#I’m really hoping that changes and I have a feeling that it will

[belovedbright]

She found the shrine when she was seven��� partially collapsed stone in what had once been a field.

Thea ran her hands gently over the collapsed stones.

“If I rebuilt it, it might be large enough to hide in,” she thought. “Maybe I would be safe from…” but her mind snapped closed before that line of thought could go any further.

Thea began shifting stones, grunting as she cleared the fallen. She worked for hours until, the capstone fell, heavier than she could manage, scattering half a wall, and leaning heavily on another. Thea flopped heavily to the ground, blinking back tears. It was growing late, her hands were scraped, and hunger was making her crabby and easily frustrated.

“I can’t do it,” she said, her voice whining even to her own ears, which left her feeling angry & spiteful.

She pulled a honey cake from her pouch, and broke it in half. She was a clever though lonely child, and knew intent matter as much as anything else. As she ate her half, she considered the stone pile. The capstone lay forming a lean-to with one wall.

She rose and prodded it gently. It seemed solidly wedged, the wall stable. There was a little space beneath it. She knelt & swept away dead leaves. “This is all I have,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s only half. I was really hungry.”

She rose up, wiping dirty hands on her dirty skirts. The shadows were growing longer, too long for a young girl to still be in the woods. “I need to go now. I hope you’re still here.”

Then she ran, fleeing through the woods towards civilization. Behind her two voices sighed. *

At age ten, she was finally strong enough to rebuild the tiny temple using pilfered rope, and tree limbs for levers & ramps. She’d been coming for years at that point, always with the offerings of the kinds of treasures children find. Honeycakes; ripe, stolen grapes; the remains of a bird’s egg, bright blue and smaller than her thumb. Once she smuggled a small chipped cup with a mouthful of beer still inside. (They'll never notice it's gone, she'd said as she slid it into the crevasse of the shrine. She'd been wrong, but wasn't sorry all the same.) Even though no god spoke to her, she talked enough for both of them. Moreover, she felt a contentment and warmth in the shrine's little grove that she felt nowhere else.

"Even if you don't speak, I know you're there," she said as she worked at repairing the shrine. She packed the lower walls between posts and packed earth to help hold them in place. Whenever she found herself wishing she had someone to help, to be an extra pair of hands, she found the wind changed, or the materials finally cooperated. She dug, heaved, lashed, and lifted, until finally the shrine was a real structure once more.

Once again, much like that first day, she was tired and hungry. But today she was undefeated. "We did it," she whispered, as she put the cup back with her offering of ripe raspberries.

"You did it," the god said with a voice like honey and feathers, gentle and sweet. Thea's eyes widened as she fell backwards, sprawling.

"You're here," she said finally, feeling her youth suddenly a disadvantage. "What can a child say to a god?" she thought. She scrambled around, kneeling in the dirt before the shrine.

The god chuckled softly, like the sound of wind through a wheat field. "You have knelt plenty today as you worked child, you do not need to do so again. You know that we are small gods here. Forgotten gods. I have little power to help you."

Another god spoke with a voice like crisp apples, like deep earth, like the first hint of frost, "We have lain here for centuries, with only each other's company. You should go, child, find a greater god to guide you."

Thea said nothing at first, for the shadows were long, and the night coming on too soon. "I see that I have two gods, and perhaps two small gods are better than any mighty one." And then she was off in a flash, racing the sun home once more.

"She didn't even ask our names," the God of Arepo grumbled.

"Hush," Arepo, the god of everlasting friendship replied.

She came back again the next day, of course, with a handkerchief of berries and one tiny copper coin. *

Thea came as often as she could as a child, with her wild offerings and gentle devotion. Once when she was eleven, she brought a candle stub, though she had no way to light it. She sat, leaning lightly against the shrine that day, her cheek covered in a rapidly darkening bruise. "I wish I had a way to light it for you," she said brightly. "I wish I could bring you some of the incense from the bigger shrines, but then I couldn't light that either. Maybe perfume? Do gods like perfume? Or maybe flowers? Flowers smell nice…"

The gods listened to her chatter for some time, answering her questions with amused fondness. Then Arepo said, "Do you need to talk about what happened?"

Her smile vanished as she reached a hand towards her face and pulled her knees to her chest. "Could you do anything if I did?"

"No," the God of Arepo said sadly.

"No then," Thea said quietly. "This is enough." And the three of them sat a while longer on that cool, Autumn day, enjoying the light through the changing leaves, the crispness in the air, the humble, fragile beauties in the world. *

When she was thirteen, she fled to the shrine by night for the first time, under a high gibbous moon. She curled up against the shrine, sobbing and bruised, years of stories pouring out of her. Her gods listened and fretted until the small candle stub lit inside the shrine. Just enough for a little light and warmth in the darkness -- a fragile beauty certainly -- but unexpected. They talked as she slept.

"I thought you could do nothing, old friend," said Arepo to his god.

"So did I," said the god of Arepo, who was beginning to become something more. *

Thea was fourteen when her father died. She did not weep. She stole three cups of beer from the funeral, and fled to the woods. She drank one, leaving the others for her gods. "We didn't do anything," they protested. "We could do nothing."

"Of course you did," Thea said, not realizing she was weeping. "You were here. When I needed a friend, I found you both. You were here." And the god of everlasting friendship felt something changing in himself as well. *

The seasons and years came and went. Thea's mother remarried a kinder, better man. Thea herself married a good man, if not a passionate one. They had six children who lived, a kindness so rarely afforded to anyone. And though Thea did not take them to the shrine, she taught them of her gods in her own way. To pay attention to the fleeting, humble beauty of the world. To be a friend to the friendless. To be kind, even when a situation feels beyond hope. And every year, she returned to her shrine to sweep away the leaves. To bring her candles and berries and even incense. To talk with her oldest, truest friends. *

The last time Thea came to the shrine, her hands were aching, her gait slow, her heart thrumming unsteady in her chest. She struggled to sit down, placing her offering just at the mouth of the shrine, for she could bend no further. "I have another granddaughter," she said softly, her voice coarsened with age. Her gods gathered close to her, warming her with their presence.

"You're dying, Thea," the god of humble, fleeting beauty said, his voice like the the fall of cut wheat. It pained him to realize that, she too was one of those fleeting, beautiful things.

"I know," said the priestess of Arepo and his God. "I am so sorry. I should have done more for you. It was selfish to keep you to myself." And the gods wept together.

"If…" said the god of Arepo. "If we could do some great thing for you, Thea. If we could, what would you want it to be?"

She smiled quietly, her breathing coming shorter. "I think… the world would be a kinder place… if everyone treasured the small, humble, beauty in the world. If everyone felt the surety of unconditional love and friendship. I would want that, for everyone."

"Yes," said Arepo quietly.

"Yes," said the god of humble beauty.

As Thea's soul left her body with her breath, the gods felt something new pass through them, a change in the earth and heavens, powerful as lightning, but gentle as waking. They each kissed her forehead, then looked at each other anew.

"We are still small gods," said the God of Opening Your Heart to Small Beauty.

"Perhaps two small gods can be better than one mighty one. Or perhaps we will need to work harder " said the God of Unconditional Love. Arepo extended his hand, "One soul at a time?"

And the gods walked, hand-in-hand, out into the world.

CODA [I thought I was done, then took a shower & found the rest.]

Years later, the gods found themselves in a prisoner of war camp. The men lay, head to foot, shivering and dying in the mud, open air above them, and walls around. "What use are small beauties here, in this place? We are still too small, too weak to do anything," cried the God of Opening Your Heart to Small Beauty. And Arepo wept, for he too felt powerless in the face of such cruelty. Even love and friendship could only do so much. They heard, before they saw it, one voice, then another, as the soldiers began to sing. As they looked around, they saw someone crossing the camp, the soldiers voices growing behind her. Until Thea stood, holding a single candle, radiant beyond measure.

"I am the goddess of a candle against infinite darkness, of the whispered voice against despair, of the thinnest slivers of hope." The three small gods embraced, as the voices around them grew steadier, clearer, and brighter.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 7

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33

italics are flashbacks

-

Before London

“You buckled up?”

“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.

The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.

“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.

Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.

“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.

“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah.”

“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”

Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.

“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”

“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.

Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment. 

Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked. 

The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.

“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.

“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.

“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.

She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”

Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.

“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.

“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with. 

Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.

I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy. 

For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip. 

“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake. 

“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck. 

“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”

Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”

I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”

Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”

When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.

“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.

For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.

“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.

“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.

“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.

“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.

“Yes. Please.”

I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.

“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing. 

My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.

“Paige,” I cry out.

“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.

“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”

“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”

My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.

Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.

“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.

“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.

“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”

It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-

“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.

-

There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.

“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically. 

“Why aren’t you at practice?”

“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”

“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”

Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.

“Wh-” I start

“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.

I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.

“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.

“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.

“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”

I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.

“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.

I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.

“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.

“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?

My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.

“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.

“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”

For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.

“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”

-

She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible. 

“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.

“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.

“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.

“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.

The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need. 

The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.

I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.

“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”

The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”

“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”

Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”

“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.

“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”

Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.

“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”

“Yooo…”

I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.

“Whatchu need?”

Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.

“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.

I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”

KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”

-

Paige

Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early

That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?

I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.

Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.

-

“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”

My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.

“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.

“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”

“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”

There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.

“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”

“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.

“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying. 

“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.

I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”

“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”

“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”

“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.

“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”

“No, that’s not what I said-”

“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.

“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”

He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.

“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.

“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.

I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”

“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.

“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

-

My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.

“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, is um, is-”

“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.

“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.

Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line. 

“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.

She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”

I can tell that she’s not. 

“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”

She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.

“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”

I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast. 

“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.

“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra. 

“Of what?”

“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.

“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”

“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin. 

“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”

Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath. 

“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”

“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile. 

“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.

“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”

She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”

I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.

Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was. 

This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.

Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it. 

“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”

No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.

“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.

“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”

I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.

“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”

Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.

“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.

Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.

“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.

“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.

A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.

“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled. 

“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.

“Use your words ma.”

“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.

“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”

I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.

“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.

Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way. 

It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.

It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.

“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”

“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”

“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.

“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.

“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”

Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.

“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.

“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”

“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.

“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”

I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”

-

“Okay, Paige, stand here.”

Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.

“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”

“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.

“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.

“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.

“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.

“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”

Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”

I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her. 

“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.

“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.

“Yooo, bro what?!” 

Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.

“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.

“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.

“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.

“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.

“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”

The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.

“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”

“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”

“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.

“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening. 

“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.

“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.

“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.

I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me. 

“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”

Fuck.

I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”

“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.

Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.

“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”

I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.

“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.

“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”

My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.

“Trey, you’re not going to-”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”

I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.

-

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[nor-ay]

Our first masquerade ball - (unrequited love story) 

Shadow Milk Cookie thinks that you are... Odd. Different, if you will. It’s in the way you roll your eyes at White Lily Cookie, in the harsh tone that slips out when you find someone annoying, or in the way that you always seem to be out of place. But don’t get him wrong; he certainly enjoys that. He thinks that you have great potential to be his right hand. He just needs to give you a little push on the right path. Sweet talks to you a little until he gets in your good graces and WHAM, controls you like a puppet. It's a win-win situation; he gets to have you on his team and breaks your friend's spirit. 

At least, that is what he initially thought, but that changes when you accept his gift and lie to your supposed friends. You lie to Pure Vanilla Cookie, and that has him clapping and laughing like a king entertained by the best jester there is in his kingdom. He almost can’t believe it! There is no need for him to break your perception of Pure Vanilla Cookie or the nature of Cookies. You already have resentment towards them. 

… 

You think that Shadow Milk Cookie is testing you. That has to be the only explanation for the gifts and fever dream. It’s not like it bothers you, but when you look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, you feel guilt growing and wrapping itself around you. He’s not deserving of this whole situation… Shaking your head, you try to push all these thoughts away. You’re not evil—

Apple Faerie Cookie’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Cookies! Let’s go to the top of the Spire!” 

“I sincerely hope we’ll find what we’re looking for!” You find Wizard Cookie’s reply relatable. You’re tired too. And desperately wanting to get out.

“I bet you will! Now, shall we?” 

“Um…you guys can go ahead, I have to go, I mean, I forgot something.” You hate how your voice sounds so suspicious! Cringing at yourself, you try to smile. 

GingerBrave is looking at you strangely, and Pure Vanilla Cookie is unusually silent. Strawberry Cookie is the one to break the silence. “Really…? Are you sure?” 

“Yeah! I mean, what's wrong? I’m sure you all can live without me for a bit, right?” You try to laugh, but it sounds forced. When did you become so awkward around…your friends? 

Wizard Cookie frowns “Well, the way you—“ 

“All right! [Name] Cookie, I trust you; I’m sure you’re going to do something helpful! Just be careful.” GingerBrave without realizing it, saves you from being interrogated. And again, your lungs fill with guilt. You find it harder to breathe and the smile on your face falters. You’re not evil. 

“Can you not—ugh, never mind.” Wizard Cookie gives up. And you internally thank the witches for it. 

“Right. Thank you. And- please…be careful on your journey.” Ah, this is what you’re doing now. You don’t feel part of them. You never did. Not even with the five ancient heroes. You were always more of a confidant. Hearing Pure Vanilla’s worries, comforting White Lily Cookie after discovering her other half. Playing along with Golden Cheese Cookie, helping out Dark Cacao Cookie and Holyberry Cookie with their tasks. You never felt like you belonged. And so you grew resentful. 

You turn around and go in the opposite direction. Silence is the only thing you hear while going down the stairs, and you have to blink quickly to stop the tears from falling. You were not lying before when you said that you forgot something. When you arrive at the same spot where you woke up hours ago, the doll is still there. Sitting down, you pick up the mini-you and hug it tightly. Closing your eyes, you confess to no one. “I don’t know what to do… I miss when things used to be easy… I don’t want to hurt them. I’m just, so so so sick and tired of the same things over and over again…it’s like I’m trapped in a loop.” 

…

You don’t know how long it’s been since you parted ways with GingerBrave and company. But, unexpectedly, the doll in your arms starts moving on its own. So you let it go, waiting for its next move. 

Clap

A Colombina mask appears in front of you. It’s beautiful. You smile, thinking it’s a bit ironic. Perhaps even mocking that he gives you a mask. Is this his way of telling you that you’re two-faced? 

Nevertheless, you still put on the mask and follow the doll through some large hallways. Arriving at a luxurious ballroom. “How did we not see this?” You ask, completely in awe. The tiles on the floor are so white that you can see yourself reflected on them.

“Well… I had it hidden, of course; did ya forget that you’re in my domain, mhm?” It takes you a second for your brain to register who answered. 

“S-Shadow Milk Cookie!?” 

“Awe…are you really that surprised to see me? Well? Go ahead!” You notice how he’s also wearing a mask similar to yours. 

“Uh…ah-“ You don’t know what to say. Sweat begins to collect on your forehead. You begin to panic. You have to say something!! But, what can you say that he doesn’t know already?

Before you can think of anything to say, you hear Shadow Milk Cookie groan, as if annoyed. “Ughh right, I’m going too fast, this is a masquerade ball, you’re not supposed to know who I am.” 

“O-kay, let's start over!” You watch dumbfounded as he claps twice and the ballroom fills with different puppets who are dancing and talking to each other. 

You watch all this and can’t help but laugh, and, oh, it feels so freeing to be able to be as loud as you want. Everything is so out of the blue that you just can’t help it. Shadow Milk Cookie seems to be interested in what is making you laugh so much. “I’m sorry…this just doesn’t make any sense, and I love it.” 

He smiles, seeming pleased. “Now, THIS is the type of audience that I like! Alrighty! Let's get to it.” He closes the distance and takes your hand. He runs cold, you shiver at the contact.

You feel relaxed, and that should make you worry, but, as Shadow Milk Cookie gives you a twirl and spins you around the ballroom, you can’t. The giggles don’t seem to stop coming out and your eyes are all teary from all the laughter. Your hands are tightly grasping his shoulders and it doesn’t surprise you how agile he’s on his feet. It’s so easy to let him guide you. 

“Awww look at you! You’re enjoying yourself so so so much! Aren’t you going to ask me where are your frieeends?” 

“Well…,” you start—

“Oh, wait, WAIT, don’t tell me! You finally realize that it’s not with them that you belong? Especially that dreadfully, painfully, unbearably Pure Vanilla Cookie?” You can’t fully read the tone in his voice; it seems playful, but the hate he has for them inevitably seeps in. 

“That’s right,” Your smile wavers as you revert to your natural state of being. “It took me a long time, but… I’ve finally understood who I am and what I want.” A sudden bravery fills your heart as you finally ask him- “Please, take me with you!” You surprise yourself by the loudness of your voice.

Have you always been that desperate to escape your life?

“…” His eyes blink several times and it feels like the whole ballroom has grown silent. You start to feel self-conscious and—

His laugh fills the whole ballroom, and in just a second, Shadow Milk Cookie dips your body back dramatically. You grip onto him like a lifesaver and- and you’re out of breath. “Perfect,” you hear him say. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard. “Alright, since you asked so nicely…you’re with me now!” 

“Huh, so…”

“Oops, looks like I have to go, feel free to explore my humble domain, hehe!” 

He’s gone in the blink of an eye. All the puppets that were dancing vanished too, all left behind in the ballroom was the mini-you doll and your racing heart. 

“…Did he lose track of time?”

Okay!! I actually struggled a bit with the dialogue. In my mind, there were so many different things about what Shadow Milk would say in certain situations! But, I’m happy about how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! AND, this is important, the story is going to be on hold until we get episode 8 of Beast-Yeast. It’s not like I can’t improvise, but if I continue, and then they release ep 8, I know that I’ll end up rewriting everything, and I don’t want to do that, to be honest. 

Besides that, I’m already thinking of writing Shadow Milk x reader with a trope that I really enjoy!! Orr some headcanons (maybe nsfw, still unsure about that).

@notboomm @fyodors-belovedxoxo

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

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{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[elryuse]

불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

Tags : Ex Girlfriend Yuna, Teasing, Kissing, Pretty Toxic And Slightly Weird Romance, Fluff, Pregnant? Marriage?

Words : 8,557 Words

You always thought the first time you met Yuna would be burned into your memory forever. The sparkle in her eyes, the way her laugh could fill a room, and how effortlessly she made you feel like the only person in the world. That was before. Before the lies, the heartbreak, and the shattered trust. Now, every memory of her feels distant, like a faded photograph buried in the back of your mind. You’ve tried to move on, to live your life without the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

It’s an ordinary evening when you see her again. The streets are busy with the hum of traffic, and the golden glow of the setting sun reflects off car windows. You’re standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when you catch a flash of fiery red out of the corner of your eye. You glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

It’s her. Yuna.

Only, it’s not the Yuna you remember. Gone is the soft brown hair that used to fall in gentle waves down her shoulders. Now, her hair is a striking, fiery red, cut shorter, framing her face with an edge that screams confidence. Her figure, once curvier, is now more toned and petite, as if she’s carved herself into something entirely new. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a simple black dress, and her boots click sharply against the pavement as she crosses the street.

Your instinct is to look away, to pretend you didn’t see her. After everything that happened, the last thing you want is to reopen old wounds. But then, her eyes meet yours, and you know it’s too late.

“...Y/n?” she says, her voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, debating whether to respond. “Yuna,” you finally say, your tone neutral, guarded.

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite place. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” she says, stepping closer.

You take a step back without meaning to, creating just enough distance to feel like you’re still in control. “It’s a big city,” you reply. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

She tilts her head, studying you like you’re some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You look good,” she says, her eyes scanning you briefly. “Different, but… good.”

You resist the urge to scoff. “Thanks,” you say curtly. “You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She grins, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the hair’s new. And I’ve been working out more. Needed a fresh start, you know?”

You nod, though you don’t really know what to say to that. The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. You take a step toward the crosswalk, hoping she’ll take the hint and let you go.

“Y/n, wait,” she says, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back instinctively. Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say firmly. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Come on,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “It’s been, what, a year? Can’t we just… I don’t know, catch up? As friends?”

Friends. The word feels bitter on your tongue. You shake your head. “We were never just friends, Yuna. You know that.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks like the Yuna you used to know—the one who could make you smile no matter how bad your day had been. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For everything. I know I screwed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

You feel your chest tighten, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “You don’t get to say that,” you say, your voice low but firm. “You don’t get to miss us when you were the one who destroyed it.”

She flinches, and for a brief moment, you think you see tears glistening in her eyes. But then she straightens, her fiery hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “You’re right,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’ve changed, Y/n. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

You want to believe her. A part of you—some small, foolish part—still wants to believe that the girl you fell in love with is still in there somewhere. But you can’t forget the pain she caused, the way she broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces on your own.

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” you say finally. “But that doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t mean we can go back to the way things were.”

She nods slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I get it,” she says. “I just… I just wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Finally, you sigh and take a step back. “Take care of yourself, Yuna.”

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk. As you disappear into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time you’ll see her.

And deep down, you’re not sure if that thought scares you—or excites you.

The knock on your door is sudden, sharp, and entirely unexpected. You freeze mid-sip of your morning coffee, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your apartment like a knife. Three rapid raps, followed by silence. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall—it’s barely 8 AM. Who the hell could that be?

Setting your mug down cautiously, you make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. And there she is: Yuna.

Your ex-girlfriend. The woman who shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces years ago. She stands there, radiant as ever, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that used to make your stomach flip. Now, all it does is twist into knots.

“Hey,” she says casually, as if it’s totally normal for her to show up at your doorstep after all this time. “Long time no see.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Of all the people you thought might show up unannounced at your door this early in the morning, Yuna was not on the list. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice more curt than you intended.

She shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like she owns the place. “I live next door now. Figured I’d come say hi.” Her tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something in her eyes—something burning, intense, calculated. It makes your skin prickle.

“You live… next door?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, you don’t like it.

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding. She steps past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, her floral perfume lingering in the air as she moves. It’s the same scent she always wore when you were together, and it hits you like a punch to the gut. “Saw your name on the mailbox the other day. Small world, huh?”

“Small world, my ass,” you mutter under your breath, closing the door behind her reluctantly. “This isn’t a coincidence, Yuna. What are you really doing here?”

She turns to face you, her expression softening as she takes a step closer. “I told you. I’m your neighbor now. And… maybe I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between the two of you. “Yeah, actually. It is. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since—” You cut yourself off, the memory of what she did still raw, even after all this time.

Her smile falters, and for a moment, she looks genuinely remorseful. “I know, Y/n. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, selfish, and I regretted it the second it happened. You have no idea how much I’ve beat myself up over it.”

“Not enough, apparently,” you snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She flinches at that, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. But then she squares her shoulders and meets your gaze head-on. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I know you probably hate me, and maybe you should, but… I needed to try. To see if there’s any chance we could start over.”

You stare at her, your mind racing. Start over? After everything? She can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the look in her eyes tells you she is. Dead serious.

“Yuna,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully. “We’re not the same people we were back then. And even if we were, what you did… that’s not something you just ‘start over’ from.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But… can we at least try to be civil? As neighbors? Maybe even… friends?”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. Friends. Yeah, right. Friends don’t do what she did. Friends don’t destroy trust the way she did. And yet, looking at her now, with her wide, pleading eyes and perfectly pouty lips, it’s hard to stay mad. Harder than you want to admit.

“I don’t know, Yuna,” you say finally, sighing. “This is… a lot.”

“I get it,” she says quickly. “And I’ll give you all the space you need. But just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay? Think about us.”

Before you can respond, she steps forward, closing the distance between you. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you—and part of you wants her to, despite everything. But instead, she simply brushes her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then she’s gone, slipping out the door as quickly as she came, leaving you standing there, confused, annoyed, and—damn it—curious.

Over the next few days, Yuna becomes impossible to ignore. Every time you leave your apartment, she’s there, whether it’s in the hallway, by the elevator, or even at the gym. She’s always polite, always friendly, but there’s an underlying tension that neither of you acknowledges. A tension that grows thicker with each passing day.

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she knocks on your door again, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a coy smile on her face. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Thought you might want some company tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding the spatula in your hand like a weapon. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” she replies, pushing past you into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, by the way. What are we having?”

“Steak,” you say automatically before catching yourself. “Wait, no. I’m having steak. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

She grins, setting the wine bottle on the counter and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer like she belongs here. “Oh, come on. You can’t eat all that by yourself. Besides, we need to talk.”

“About what?” you ask warily, watching as she expertly uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

She hands you one, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels far too intentional. “About us. About… what happens next.”

You take a sip of the wine, mostly to buy yourself time to think. “There is no ‘us,’ Yuna. Not anymore.”

She leans against the counter, her body language relaxed but her eyes intense. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always been an ‘us.’ Even when we weren’t together, even when I screwed everything up… there was always something between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words stick in your throat because… god damn it, she’s right. There is something between you. Something electric, magnetic, undeniable. And it’s been there from the moment she showed up at your door.

But you can’t let her know that. Not yet.

Instead, you set your wine glass down and turn back to the stove, flipping the steak with more force than necessary. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Yuna.”

She laughs softly, the sound low and sultry. “Maybe. But you’ve always liked danger, remember?”

Your grip tightens on the spatula. Remember? How could you forget? She’s reminding you on purpose, and it’s working. Memories flood your mind—her hands on your skin, her lips on yours, the way she used to whisper your name in the dark.

“Dinner’s ready,” you say abruptly, plating the steak and handing her a plate. If nothing else, maybe eating will shut her up.

But as the two of you sit down at the table, the tension only grows thicker. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh sends sparks flying. By the time you finish eating, the air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yuna says, standing up and moving closer to you. “It was… delicious.”

She’s not talking about the food, and you both know it.

You stand too, your heart pounding in your chest as she reaches out, her fingertips grazing your jawline. “Yuna,” you warn, your voice husky.

“Yes?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to yours.

“Don’t—”

But before you can finish, she closes the gap, her mouth crashing into yours like a tidal wave.

And just like that, you’re lost.

Her lips are warm, insistent, and achingly familiar. The moment she kisses you, a flood of memories rushes back—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises, the way her body fit perfectly against yours. But this isn’t that time. This is now, and despite everything, your body betrays you. Your hands instinctively move to her waist, pulling her closer as if they have a mind of their own.

Yuna deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft moan escapes her throat, muffled by the heat of your mouths colliding. Her fingers weave through your hair, tugging gently but firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her breath hot and uneven, “I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a confession, raw and unfiltered. You want to push her away, to remind yourself of why you shouldn’t be doing this, but her touch is magnetic, her presence intoxicating. Your resolve wavers, crumbling under the weight of her longing.

Her hands slide down your chest, fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles through your shirt. They pause at the hem, slipping beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin for the first time in what feels like forever. Her touch ignites something deep within you, a hunger you thought you’d buried long ago.

“Yuna,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, “this isn’t—”

She silences you with another kiss, harder this time, more desperate. Her nails dig lightly into your sides, leaving tingling trails in their wake. When she finally breaks away, her eyes lock onto yours, blazing with something you can’t quite place—need, remorse, or maybe both. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, she sinks to her knees, her hands moving to the button of your jeans. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in the quiet room. This is wrong, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the way her fingers work deftly to free you from the confines of your clothing.

Her breath hitches as she takes you in, her gaze lingering for a moment before she leans forward, her lips brushing against the tip of you. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your hips jerking involuntarily. She smirks up at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sensitive, huh?” she teases, her voice low and husky.

You don’t have time to respond before she takes you fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your length with practiced ease. A groan escapes your lips, your hands tangling in her hair as she moves with a rhythm that leaves you dizzy. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, barely audible over the sound of her sucking you deeper, harder.

She pulls back momentarily, looking up at you through hooded lids. “Do you remember how much you used to love this?” she asks, her voice dripping with sultry anticipation. Before you can answer, she’s swallowing you again, her lips pressing tightly around you as she works her way down your shaft.

Your knees buckle slightly, the sensation overwhelming. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she bobs her head, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The wet sounds fill the room, mingling with her soft sighs and your ragged breaths. It’s messy, desperate, and utterly consuming.

As her pace quickens, so does the ache building in your core. You’re close, too close, and the realization makes your grip on her hair tighten. “Yuna, I—”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Instead, she hums around you, the vibrations making your entire body shudder. Her eyes meet yours again, and there’s a challenge in them, daring you to let go. And you do, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, you release, her name tumbling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. She takes it all, her tongue lapping at you greedily until you’re completely spent, your legs trembling beneath you.

When she finally pulls away, there’s a hint of mischief in her smile, along with something softer, more vulnerable. She stands slowly, her hands resting lightly on your hips as she looks up at you. “You always did taste so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind reeling from what just happened. There’s a part of you that wants to pull her into your arms, to feel her warmth against you. But there’s also a part that feels conflicted, torn between the past and the present, between what you feel and what you know you should do.

Yuna seems to sense your hesitation. She steps closer, her body pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your neck. “I meant what I said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know.”

You swallow hard, your hands hovering at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Yuna".

She leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes searching yours. “Don’t think too much about it,” she says softly. “Just… let me make you feel good. Like I used to.”

Her hands slide up your chest, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as she traces the lines of your body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” she admits, her voice filled with awe.

Before you can respond, she’s leading you toward the couch, her movements confident yet tender. She pushes you down gently, then straddles your lap, her thighs squeezing your hips as she leans in to kiss you again. Her lips are softer this time, more deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second.

You find your hands moving without conscious thought, gripping her waist, sliding up her back, exploring every inch of her. She lets out a soft sigh, arching into your touch, her body molding against yours like it was made to fit there.

“Tell me you want this,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with need. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But when her hand slips between your bodies, her fingers brushing against the growing heat between her legs, your resolve crumbles completely.

You can’t find the words to respond. Not when her body is pressed so tightly against yours, not when her hand is moving with such purpose, igniting a fire deep within you that you swore had been extinguished long ago. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping her hips as if holding onto them will keep you from losing yourself completely.

Yuna doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t need one. The way your body responds to her touch—the way you instinctively pull her closer—tells her everything she needs to know. Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that make your head spin. Each kiss is deliberate, each move calculated to unravel you further.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. You gasp, your grip tightening on her as she lets out a soft laugh against your collarbone. There it is, you think. That sound. That laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it, but it still hits you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Stop thinking,” Yuna murmurs, her voice low and husky. “Just feel.”

It’s easier said than done. Your mind is racing, torn between the past and the present, between anger and desire. But then her hand slips lower, her fingers wrapping around you, and all thoughts evaporate into nothingness. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Yuna smirks against your skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s more like it,” she says, her breath hot against your ear. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Before you can respond, she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, her hands working quickly to free you from the confines of your clothes. You barely have time to process what’s happening before her mouth is on you, warm and wet and impossible to resist. Your head falls back, a strangled groan escaping your throat as her tongue swirls around you, teasing and taunting in equal measure.

God, you’ve missed this. Missed her. The way she knows exactly how to drive you wild, the way she takes you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but raw, unfiltered sensation. Her mouth moves expertly, drawing you deeper, her hand working in tandem to heighten every touch. You can feel the pressure building, threatening to consume you, and you force yourself to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon.

But Yuna isn’t having it. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Let go,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “I want to hear you.”

And then she’s taking you in again, her movements faster, more urgent. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, but it’s no use. You’re powerless against her, against the way she makes you feel. Your hips buck involuntarily, and Yuna makes a soft noise of approval, encouraging you to keep going.

The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore. With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Yuna doesn’t pull away, not even when you’re spent and trembling, your legs barely able to support you. Instead, she stays where she is, her lips pressing gently against your skin as if savoring the moment.

When she finally stands, there’s a look of pure satisfaction on her face. “Welcome back,” she says softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though your mind is still reeling. “You haven’t lost anything,” you admit, your voice hoarse. “If anything, you’ve gotten better.”

Yuna grins, clearly pleased with your admission. “Practice makes perfect,” she teases, stepping closer to press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, and it only serves to deepen the ache inside you, the need for more.

She pulls away slowly, her hands trailing down your chest as she steps back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, her voice dripping with promise. “Don’t worry—I’ll guide you.”

You’re about to ask what she means when she turns and walks toward your bedroom, her hips swaying with every step. The sight alone is enough to make your pulse quicken, and you follow after her without hesitation, your earlier reservations forgotten.

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Yuna stops at the foot of the bed, turning to face you with a look that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, she begins to undress, each movement deliberate, each inch of skin revealed making your mouth go dry.

When she’s fully naked, she reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Touch me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Show me you remember how.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for her, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She sighs, leaning into your touch as you explore the curves and valleys of her body, rediscovering every part of her that once felt like home. Her breath hitches when your fingers brush over her nipples, and she arches into your touch, silently urging you to continue.

You lower your head, capturing one taut peak between your lips, and she gasps, her hands tangling in your hair. Her scent surrounds you, heady and intoxicating, and you’re desperate for more. Your tongue flicks against her, eliciting another sharp intake of breath, and you can feel her pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“Y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

You know what she wants. What she needs. And you’re more than willing to give it to her.

As if on cue, the opening notes of your favorite song drift through the speakers in the corner of the room. The melody is soft and slow, filling the space with a quiet intimacy that makes the moment feel even more significant somehow. Yuna’s eyes meet yours, and there’s something in her gaze—something tender and vulnerable—that catches you off guard.

“This song,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “It reminds me of us. Of who we used to be.”

Used to be. The words echo in your mind, stirring memories you’d tried so hard to forget. Late-night drives, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. All of it comes rushing back, overwhelming you with emotions you thought you’d buried long ago.

Yuna seems to sense the shift in your mood because she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re not those people anymore,” she admits, her voice heavy with regret. “But maybe… maybe we can be something better.”

You don’t respond—you can’t. Not when your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. But then she’s guiding you toward the bed, her touch firm yet gentle, and all you can do is follow.

The sheets are cool against your skin as you lie down, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat. Yuna’s lips find yours again, her kiss slow and languid, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

Yuna’s fingers trail down your chest, her touch light but deliberate, sending shivers through your body. She pauses at the hem of her shirt, her gaze locking with yours as if silently asking for permission. You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, and she pulls the fabric over her head, revealing herself to you in the soft glow of the bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire.

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes your heart ache. “Touch me,” she whispers, guiding your hands to her waist. Her skin is warm beneath your palms, smooth and inviting, and you feel the faint tremor of her breath as you slide your hands upward.

Her breasts fit perfectly in your hands, soft yet firm, and you thumb over her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, their intensity burning into you.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

You don’t. You can’t. Every part of you is drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and you lose yourself in the sensation of her skin against yours. Your fingers trace the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverent touch, as if committing her to memory all over again.

Her hands move to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. The cool air brushes against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her body. She straddles you, her thighs pressing against your hips, and you can feel the wetness between her legs as she grinds against you.

“God, I missed this,” she moans, her head tipping back as she rocks her hips against yours. “I missed you.”

You grip her hips, guiding her movements as your own arousal builds. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she loses herself in the rhythm. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin just enough to leave marks, and the sting only adds to the fire coursing through your veins.

“Yuna,” you groan, your voice rough with desperation. “I need you.”

She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then take me,” she murmurs against your mouth. “Take me like you used to.”

Her words ignite something primal within you, and you flip her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, quickly replaced by a low moan as you press yourself against her, your length teasing her entrance.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice strained with restraint.

She nods, her eyes dark with desire. “Please,” she begs, her hips lifting to meet yours. “I need you inside me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With a slow, steady thrust, you enter her, both of you groaning in unison at the sensation. She’s tight, her walls clenching around you as if trying to pull you deeper, and you savor the feeling of being inside her once again.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you begin to move. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to draw out the pleasure for both of you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as she gasps your name, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Faster,” she urges, her nails scraping down your back. “Harder.”

You oblige, increasing your pace as her pleas grow more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her body tightening around you as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Y/N… Y/N, I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as she clings to you. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you whisper, “Let go, Yuna. I’ve got you.”

Her climax hits her hard, her body convulsing around you as she cries out your name. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, you spill yourself inside her, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crash over you.

For several moments, neither of you moves, content to simply bask in the afterglow. Her fingers stroke your back, her touch tender and soothing, and you press a soft kiss to her shoulder before finally pulling away.

She looks up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you reply, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How could I forget?”

She smiles, though there’s a sadness in her expression that makes your chest tighten. “I wish things were different,” she says softly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”

“We can’t change the past,” you tell her, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “But maybe… maybe we can start over.”

Her eyes widen, hope flickering in their depths. “Do you mean that?”

Before you can answer, she kisses you again, her lips pouring everything she can’t say into the gesture. And as you kiss her back, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance you’ve both been waiting

The kiss deepens, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she's afraid to let you go. You can feel her trembling beneath you, a mix of hope, longing, and fear coursing through her. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it," you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "But if we're going to start over, things have to be different, Yuna. No secrets, no lies. We need to be honest with each other-completely."

She nods quickly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to commit every detail to memory. "I promise," she whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Y/n. I've lost you once, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Her words tug at something deep inside you, a flicker of the love you once shared beginning to reignite. But there's still a part of you that's wary, a part that remembers the pain of betrayal and the sleepless nights spent wondering what you did wrong.

"Starting over doesn't mean forgetting," you say, your tone firm but gentle. "We both need to face what happened before we can move forward. Do you understand that?"

"I do," she says, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll earn back your trust, Y/n, no matter how long it takes."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past hangs heavy between you, but so does the possibility of something new, something better.

"Alright," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try."

The relief that washes over her is palpable, and she throws her arms around you, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment. "Thank you," she murmurs against your chest. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

As you hold her, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision. The road ahead won't be easy-rebuilding what you had will take time, patience, and an unshakable commitment from both of you. But as you feel her heart beating against yours, you realize that some risks are worth taking.

Later that night, as the two of you lie tangled together in the sheets, Yuna's head resting on your chest, she traces lav patterns on your skin with her fingertips.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at you. "Because I want you to be in mine," she says, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I know it's too soon to say things like that, but. I need you to know how I feel. You're not just a second chance for me, Y/n. You're my only chance."

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you're left speechless. But as you look into her eyes, you realize that despite everything, a part of you still loves her-still wants to believe that the two of you can build something beautiful together.

Taking her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm and meet her gaze. "If we're going to do this, we take it one step at a time," you say. "No rushing, no expectations. Just us, figuring things out as we go."

She smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "I can live with that," she says.

And as you lie there together, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain after all.

The soft rays of morning sunlight stream through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle golden hue. You stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness from the night before, and glance down at Yuna, who is still curled up against you. Her fiery red hair is a mess, splayed out across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly in her sleep.

You chuckle to yourself. She looks so peaceful, almost like the Yuna you first fell in love with—before everything became complicated. Not wanting to wake her, you gently untangle yourself from her grasp and slip out of bed.

Padding to the kitchen, you open the fridge and rummage through its contents. Eggs, cheese, a few vegetables—simple but enough for a decent breakfast. As you crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk them, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her reaction.

The smell of sizzling butter and the aroma of freshly scrambled eggs mixed with melted cheese begins to fill the apartment. You chop some green onions and sprinkle them over the eggs, adding a touch of color. The satisfying sizzle echoes through the quiet space, and before long, the scent has spread to every corner of the room.

Behind you, you hear a sleepy groan, followed by the soft rustling of sheets.

“Mm… what’s that smell?” Yuna’s groggy voice floats through the air.

You glance over your shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, her hair adorably disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She rubs at them lazily before focusing on you, a small smile spreading across her face as she watches you at the stove.

“You’re up early,” she says, her voice teasing. “And cooking? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you reply, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “Just thought you might be hungry when you woke up.”

She grins, propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re full of surprises, Y/n. I don’t remember you cooking much before. In fact…” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Didn’t your cooking use to suck?”

You snort, shaking your head as you grab a couple of plates and start plating the food. “I’ve improved, believe it or not. You’d be surprised what a person can learn when they’re fending for themselves.”

“Well,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

As she approaches the kitchen, still dressed in your oversized shirt from the night before, she leans against the counter, watching you with a playful smirk. You hand her a plate, and she raises an eyebrow as she inspects the food.

“Eggs, cheese, green onions… simple but promising,” she says, lifting a fork.

You roll your eyes. “Just eat, critic.”

She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression shifts, and for a moment, you can’t tell if she’s impressed or just messing with you.

“Well?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her.

She swallows, placing the fork down dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Not bad, chef. Not bad at all. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” you repeat, feigning offense. “What’s keeping me from a ten?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Maybe it’s missing… love?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling as she takes another bite. “But seriously, Y/n, this is good. I guess you really have changed.”

Her words carry more weight than you expect, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere gives way to something deeper. She looks up at you, her expression softening.

“You’ve grown a lot,” she says quietly. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you take care of things. It’s… inspiring.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you shrug it off casually. “Well, I had to grow up eventually.”

Yuna reaches across the counter, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m glad I get to see this version of you,” she says softly.

You meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The past, the present, and the uncertain future all blur together, leaving only the fragile connection you’re trying to rebuild.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” you say, your voice steady.

She nods, her smile warm and genuine. “One day at a time.”

And as the morning sunlight fills the room, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, the day ahead doesn’t feel so daunting.

The decision to give Yuna another chance weighs heavily on your mind, like standing at the edge of a precipice. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake—your heart, your trust, and maybe even your peace of mind. But something about her feels different this time. Or maybe it’s the part of you that never stopped loving her, hoping against hope that this time, things might be different.

The two of you start slow, agreeing to rebuild your relationship step by step. Date nights become a regular thing—dinners, quiet walks in the park, or just staying in and watching movies together. Each moment feels like a cautious dance, balancing hope and fear, love and doubt.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch with her, a bowl of popcorn between you and an old rom-com playing on the screen. Yuna leans against your shoulder, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. It’s a quiet, domestic moment, but your thoughts are anything but calm.

“Y/n,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you reply, glancing down at her.

She hesitates, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you… still think about it? What I did?”

Her question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the TV but not really seeing it.

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. “I think about it sometimes. It’s hard not to.”

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes are filled with guilt and fear, and you can see the words she wants to say but can’t quite bring herself to voice.

“But I’m trying,” you continue, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to let go of the past. To focus on what we have now.”

Her hand tightens on your leg, and she leans into you again, her face pressed against your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe not,” you say lightly, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m giving you a chance anyway. So don’t mess it up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but you can feel the tension in her body start to ease. “I won’t,” she promises. “I swear, Y/n. I won’t mess this up.”

The days turn into weeks, and you begin to notice the subtle changes in Yuna. She’s more thoughtful now, more attentive. She goes out of her way to show you how much she cares, whether it’s through small gestures like cooking your favorite meals or leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day.

But there are still moments when doubt creeps in—when you catch her staring off into the distance with a troubled look or when a conversation reminds you of the cracks that once broke your relationship apart.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, you decide to confront it head-on.

“Yuna,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

She turns to face you, her eyes wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause. “Actually… I just need to ask you something.”

She nods, sitting up slightly. “What is it?”

“Why now?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with curiosity. “Why come back now, after everything?”

She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. “Because I realized how stupid I was,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I let go of the best thing that ever happened to me, and for what? A fleeting moment of… I don’t even know what. I hated myself for hurting you, Y/n. I still do. But when I saw you again, I thought… maybe this is my chance to make it right.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered. You can see the pain in her eyes, the regret that she carries with her every day.

“I can’t promise I’ll forget,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort, too.”

She nods quickly, tears brimming in her eyes. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/n. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You reach out, cupping her face in your hands. “You don’t have to prove anything, Yuna. Just… be honest with me. Be real. That’s all I want.”

“I will,” she whispers, leaning into your touch.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down, piece by piece. It’s not easy—trust is fragile, and the scars of the past don’t fade overnight. But with each shared laugh, each tender moment, and each promise kept, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, you and Yuna can make this work.

But deep down, you know you’re playing with fire. One wrong move, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down.

And yet, as you lie beside her, her head resting on your chest and her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, you can’t help but think that some risks are worth taking.

For now, you’ll take it one day at a time.

The day feels surreal, the kind of quiet that makes you question how you got here. Yuna is by your side, her arms wrapped around yours as you both walk the short distance from her apartment to yours, carrying the last of her belongings.

She giggles, the sound light and musical, and leans her head against your shoulder. "It feels strange, doesn’t it?" she says, her voice filled with warmth. "Moving in together after all this time… like we’ve come full circle."

You glance at her, your emotions a tangled web. Her hair is back to the soft brown shade you once adored, framing her face in a way that makes her look like the girl you fell for all those years ago. But she’s not the same, and neither are you. The ghosts of the past linger, no matter how much effort you both put into rebuilding what was broken.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, your grip tightening slightly on the bag you’re carrying. “It’s… strange.”

Reaching your apartment, you set the bags down by the door. Yuna takes a step inside, looking around with a contented smile. She turns to you, her arms outstretched, and pulls you into a hug.

“You’ve made this place feel like home,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed against your chest.

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around her, the familiar scent of her shampoo flooding your senses. “It’s home because you’re here now,” you say, the words sounding both true and heavy.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I never thought I’d get this chance, Y/n. To be with you again. To… to have a family with you.”

Her hands move to her stomach, and she caresses it gently, the motion so tender it tugs at something deep within you. Your eyes follow the gesture, and for a moment, the reality of it all washes over you like a tidal wave.

A family. A future. With her.

Your gaze shifts to the wedding ring on her finger—a symbol of the promises you made, the commitment you’re trying so hard to uphold. It feels heavy, like a chain and a lifeline all at once.

Yuna notices your silence and tilts her head, her smile soft but questioning. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, forcing a small smile. “Just… thinking about everything. About us.”

She steps closer, her hands resting on your chest as she gazes up at you. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” she says quietly. “And I know I hurt you before. But I swear, Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To us.”

Her words are earnest, filled with a love that feels overwhelming in its intensity. You nod, though the knot in your chest remains. “I know you will.”

She smiles again, her joy infectious as she intertwines her fingers with yours. “Let’s make dinner together tonight,” she suggests, her tone light. “You can show off those cooking skills of yours again.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Only if you promise not to criticize too much.”

“No promises,” she teases, leaning up to kiss your cheek.

As the two of you begin unpacking her belongings, the room fills with her laughter and the faint sound of music playing in the background. She moves with a lightness you haven’t seen in years, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to believe in the happiness you’re building together.

But as you watch her carefully place a photo of the two of you on the shelf—a relic from the early days of your love—you can’t shake the mixed feelings swirling in your chest.

You want this to work. You need it to work. But the scars of the past don’t fade so easily, and the weight of what you’re risking—your heart, your trust, your future—hangs heavily in the air.

Still, when Yuna looks at you with that radiant smile, her hand resting protectively over the life you’ve created together, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

I keep going over the world we knew (p.2)

a player 230/ Thanos/ Su-Bong x fem!reader fic

summary: “It had always been him and her against the world. But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world?”

warnings: none really except the usual Thanos/Squid Game stuff. Maybe slightly ooc Thanos? , Written in my notes app.

note: not gonna lie, I originally planned for this to only have 2 parts BUT I decided taking my time with it and all that gives it a nice pace.

Hope you enjoy!!!

🏷️: @l5byrinth , @wpdarlingpan , @lollipopsandstuff

Part 1 <3

The night after the second game was far too quiet for Thanos to ignore the gnawing feeling that had settled in his chest ever since coming back to the dorm. He had survived the games with a cold mix of calculated precision and blasting his brain to the moon with drugs. But neither the success , nor the growing amount of money in the ever present piggy bank was enough to drown out the nagging ache in his ribs when he thought of [Y/N].

His [Y/N].

The way she moved with a sense of confidence and purpose that was simply too authentic to be fake. The way she had shut him out so quickly, eyes never seeming to truly look at him. Gods did he long for that familiar gaze to land on him. To rediscover that warmth he had once found in it. By now it had been years since Thanos had last spoken to her—since he’d ruined everything. But the memories, the raw, untouched feelings, were still there. Unforgiven. Unwavering. Never truly gone.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t affecting him. Not even with several of his colourful pills pumping through his system.

Thanos’ eyes drifted across the darkened room, only stopping when he had found [Y/N]’s form a few beds down from his. She was sitting there, still as stone, eyes staring straight ahead with that same unreadable expression she had been wearing ever since the first game. Not a single word had passed between them since their brief interaction during the last game. But ,despite how it might seem, Thanos wasn’t stupid. He could feel the tension in the air whenever their paths crossed.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way. Especially not when his survival instincts kicked in so loudly, demanding every ounce of his energy to focus on the prize. “Win the money , pay off your debt.” had become the silent mantra in his brain. But that was the thing with [Y/N], she had always been able to pull at the strings of something deep inside him, something far more complicated than any strategy or skill. Something deeply ,deeply personal.

“Hey do you think I could-“ Nam-Guy -or whatever his name was- popped into Thanos’ field of vision. With an annoyed sigh, the purple haired player stood up. “Not now.” He muttered, putting both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders, turning him to the bed next to his. “Talk to him instead.” Baffled Nam-Gyu looked over his shoulder, surprise in his voice as he exclaimed a “What-“. But Thanos was already halfway across the room, shoes making quiet thuds against the floor as he made his way over to [Y/N]’s cot.

“You know,” Thanos came to a halt on one of the lower steps that rested between the beds, resting his arms on [Y/N]’s mattress as he propped up his head. Thanos’ voice was calm. Almost too calm to [Y/N]’s ears, judging by the gravity of the situation they had found themselves in. “Staring at the wall isn't going to change anything."

Thanos leaned against the bed frame, his usual cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched [Y/N]. She was sitting still as a stone with an expression colder than ice. Not once had she bothered to look at him since he had approached her bed, and that infuriated him.

“Are you really gonna sit there like you don’t know who I am?” he drawled, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You know, I’m starting to feel like a ghost. And I’m not really the type to fade into the background, you know?”

[Y/N] fought the urge to roll her eyes, choosing to ignore the purple haired pain-in-the-ass who she had once called her best friend.

“Well, if it helps, I can try and get a little more dramatic,” Thanos said, pushing himself off the bedframe in order to lean in closer, reducing the distance between them. “Maybe I’ll do a little tap dance or something. You seem like you’d appreciate the effort.”

At that [Y/N] finally glanced at him, but only for a brief moment, before turning her gaze back to the wall. "You’re a real piece of work, Su-Bong," she muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for him to catch the venom in her words. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. I’m one of a kind.” His voice was playful, but there was an edge to it, a challenge in his tone. “And I’m starting to think you don’t even remember who I am anymore.” [Y/N] shot him a glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, I remember exactly who you are, Su-Bong. And that's the problem."

The words hit him like a splash of cold water, but he refused to let it show. He leaned in closer, deliberately invading her space, his eyes gleaming with that familiar cockiness. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She met his gaze with a fiery intensity. “It means that you left. You walked away, and I’m still here, cleaning up your mess. So yeah, I remember you. And I remember how it felt to have you pull away like I meant nothing.”

Thanos laughed, but it was dry, forced. “Jesus, you’ve got a way with words, don’t you? You know, I thought you’d be more fun to mess with, but I forgot how good you were at throwing guilt trips. Really good.”

“Guilt trips?” [Y/N] turned her body to face him fully now, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sheer hurt. “No, Su-Bong, this isn’t about guilt. It’s about the fact that you’re standing there, pretending like it’s all fine now, when you did leave. You disappeared, and now you expect everything to just magically go back to how it was? Is that it? You think I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to waltz back in with your pretty purple hair and expect me to just forgive you?”

Thanos smirked. “I don’t expect anything from you. But you might want to reconsider that little attitude of yours. It’s really not helping the situation.”

“You think I care about your situation?” she snapped, her voice louder. “You think I’ve been sitting here, all starry-eyed, just waiting for you to get your shit together? Newsflash: I’m done doing that. I’m done with you, Su-Bong.”

The weight of [Y/N]’s words hung heavy in the air, the tension between the estranged pair was palpable. Thanos was about to speak again, something sharp and cutting on the tip of his tongue, when the loudspeaker's monotone voice sliced through the silence, calling the players to line up for food.

Without as much as a glance, [Y/N] brushed past Thanos as though he were invisible, the force of her shoulder knocking him slightly off balance. Her gaze was firmly locked onto the middle of the room as she began walking toward the food line, every step measured, holding that unwavering confidence.

For a moment, Thanos stood there, frozen in place. The argument had been abruptly interrupted, but the sting of her words and her rejection lingered in the air like smoke. As the others began to shuffle toward the line, he realized there was nothing left to say—at least, not now. The silence between them was louder than any argument ever could be.

[janeyseymour]

Overheated

Summary: sometimes you faint. a certain someone is always there to catch you.

WC: ~2.3k

“Melissa, I’m fine,” you grumble as you roll out of bed that day. “Just PMS.”

“And you know how that shit knocks you out,” your wife mutters, although she does allow you to get up. She knows you’ve already used your sick days earlier in the year when you caught the flu.

“Well, it can’t today,” you grunt and groan as you change into your work clothes. “I can’t afford to not get paid, and I don’t want Mr. J as my sub again.”

“I told you, we can survive without one day of your pay if you really feel as shitty as I think you do,” Melissa tells you as she snakes her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

You turn slightly in her arms to kiss her softly. “I know, but I really don’t need Mr. J teaching my kids that the moon landing was fake.”

“You know my thoughts on that conspiracy theory,” the redhead chuckles softly as she lets you go. When you grimace in pain, she mumbles to herself, “Can’t forget the heating pad and Midol today.”

“And Excedrin,” you whine.

“Hun, if your head is pounding too,” Melissa looks to you with sympathy.

You stand strong though. “I’m going. I’ll just teach with the lights off and from my desk today.”

“Stubborn as a Schemmenti,” your wife rolls her eyes. “I swear.”

“I am a Schemmenti now,” you quip with a smirk before you feel a shoot pain that causes you to wince.

“And I am so thankful for that,” Melissa promises you as she kisses your head again. With that, the two of you head down the steps for breakfast.

Your breakfast is, while painful, a wonderfully quiet and warm haze. Your wife all but forces you to sit at the table while she prepares the coffee and meal, along with handing you the hot water bottle for you to hold to your abdomen.

As you leave for work, you would venture to say that you feel slightly better than you did when you first woke up. Still, you know you probably shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You vow to yourself (and your fiercely protective spouse) that you’ll do everything you can to teach from your chair today.

For whatever reason, your students are completely out of hand today in every single way. From the second they step into your classroom, you can tell it’s going to be a terrible day- a day where no matter how much you want to resign yourself to sitting in your chair, you simply can’t. You find yourself hovering over your students no matter what their assignment is, pacing the aisles that you’ve created in your classroom. It’s terrible- completely and utterly horrid. You can’t sit with your heating pad, you didn’t even bring a hot water bottle, your head has started to pound again with the class’s volume. It’s absurd.

When lunch time comes around for your students, you practically drag them down- hopeful for a full lunch period of peace and quiet in your classroom; you’ve already decided that you aren’t making it to the staff lounge today. Instead you’ll take your wife’s teasing at the fact that you are so unwell that you couldn’t even fathom coming to have lunch with her.

But of course, because as the universe decides, you don’t get to treat yourself to a quiet lunch. No, instead, you’re running around like an idiot trying to make sure that you’re students all have lunch, and when you think you’ll be able to go for the last ten minutes to eat your lunch in silence, you’re pulled into an issue surrounding your student who hasn’t had lunch money for the past two weeks (a problem unknown to you).

You go in circles with Shanae for a few minutes before you finally roll your eyes and fork over the money in order to get him a lunch and placate the irritable lunch lady.

“Coulda done that in the first place,” she grumbles as she snatches the money from your hand and begins to count it.

At this point, you only have about five minutes left of your lunch time. There’s no use in going to back to your classroom- not when you would just have to turn right back around. So instead, you sit in the hallway for the last few minutes before leading them back down to your classroom.

You think to yourself that you’ll just eat while your kids have their special, only to realize that you indeed do not have a special. You lost the only time to yourself today. You sigh as you instruct your students to get out a book for five minutes while you collect yourself again.

Hastily, you reach for your phone, hoping to convince your wife to bring you your meal from the staffroom. Upon the device lighting up, you see quite a few concerned messages from Melissa.

You coming down for lunch?

Hun?

I’m coming to your room.

Did you leave early?

And then a few minutes later, the last text comes in. Saw you in the cafeteria. Love you.

Sorry, you respond. Had an issue with Taijon’s lunch and left my phone in the classroom. Do you think you have a few minutes to bring me my lunch?

I can’t, your wife texts. I don’t have prep today- with the gym teacher out. I’m sorry hun. Are you okay? I can have Barb head down during her prep?

No, no, don’t bother her. I’ll be fine.

Are you fine?

I will be, you send before setting your phone down and starting class again. 

It turns out, as luck would have it, that you are indeed not fine. Despite the Diet Coke that you put into your purse this morning for an extra jolt of caffeine, your head is still pounding, you’re absolutely exhausted, and your cramps are only getting worse. Whether they’re getting worse because your period is incoming or if it’s because you haven’t eaten anything other than the few bites of breakfast you could manage because of your nausea, who can say. 

Your wife sees how pale and slightly green you look while you’re dismissing your students. She knows that tonight is going to be an early night, one with a heating pad pressed against your abdomen, and in turn, hers because you’ll be laying on top of her.

“How’re you feeling?” she still asks you as she makes her way over.

“Fine,” you grumble. “Just want to get home.”

“As soon as all of the kids are gone, we can sneak out. Yeah?” You can only nod.

It’s a few minutes later that all of your kids have left the school grounds, and you sigh in slight discomfort as you make your way back into the school. You’re starting to feel warmer and warmer, and the redhead has an arm around your waist the entire walk down to your classroom, where she gathers your things for you and slings them over her shoulder. And then the two of you are making your way down to her classroom. And while you really did think you were fine- that you just had to make it home before collapsing onto the couch and staying there until it was time to retire for bed- but it turns out you aren’t. You start to stumble just slightly as a wave of dizziness hits you to accompany the hot flash you seem to be in the middle of. 

“Hun?” Melissa’s eyes quickly dart to you as she feels just the slightest shift in weight.

You’re able to catch yourself on her doorframe. “I’m good. Just a little-”

And then you go down. Melissa’s one arm isn’t strong enough to hold you up as you faint in her arm. To her credit though, your wife does try to grab you with her other hand. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough, and her engagement ring manages to catch on the skin of your cheek as she flounders to reach for you and cuts you.

“Fuck!” your wife yells out loud enough to attract the attention of the teachers who have also come inside. Barbara is the first one to run to Melissa’s room- only to see you on the floor with a bloody cheek that is now spilling onto the carpet.

“Oh dear God!” the kindergarten teacher sputters as she kneels down beside you and the redhead. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know,” Melissa mutters as she lays you down on your back. “She hasn’t been feeling well, but I-”

You open your eyes groggily, only to groan at the florescent lights hitting you. You screw them shut again.

“Mi amore,” your wife mumbles as she presses a tissue to your cheek. Then she turns to look at Barbara. “Can you grab me her bottle of water?”

No sooner is your water bottle straw being brought to your lips as Melissa props you up, and you take a sip quickly. And then you’re trying to sit up on your own and pull the tissue catching your blood from your face. Strong hands just keep you on the ground though.

“Lis, I’m perfectly-”

“Did you want to finish that thought?” the redhead interrupts you. “Did you want to finish blaming that you’re perfectly fine? Or are you going to faint again?”

You jut out your bottom lip as you succeed in pulling the tissue away from you cheek. “Be nice to me,” you pout. “I’m injured, and not feeling well.”

Green eyes are rolled with such love. “Oh, so now you admit it? There’s blood on my floor.”

“I’ll clean it up.” You go to move, but once again, you’re glued to the woman holding you in her arms.

“Like hell you will,” Melissa mumbles as she presses a kiss to your unmarked cheek. “What you will be doing is laying on the floor for a few minutes while I clean it up, and then we’re going home.”

“Dear, why did you faint?” Barbara asks as she switches places with the redhead. “Did you eat today?”

You hum softly as you take another sip of water. “I had a few bites of breakfast this morning, but that’s all I could manage.”

“No wonder you passed out. Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

You shrug.

“Or ask one of us to bring it to you?”

Again, you shrug. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Next time,” both older women grumble. “Be a smaller bother than fainting after school.”

“Noted.”

It’s only a few minutes later that you’re feeling well enough to sit up on your own. And when you go to stand, you find that you’re instead being swept off your feet and into the arms of your wife.

“You’re not fainting again,” Melissa tells you sternly. She whisks you out of the classroom and in the direction of your cars, leaving Barbara to follow along with all of your belongings.

“Guys,” you grumble, although you do wrap your arms around Melissa’s neck and lean into her slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Fine my ass,” Melissa huffs as she sets you down in the passenger seat. She turns to the kindergarten teacher and takes both of your belongs before sighing. “Thanks for the help, Barb.”

“Anything for family,” the woman smiles sweetly, although then she turns to you with a stern look. “I do hope that you won’t be making a habit of this though.”

You turn red under Barbara’s steely gaze. “I won’t.” 

Since that first incident, you’ve been a lot better about taking care of yourself- although you do have to admit that sometimes you’re only remembering to take care of yourself because of your wonderful wife (and Barbara, at times). You don’t end up fainting at school again- thank goodness.

Well, that is until you’re attempting to hide the fact that you’re pregnant. You and your wife had only recently discovered that you were with child.

It’s May- an unusually hot month that you’re sitting in a school without air conditioning. You can feel the flush in your cheeks as you’re sitting in the staff room with your coworkers, your wife’s hand resting warmly on your thigh.

“Off,” you mumble as you practically throw her hand off of you and begin to fan yourself with your hand.

The redhead looks at you, clearly confused, but then she sees the red in your cheeks, and she knows you’re going through a hot flash- one of the few symptoms that you’ve had of this pregnancy so far.

“Are you-” and then you go down.

Melissa, who had dealt with this a few times (the first time being when you had passed out and she forced you to take a test), moves in a calm and purposeful manner. She has the lollipop to help with the nausea that is bound to overtake you, your water bottle, and then she’s down by your side quickly.

“She’s eating!” Barbara shouts in disbelief. “How could she faint?!”

When you come to a few seconds later, you let out a heavy sigh. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“If you knew you were getting overheated, you should’ve asked for an ice pack like you do at home,” you wife tuts.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you take a few sips of water.

“This isn’t good for you or the baby,” Melissa sighs, entirely forgetting where she’s at in the moment. The only thing she cares about is you.

“The what?!” Jacob practically shouts, being the first one to hear this news and let it sink in.

“You’re with child?!” Barbara cries not a moment later.

You bite your lip and look to your wife, who is about as red as her hair. “Uhm… surprise?”

Tags

 (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @schmentisgf

[77zrose]

ZB1 REALISING THEY FELL FOR THEIR BESTFRIEND

genre : ot9, fluff “ 🧺 .*

김지웅 kim jiwoong

Jiwoong would notice his feelings quietly, during a moment when you’re laughing or doing something mundane. He’d feel a pang in his chest and think, Why does this feel so different now? Jiwoong is someone who values control over his emotions, so he’d likely try to keep things normal.

Over time, his actions would subtly shift. He’d linger a bit too long after walking you home, or his texts would become more thoughtful. One evening, as you both sit on a park bench under the stars, he’d finally let his feelings slip.

Jiwoong: “You know, being with you makes everything feel… easier. Happier. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I… I think I’ve fallen for you. I don’t want to risk ruining what we have, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

성한빈 sung hanbin

Hanbin’s first instinct upon realizing his feelings would be panic. He’d smile through the confusion, but internally he’d be thinking, This can’t be happening. What if I ruin our friendship? He’d probably talk to someone he trusts to figure out what to do, all while being extra attentive toward you.

One evening, after you’ve spent the day together laughing and sharing stories, he’d muster the courage to bring it up.

Hanbin: “I’ve been meaning to tell you something… I think I’ve started seeing you differently lately. I’m not sure when it happened, but… I think I’ve fallen for you. I care about you so much, and I just hope you can feel the same.”

장하오 zhanghao

Zhanghao’s realization would hit him during a quiet moment—like when you’re both reading or working on something together. He’d glance at you and suddenly feel his heart race. His first thought would be, Oh no… this is dangerous.

Zhanghao isn’t one to bottle things up for too long. After spending a week analyzing his feelings, he’d decide to confess in a straightforward but warm way. Over coffee, he’d break the silence.

Zhanghao: “I need to tell you something, and I want you to know I’ve thought about it carefully. I think I’ve fallen for you. I know this changes everything, but you’re too important for me to not be honest.”

석매튜 seok matthew

Matthew would be adorably clumsy about the whole situation. When he first realizes he has feelings for you, he’d start stammering or avoiding eye contact whenever you’re around. He’d try to act normal, but his little gestures—like remembering your favorite drink or texting you late at night—would give him away.

Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in. During a casual hangout, he’d blurt it out unexpectedly.

Matthew: “Okay, I can’t keep this in anymore! I like you. Like, really like you. You’re my best friend, and I know this might sound crazy, but I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

김태래 kim taerae

Taerae’s feelings would sneak up on him gradually. He’d notice how much happier he feels when you’re around, how your smile stays in his mind long after you’ve left. Being the artistic and emotional person he is, he’d likely channel his emotions into music first.

One day, he’d ask you to listen to a song he wrote. As the melody fills the air, the lyrics would describe his feelings—how he fell for his best friend and is scared but hopeful. When the song ends, he’d look at you nervously.

Taerae: “I’ve been writing this for a while because I didn’t know how else to tell you… I like you. More than just a friend.”

리키 ricky

Ricky would try to act like nothing’s changed, but his behavior would say otherwise. He’d tease you more often, throwing playful comments your way to hide his nervousness. Behind the scenes, he’d overthink every interaction, wondering if you feel the same.

Eventually, his confident exterior would crack, and he’d decide to tell you in his own charming way. During a late-night walk, he’d turn to you with a soft smile.

Ricky: “You know, you’re the only person who can make me nervous. I realized it’s because I’ve started liking you—more than a friend should. I don’t know how you feel, but I had to tell you.”

김규빈 kim gyuvin

Gyuvin would be hilariously awkward about his feelings. He’d start stumbling over his words around you, his ears turning red whenever you’re near. The other members would tease him relentlessly for how obvious he’s being.

After working up his courage, he’d sit you down one evening and try to explain.

Gyuvin: “Okay, so… this is really hard for me to say, but I like you. Like, really like you. And I know I’m being super awkward, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

박건욱 park gunwook

Gunwook would be in denial at first, brushing off his feelings as just admiration. But when he catches himself thinking about you constantly, he’d realize it’s more than that. He’d try to impress you subtly—showing off his skills or taking extra care to support you.

Finally, he’d choose a bold but heartfelt moment to confess, like when you’re both watching a sunset together.

Gunwook: “You mean a lot to me. More than just a friend. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve fallen for you. And I’d do anything to make you happy, whether or not you feel the same.”

한유진 han yujin

Yujin would be the shyest about his feelings. He’d blush whenever you’re around and would try to avoid making it obvious, but his small acts of kindness—like sharing his snacks or sending you cute messages—would give him away.

One day, he’d finally confess in the sweetest, most innocent way. He’d hand you a small gift, like a handwritten letter, and nervously mumble his feelings.

Yujin: “I… I wanted to tell you something. You’re really important to me, and I think… I think I like you. I know this might be sudden, but I hope you understand how much you mean to me.”

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Sevika/Abby/Ellie: Love letters ✞⛧

Warnings: fluff

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒

Hey Brat,

I don’t know what you want me to say in this. You should know by now that I’m not one for long speeches or anything sappy. But since you’re still here, I guess I’ll give you something to chew on.

You’re mine. That’s the only thing you need to remember. No one else matters. No one else will even get close to you while I’m around. I don’t care if you think it’s possessive or crazy, but you’re not going anywhere. And don’t even try to argue with me about it. You wouldn’t win.

It’s cute how you think you need to take care of me sometimes. You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, but I’ll admit—your little touches, your care, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But don’t go thinking I need you. You’re not my damn therapist, and I’m not your project. But I’ll let you fuss over me anyway, since you seem to enjoy it. I’d kill anyone who made you feel less than adored, so don’t get any bright ideas about being too independent.

You’ve got a good thing going, so don’t fuck it up. I might not say it outright, but I’d burn this whole damn city down before I let anything happen to you. So yeah, maybe I’m a little soft on you. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re not gonna change me, and you’ll never hear me say anything cheesy, like those damn love words. That’s not me.

But in the quiet moments, when you’re all tangled up with me, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Just you. Keep that in mind next time you get all worried.

So, there. That’s your “love letter,” for whatever the hell that means to you. Take it or leave it.

-Sevika

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪

Hey,

I’m not great with words. Never have been. So, you’ll have to bear with me.

I’m not some romantic, and I don’t do the whole love-letter thing. But I guess I owe you this, if only because you’re the one thing in this messed-up world that’s made sense. You’re the constant, the one person who’s been there even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t know if you get that, or if you’ll ever really understand how much that means to me.

I’m not good at talking about feelings—hell, I’m not even sure what they are half the time. But I know this: I trust you. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. And yeah, maybe that’s not saying much, but I’m not exactly the type to let people close. You’ve earned your place, and I’m not just letting anyone in. So, don’t take that lightly.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right, but I’m trying. I’m fighting for something, for us, and I don’t know where that’ll take me, but I know I’ll keep pushing forward as long as you’re by my side. You’re the reason I keep going when it’s easier to quit. You make it worth it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either. We’re both broken in our own ways, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll fight for you. You mean more to me than I can say.

So, yeah. Maybe not the flowery words you expected. But that’s the truth, and it’s the best I can do.

<3 Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

Hey you,

I don’t even know where to start, but I guess that’s pretty typical for me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to say, how to say it, and if I even have the guts to send something like this. But here it is, I guess.

I’m not great with words—never really was. I tend to get stuck in my head, and even when I have something I want to say, it comes out… wrong. But I hope you understand that I mean every word, even if it’s clumsy or awkward.

There’s something about you that makes everything feel… right. Even on the days when I’m a mess, when I forget to text back or I zone out for a bit because my head’s too loud—whenever I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

You make me want to be better, even if I don’t always show it in the best ways. I know I can be a little weird and I overthink things like a lot, but the truth is, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess things up with you. You mean more to me than I’m probably letting on, and sometimes that freaks me out.

I catch myself looking at you sometimes, like I can’t help it, and I know I probably look like an idiot when I get all flustered, but it’s because you’re… I don’t know. You’re just everything to me. It’s hard to explain, but I think you already know.

When I’m with you, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t have to be perfect or say the right things or try to impress anyone. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than just… me. And that’s probably the best gift anyone could give me.

So, yeah. I guess I just wanted to tell you that. You mean the world to me, more than you know. And I’m sorry for all the weirdness, the moments when I get quiet or lost in my thoughts. It’s just… I think about you a lot.

I’ll stop before I get all awkward and ruin this, but I hope you understand.

I love you. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.

Love,

Ellie

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[mmso-notlikethat]

ten years (so sad) …. now what’s that you said about him dying and no one knows for 20-30 years…. 👀

(please please please i need more angst 🙏)

honestly i have no excuse except i wanted to write Tommy's pov and you wanted a longer coma-ish sorry no death (i couldn't)... but this is still way too sad even for me :)...

No MCD, but there is an OC death. / Heavy Angst :)

The first time Tommy realized he wasn’t dead—really knew he was still alive—was after what must have been weeks. Maybe a month. A nurse brushed his arm during a bed change, and he felt it. Faint, like a whisper on his skin, but enough to flood him with hope. He tried to speak, tried to move, but his body betrayed him. His voice was a phantom, his muscles silent.

The nurse left, oblivious.

He wanted to scream. He tried to scream.

Nothing.

After some time—Tommy couldn’t know exactly how much, a couple of months, maybe less or more—Buck showed up. Tommy thought, How…? But the question faded as quickly as it came. Instead, a warmth spread through him, a quiet, desperate relief.

Buck showed up almost every day. Tommy figured Buck must come whenever he wasn’t on shift. He could hear Buck’s voice, steady and warm, as he talked about everything and anything to fill the silence. He talked about Maddie having another baby, about Eddie moving back to El Paso for a while, and then coming back with Christopher.

Sometimes Buck would cry, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Please, Tommy, just wake up. Please.”

Those moments tore Tommy apart. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to wipe away Buck’s tears, to tell him he was still here. But his body refused to cooperate. All he could do was listen, helpless, as Buck poured his heart out beside him.

A year passed.

Tommy didn’t know how he kept track of time, but he felt it move around him.

The nurses would mention dates in passing, news reports played faintly on TV screens in the hallway, and Buck still came. Once or twice a week, like clockwork, Buck sat by his side, talking about the firehouse, Maddie, Jee-Yun, her sister, and the world outside. Tommy tried to listen, to hang on to those words. They were all he had.

But he also noticed the changes. Buck didn’t stay as long as he used to. Sometimes his visits were rushed, his words distracted. Tommy wanted to shout, Don’t go yet. I’m here! I’m still here!

But he couldn’t.

Five years passed.

The visits became less frequent. Buck came once a month now, bringing flowers that always wilted before the next visit. Tommy learned to brace himself for the quiet. He spent his days locked inside his own mind, desperate for some way to communicate, to show anyone that he wasn’t gone. The staff—the nurses, physical therapists, doctors—anyone… But especially Buck.

Whenever Buck came, he brought a presence to the room that Tommy clung to. He talked about everything: the 118’s updates, Maddie’s growing family, Eddie and Chris, and especially Alex, the little boy he had adopted last year. Buck’s voice lit up when he spoke about Alex—how he was starting to babble, how he smiled the brightest at bedtime stories, how he loved to play with his stuffed animals.

Tommy loved hearing about him. He loved Alex, even though he’d never met him. He clung to those stories like lifelines.

One day, Buck sat down heavily in the chair beside him, his voice quieter than usual. “I met someone,” he said, his words hesitant. “Her name is Amelia. She’s… she’s great Tommy. You’d like her.”

Tommy’s heart shattered, but he couldn’t blame Buck. What else was he supposed to do? They weren’t together when this happened. They hadn’t been for months. He shouldn’t have even hoped. Buck deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. And Tommy had no right to feel like this—no right to feel the ache that settled deep in his chest.

Still, the words haunted him long after Buck left.

Ten years passed.

Buck came every three months now, sometimes less. Tommy had given up trying to track the days. He spent most of his time floating in and out of awareness, only rousing when someone touched him or adjusted his position. The staff rarely spoke to him except to comment on his care. He was just another body to them.

The next time Buck visited, his smile was softer, his voice lighter. “I married her,” he said, raising his hand instinctively to show the ring, even though Tommy couldn’t see it. But somehow, Tommy felt it. “Amelia. She’s amazing, Tommy. She’s good for me.”

Tommy’s chest ached, but also, he was happy for Buck. Genuinely happy. Buck deserved this, deserved someone who could be there for him—though he couldn’t move a muscle to show it. He wondered what Amelia was like, what it would feel like to meet her. But all he could do was listen as Buck described a life he would never be part of.

Buck stayed longer this time, the warmth in his voice pulling Tommy out of the haze he lived in most days. “Oh, and uh… I’m a captain now,” Buck said, almost shyly, as though he didn’t want to brag. “Took me long enough, huh? Bobby always said I’d get there. I wish you could’ve been there, Tommy. You would’ve laughed at the whole thing. I was so nervous.” He chuckled softly, the sound tugging at something deep inside Tommy.

Tommy wanted to tell him, Good job, Evan. You deserve that. I’m so proud of you. The words sat heavy in his chest, unsaid and unheard.

A few visits later, Buck shared something that lit up the room. “Amelia’s pregnant,” he said, his happiness spilling into the space like sunlight. “We’re having a baby, Tommy. Can you believe it? Me—a dad again.” He laughed lightly, and Tommy could almost picture the sparkle in his eyes. “I hope the kid turns out as awesome as Alex.”

Tommy was happy for Buck. He truly was. He just wanted to be part of it somehow, maybe in some small way he already was. But he wanted Buck to know—really know—how happy Tommy was for him. How much he wished he could say it, could share in this joy with him.

Fifteen years passed.

Buck’s visits came twice a year now. He still talked, but not as much. There were longer silences as he sat by the bed, looking at Tommy with guilt in his eyes. “Amelia and I… we had a little girl,” he said during one visit. “Her name’s Emma. She’s five now.”

Emma. Tommy committed the name to memory, repeating it over and over in his mind like a prayer. He imagined her laugh, her tiny hands. Did she have Evan’s eyes? His curls? Or maybe she had a birthmark just like him… His thoughts lingered. Maybe she looked like her mother.

He wanted to say, Tell me more. Don’t stop talking about her. But Buck’s voice trailed off, and the silence stretched between them.

Years continued to pass, and when Buck visited again, his voice carried the weight of something Tommy couldn’t place. Alex was 14 now, and Emma was 8. Buck sat heavily in the chair beside him, his words slow and uneven. “She left, Tommy,” he said quietly, his hands wringing together. “Another person left me. I know this time it isn’t anyone’s fault… but this hurts.”

Tommy’s heart twisted, confusion and worry gnawing at him. Who left? Buck didn’t say, and the silence that followed felt different—deeper, darker. He tried to reach out, to say anything, but his body stayed still, his voice trapped.

Frustration bubbled up in Tommy’s chest, followed by a wave of hot, searing anger. Why? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I tell him I’m here? He raged silently, cursing his own body, the years of silence, the cruel trap he was locked in. He wanted to scream, to reach out and shake Buck, to demand answers, to comfort him, to do something. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

The anger simmered as Buck sat there, quiet and heavy with grief. Who left, Evan? he thought frantically. What happened? I’m so sorry, Evan. Please, talk to me. Over and over, Tommy repeated the words in his mind, desperately wishing Buck could hear them. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he wanted to comfort Buck, to take away even a fraction of the pain he could feel radiating off him.

But Buck didn’t say anything more. He sat quietly for a while, then stood and placed a hand gently on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he said softly before walking out of the room.

Tommy was left with his thoughts, his heart breaking for Buck. Whatever had happened, Tommy wanted Buck to know he wasn’t alone—even if he couldn’t tell him.

And then, as always, the helplessness crept back in, wrapping around him like chains. He was powerless, and that hurt almost as much as whatever Buck was going through.

Twenty-two years passed.

When Tommy finally woke up, it wasn’t dramatic—no gasp of air or miraculous surge of energy. His eyes simply opened, his body heavy and alien, and his first breath was shallow and labored. The nurse beside him gasped, calling for a doctor as Tommy’s gaze slowly wandered around the room. It was brighter than he imagined, and the world felt distant, blurry.

It took days for Tommy to understand just how much time had passed. He couldn’t walk. His muscles were too weak, his body unrecognizable. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger—lines etched deep into his face, his hair thin and gray.

The days that followed were a blur of tests and therapies. His muscles were too weak to move much, and his voice cracked like old paper when he tried to speak.

The doctor explained everything—how long he’d been in the care facility, the complications, and how much time had passed.

It wasn’t until the door opened, and Buck stepped inside, that it truly sank in.

Buck was older now, his face lined and his shoulders broader. His hair had streaks of silver, and his movements were slower but steady. He carried himself with a confidence that hadn’t been there before, though his eyes carried something else—something heavier. He looked just as Tommy knew he would—familiar in a way that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

Tommy couldn’t speak much yet, his throat raw from disuse. But he mustered all the strength he had, letting a faint smile curl across his lips. “Hey,” he rasped, the words barely audible.

Buck froze, his eyes wide, his breath catching in his chest. He blinked rapidly, his hands trembling as they curled into fists at his sides. “H-hey,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He was holding back tears, but Tommy could see how close he was to breaking.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, two men who had been separated by time and silence. Buck pulled a chair closer and sat down, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on the edge of Tommy’s bed. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum and beeps of the machines tommy still needed.

After a long pause, Tommy rasped out, “She… left?”

Buck frowned slightly, confused. “What?” he asked, his voice unsure, like he didn’t quite remember. For him, he said that line years ago—he couldn’t know that for Tommy, it was as vivid as yesterday.

Tommy hummed softly, gathering strength. “You said… she left. Who?”

The realization hit Buck slowly, he sat back slightly, as though reaching into a distant memory. “Oh…” His shoulders sank, and his eyes grew impossibly sad. “Amelia—uh… my wife,” he said quietly, almost stumbling over the words, his voice hollow. “She died… a car accident.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, filled with sorrow. His throat ached as he struggled to speak, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Must’ve been… hard.”

Buck’s head shot up at that, his brows furrowing. He stared at Tommy, almost disbelieving, his lips parting in surprise. It was hard. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through. Losing Amelia had left him a widower, his kids without their mother. It had left a hole he still carried, even now. But for a moment, he couldn’t process that Tommy—frail and still recovering from decades of silence—was the one trying to comfort him.

A faint, disbelieving laugh escaped him, almost reflexive. He shook his head, his voice soft and tinged with disbelief. “Are you really saying that?” he whispered, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

And then he froze, his breath catching as his eyes widened. His voice faltered when he spoke again. “Wait… y-you… you heard?”

Tommy nodded faintly, a small, almost fragile smile on his lips. “Everything,” he rasped, the word carrying the weight of decades.

And it hit Buck—all at once. Everything. Tommy had heard it all. The stories about Alex and Emma, the confessions, the heartbreak, the joy, the grief. Twenty-two years of words poured into a void Buck had thought was empty, but Tommy had been there the whole time, trapped and silent. Listening. Always listening.

The realization broke something in Buck. His face crumpled as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, one hand covering his mouth as the first sob escaped him. His shoulders shook as he cried, the weight of twenty-two years crashing down on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Tommy wanted to reach out, to tell him it was okay, but his body still wouldn’t cooperate. All he could do was whisper again, “Evan, it’s okay. I’m here now.”

But for Buck, the guilt and pain of all those years spent talking to someone he thought couldn’t hear him—and the thought of what Tommy must have felt, locked inside his own body—was too much. He thought how he had left Tommy alone longer and longer over the years, how his visits had decreased while Tommy was still there, still listening, still waiting.

He stayed there for a moment, head in his hands, as Tommy lay quietly, his faint smile never wavering.

Then Buck quickly wiped his face, taking a deep, steadying breath. He began to talk to Tommy about things—about Alex, about Emma, about life in general. He spoke softly, a little hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure where to start or how much Tommy could take. But he kept going, filling the space with the sound of his voice, just like he always had.

As Buck stood to leave, he turned back toward Tommy and leaned down slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said firmly. “No matter what, I’ll be here whenever I can. I promise.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’ll bring Alex and Emma to visit. They know you, Tommy. They love you.”

That lit something small in Tommy’s face—a faint glimmer in his eyes, the tiniest upward curve of his lips. He nodded weakly, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Thanks.”

But later, when the room was empty again, and he was alone again… Tommy stared at the ceiling, his chest aching, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. He thought about the years he’d spent hiding behind lies, about the fleeting years when he’d finally embraced who he was, and about the decades he’d spent trapped in silence, invisible to the world.

He’d lost so much time. Too much time.

And now he didn’t know if he’d ever get any of it back.

Thirty-three years pretending. Seven years living. Twenty-two years lost.

What was left for him now?

[wato1876]

wato im halfway thru parrots unstable vid and the way you left actually hit me so hard. ARGHAGAGRG

everyone else acting: yeah, I don't know if this is it... wato1876: *on the verge of tears, staring at Wifies, "always have a way out"*

you make me sick /pos

I’m glad you enjoyed my amateur voice acting! Everyone puts in a lot of effort, I just find it very easy to put emotion in my words, and its fun, it adds depth to an otherwise very high octane. Disappointment is very common in unstable and that tone is heard a lot, but Wato wasn’t sad because *they themself* didn’t have a way out, yes they wanted to be safe, but essentially their entire world was crumbling around them, all their friends went every which way. Wato may have a hard outer shell, and extremely blunt, but what hurts more is seeing someone who cares so genuinely much about something being ripped at one by one. If Wato was the first to go, it wouldn’t have been as bad, but seeing everyone leave before him sunk him deeper and deeper into pain. The idea of Parrot seeing his final hope seep through his hands and the devastation he must feel really is what broke Wato.

I have experienced things like this IRL (obviously not as severe, but the sensation you get leaving high-school for the very last time, and standing alone as the field slowly clears for the very last time). I react the way I do because my character has a lot of empathy (the point it hurts him emotionally), and understands why people do things they do. Wemmbu abandoning Sky Civ -> He wants to save himself and truly didn’t care if it meant risking himself. Wifies leave Parrot last episode when going to Farlands -> He just wanted what was best for Parrot since he too saw Parrot ripping himself apart.

Wato secluded himself for so long because he knew he was susceptible to being hurt, and he knows having friends/attachments is a weakness. He knows they are but still cares about people. I tried to show Wato as a dynamic character that changes throughout the videos and reacts how any normal human would. Confused and scared. Not every line is perfect and every action won’t make full sense, but when have we- humans- been perfect.

I like the humanity in a character, the imperfections. That is what makes a good character. Not their tragic downfall, but just the limits of a being.

If I had a beefier computer, I’d make something insane. Editing speed because of lag is my only bottleneck. I love stories, always have. This is just a small slice of stories I want to convey. Even End Barrens was not to what I wanted it to be.

Wato1876

Thought I should at-least give y’all one big character lore drop before I go to bed for the night. What can I say, writing is fun.

[starlighttsv]

Patience - Jana El Alfy

💌 Syn: Jana is learning to have patience with her girlfriend but that said patience gets tested a lot

»»— warnings: none?

»»— notes: requested by @elalfywhore i hope this is what you meant by ditzy!reader i genuinely didn’t know that word before your request 🥲 lmk if you want anything added or changed 🙏

»»— word count: 1k

»»— pair: jana el alfy x ditzy!reader

jana’s never really had patience, like at all - so dating her girlfriend of 5 months she had to learn patience

which let me tell you - that is not easy to do especially when said girlfriend tests that new patience everyday

“babe where’s my hoodie? i need to leave for the game.” jana says walking into the bedroom and looking at you sitting on the bed reading a book

you lift your head up from the book and look at her with a guilty look on your face “i took your laundry to the washer about 25 minutes ago, i thought you already had everything you needed. i’m sorry”

jana just pinches the bridge of her nose and walks to the shared closet, trying to find some type of jacket she can wear as it is the middle of winter

you just sat on the bed looking at the closet door where jana is, concerned about if maybe you overstepped.

jana then walks out wearing a hoodie a few sizes to small looking extremely uncomfortable

“alright i’m leaving, i’ll see you at the game?” jana says walking towards the bedroom door

“yeah i’ll be there, i’m sorry again” you say feeling bad that she now has to wear a to small of a hoodie “it’s fine. i’ll see you either before or after the game” jana says walking up to you and giving you a kiss on the lips “ok i love you”

“i love you too” she said while walking towards and out the door

you forgot about the game

after jana left, you kept reading your book as it wasn’t time to leave yet, jana just had to leave because she’s on the team.

by the time you were supposed to leave, your book had just reached a page turner. You just couldn’t put the book down without knowing what happened next - which is a bad thing because you had a alarm set to remind you to leave for the game … and you turned it off instead of snoozing it saying “I’ll leave after I finish this chapter” as a reminder to yourself.

said reminder did not work and didn’t even have a chance at being a reminder.

“BABE” you hear jana yell and shortly after hear the front door slam shut

“in the bedroom” you call out to her making her storm into the room “what the actual fuck?” she says angrily while throwing her duffel somewhere around the room

“i waited like 30 minutes after the game for you in our normal spot, just thinking you were trapped up in the crowd just for you to be here the whole time? what happened to you coming to the game?” jana says huffing while shredding out of her track suit and getting dressed into her pajamas as she already showered in the locker room.

“oh my god, i forgot i am so sorry! i was reading my book and it got to a good par-“

“you forgot about me and my game, that you promised you were going to over a book?” jana said trying to not show how mad and upset she is knowing how sensitive you are

you look down at your hands “ i’m sorry jana. i didn’t mean to forget, i set an alarm and i turned it off instead of snoozing it. i swear i didn’t mean to forget.” you say feeling really guilty

jana just takes a deep breath in and slowly exhales trying to remain calm and practice with her newly learned and still learning patience “it’s fine. you’re good.”

“jana-“ “baby you’re good. i promise. i’m not mad.” jana says getting in the bed “what about dinner? did you eat yet? i’ll go make us dinner. i’m really sorry about the game jana.” you ramble out really fast

“yeah i’ll eat, i haven’t eaten yet.” jana says while starting to open her phone. you nod and get up from the bed walking towards the kitchen

after making dinner you plated the food and went to the cup cabinet grabbing two cups and filling them with both of your guys favorite drinks.

as you were walking back towards the tray that the plates were on you tripped on your own feet, making the glasses drop and break - spilling the drinks everywhere

jana quickly runs in and sees what happened running over to you, while you were starting to pick up glass pieces from the floor

“go sit down i got it” jana says pulling on your arm trying to get you away from the glass “no jana i can do it, i broke them so i pick up the mess.”

jana takes a deep breath in “babe” she says in a warning tone “go sit down. i got it, you’re gonna get hurt”

“no jan-“ “i’m being dead serious. go sit down” jana demands with a angry tone making you sigh and walk towards the living room, watching jana as she picks up your mess

once she’s done she goes to the cabinet and grabs two more cups filling them with the same drinks - then puts them on the tray and grabs the actual tray and sets it on the center table in the living room right in front of you.

“there we go” jana says while plopping down on the couch and resting her head back for a minute “i’m really sorry about everything-“

“baby you are fine ok? i’m not mad” jana says wrapping her arm around your shoulder - making her bring your head to rest on her chest

“are you sure?” you ask tracing the design on her shirt with your finger “i’m positive baby. you know i’m still working on my patience, that’s all” jana says rubbing your back “you’ve gotten better” you say mumbling to her “oh yeah?” she asks making you lift your head from her chest and look at her with a smile on your face - nodding while saying “definitely”

she just shakes her head amusingly and pulls you into a kiss, deepening the kiss after a little bit

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[nopxxx]

OK UPDATE I FEEL THE NEED TO SHARE THAT IS NOT RELATED TO BATMAN AT ALL AND IF THIS CHANGES HOW YOU SEE ME THEN MY FEARS ARE CORRECT AND I AM THE ASSHOLE, AND I SINCERELY HOPE I AM NOT. (this is basically a reddit post but I don’t have reddit so)

Ok so my friend and I went to see Mufasa in theaters yesterday and the people behind us were super annoying, I’m gonna get further into that.

We came in and sat down and all was well for moments, then a large family(4 adults, 3 kids) came and sat down behind us, and they were speaking a language I assume was either Ukrainian or Russian, which isn’t really relevant rn but it will be later

So the movie starts, and they’re still talking at a normal-leaning-loud volume, but my friend and I are thinking “oh they’ll quiet down soon enough”

They did not quiet down, as a matter of fact. The three kids, ranging what looked to be 4-7 were literally running all around the room, yelling and all of the things that small children do, and I’m not upset with the kids at all, my issue is with the ADULTS

The adults are still yapping(they never stopped) and one of them turned on their flashlight a few times and WHAT. Who does that. Anyways, the littlest kid starts calling for their mother, literally crying “Mama, mama, mama, mama” over and over again and GUESS WHAT? THE MOTHER DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. HER KID WAS THERE SCREAMING FOR HER IN A VERY PUBLIC SPACE, AND SHE JUST IGNORED THEM.

THAT REALLY BOTHERS ME. So the entire time the kids are obviously upset and don’t want to be there and the parents AREN’T EVEN WATCHING THE FUCKING MOVIE, THEY ARE YAPPING. ITS FINE TO DO THAT AT HOME, BUT IN A THEATER? Like I get small comments here and there, but they were speaking legit constantly

And when the small kids are sitting down, they’re kicking our seats or pulling on them, one of them even grabbed at my hair(or tried to, I moved) AND THE PARENTS DID NOTHING

Saying this again, I AM NOT, I REPEAT, AM NOT UPSET WITH THE KIDS AT ALL. THEY ARE LITTLE AND DESERVE SO MUCH ATTENTION AND AFFECTION AND THEY WERE JUST UNHAPPY. I AM NOT UPSET WITH THE CHILDREN.

Like, if the adults had been trying to keep them quiet, ANYTHING, then I wouldn’t be saying any of this. I understand having to look after a screaming child in public, and I know it’s not fun, but it is NEVER okay to just ignore your child like that.

I feel like if a kid is that little, you shouldn’t be taking them to the movies. Their little minds can’t really comprehend whats happening, and tbh there were some parts of the movie that I think could be frightening to a young child. A 7 year old I can understand, but a 3 to 4 year old doesn’t have the mental capacity for it.

So the movie ends and we leave, neither of us said anything to them(we were stupid and decided to bus around rather than drive and had to catch our bus)

So moving on to today, I was in my biology class right?(college), and it’s nearing the end of class and I decided to tell my deskmate about it, AND HE WAS LIKE “Well… it is a kids movie..” AND CALLED ME NATIONALISTIC, PROBABLY ONLY BECAUSE I SAID MAYBE THEY JUST DIDNT KNOW AMERICAN THEATER ETIQUETTE (yes, that is the exact word he used) and said that my friend and I should have just waited until it was released to streaming services.

SO LIKE AM I IN THE WRONG. SHOULD I NOT HAVE BEEN ANNOYED?

I just went and saw mufasa in theaters and the people sitting behind me were SO annoying like it was awful but it got me thinking, what would the batfam be like in a movie theatre?

I feel like they would

a) not go at all, or at least not as a family

b) be the LOUDEST most infuriating people in the room

or c) sit so quiet and still that it creeps out the people sitting near them. Like their expressions don’t change at all, they don’t utter a peep, no snacks or slushies, nothing, just silence. Then they leave the SECOND it’s over, all standing in unison

maybe I’ll make a fic of it

[acepalindrome]

I might be naive, but I still believe in people’s capacity to change for the better, even if they have held absolutely abhorrent beliefs in the past.

Here’s a fun fact: in the 1920s, a young Vincent Price traveled to Germany and thought Adolf Hitler seemed like a real cool dude! He got swept up in all that talk about restoring Germany to their past glory (does this perhaps sound familiar?) and was swayed into antisemitism. It was easy to get caught up in it all when someone is passionately appealing to all these things that resonate with you, especially when you’re young and/or ignorant about the world outside your little bubble!

And then he wised the fuck up. He started talking to a bunch of liberals in the 1930s and became friends with the likes of Lilian Hellman, and course corrected so hard that he got grey-listed under McCarthyism for being a ‘pre-war anti-nazi.’ And then he spent the rest of his life publicly supporting virtually everyone the nazis would have happily put in a camp.

So people who voted for Trump in 2020? I’m willing to accept that you had room to change and grow. Maybe you thought what you saw as the good would outweigh the bad. Maybe you thought he wouldn’t really do anything that awful. Maybe you were just ignorant and didn’t realize what you were voting for.

HOWEVER. It’s a different story if you voted for Trump in 2024. This isn’t someone thinking Hitler had some good ideas in the 1920. This is someone who thinks you can morally justify voting for Hitler in the 1930s when it’s abundantly clear what he’s about.

But good news, if you were stupid and morally bankrupt to still vote for Trump in 2024! There were people who kept aligning with the nazis for their own personal gain who managed to do enough good to deserve being remembered well by history! But those people? They had to do a fuck of a lot more than just renouncing Hitler. When you cross a certain threshold, that it no longer sufficient to make up for your crimes.

People who come to mind are Oskar Schindler and John Rabe. Both Nazi businessmen who sacrificed their fortune and good standing to save the lives of innocent people, and who ultimately die in poverty. They weren’t ’good Nazis.’ They did good despite their previous self serving, vile political affiliations, and were able to use their connections to protect the innocent. Schindler protected about 1,200 Jewish workers at his factory from being sent to Auschwitz. Rabe, who was doing business in China, created a safe zone during the Nanjing Massacre and sheltered about 250,000 Chinese civilians. I feel like that’s enough to be allowed to have history remember you well.

In short, if you still voted for Trump in 2024, you don’t deserve forgiveness unless you’re willing to give up everything to help the people you’re hurting with your vote. Words aren’t enough any more. Take real action to fix what you allowed to happen, or I hope you never know peace again for the rest of your miserable life.

[enchantedtomeetyou1113]

post war Levi! x reader

Let me down slowly

______________________________

Summery: you and Levi live in your own small home after the war ended years before. You’ve been distant and he doesn’t know why.

-

A/n : hi! So basically I think I’m slowly becoming a song fic enthusiast it’s honestly an obsession. this is inspired by ‘let me down slowly’ by Alec Benjamin. Yes I know blast from the past I seen Alec post him playing it on guitar on TikTok and it inspired me to listen which inspired me to write this-I hope you enjoy!!!

-

Warnings: sad Levi . Angst . Hurt/comfort . Sfw

———————————————————————-

One week. One week of y/n being distant towards him. Sure they talk but not like the usual quiet conversations they share. There’s no comfortable silences and there hasn’t been soft whispers in the dark. Why? A question Levi asked over 100 times.

“Sorry I’ve just been in my head..” she’d reply with everytime, promising to give him attention after she finished with whatever task she’s so busy with.

And everytime he’d find her picking up a new task,and then another and another until she claims she’s too tired to stay up. Everytime she ends up sleeping while Levi lies awake fighting with his own fears and overthinking.

‘Did I do something?’

‘Is there someone else?’

These thoughts haunted his mind along with countless more. Levi was never good at voicing his feelings especially when it was ones that deemed him as weak or vulnerable.

So he fell asleep on the opposite side of their shared bed,feeling more and more restless without her normal proximity. His usual routine of holding her close until they both snored softly now changed into her falling asleep first curled up in her own little ball and Levi staying up staring at her until flipping over with his back facing the sleeping girl.

Hours later he woke up hearing footsteps sounding like they were coming from the kitchen and into the small bathroom down the small hallway. He blinked away the remaining sleep noticing the empty spot beside him.

Levi stood up feeling the cold floor and dragged himself up and through the little hallway to the bathroom door.

He knocked softly “y/n?” His voice laced with sleep and worry. “Are you alright? Why are you up so late?”

He heard rustling in the bathroom before he heard her small voice. “Im fine-“ He didn’t believe her from the sound of her voice. He furrowed his brows “okay.. come back to bed when you’re done,yeah?” He didn’t hear anything else after that and he stayed a few moments before walking back to the cold bedroom that used to be warm.

He waited laying face up on their bed. Staring at the ceiling waiting for his girl to come back. His patience was growing thin as 15 minutes passed by until he heard the floorboards creek under her steps as she came around the corner into the dark room.

He took this as an opportunity,an open door of sorts to finally talk to her about what’s really going on.

“Hey,” he starts his eyes not looking at her figure as she crawled onto her side on the bed. He felt himself get choked up trying to think of the right thing to say to get her to open up.

“Hi..” she said back. His eyes trailed to her and he wanted to sink into a hole and hide from the unreadable look on her face. It also wasn’t helping that he felt his eyes burn with unwanted tears.

‘Of course she doesn’t love me, look at me. I’m missing an eye,I have 1 and a half of a hand ugly scars that take up half of my face-‘ Levi was thinking to himself his own voice feeling like a drum in his ears and before he realized his arms wrapped around her pulling her in tighter then ever.

He heard her soft gasp. A man who once had dignity and grace. Who many looked up to and feared,now sat slipping through the cracks of her cold embrace.

“If.. if you’re leaving will you let me down slowly? Can you not string me along? Show me some sympathy or something-“ he breathed out as the hot tears fell down his cheek. “If you want to go-I can’t stop you..but I’ll be lonely” he whispered the last part but she caught it.

He felt her arms wrap around him in return. And his eyes widened slightly. “Levi,” she sighs as he prepares himself for the worst. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” His brows raised and a hopeful but confused expression was plastered on his face. His lips parted slightly but he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I’m sorry…I’ve been so worried that I’m not enough for you and.. and that I’m not enough for anyone that I became distant.” Her eyes don’t meet his when he pulls back to look at her expression.

“What?” His brows furrow for the 10th time tonight. “What the hell makes you think that?”

“It…it started when you had that..nightmare last week..” the memory flashed through his mind.

~

“Darling it’s okay-it’s not real wake up.” She shook him softly.

“Get-get off me!” He struggled in his sleep.

“It’s just me! Come on open your eyes-“

His eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly gasping. He felt his whole body shaking and in a cold sweat. “It’s okay..” she whispered as she rubbed circles on his arm. He shrugged her off as he plopped himself back down. She felt a little hurt but pushed it to the side. “Do.. do you want to talk about it?” “No.” “Are you sure?”

“You can’t help anyways.”

Oh.

~

“Y/n…” he trails off understanding her behavior.

“I just…I just want to be able to help you.. shouldn’t I be the one to?” She whispered

“You do-you are.” He puts his good hand on her cheek cupping her sad face. “You are the only one who helps. And the only one I want to help.. you do more for me then I can ever ask for.” his thumb pets her cheek. She feels tears well up in her eyes and Levi wipes the hot tear as it falls down her face.

“I wouldn’t want it from anyone else. You are the only one I’d ever need.” Her lips turn slightly up and his face mirrors hers.

She moved closer to press her lips onto his and he practically melts into her intoxicating touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his around her waist as he pulls her closer to him. When the kiss breaks he lays down pulling her onto his chest and his fingers find their way into her hair. She sighs in content and both feel the weight on their shoulders lifted.

“You’re not actually allowed to leave.” He says matter of factly.

“Lucky you that’s the last thing on my mind.”

———————————————————————

A/n: you know what I tried 😔 I don’t know how sucky this is but please like and comment your thoughts 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[twinklingstarlightdiaries]

How to intentionally create your 2025 vision board

© Photos are from Pinterest

I started making vision boards in 2021 when everything felt overwhelming, and I had all these dreams and goals I wanted to achieve. As a visual learner, it definitely helped me visualize and picture what I want my future to look like.

And as time went on and I made a yearly vision board, I adapted and changed how I go about organizing and creating it. Personally, I believe there isn’t any “right” way when it comes to creating your vision board - your vision board is an embodiment of you and at the end of the day, it’s what feels right for you.

But I also believe it is important to be intentional when it comes to creating your board for the year. Inherently we have a plethora of goals and dreams that we would try to cram into a year in order to see and make progress in our lives. However, because we don’t change our lives in flashes of brilliance but rather, through a slow process that will ultimately result in breakthroughs (Weist, 111), when it comes to planning your year ahead and making your vision board, it’s good to consider a less-is-more approach. 

For instance:

Make a list in your notes app of the specific areas of your life that you really want to focus on this year and add more details of what exactly you're looking to achieve. For example, in health I'd like to start taking gym classes and make healthier breakfast meals.

Select which format you'd like to use; I shifted from making my vision board a collage to making it on Pinterest! This was mainly because I like to change my phone backgrounds and laptop backgrounds often and since I use Pinterest regularly, it felt like a better format for me. I’ve also seen videos where some use Notion as well. Ultimately, it’s whichever feels right for you!

This is where the less-is-more approach comes in: select three photos maximum that best fits your goals. It’s aesthetically pleasing to have a lot of photos all put together but sometimes it can be overwhelming for your brain. The point of a vision board is to help your mind ingrain these aspirations thereby assisting the process of taking action. Selecting a few pictures that look like they’re from your point of view or you can imagine yourself in can help your mind to become more focused on that specific goal.

Optional: Screenshot your list you made in your notes app and include it in your board just as a reminder of what your goals are!

Overall, a vision board is another way to assist in organizing your aspirations and helping you take action. And as aspirational and determined as we are, it is important to remember to not pile too much onto your plate, and thereby your vision board. Take it one step at a time and allow that momentum to build.

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Hi there! Welcome to my blog! I post lifestyle related content, occasional advice and snapshots of my life. I’m currently on a journey trying to embrace the healthiest version of myself and I wanted to share snippets with you. 🤍 If you enjoy the same or you’re on the same journey, I hope you enjoy my blog!! 🫶🏻