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” he huffs. “We got the core and we’re both alive. That alone is something to celebrate.” You slouch in the backseat of the limo, finally able to breathe when the vehicle pulls up to Sylus’ mansion. You reach for the door, when he grabs your wrist, stopping you. “Wait…”You hear the doors lock.  

“What?” You grunt, having enough of being grabbed for one night. 

“Just stay…” he requests. “I just wanna enjoy the presence of a pretty girl in a pretty dress for a little while longer.” Sylus admits, his voice softer than ever in a hushed tone. He wipes his gun clean with a handkerchief, closing his eyes to bask in the silence. 

****

The night led you both to the balcony of Sylus’ bedroom. He finally had bid you goodnight, but your feet carried you to his bedroom where he overlooked the n109 zone from his bedroom. A town where daylight never seemed to reach and where darkness always seemed to follow those who lived there. 

The moonlight cast a silver glow over him, highlighting his built figure. He didn’t move when he heard his bedroom door open, but you knew he was aware of your presence. Still in your gown from the night, you touch Sylus’ back, a small greeting to let him know you had joined him on the terrace. He leaned forward onto the railing not speaking a word until you opened your mouth first. 

“I thought I locked my door.” Sylus interrupts you, making you forget what you were going to say to him. 

“You said so yourself. Nothing is ever really locked in here.” You smirk, leaning against the balcony railing. 

“Surprised you’re not asleep.” He states, taking a peek at you still wearing your gown. 

You shrug. “How could I? My adrenaline is still pumping from tonight.” You admit. “Plus…I wanted to know where you wanted me to leave your dress.” Your fingers play in the ruffles of the gown. 

“Keep it. It looks better on you than it will on me.” Sylus chuckles lightly in the night. 

“You saying I look pretty?” With a smug smile, you twirl in the dress, waiting for a response from him. 

With a gleam in his eyes he watches you spin, standing up straight to elimnate more space between the two of you. “Beautiful.” he corrects. “It’s a shame the night was ruined with a gun fight.” 

“It wasn’t ruined.” you tell him. “Pretending with you was fun…before all the shooting and explosions.” You hide a smile, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. 

“I know.” Sylus adds, “Turns out you’re a great actress. Thought about kissing you at one point to really seal the deal.” He eyes turn to overlook the gloomy city again, hiding his flushed cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you?” You cock your head to the side, this time, you stepping closer to him. 

“I didn’t want everyone to see you slap me in the middle of the ballroom floor.” He admits, scratching the back of his head. 

“I wouldn’t have…I probably would’ve let you.” You clear your throat, fearful of the words you just let slip your lips. 

“Probably?” he teases. 

“Would’ve.” You correct. 

“What about now?” Sylus’ voice drops to a whisper as he steps forward, his fingertips slowly tracing circles on your exposed shoulders. His eyes searched yours for any clue of hesitation, but only found the mirrored look of desire. Slowly, Sylus’ hand reaches to your face, his long fingers caressing your cheek as the moonlight dances against your skin. Your heart flutters at his touch as the air between you crackles in anticipation. 

Your fingers find his waist, testing the waters as you pull his body against yours. Scared that his words would ruin the moment, Sylus just listened to the sound of his own heart beating viciously as he stared into your eyes. A sudden wave of bravery entered his body and Sylus longed to feel his lips on yours. He intertwines your fingers with his, “Your hands are shaking. You’re not terrified of me, right?” He teases, your eyes dark with lust. Without taking another second to hesitate, Sylus finally presses his lips to yours, both of your eyes closing at the same time. Your mouths move together in a sense of tenderness and urgency, unsaid words and emotions pouring out into the kiss. Desperately, you pull him in closer, using the small window of opportunity of when he looked down at you to catch a breath. 

Your hands move up towards his face, your small fingers tracing shapes along his jawline. You crash your lips onto his, sliding your tongue in between his lips, swirling them around each others. With Sylus greedy hands sliding up and down your back now, he discovers the zipper on the back of your dress, yanking it down. 

The sleeves begin to fall off your shoulders and you pull back to catch your breath. Slyus uses this moment to kiss on your neck and shoulders allowing you to pull down your own dress as you start to kiss him down to his growing length through his slacks. 

“Someone’s eager.” His velvety voice causes shivers to run down your spine. 

“Why don’t you give it a kiss?” Sylus  suggests, allowing you to unzip his dark slacks to free him from his briefs. 

You stick out your tongue right as he springs into your face. Not letting his size intimidate you, you let your tongue roll along his shaft, testing the waters with his girth. As you pull your head back, your tongue caresses his tip, causing him to grip onto your bun at the overwhelming sensation. A wince leaves his mouth and his eyes cut down at you. He guides your mouth onto his dick as you slide nearly his entire length into your mouth, gagging as his tip hits the back of your mouth. He couldn’t help but chuckle as his fingers wrap around your curls in your hair, the sound of your gagging causing him to smile. “That’s it…” He growls as you bob your head up and down his length, covering his dick with your slob. Your eyes slowly trail up to find his, filled with a gleam of passion. “I love when you look up at me with those pretty eyes.” His lips curl upward into a smile as he tosses his head back, you taking his inches into your mouth. 

“Yeah?” you release his length from your mouth with a pop, knowing when you responded it drove him crazy. 

“Oh, kitten.” Sylus begins to rub his hands along his own chest as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. “You know that beautiful mouth makes me aggressive…” Using your bun, he begins to shove you face farther and farther down his shaft, causing you to emit a loud gagging sound whenever he touches the back of your throat. “You wanna make me cum?” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your doe eyes to meet his.  His voice was husky and deep as he spoke down to you, almost enough to make you cum already. 

“Yes,” You beg, your own spit dripping down your chin as you try and pump the remainder of his length your mouth couldn't reach with your hands. 

“Yes?” His voice teases, causing your pussy to drip more from just speaking to you. “Yes, what?” He waits for clarification. 

“Yes, sir.” You correct, taking the moment to breathe as he lets you release his dick from your mouth. Your glossy eyes meet his and Sylus forces you to your feet but simply touching your chin with his pointer finger. His hands wipe the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. Your lips snatch his in a deep kiss again and Sylus begins to slip out of his shoes and his slacks. With his hands now exploring your body, Slyus begins to caress your thighs, jumping up for him to catch you. Your legs wrap around his waist, you completely falling out of your dress. With careful steps, Sylus guides you into his bedroom, leaving the balcony doors open to allow the night breeze to cool you both off. 

You sit yourself up on your elbows as he tosses you onto the bed, freeing your hair from your updo. You watch him bite down on his lip, fully encapsulating your almost naked body posing before him. Seductively, you unclasp your bra, letting your breasts free, allowing him to take a longer look at your figure. Teasing him, you carefully draw around his abs with your bare feet, waiting for him to finish undressing before he joins you on the California king. 

Sylus nearly crashed onto the bed, planting kisses all over your body. One by one, he takes your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and sucking on them until you moan from the pleasure. Your fingers get lost in his silver hair as you await for the moment your lips meet his again.

That moment only lasted so long before Sylus found himself peppering you with open mouth kisses down your chest and to the hemline of your lace underwear. “May I kiss you here?” He requests. 

“Please.” You breathe, squirming under his touch. 

“Please?” Sylus raises an eyebrow at you. “Never knew you were one to beg.” 

No problem for him, he presses a kiss right on top of the lace, before sliding his finger underneath the underwear to grant himself access. His warm tongue licks a strip down your labia, causing you to not only gasp at the sudden contact but also curse aloud. “Shit…” Sylus nearly buries his lips into your pussy, sucking hard on your clit and momentarily rolling circles around it with his tongue. “With his eyes closed, he devours your pussy, praising your taste with every chance he got as he made you feel good from just his tongue. 

His hands find his way up unto your breasts, sliding underneath your bra to play with your hard nipples, arousing you further. “Fuck you taste so good…” he moans, switching to kitten licks on your already swollen clit. 

Abruptly, you sit up, watching him from above as he works to make you cum.You pull at his hair, gasping as butterflies begin to enter your stomach as your breath quickened. Sylus slips one finger into your entrance, curling it forward to further apply pressure to your g spot. “Fuckkk…Sy, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep doing it.” You beg him, him smirking at the sudden nickname. Gripping at the sheets, you beg for Sylus to continue to his speed patterns as he focuses to make you cum. The overwhelming euphoric experience stole her words from her, but her moans were more than enough to use as fuel to keep Sylus going. 

“Don’t cum yet, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice was in your ear now as he removes his face from your heat. He places his body right on top of you, carefully sliding his tip up and down your slit as he hums in your ear. You whimper as his length enters you, nearly bulging from outside your stomach. He smirks, burying himself deep inside you before nearly pulling out completely. “I love that noise you make.” He kisses your forehead, as you desperately pine for his lips again. Again, slowly, he thrusts himself into you, causing you to moan underneath his touch, every thrust making you weaker and weaker to him. Your knees buckle as he playfully hits your g spot. “You feel me right here..?” His tip causes your body to fly upwards, nearly crashing your faces together. 

Sylus grabs your wrists, pinning you down onto the bed. “Aht. Aht.” He smacks his tongue. “You can handle it…” his low sultry voice convinces you as your body shakes with his throbbing dick inside you. “See? You take me so well.” he praises, listening to your whimpers that fell from your pouty lips directly into his ears. From even the smallest touch, your eyes roll back at the pleasure he brought you from simply pumping in and out of your pussy. “Keep moaning for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Sylus instructs, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he deepens himself inside you,despite you thinking he couldn’t go any further. 

Your nails dig into his back as you reach between your bodies to finger your throbbing clit. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Sylus removes your hand from your box, pinning it back up onto the pillows as he thrusts harder into you. “God…you feel so good.” Instead, his hand finds himself flicking your clit in a way that made you moan louder than you were before. “You like that?” He questions, his eyes opening to peek at the pleasure written on your face. When you don’t answer, he grows annoyed, repeating the question. “Talk to me.”He sings, his fingering gets faster and stronger with his thrusts. “Answer me, kitten.” 

Your walls squeeze around him as you threaten to cum soon. Forcing out just even a small sentence, you manage to answer him, “Y-yes…I like it-” Your hands search for anything to grab onto you, until you finally find his shoulders. They ground you and evidently pull your body even closer to his in a way neither of you thought was possible.

“You’re easy to please.” His voice rasps as his own moans get louder and louder the closer he brought you both to your orgasms. His hands manage to cover each one of your ass cheeks as he spreads them apart, thrusting deeper and deeper into you. “I can feel you getting ready to cum all over me…” Sylus manages out between his heavy moans as he pumps faster and faster.“Fine. I’ll be generous and let you cum first.”His own pleasure caused his voice to waver slightly. “Tell me when.” he orders, using his hand that isn't satisfying your clit to force you to look up at him. His red eyes gleamed as he maintained eye contact with you.  You want to pull at his hair, but your hands find themselves intertwining with his. 

“I’m gonna cum…” Your legs threaten to close as your orgasm creeps out of you, causing you to scream his name louder, unafraid if anyone else inside the mansion hears. “Sylus! I’m cumming! ” His hands slam together with yours, tightening your grip as a white light begins to wisp between your palms together as you finally are able to resonate with him in this intimate moment. With heavy shallow breaths Sylus continues to pump his length in and out of you as your body begs to be freed, your orgasm spreading through your body in jerky movements. 

With you already riding your orgasm, he uses your overstimulated pussy to bring himself to the edge. He kisses your neck, sending his head flying back as his eyes roll. “You’re gonna make me cum…” he tells you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips and bringing one of his hands to your throat, only tightening his grip slightly. The slapping sounds of your thighs echo throughout the bedroom as you pull on his hair, begging for a breather. Your eyes lock together, your foreheads pressing together. “Look at me when I cum…” he begs, just as desperate as you seemed when your orgasm fought its way out of you. His voice rasps as he gushes out thick, creamy ropes inside of you. With his body convulsing on top of yours, his eyes never leave yours as his orgasm rips through him. “Take it. Take it!” Too weak to pull out of you, he lets his load fill you up inside as he screams your name into his neck. His cums creep down his shaft from inside your pussy lips as he carefully pulls out from inside of you. His breathing has evened out as he slumps onto you on top of the sheets. With deep kisses and some incoherent mumbling in between, Sylus was finally able to pull out of you completely. His sheets become drench in his cum as well as yours as he caresses your sweaty thighs, pressing kisses to them as he soothes you. “You’re shaking…you can relax now.” He hums, kissing your head and holding you to his chest. 

Sylus takes you in his arms, lying you both down onto his bed. Petting your head and tracing shapes on your sweating body, he manages to calm you along with the song of his heartbeat into your ear. 

“Maybe we should play pretend more often.” You suggest, kissing his toned chest as his breathing had finally stilled. 

“Oh, kitten.” His hands play with your fingertips. “You’re getting more and more interesting.” Sylus admits before pulling you on top of his naked body, sliding himself inside you once more. 

[luminetti]

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 4

༘⋆Notes: i am back!!! so sorry again for the giant gap but chapters should be coming out faster now that my finals season is coming to an end! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but im so excited for the plot to be picking up finally! hope you enjoy!

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆ [2] ┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

Your scalp throbbed as another pin slid tightly against your neck, fastening the ribbon to your updo.

“Stop fidgeting, you’ll make it come loose,” Euphemia muttered from behind you, intently focused on threading the ribbon into a bow. Her nimble fingers smoothed and secured every hair into place, finalizing her work with a soft pat on the head. “How’s this?” She asked, spinning you around in the chair and holding up a hand mirror.

A soft breath escaped you as you observed your appearance. Balls were rarely something that generated excitement anymore and the prospect of love somehow garnered even less. Despite your past experiences, something churned within your stomach, suspiciously resembling the fluttering of butterflies. And to your growing surprise, it was almost as though you had missed such a feeling. “I think it’s lovely, Phemie.”

She pursed her lips and whipped you back around. “Lovely? I need gorgeous, I’m restarting.” 

Her fingers barely graced the top of your head before a particularly loud and jarring cough resounded from the doorway.

“I refuse to be late to the Duke’s ball because of hair,” Sebastian drawled, dressed clad in black and lazily leaning against the doorframe.

Euphemia groaned and spun you once more to face your brother. “What do you think then? Is this good enough?”

Sebastian stared at her blankly. “I’m not sure what you want me to say here. It is hair.”

She scoffed and turned back to the dresser, rummaging through the countless drawers. “Of course you wouldn’t know. You don’t even know how to tell the difference between a black and navy tie.”

Turning back to face him, she held up two necklaces. One adorned with tiny rubies along a thin silver chain, and the other a single garnet pendant. “Which?”

Sebastian looked up from undoing his dark blue tie. “What?”

She rolled her eyes and held the necklaces higher.

He looked between the two over and over again. “The…The red one?” He asked, hesitantly.

Sebastian swore as a hairbrush flew past his shoulder, dodging just before it collided into him.

“They’re both red, you absolute clod!” 

Throwing the hairbrush back to Euphemia who caught it easily, Sebastian stalked out of the room and down the hallway. “I’ll be seeing red if we don’t leave soon!”

Euphemia glared in the direction he left. Putting down one of the necklaces, she leaned over you to drape the other across your neck. “Oh? When did you get a new necklace?” She paused, reaching out to examine the small crystal necklace Gale had given you.

“A couple nights ago.” You pulled your hair back to let her fawn over it. “From Gale,” You added sheepishly.

“The Viscount?!” Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and she leaned in, reducing her voice to a whisper. “You’re officially courting?”

You whipped around in your seat, “No, of course not! It was just a parting gift.” Your mind slipped back to the night he gave you the necklace. He was so close that if you just shivered your lips might’ve touched. Of course, however, they did not. And when you mistakenly brought up the topic of courting–to your absolute horror–Gale couldn’t even form a proper sentence in response. Surely courting was out of the cards regardless of the thrill in your heart that pounded whenever he was mentioned.

Euphemia stared down at you in disbelief as you finished explaining the interaction. “I don’t quite think his reaction was…as you interpreted.”

“I’m sure he just wanted to let me down easily,” You replied

“Courtship doesn’t need to be elaborate displays of affection, dearest,” She began. “It is often accompanied with spending time with each other, like promenades, or lunch.” Her eyes dropped to the pendant around your neck. “Among those, gifts are also quite common.”

The butterflies stirred giddily in your stomach. “You really think he’s trying to court me?”

Euphemia glanced towards the doorway where Sebastian had been before turning back to you. “The Viscount was a pleasure to host, but I think the ball would be the perfect chance to meet new potential suitors.”

You looked up at her. “New suitors?”

She bit her lip as concern briefly settled over her features. “You’ve never met the Viscount before because he rarely attends the balls.”

Something twisted in your chest. Something different than the butterflies that were now suspiciously silent. “But why would he skip them if he’s looking for someone to court?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her soft hand pulling you out of the seat. “Just give the other suitors a chance.” She pleaded, gathering both your dance cards. “Sebastian is hoping you get a chance to talk to the Marquess.” Euphemia gave you one final pointed look before retreating down the hall and out the front door.

✣ ✣ ✣

The Ravengard estate was, to put it lightly, exceedingly glamorous. Arriving a tad late, the ball was already in full swing with a lively quartet and couples dancing lined the dance floor. The ballroom’s ceiling was patterned in blocks of intricate red and gold. The details trailed down walls, wrapping and weaving around the onlays ceremoniously. Draped against the back wall was a single red banner, thick in width and clad in deep red. Painted on the front was a silver emblem, picturing a knight’s helmet and a crimson fist, the familiar symbol of the Flaming Fist.

From what you remember of Euphemia’s ramblings, the Flaming Fist are the pride and joy of the Ravengard family. It was what elevated Grand Duke Ravengard to, well, the Grand Duke. The Sword Coast was the mother of Baldur’s Gate and the Flaming Fist their shield. It was customary for Baldurians to attend a ball hosted by the Ravengard, that much was certain. But for the citizens of Waterdeep? For such a long distance, many were only in attendance for their Duchess Mystra, and the now Late Duke Elminster. Some Waterdhavians may have pulled from the ball, opting to attend a more local event and perhaps mourn the loss of the Late Duke. However, there was sure to be at least one Waterdhavian in attendance.

“Not looking to dance?”

You whipped around to come face to face with Gale. Gone were the old clothes you had found in Sebastian's closet, instead replaced with a dark velvety tailcoat and golden buttons that fastened the fabric tight against his chest. You never considered Gale to be scruffy or anything of the like. Quite the opposite in fact. But with the ballroom lighting and a refreshed appearance, you admit your heartbeat quickened. You nearly reached out to him, catching yourself last second.

“Lord Dekarios,” you began, curtseying lightly as Euphemia taught. “Pleased to meet you.”

Gale's face fell and he stared at you as if you had just taken a dagger to his chest.

You cleared your throat, glancing around the busy ballroom and speaking lowly. “Was my discretion the past couple months all for naught?”

His brows furrowed until a relieved smile broke out across his face and he smiled nervously. “Ah yes! Pleased to meet you,” Gale said, almost over confidently. “For the very first time,” he added. “Never before.”

Gods, he really was terrible at this.

“Now that I’ve met you, I’ll ask again. No dancing?”

You pursed your lips as you recalled your previous attempts to dance with potential suitors. Despite your sour performance you really were trying your best. Unfortunately, your suitors seemed to have as much patience as a teacup and moved on as soon as the set finished. At least they had the etiquette to stay until the set finished. A feat as such deserved a mental applaud for their resolve.

You fiddled with the small dance card strapped to your wrist. “I’m an expert, I promise. But I wouldn’t recommend seeing it for yourself.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping his lips. “I can’t help but be curious now.” He eyed the slip of paper between your fingers. “May I?” he asked, reaching for it.

You grimaced but relented and handed him the attached pencil. “Truly horrid you are doing this to me.”

He grinned in reply, happily writing his name into the one of the blank spaces. “Will you be as good a dancer as you are a chess master?”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Will you talk about dancing as long as you did about chess? Horses and knights and bishops and kings. Tell me more about the knight’s opening, I’m sure it’ll be riveting.”

“It was the bishop’s opening, actually,” he said absently, still scribbling on your card.

“More like the bishop’s eye-closer, I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep– what are you even writing that’s taking so long?”

Gale stifled a laugh as you pulled the pencil away from him and looked at your dance card. With surprisingly neat cursive, various versions of Gale Dekarios’ name sat in at least seven of the spots. The names ranged from his actual name in the first slot to the last which barely held any resemblance in the slightest.

‘Who the hells is Gray Delargo?!” 

“That would be my alter ego,” he snorted, rather pleased with himself.

You scanned the card again. Glais Dalglish, George Dowey, even Dale Gekarios. Ignoring Gale’s laughter, you quickly counted each name.

“Ten?! You added ten of these?!”

“I said I would, didn’t I? Unless you’re asking for an eleventh.”

You snickered as you read through all the names. Skimming the rest you noticed a gap between the sixth and eighth dance. “I don’t suppose this is where you flee after seeing my dancing capabilities?”

He shook his head, seemingly recovered from his laughing fit. “That’s for when I talk to the Marquess. I can only hope he’s available for at least a moment tonight.”

You hummed and nodded, biting back the grin growing across your face. “I’m sure he’d love to dance with you.”

As the music died down, couples began to disperse from the dance floor in search of their next partner. In a flash, Gale had pulled you to the center of the ballroom. Before you could even understand what was happening, the band burst back to life with dignified intensity. His fingers pressed up against your hand and gently wrapped around it. With a push against your palm, Gale stepped towards you, forcing you to stumble backwards.

“What are you doing?” You questioned in a frantic whisper, thankful none of the other couples had noticed your jagged movements.

Gale tugged your hand again, this time pulling you closer as he took a step back. “Is this not the purpose of a dance card? I wrote my name for the third dance, it is the third dance, so we are dancing.”

You glowered at him as he took your waist, lightly spinning you perfectly in sync with the other dancers. “And you truly expect to participate in all, what, six trillion dances you’ve put yourself down for?”

“It was ten,” Gale commented, “And yes, all of which I quite intend to be present for.” He pulled you close with a prolonged grip on your hip and a far-from-modest keenness. “Unless you intend to imply you are not interested?” His eyes darted to the necklace hanging just below your collarbones with a glance so quick you questioned if it truly happened. “Though,” Gale continued, locking eyes with you once more and lowering his voice to a gravelly murmur. “Something tells me that is not the case.”

Warmth bloomed from the pit of your chest and you made no effort to refute it. Satisfied, he pulled away and continued to lead through the dance. With Gale, dancing felt natural; a sentiment you never thought you’d have the pleasure of having. For one single instant you could’ve sworn the other guests disappeared from the ballroom and only you and Gale remained. His eyes are brown, you note. A deep brown like the bark of burned firewood or an oversteeped early morning cup of tea. A brown that made his irises resemble that of clockwork and oh, how easy it is to see yourself spending the rest of your life with that brown.

His hand reached for yours once more and time is suddenly restored, the piano quartet jovial as ever. Through all the alacrity of the dance floor, you only momentarily caught a glimpse of Euphemia through the crowd, peering at you with large anxious eyes. In the midst of all the chasséing, waltzing, spinning, and turning, words of the Marquess and her concern merely flitted through your mind, effectively becoming null the second she left your sight. Your heart thrummed vividly against your chest, desperate for something, anything. Your bodies departed as the women shifted down the line to their new partner but his presence never fully leaves. Even as you moved two, then three people down the line, his eyes never left your form for a second. You couldn’t help but do the same and Gale grinned a bit wider when you returned to his arms.

Your heart thrashed dramatically, deciding that if something was to be done, it was this very instant. With hands moving on their own accord, you clutch the collar of his suit and lean into him. Instinctively, his hands cling to your waist. Letting your eyes fall closed, you pull him down and–

He freezes.

Gale’s form goes rigid under your touch and his grip tightens. Glancing up at him in confusion, you realize he’s staring directly beyond you looking as though he’s seen a ghost. All of a sudden you feel like a fish out of water but the ball doesn’t stop for just you. The couples beside you continue to soar across the dancefloor, the womens’ dresses brushing against your stationary body. Pivoting, you see nothing out of the ordinary other than Euphemia and Sebastian’s prying eyes.

 Then all of a sudden Gale frantically pushed past you with wide eyes and a pale complexion. A cursory ‘one moment’ was all you were offered before he vanished into the crowd and out to the seemingly empty balcony.

You stood there for a couple moments, unable to process what had happened nor able to escape from the dance floor. You’ve had bad seasons before, that much was undeniable. But to your credit, never in all your life had someone fled from the ballroom without as much of an apology. Did you do something wrong? If you did, you certainly didn’t realize.

As the music surged to it’s finish, you realized tears brimmed in your eyes, blurring your vision. As the dancers left the floor and new ones began to take their place, you hurriedly searched for a place to escape. You took a couple steps forward and immediately got shoved out of the way by an incoming couple who looked you up and down strangely. A younger woman pushed around you to find her partner while another couple prepared to take the place behind you. Chest heaving, you desperately spun in place, searching for a route off the floor.

A dark figure threaded through the hoard of people to stand in front of you. Dressed in a long crimson tailcoat that enhanced his sepia skin, he offered a hand to you, bowing politely. 

“Take my hand, I’ll shield you from everyone else,” he spoke lowly.

The moment your fingertips grazed his hand he pulled you towards his chest, pivoting to where he towered over you. “Breathe,” he reminded you. “There’s still a couple minutes before the quartet begins.”

You nodded, patting away salty beads of tears with the hem of your dress. “Thank you…”

With your vision cleared, you managed to finally get a better look at your supposed savior. His hair was braided to lay neatly against his scalp and concern graced over his soft features. “Of course.” He stepped away, still watching you carefully. “I would ask for a dance but I fear you may be in too much…” he paused as you sniffled. “...distress.”

Shaking your head you fished out your dance card. “I think leaving the floor now would put me in more distress than I began with.”

He snorted in surprise when he opened it to reveal the list of names scrawled onto the paper. “I can’t say I know a Lord Dale Gekarios, do you?”

Your cheeks burned as you handed him the accompanying pencil. “He seems to have fled.”

“Not to worry. I’ll just…” he scribbled into the empty slot and handed it back to you. “There.”

Etched into the card in simple script was the name “Ryll Wavengard.” You stared at the dark writing for several seconds in confusion.

“It’s Wyll,” He explained with a grin, noticing your lost expression. “Wyll Ravengard.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, dropping to a curtsey as quick as your body could move. Marquess Wyll Ravengard, Son of the Grand Duke. “My Lord! Apologies, I– surely I would’ve noticed–”

Wyll quickly waved you off with a smile. “I take no offense. I find it rather refreshing.” The embroidered emblem of the Flaming Fist that you somehow missed earlier shone with silky threads as he bowed. “Would your chaperone approve of this dance? I would have asked for an introduction properly if we weren’t on a time limit.”

As you scanned the ballroom your eyes landed on Sebastian and Euphemia who were watching you intently, their gaze quickly averting when you spot them. “I doubt they have objections,” you told him with a smile, allowing Wyll to take your hand as the sweet violin fills the ballroom.

The dance started off slowly and Wyll stepped carefully as he led you through the beginning. To your relief, you actually recognized the movements as one of the first dances you ever learned. Silently thanking Euphemia for the weekly lessons, you managed to slip into a rhythm, carrying out each step to the best of your ability.

“So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of dancing with?” Wyll asked.

You bit back the third apology of the night, instead opting to just introduce yourself. “My siblings are here as well.” As you gestured to Sebastian and Euphemia–who were getting significantly worse at pretending to be disinterested–Wyll’s smile brightened.

“Ah, Sebastian! I met him earlier tonight and it was quite the pleasure.” He glanced towards your brother, giving him a cursory smile as he continued to dance with you. “Have you been to a Ravengard ball before?”

You shook your head. “I haven’t. This is only my second season.”

“I’m surprised. You seem to fit right in.” Wyll hummed in thought.

Ignoring the initial reaction to disagree, you thanked him anyway. The rest of the dance went similarly. Wyll would ask a question and you would reply, followed by a moment of silence. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but you found yourself missing something–or someone.

Before you knew it the dance was over and the Marquess escorted you back to your siblings, bidding them a nice night. After a thorough questioning about the dance, you managed to convince them to give it a rest for now. Until then, you just waited, occasionally checking your dance card.

One by one the dances continued to pass. From the seventh, to the eighth, then the ninth. 

By the tenth dance you had searched the entire ballroom and nearby wings of the estate only to come up empty handed.

At the top of the eleventh dance you finally gave up and begged Euphemia to let you return early, to which she pensively agreed.

✣ ✣ ✣

“I truly just cannot understand,” you whined to your sister as she pulled various pins from your hair. “One moment things are absolutely perfect and the other he vanishes from the face of the Earth!”

“Perhaps he’s–”

“I mean really, is he trying to avoid me? He still hasn’t moved his things from his room– the guest room.” The pin snags a strand of hair making you wince.

“Have you considered–”

You slumped back in the chair, absently rambling again. “Do you think I did something? I’m not much of a dancer but I thought I was getting the hang of it– Ow!”

Euphemia dropped a couple pins in the ceramic tray on your desk, threads of hair winding around each one. “If you just held still and let me reply, it wouldn’t have hurt,” she scoffed. “How much do you know about the Viscount?”

Pursing your lips you stared at her incredulously through the vanity mirror. “I know plenty! He favors the color violet, knows far too much about chess to be that attractive, and…” you decided to keep his mage status to yourself, “...other things.”

The hairbrush bristles made the back of your neck tingle as she ran it through your hair. “Those barely scratch the surface, love. How much do you truly know about him?”

You opened your mouth to protest but she continues.

“Have you ever stopped to wonder why the Viscount of Waterdeep is in Baldur’s Gate? Or maybe why you’ve never met him at a ball before, despite participating in far fewer seasons than him?”

The bundle of nerves twisted ominously in your stomach as her words settled in, “What are you talking about?”

She spun you around to face her, donning an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Please just consider that you may not have the entire story.”

Your heart beat quicker than usual, as if spurred on by her words. “Okay…’

“Get some sleep,” Euphemia said, patting your shoulder and retreating to her own bedroom.

As she disappeared from view you sat silently, staring at where she had been. She was right. There were so many things he never fully explained that lingered deep down in the back of your mind. You had just been so caught up in… well, him… that you didn’t think to question his secrecy.

You found yourself stationed in front of the guest bedroom doorway, hand hovering on the doorknob. Your heart craved answers and this was the only place you figured there might be. He abandoned you at the ball, who was he to care now?

The door swung open to reveal a relatively neat room. You hadn’t been inside since Euphemia fixed it up for Gale, and even then it still looked the same as it had years ago. The only change was the new navy bed sheets and dozens of papers littering the desk.

Along the top of the desk were several stamps and wax seals clearly used for letter sealing.

How odd. Gale hadn’t sent any letters since he sheltered in your manor.

A folded letter tucked into the back shelf of the desk caught your eye with its glittering mauve seal, shimmering with a silver dusting on the details. You traced the circular design with the pads of your fingers, trailing down each point of the star symbol. Where had you seen it before?

Curiosity took over and you couldn’t help but read its contents, unprepared for the violent sickness that overtook your body.

Dearest Lord Dekarios,

Pray tell, how are you faring? I dare admit your correspondence has been missed. The Waterdeep Palace feels colder without your frequent visits.

Sources claim you are healthy. That is good. Make haste and return to me, we have much to discuss.

Yours heartily,

Duchess Aumar,

P.s. Duchess Dekarios has a ring to it, does it not?

Your heart dropped to the floor and the bedroom walls crumbled down around you to join it. The past couple months you had spent with Gale flashed through your mind. Could you have known this sooner? The paper trembled in your grip as you reread it, praying new words would magically appear and confirm he had truly loved you all this time, but no such words manifested. You read it over and over, analyzing each letter.

Perhaps it was addressed incorrectly.

Perhaps there was another Lord of a similar name.

On the fifth read you resisted the urge to shred the paper to tiny bits and pieces. Destroying the letter wouldn’t repair the damage to your heart.

A million thoughts crossed your mind and you gripped the sheet so hard it creased at the edge. The only saving grace was the glimmer of hope that flickered in the cavern of your chest that somehow, someway, there was something you had interpreted wrong.

“Why do you have that?” Gale’s voice cut through the room as he stared at you from the doorway, dreadfully horrified. Whatever hope you had promptly extinguished as a flash of light caught your eye. In the moonlight, plain as day, was the unassuming earring he always wore–the one you had barely given a second thought. Round and silver with a simple star decal, the very same as the glittering sealed letter in your hand. It was her symbol. And he was wearing it.

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