#but now it seems like they might get here like.. a day before they get back lksdjdslkjd

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-one —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. You hesitate to move, frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door or did it for you, to make you feel safer.

Only when his moving about ceases do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

Happy—no, but relief replaces the slight uncertainty in your gut since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but their idea sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. The trip will be risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now. On the nightstand, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map with the marked circle around what you now realize is Switzerland, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them—before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. The living room is quiet, people still sleeping. Price and Kyle's blankets are empty, but Kyle is the only one you spot outside. He sits on a tree stump, using a knife and some soap to shave his beard. He looks at you the moment you step outside.

"Good morning." He splashes a scoop of water on his smoothed jaw. 

You tuck your hands in your pockets. "Morning."

Without the facial hair, he looks even younger. Maybe in his early thirties. He pushes to his feet and you are reminded of his above-average height, though he is not as monstrous as Ghost. His form is lean, all muscle, with much less ink on his exposed skin. It is now you notice a scar across his jaw. Thick but faded. It trails halfway down his neck.

"Do you know where Ghost went?" you ask.

"Working on that truck of his. With Price."

A glance over your shoulder confirms it; you spot some movement behind the cabin where you know his truck sits. Guess that means no training. You nod. "So, um, you were in the military together, right?"

He takes a moment to look at you before answering. "Yeah. Same unit. Price was our captain."

"I kind of figured. He is... captain-y."

"'Captain-y.' Good way of putting it."

You're ready to turn away when he asks, "I hate to pry, but I admit I'm curious how you ended up here with him."

You force a smile. "It's not a very interesting story, sorry."

"I'm not looking for entertainment."

"What are you looking for, then?" You sound more defensive than you mean to. 

He shrugs. "Just curious, is all. You're a bit young."

"I'm not fucking him if that's what you're getting at." His brows lift to his hairline, and you're almost embarrassed for assuming that is what he was thinking, but before he can speak you add, "And you're young, too. I can handle myself just as you can."

"Of course." He shakes his head, moving his hand over his chest in earnest. "I apologize if I insinuated otherwise. Though, I am older than you."

"How old?"

"Let's see. Thirty-one last November. Or maybe it's just thirty. Hard to keep track, innit?" His smile is more genuine than yours, flashing white teeth. Then, his face turns more serious and he sighs through his nose, head tilting. "Look, I understand."

"Understand what?"

"I don't know your story, but I'm sure it is a gruesome one, and you have every right to feel uncomfortable. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. I appreciate you having us, though."

You want to tell him it's not like you have a choice; you're not the host here. But he already knows that. He's trying to be nice. "Thank you," you tell him honestly. 

Kyle bends to pick up his knife, wiping it off on his shirt. "So what did you need Ghost for?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Care to accompany me for some breakfast, then?"

You consider saying no, but you need to hunt, anyway. Besides, you don't think he'd try anything in broad daylight. In another life, you may have looked at him with a more appreciative eye. But as you wade in silence through the woods, bow cinched to your back, you study him like an opponent. He's more agile than Ghost, likely quicker. When he crests the hill, it's hard to match his strides. 

Small conversation picks up by the pond and you find yourself easing up. You learn he's from London, too.

"What part?"

"Islington. I shared an apartment with my girlfriend. The rent was shit but it was worth it. Top floor loft with a good view and this insane Turkish bakery just below us." His tone is so casual you forget where you are for a second, until he suddenly throws his knife. It pins a squirrel to one of the trees. He bends to dislodge it and carries the dead animal, blood on his fingers. 

You keep walking. "What happened to her?"

"I had to make a choice. Go to London and find her, or go with Price and get my nephew, niece, and sister-in-law."

The understanding hits with the force of a fallen tree, and you pale. 

He notices your expression and continues. "I don't regret my decision. I've come to terms with it. There was no chance of me finding her in London, not with how quickly the infection spread there and the phone lines went out. I didn't even know where to look for her. At work? Home? Up north, things weren't as bad yet. I got in contact with my sister-in-law, Ameena, and told her to meet us at the small college up there where Nereida worked."

You recall what Nereida said, about Ari's mom and sister dying, so you don't pry about them. "What about your brother? Ari's dad?"

"He died before shit happened. He was in the military, too. Different unit. Multiple gun wounds while in Afghanistan a few years back."

"I think your story is more gruesome than mine," you admit.

His lips twitch ruefully. "Not a competition. Gruesome world, gruesome stories."

A more comfortable quiet settles. He is not so different than you, you realize. Only difference is he still has his nephew to look after.

The sun is already high, enough to make a collar of sweat appear on your shirt. There is a small dirt ridge you have to climb and the effort reminds you of the still-healing bruises on your body. A skirt of movement catches your eye and this time, you act quick. You use your bow to kill a squirrel up on a branch. It falls to the ground.

"Damn." Kyle whistles, low and long, as you wriggle the arrow free. "Hell of an aim you got."

"I'm... alright."

"No need to be modest."

You straighten and wipe your bloodied hand on your shirt. The movement lifts it, and you hear him suck in a breath behind you. A hand touches your shoulder, gentle than firm, as he spins you around. You're confused, then follow his gaze to the sliver of exposed skin on your hip. It's a gross yellow. 

"Twix." His voice lowers, and his friendly eyes are confused. 

Shit. "It's not whatever you're thinking."

"I'm thinking someone has put their hands on you." He frowns and shifts closer. "I know you have no reason to tell me things, but I can tell you I am not okay with that shit, no matter who it is."

You inwardly cringe. "Ghost is not... hitting me. Well, he is—"

"Fucking hell—"

"No, no. I asked him to." The bewildered look on his face makes you palm your forehead. "Not like that. Jesus. We train together, okay?"

"Train together," he repeats, shoulders loosening. 

"Yeah, like to help me get stronger." The embarrassment remains on your cheeks. "It's silly, really."

Kyle shakes his head and grins, clearly amused now that he knows you're not being abused against your will. "Not silly. Thought you two were into some kinky shit for a second there." He continues walking over a patch of dryer land, stepping onto a small rock and chuffing a breath under his nose. "Wouldn't have been surprised."

Your fingers absentmindedly tighten around the squirrel's limp neck. Your feet are frozen for a moment as you shake off a deep blush, then call out behind him. "Did you miss the part where I said I'm not fucking him!"

He simply laughs. 

---

The rest of the day passes in languid warmth. 

It's weird having so many people here, but you try to continue your day like usual, skinning the kill and washing your clothes. You learn more about Nereida as you eat together. You haven't had a female friend in... a long time. Save Blue. She used to be an arts professor at a private school. Sculpting, mainly. That is how she came to meet John Price, when he attended one of her galleries, buying a piece from her for far more than the listing price. He was just looking for a way to take me out to dinner. The way she speaks of him is that of a doting wife, despite everything they've been through. She tells you they were engaged before the infection. A makeshift ceremony at their old camp was the best they could do. 

"No wedding ring, but we do both have this." She pulls up her sleeve to show you a small scar carved on her shoulder—a faint letter 'J'. Price has the 'N'.

You're not sure what Ghost needed to fix on his truck that morning, or why it was important to do it with Price, but when you returned with Kyle, something felt off. Ghost's tension was palpable. He usually seems in thought, but even more-so. When Ari takes Blue for a quick ride on the horse—apparently Cherry used to be owned by his parents on their family ranch in Newcastle—he watches for only a minute before disappearing somewhere with Price. You pretend to need something from the cabin. You sneak around the back way, finding them again by his truck, muttering in low voices. Only pieces reach your ears.

"...through the rural parts. Not a straight path..."

"...could take months..."

"Got quite a bit of those."

Then, he's showing Price something under the tuck bed's tarp where you catch sight of that kayak once again. 

"Find it?"

A low voice in your ear. You startle and turn around.

"Huh?"

Kyle raises a brow. "You said you needed something."

Your hand flattens against the side of the cabin. "Right. Um, I just—"

Boots scuffle behind you. You don't need to turn to know Ghost and Price have detected your presence, making their way over. Kyle's gaze flicks to them and you feel like a child who's been caught by her parents—embarrassment laced over your irritation. You wouldn't have been eavesdropping if they weren't so secretive.

"Everything alright?" Price's timbre is calm. Your neck prickles where you feel Ghost's stare.

You find yourself nodding. "Yes. Just fine. Sorry."

It gets cooler by nightfall. Your knee bounces slightly under the table during dinner. You listen to Blue explain the rules of battleship to Ari. You don't eat much more of the meat you caught with Kyle. With a mostly empty stomach, you enter Ghost's room after everyone else has gone to bed. His broad form hovers over his dresser. For a moment, you fear he's somehow noticed that you looked at his things earlier. But then you realize his eyes are glued to the map, and he's penciling some things on the margins.

He looks up when you close the door behind you. His brows are deeply knotted. 

"Figured you would be sleeping out there for tonight."

"What?"

"Seems like you feel just fine around them now." 

He looks away from you as if you're not even there. He places the map down and opens the top drawer. Without warning, he pulls out a clean shirt and changes, revealing his bare chest. His shoulders flex as he slips it over his head by the collar. Then, he moves toward you, eyes dully expectant.

"Being asleep near them is different than hanging out during the day," you finally respond. Mouth feeling dry, you swallow. "What's going on? I can tell that you... you've been thinking about something."

"You mean you've been listening." His brow lifts. He shakes his head before you can defend yourself. "I am always thinking about something."

"Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once? I thought that we were..."

"That we were what?"

"Being honest with each other now."

A dark, slightly amused breath leaves his nose. He contemplates your words for a moment. "It is my plan to go there," he then says. "I'm not stupid. I know she needs more than what I can offer her here. It has always been my plan. Just not now."

"Because she's not ready," you breathe.

"Because she's not ready," he repeats, chin tilting. His eyes darken, veering to the left. "Price seems to disagree."

Your nails curl in your palms. "And?"

He looks back at you. "And I am thinking of your camp. What happened to you. I can't grow complacent."

The mention unsettles your stomach. Of course, he needn't elaborate, not when the memory is more fresh than you'd like. "But going to Switzerland would take days, weeks. And they have no idea what they might run into out there. It's not like we have inside info on the state of France and—and wherever the hell else we'd have to cross through to get there. They could be worse than London."

"I'm aware."

"So what, then? You're considering it now? I thought you told them no," your hushed voice edges a bit harsher, and the pulse in your neck quickens.

You hate what you think he's saying, even if you understand it. He has his daughter's future to think of. Even if he were to try finding some safe community when she's older, the opportunity of traveling with two other military-experienced men would be gone, along with whatever weapons and supplies they bring to the table.

The contemplation is vivid in his eyes as you study them. Ghost's head lowers, dipping down at the same time that he emits a harsh breath, and you realize how close the two of you have become in this quiet exchange, keeping your voices safe from any awakened ears. So close, in fact, that his exhalation hits the space between your neck and collarbones, where a small patch of skin tingles with alertness. 

His voice emerges low and thoughtful after a drawn moment. "I haven't fully decided."

You nod with deep breath to steady yourself, taking in his answer. "Will you tell me when you do?" 

"I can do that."

And that's all he offers—four words that give a minuscule amount of comfort, because now bitter uncertainty has snuck upon you once again. Your fate lays in his decision. You can't survive on your own, not even here, so if he leaves you have to go with him. The impending doom fogs your brain. You fail to notice his hand has moved, pinching the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger, and beginning to carefully lift it up. A breath hitches at the top of your throat and your eyes unfurl, only to find that he is pensively looking down at your exposed stomach.

"What the fuck are you—"

You're cut off when his bent knuckles gently brush over your mottled abdomen, sweeping down the sore midline, leaving you frozen. It's a thoughtful, slow touch—calloused skin against smooth softness. His thumb traces a particularly bad one by your hip, causing your muscles to flutter as a pleasant heat blossoms. For the second time today, your bruises are under scrutiny, and you curse yourself for not applying more of that paste on them.

"They're healing well," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, and lowers the shirt back down. He steps back. Eyes find yours. "Don't get too comfortable."

You blink dazedly, then stiffen. "Um, what?"

"Sleeping in my bed. My room isn't a hotel."

The change of topic gives you whiplash. "You're the one who made me sleep here," you remind him pointedly. "I'll just take the floor tonight, and you have the bed."

"You're a woman. Take it."

"As if you give a fuck about being a gentleman."

"You're right, I don't." A dismissive shoulder shrugs, then his back turns to you. He lays in the bed before you have the chance to even move, which leaves the blanket on the floor for you.

You should've just accepted the bed.

Once the room is shrouded in darkness, you bury your head in the pillow. 

"Comfortable?" he says sarcastically above you.

"Fuck off."

Then it's silent. You don't sleep nearly as well.

[ckret2]

It's fic time. The Axolotl tries to persuade Bill to face what happened to his dimension while Bill tries to avoid that literally any way possible.

This is part 8 of a 9 part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and gradually learning he's literally the worst person ever. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

(WARNING in this one for nonspecific but pretty obvious suicidal ideation)

####

The triangle whirled around as a milky white void closed in around him. "Whoa whoa hey! What is this? How'd I get here?"

"Welcome to my office. You're in a time and space outside time and space," the Axolotl said. "Take a seat. I have a very comfortable bean bag chair."

The triangle did not take a seat. He pointed at the Axolotl like an angry arrow. "What did you do! If you don't put me back now—"

"Don't worry. When we leave this space, you will be where and when you were. Think of this like a dream."

Furiously, the triangle burst into a ball of bright blue flame. It reeked of burning hydrogen—the stench of the fabric of reality itself burning away to nothing. But he, himself, didn't burn. What was fueling his flames? "Yeah?! Well, dreams are my business!" A wave of blue flames surged toward the Axolotl.

And dissipated without touching him. The Axolotl's eyes glowed white. "THIS IS MY DREAM, TRIANGLE—NOT YOURS!"

The triangle shrank down. He squeaked, "Got it." He quietly perched one edge on the Axolotl's bean bag chair. He didn't look at the Axolotl. He was staring up around them at the Axolotl's tank.

The Axolotl's eyes dimmed again to black voids. He settled back, trying to look unthreatening now that the triangle wasn't fighting him. "Do you see something?"

The triangle laughed uneasily. "Not aside from a whole lot of white."

"You keep looking up," the Axolotl said.

"Up?" the triangle said, confused; then apparently figured out what the Axolotl meant and snapped his gaze down to meet his again. "I never—haven't been able to see the stars before," he said, trying not to sound self-conscious even as he slowly tinted red again. "I've never seen anything that could block them. Except you."

Except him. The guy who passed the wall every day on his way to work; the eclipse that blocked out the sun once a year. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." The walls of the tank seemingly dissolved, letting the triangle see the scene beyond: the glittery cotton candy celestial clouds of his home.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining! You're the one who asked." But the triangle had already visibly relaxed. He still wasn't looking at the Axolotl; but now, he was staring around at the unfamiliar new constellations with wonder.

It was the most unguarded the Axolotl had ever seen him. They didn't have much spare time; but the Axolotl couldn't bring himself to interrupt this brief peace.

After a moment, the triangle gestured toward the sky and said, "So, you—call that direction 'up.'"

"Yes?" the Axolotl said. "Is that strange?"

"No! Nooo no no. Just seems like it might be confusing, trying to tell apart north-up from star-up."

How odd. "We don't usually call north 'up'."

"Oh," the triangle said, voice small and sheepish.

"Some planetbound mortals do. But usually only when they're—" Oh. "... looking at maps." The world printed on a paper 2D plane. Like the plane the triangle had come from.

For all his power, his charisma, his bravado—the triangle was still just a lost little refugee from a flat little world. He held a whole universe in his hand, and he didn't even know up from down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him.

"Listen to me," the Axolotl said. "You're in a lot of trouble. I'm sure you know that."

The triangle scoffed. "Tell me something new."

"How much of our discussion did you hear?"

"Just something about rebuilding the higher dimensions' foundations. Which is exactly what I told you to do! You mind your business, I'll mind mine!"

He suspected the triangle had heard more than that. "It's not that simple. They can't rebuild the foundation until the fires are out. So, as long as your actions keep setting new ones..."

"A-ha. So that's why you're here," the triangle said. "They sent you to intimidate me into letting 'em condemn my dimension."

"No." It was true enough that they had sent the Axolotl to try to talk the triangle down. And yes, he would if he could—he certainly didn't want to see all of reality destroyed—but he wasn't primarily here to help the other gods. "I'm here to help you."

The Axolotl had watched how this triangle puppeted corpses and terrified the barely-living into dancing along to his tune. He had seen the dying and dead melted together into oversized composite corpses at the triangle's party; and he'd seen how the triangle's unhappy victims tumbled down into his hell. He'd seen how blue flames flared around the triangle in his anger, and how his lines of fire warped, melted, and consumed whole universes, and how he burned mortals down to the soul with his mere gaze. He'd felt how all of Dimension Zero moved when the triangle moved.

This triangle, this poor child, was a monster.

The Axolotl wore many faces. He'd been a psychopomp, a god of death. He'd changed roles so he could help the dead he escorted reach better futures—now he was a god of rebirth, a god of second chances, a god of justice.

And in his capacity as a god of justice, he'd proudly defended the villains that no one else would defend. He did not believe in punishment. It was too late to save the villains' victims, and no amount of punishment would ever change that; but it was not too late to save the villains.

He was god of death, god of rebirth, god of second chances, god of justice—and also a god of monsters. And he'd decided this monster was under his protection.

Dubiously, the triangle said, "So they sent you as my legal counsel."

Oh, for— "No. I'm just trying to give you advice."

"Even better—pro bono legal counsel!" 

"You're not my client," the Axolotl said. "But I'll advise you as a friend. I can tell you your options as I see them. We can discuss them if you'd like. You may ask me one question, and no more."

"What? Why—" The triangle caught himself and struggled to rephrase. "That's a—stupid rule—that I want an explanation for!"

"Because I'm the Axolotl."

"What does that have t— I don't know what that has to do with anything!"

"I'm the only one who gets to ax a lotl questions."

The triangle stared at him. He burst out laughing. "I think I hate you!"

The Axolotl gave him a wide, gummy grin.

"St—stop that! It makes you even more ugly, ugh. I thought you were here to give me advice, not bad jokes." The triangle made a show of leaning back as though getting comfortable, although it was clear he was uneasy touching the bean bag chair. "So advise me, pink stuff."

"I preferred 'frills.'" Gently, the Axolotl said, "I think it's in your best interests to give yourself up to the divine authorities."

The triangle laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. Hey, I heard your pals talking about how they can't fight me without knocking the multiverse down—"

"And once they've put up a fireproof foundation you can't burn your way through, there will no longer be any risk to the multiverse if they come after you."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to make sure they don't get that foundation in place!"

"For you to do enough damage to ensure they can't construct a foundation, you'd probably knock the multiverse down yourself," the Axolotl said. "And if that's the case, they'll have nothing to lose by trying to stop you anyway, and everything to lose by not trying."

The belligerence leeched out of the triangle's face by the word. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that's... yeah," he said.  "Okay." His expression was faraway for a moment, as he tried to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the situation. "Okay. That's okay, it's fine, it's fine." Could he feel the walls closing in on him? Did he see the stars being blocked out? "I've... got a way out of this."

"What?"

He didn't meet the Axolotl's gaze. He pulled off his hat to worry at it in his hands. "I have a way."

Bluffing. Or wishful thinking. "No. This is trouble you can't get out of. There's no greater crime against reality than the destruction of an entire dimension," the Axolotl said. "Right now, the gods think you're an active, divine threat to all of existence. That's what this is about. They're not after you because you broke a couple of rules—they're afraid of you." (The triangle lit up at that. Not quite the reaction the Axolotl had been going for, but at least he had his attention.) "And that means they won't stop until they're sure you're no longer a threat. As long as they're pursuing you, your best case scenario is getting buried alive beneath the multiverse's foundation where they can forget about you until your dream realm unravels."

"So what g—I don't see what good giving myself up would do! My best move is putting off the inevitable as long as possible! Just let 'em try to bury me!"

"But it's not inevitable," the Axolotl said. "They fear you as a divine threat. If you prove you're neither divine nor a threat—"

"No."

"Mortals can't be charged the same way as gods can. If we convince the court that you didn't have your current powers at the time of the inferno—"

"I don't know why you're so convinced I didn't have powers at the time!"

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't convince a judge," the Axolotl said, which surprised the triangle enough that he actually shut up for a moment. "If you're charged as a god, you face eternal imprisonment or oblivion. If you're charged as a mortal, you'll be sentenced to a regular afterlife. If you give up your power—I'm not sure where yours come from, but there are ways it can be done—" (the triangle was already raising a finger to protest) "—and it can be temporary! But if you don't have divine power when you're taken in, it will be that much easier to convince the judge that you didn't have any when your wall burned. On top of that, if you surrender yourself willingly and admit that destroying Dimension 2 Delta was an accident, that alone can knock off half your charges."

"Next you'll ask me to give up my eye! No!" He was clenching his fist around his hat so tightly that it shook; but that was the only sign of anxiety he betrayed. His gaze was as intense as the stare of a sun. "I told you: me, my power, and my people are a package deal. We stay together. We're staying right here. I don't care how much it inconveniences you."

"It's not about how much it inconveniences us," the Axolotl said. "I'm here for you—you and your people."

"They don't need you or any of your stupid 'gods.' I can take care of them!"

"Then take care of them," the Axolotl said. "You understand that, no matter how this ends, your dream realm will be destroyed and you'll have to leave or perish—don't you?"

"No." That stubborn little glitter fleck. "I can patch up this dump and repair the wall by myself. Once the wall's back, you don't have to worry about your stupid multiverse destabilizing, right?! I'll stabilize my realm before you get your stupid impenetrable foundation in place! Maybe I'll put a roof on top of it that you can't get through!"

"You haven't done it yet! What do you think you can do that you haven't already done?"

"You don't need to know," the triangle snarled.

He had to be mad, bluffing, or in denial. But he didn't look it—eye narrowed in determination, flames smoldering around his edges, fist clenched around his hat—

And then it clicked.

He hadn't said he would replace his wall. He said he'd repair it. 

The Time Giant had said there was no way the little speck of matter that the triangle kept in his hat could be all the matter from his universe; no mortal could handle it without its gravity crushing them, nor would they have the energy to move it.

But she'd also said that gravity was turned off in Dimension Zero. And the triangle had proven he did have the power to move an entire universe—so why should a universe the size of a grain of sand be any more difficult?

And anyway—what did restrictions like that mean in a place where dreams and reality overlap?

"The Time Giant was wrong, wasn't she," the Axolotl said. "You don't have a dark matter problem. You're carrying around the rubble of your universe. All of it. All the matter she sensed but couldn't find."

The triangle gave him a resentful look; but then sighed in defeat. He loosened his fist, reached into his hat, and plucked up the speck of what remained of his universe. The black pinprick of white light. "You're not as dumb as you look," he said wryly. "Yep. The whole thing's right here—all but a city or two. I figured out how to catch it pretty fast."

Catch it? "What... happened to your dimension?"

A faint uneasiness itched at the back of his mind; a sound, right at the edge of his hearing, that he couldn't quite identify but knew shouldn't be here.

"It doesn't matter," the triangle said. "It's about to un-happen."

"You're thinking about setting off a big bang, aren't you?"

The triangle said nothing. He just rolled his universe between his thumb and forefinger contemplatively. 

"You are," the Axolotl said. "You want to replace your universe."

Coolly, the triangle said, "You're sounding kinda scared, frills."

"I am," the Axolotl admitted. "Of all your options, that's the most dangerous thing you could possibly do."

"Hey, the dangerous choices have turned out pretty well for me so far!"

The Axolotl really didn't think they had. "You know you can't get your old universe back, don't you? It will only make a new universe."

The triangle didn't say anything—but he went still, holding the tiny glowing pearl between his fingers rather than rolling it back and forth.

"It will have similar physical properties—it will be 2D, gravity and light will probably work the same way, all the laws of physics will be what you expect... but it will be a new universe. New stars and worlds will form. New species will evolve. Your people will never return."

The triangle squeezed the pearl in his hand. "You don't know that," he said harshly. "Everything that ever existed is right in here." He shook his fist at the Axolotl. He could see the light shining out between the triangle's fingers. "It has to have some sort of memory! There's gotta be traces of it left in there!"

"It can't remember. It doesn't have a soul to remember with."

"I'm a soul!" The triangle pointed at himself with a hundred arms. "Me! I remember! The whole dimension remembers!"

There was the hiss. The ever-present hiss that the Axolotl heard any time he was inside Dimension Zero, the static in the speakers, the last gasp of a dying big bang, the whisper murmur scream battering against the walls. Fear shivered up his spine. How was it audible from within his tank?

He tried to push down his fear. "You're not the whole dimension."

The triangle laughed. It was a chilling sound.

"Just—consider how much more you'd lose if it doesn't work the way you want it to. What will you do if you can't fix your dimension?"

"I can," he said. "If I can't fix it, no one can."

Why did he think he was more capable than gods who'd maintained the multiverse for trillions of years? "What if you're wrong?"

"I will fix it," the triangle said stubbornly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT!"

The triangle literally shrank back, growing smaller as he sank into the Axolotl's beanbag. "Keep doing what I'm doing now! Partying!" He let out a half hysterical giggle. "I'll party til I die!"

"Set off a big bang in an unstable pseudo-dimension, and you will die! The kind of death no one comes back from!"

"Great!"

They both froze. Neither one of them had expected him to say that.

"Kidding," the triangle croaked. "I just—I just—I'm trying to get under your skin, pinky, that's all. Is it working? Don't answer that, that wasn't my question, that was—rhetorical. I'm assuming that stuff you've got is skin, anyway." The prattle was hollow and meaningless. "The point is, I'm the dream realm's eternal party host, and I'm not stopping this party for anything, no matter what you say, and—and that's it. That's all there is to it!"

He must have witnessed so many horrors, in so little time—his universe incinerating, his people dying, Dimension Zero constantly collapsing even as he attempted to prop it up, the dimensions above him twisting and warping as their people fell into his nightmarish realm...

The Axolotl slowly flew closer to the triangle.

"Oh, come on— don't," the triangle whined. "Whatever little speech you're about to make, don't, I don't wanna hear it—"

Gently, the Axolotl said, "I know you've lost your home."

The word "home" struck a note with the triangle. He didn't flinch, his expression didn't change; but he went still. He looked down at the compacted ruin of what used to be his whole universe.

"But it's not too late for you to find a new home," the Axolotl said. "You can still move on and rebuild. There's a future for you. If you come out, I'll help you navigate the afterlife system. If you're stuck in this dimension, we'll find a way to free you."

The triangle's face darkened.

"You can be reincarnated, or resurrected, or—just set free to be an energy being if you want. You can settle down in a neighboring dimension, join a new people—"

"No. I'm not about to be a couch surfer in someone else's universe." He glowered up at the Axolotl. "Those people will join me. Everyone can either join me, or—or get out of my way! I finally made my kingdom, I'm not giving up my crown now!"

"If you keep your crown, you'll kill your kingdom! You know that if you stay here you'll destroy everything, I know you know it!"

"It's the best option I have! Better than your plan, anyway! Surrender to the cops and let my world fall apart?" He laughed harshly. "No way, Buster! I told my people I'd liberate them from our flat, oppressive little world and take them to a party paradise, and that's exactly what I'm gonna make for them!" He held out his little pearl of a universe again, the paradise-to-be.

Before, he'd said that the dream realm was his paradise. He'd also said that he'd remake his destroyed universe exactly as it had been. How could the "oppressive" world they'd left be their paradise? Nevermind the fact that none of "his people" were from his world. Which of the stories he'd invented was the truth? Which did the triangle think was the truth? Did he even know?

"If all of this is for your people—would you risk them? If trying to build a paradise kills the very people you made it for—"

"They'd never know."

The Axolotl's blood ran cold. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "What?"

"I can keep the party going until the end. They'd never find out what's coming. If the dream realm collapses, it'll be too fast for them to tell what's happening," the triangle said. "In their final moments, they'll still remember me as a hero."

The Axolotl hadn't realized until that moment just how cold the triangle's expression was.

His mind flashed to seeing VENDOR earlier that day, hustling the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force to clean up this mess faster because THEY didn't want the journalists to claim THEY had mishandled the situation during an election season.

Was that all the triangle was?

Another politician more concerned with how his constituents saw him than with what he could do for them?

"But," the Axolotl said weakly, "I've watched how you rescue the mortals from the fires. I've seen how you're struggling to keep this dimension from collapsing on them. I've seen how much you're suffering. You're running yourself ragged to protect them. You want so badly for them to be safe."

The triangle seemed to brighten at the Axolotl's words, as though he was soaking in the high praise. "Well, sure! And they love me for it! Would any god do less for his worshipers? Would you?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "But I don't know of any god who'd stick his corner out for a nonbeliever—and that's what they'll be if I don't deliver on the paradise I promised. I take my party hosting seriously. I'll give them their paradise if it kills me. Or them. Or everyone, if that's what it takes."

He was no hero. He never had been. He didn't care about the countless souls he'd collected, only their worship.

He didn't want his people to be safe; he just wanted to be his people's savior.

If I can't fix it, no one can. The triangle hadn't meant no one else was able to. He'd meant no one else was allowed to. He'd rather die than let someone else fix his mistakes.

And he would. This was a mass suicide.

No. Worse than that—it was a mass murder-suicide.

"You already lost your world once," the Axolotl said desperately, "don't you remember what that was like?"

The triangle flinched back like the Axolotl had slapped him. The tank rumbled around them; the hissing whispers grew louder. "That's... none of your business! Stop talking about my world, you don't know the first thing about it—"

"I know how much you must miss it. I know how deeply losing your people must hurt." It must have hurt, why would he have clung to what was left of his world if it didn't, why would he be so determined to rebuild it exactly as it had been?

"My—my people are fine." His voice was choked. He squeezed his eye shut. "They're... all out at the party. Waiting for me. Don't talk about—"

"The people at the party are shapes you kidnapped from other dimensions." He was so stubbornly loyal to his chosen delusions. "Your people are dead. You know they are!"

"No!"

His scream was answered by howls outside the Axolotl's tank. Through the static, the Axolotl could pick up a sound repeated over and over. A word. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

"No! They aren't dead! I saved them!" He curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides like it could block out the sounds. "I liberated them from their shallow lives! I gave them their freedom—"

"Then give them their freedom now!"

The triangle's breath hitched.

"If you want to die, you can die. There are ways to break a soul. I can help. But do it alone," the Axolotl pled. "I know you care about these people!" He had to believe it, he had to believe it, he had to. In spite of the evidence to the contrary, he had to. "If you won't let us help you, at least let us help them go home. Please. You need to let them go."

He clenched his tiny hands into fists; he looked so pained the Axolotl thought he might shatter.

In another timeline, a better timeline, he whispered, "How?" The word he should have said echoed around them, blending into the static whispers. It would be so easy to say.

But in this timeline, he asked, "You're some kind of lawyer or something, right?"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "By... way of metaphor," he said. "We have trials and courts, but not the way mortals understand—"

"There are no laws in my kingdom," the king growled. "Get out of here. Now."

"But—"

"I said OUT!"

A force crashed into the time and space between time and space, shattering the Axolotl's tank, the glittery cotton candy nebulas' pinks and blues disrupted by a twisted geyser of colors—raw frothing stuff somewhere between matter and energy—and it flung the Axolotl away from the triangle like a wave flinging a fish from the ocean. The anxious background static whispers grew to a buzzing roar, 1000 decibel white noise. He spun dizzily through the cosmic miasma.

The first time he'd come in here—the first time the triangle had chased him out—he'd felt instinctively that he'd been in danger. He'd felt flames licking at his heels.

He knew now that that had been a mere warning.

"I might be in your dream, but your dream is in MY dream realm!" The triangle seemed to get larger without his size changing. Maybe it was the universe around him that was contracting. "And you've overstayed your welcome, Axolotl!"

The Axolotl had tumbled into the nightmarish eternal dance party. Shrieking overlapping music drowned out the buzzing whispers. Thousands of eyes stared at him in horror and thousands of voices gasped in disgust; and he realized that as many times as he'd seen them, he had never been in their two-dimensional field of view.

For all the thousands that stared at him, millions of corpses never stopped dancing.

One last time, the Axolotl turned to the triangle and pled, "Just give the hostages the option to leave if they want!"

"My people aren't hostages!"

"Then give them a choice!" He could feel dead hands grabbing at his skin and fins. He wasn't sure if they were trying to restrain him for their Magister Mentium, or cling to him for escape. He wasn't even sure whether they were the dead who still had their own souls, or the triangle's corpse puppets. "Anyone who wants to stay with you can!"

"Shut up!" The triangle boomed louder and louder and he grew larger and larger, until his voice and his eye seemed to fill the universe. He was shuddering with rage (with regret?)—it threatened to shake him apart, and the universe with him. "All of this is your fault! I'm—sick because of you!" In another reality he said insane; but the realities where he didn't closed up around the word and crushed it into silence. "You made me like this! You infected me!"

"With what?" He'd only spoken to the triangle once before today. He hadn't even entered his dimension.

"This—idea!" He didn't say what idea, not in this reality; but the words echoed in from another reality where he did. He screamed to drown the echoes out. "I was fine until I met you and you ruined everything!" Regret spilled out of his eye so thick it was almost palpable, energy like a river. It threatened to fill the interdimensional in-between space and drown them all. The Axolotl could taste the idea that had poisoned the triangle: the idea that everyone mattered. That everyone was worthy of a god's attention. And now, everyone was gone.

Bewildered, the Axolotl said, "You're not 'sick' to think that. It's the sanest idea you could have—"

"Get out!" The shriek echoed through infinity. "Get out! The dream realm is my domain and I am its king! I told you last time, I won't let you threaten my people!"

"I would never—"

"GET OUT!" Blue flames exploded out of the triangle; some of his nearest prisoners were incinerated as easily as tissue paper.

The Axolotl tried to shield himself; the flames consumed one of his forelegs and ate away at his dorsal fin.

He tore himself free of the desperate grasping shapes and swam from the triangle as fast as he could.

The triangle chased him; and, to the Axolotl's despair, as the center of Dimension Zero followed the triangle, the edge of reality pulled ever further away.

His flames licked at the Axolotl's tail, consuming the fin; he swam slower and slower.

As the triangle pursued the Axolotl, his attacks further destabilized the volatile dimension; wormholes formed where the fabric of reality folded and bunched in on itself and was pierced through. Light shot through the holes like a million disembodied sunbeams. 

He saw one that led straight to the edge of Dimension Zero. He wriggled through.

"Where did you—?! HEY!" The dimension whirled dizzyingly as the triangle refocused on his evasive prey. "You think you can get away from me in my own realm?" 

"Do you want me to get out or not?!"

"I want you DEAD!"

The Axolotl shouldn't have asked.

With a roar, the triangle clawed at him. A thick, sucking wave of gravity as dense as a black hole tore through the unstable miasma toward him. The triangle laughed sadistically.

With one last surge of energy, he paddled his tail hard enough to outpace the triangle and burst free of the dimension.

The ragged edges of Dimension Zero ripped further under the triangle's attack, but it dissipated in the third dimension.

The Axolotl sighed in relief—then flinched when the triangle crashed into the invisible barrier holding the cosmic foam in the space-between-space where Dimension Zero should have been. Like a piece of glitter sticking to a bubble, if glitter sticking to a bubble were the most violent force in the universe. "Get back here! I'll skin your freakish hide and make a tent outta it—!" He strained toward the Axolotl, threatening to drag the bubble along with him, like a particularly determined sled dog trying to pull a trailer home.

The Axolotl hastily backed out of range as nauseating plumes of color stretched outside their bounds again. Blue fire danced over the thin membrane between dimensions like a burning oil spill on an ocean. The plumes twisted into shapes almost like arms, hundreds of them, reaching toward him—

And froze. The triangle was staring past the Axolotl.

The Axolotl turned to look.

It was the most sublimely awful sight he'd ever seen. An impenetrable wall made up of gods, angels, sentient forces of nature—there were things here so transcendentally powerful that the Axolotl couldn't even see them; he only knew they were present by the perimeters of the space he couldn't bring his eyes to gaze upon and the terrifying awe he felt when he tried.

They were all armed.

All their weapons were pointed at the triangle.

Apparently, the ATTF had called in reinforcements.

A god that looked like a hologram projection, the light of its projector shining down on it from a higher dimension like a halo, thundered, "ADVANCE ANY FURTHER INTO REALITY, AND WE WILL BE FORCED TO SUBDUE YOU."

"You can't afford to!" the triangle crowed. "You'll knock your own universes down!"

"NOT ANYMORE."

The triangle's eye widened. The thousand arms of raw reality seized the jagged edges of the dimensions bordering the hole left when Dimension 2 Delta burned down, trying to crush them—and nothing happened. He slammed Dimension Zero against the bordering dimension, trying to crack open a larger opening, and then trying to simply shove the bordering dimensions aside—and nothing happened. Dimension Zero burned; but the surrounding first and second dimensions remained still. There was no creak and crack of snapping lines and shattering planes as the triangle tried to squeeze his bloated universe free. There was no glowing line of fire on the distant horizon.

The neighboring dimensions burned and blackened under the thousand hands; but they didn't dissolve to ash. The cinders got caught between the layers together as the dimensions splintered into layers, then multiplied—splintered and multiplied—splintered and multiplied—thicker and denser and harder—

Parallel universes. Every time the triangle touched them, they split into more timelines, reinforcing themselves. The Time Giant already reformatted the universes most closely adjacent to Dimension Zero. Not every universe—but just enough to form a cage.

The triangle gave up with a grunt of pain. He laughed in disbelief—and then anger. "You were the distraction?"

"No! I was supposed to talk you into cooperating with building the fireproof foundation! We agreed to only call in reinforcements if I couldn't persuade you!" He looked around for the Time Giant, but couldn't find her—nor any of the other gods he'd spoken to while dealing with this mess. Everyone, apparently, had been cleared out of the vicinity to make way for the god militia.

The only civilian left on the 3D side of the missing wall was the Axolotl—once again, stuck in the middle of a situation he had no business being involved in.

The triangle's eye widened further, further, white hot with fury. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, frills?! Every time you ruin my life, it's all a big misunderstanding! You just keep talking your way out of trouble!" His eye opened wider and wider still. His eyelid unhinged. His mandibles split open and at the back of his eye socket was an infinitely dark esophagus. Sprouting in a ring around the triangle's eye like the petals of a grisly flower, piercing the membrane between the zeroth dimension and the third, were millions and millions of—

—teeth. Teeth longer than the spaces between stars and sharp enough to split an atom.

The Axolotl only barely managed to paddle back out of their range before they snapped at where he had been. A couple of the higher gods caught him, holding his sides protectively. His skin sizzled with holy electricity.

The god militia drew back from the gnashing fangs, then readied their own weapons: spears, guns, swords, a wider array of divine and holy weaponry than the Axolotl had ever seen. The projection leading the militia called, "DON'T LET HIM MAKE IT PAST THE FIREPROOF BARRIER."

"Afraid I'll start breaking things again?" The fangs snapped tauntingly. "Hey—how fast do you think I can find the load-bearing dimensions?"

The Axolotl shook off the gods and swam back toward Dimension Zero. "Stop!"

"HOLD FIRE!" The projected god commanded, "OUT OF THE WAY, AXOLOTL. THE MULTIVERSE'S SAFETY IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE."

He knew it was. The leader of the militia was so powerful that resisting a direct order made the Axolotl dizzy—but he did resist. He shouted at the triangle, "You can't fight off every god in the multiverse! This is suicide!" He realized too late that that probably wasn't as discouraging as he'd intended it to be.

"So what?! There's no way for me to win! Get executed for god crimes or get erased when the dimension collapses—"

"Those aren't your only choices!" The Axolotl could see the fangs slowly, slowly curling up in his peripheral vision, and pretended he didn't. "It's not too late for you to stand down—!"

"I can't!" A wave of fire blazed up the teeth of the Dream Realm. He held up a fist, and it was far too small for any of the gods, so mighty and large, to see what he held; but the Axolotl knew. "If I don't get a happy ending, why shouldn't I burn the rest of you down with me?! At least I'll accomplish one thing before I go!" His hand began glowing as energy began gathering around the tiny seed of a big bang.

"Do you want your worshipers to remember you as a monster in their last moments?!"

"Better a monster than a LOSER!" His laugh was a strained subsonic roar. "Are fame and infamy really that different?! At least they'll be thinking about me at the end!"

"It would make you a terrible party host!"

The Axolotl didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Apparently the triangle didn't know what to make of it either, because he froze, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare.

But it worked. He snapped out of his rage. The light gathering around the remains of Dimension 2 Delta went dark. For a moment, he was frozen, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare; and then he laughed again, just as strained, much weaker. The borders of Dimension Zero shuddered with his laughter. "Fair enough!" The appendages stretching out into the third dimension lost definition. "Fair enough." He glowered tiredly at the god militia—but raised his hands in surrender. Both his palms were empty.

The trembling fangs dissolved as they retracted. The whole paradoxical mass sagged sluggishly back into the crawlspace underneath reality.

One by one, the god militia slowly lowered their weapons.

The Axolotl's heart was still hammering in his chest; and only then did it register that he'd nearly been eaten by an entire dimension.

Where had his power come from? How had the triangle done all this—made his whole dimension vanish without a trace, shoved an entire plane inside a point, gained complete control over it all...

He really did have complete control over the entire universe that had formed inside Dimension Zero—didn't he?

And to control an entire universe, he needed to have an entire universe's worth of energy.

Dimension 2 Delta had been an entire universe. And now—all of its energy was in Dimension Zero.

With the triangle.

As he watched the triangle wincing in pain as the Dream Realm sank back into place, as though the triangle could feel the way the edges of the neighboring dimensions dug into the frothing chaos, the Axolotl whispered, "Oh, no. What have you done?"

His power had come from his own universe. He had devoured it. He'd made it part of him.

All that energy wasn't stored inside the triangle's body—but the Axolotl had been wrong to think that the triangle was the body in the first place. The triangle was only the face: the eye, the mouth, the mind. The part of the Dream Realm that could speak.

The Dream Realm was the anglerfish—and the triangle was its pretty golden glowing lure. They were all one monster.

The triangle was slumped in defeat, but still he shot the Axolotl a tired glare. The hissing static whispers rose up around him again, spilling out of the Dream Realm. (The whispers, too, were a part of the triangle.) "Who are you to judge," he muttered. "You weren't there."

No, he wasn't. He'd gotten here too late.

Behind the Axolotl, the god projection said curtly, "APPREHEND THE TRIANGLE WHILE HE'S COMPLIANT."

The Axolotl whirled around, eyes glowing with rage. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" The gods who had started moving toward Dimension Zero froze again.

"HE'S A THREAT TO THE MULTIVERSE!"

"He stood down!" 

"HE'S PROVEN WILLING TO DESTROY REALITY. HE COULD EASILY CHOOSE TO AGAIN." The higher dimensional projector turned to project straight at the Axolotl, dazzling him even through his shut eyes, shining straight into his brain. "STAND. ASIDE."

"No." The Axolotl tensed his muscles against the compulsion to obey. "He was a threat to the multiverse. Once the last walls are closed over the crawlspace, he won't be anymore. If he doesn't make a move between now and then, you have no grounds to pursue him." It was a little easier the second time to resist the higher god's command. "So if you do follow him out of the third dimension to capture him, you're trespassing in a new god's sovereign territory to make an illegal arrest outside your jurisdiction!"

"HE'S MASSACRED TEN DIMENSIONS AND TRIED TO DESTROY MORE. THERE ISN'T A COURT IN REALITY THAT WOULD CONSIDER PURSUING HIM UNJUSTIFIED."

"I know a few."

"YOU'RE DEFENDING A DIVINE MENACE. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

He quietly kissed his career prospects goodbye as he watched himself do the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I'm the Axolotl," said the Axolotl, "and I'm his lawyer!"

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 8 of a 9 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting the last chapter next week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with having gotten his heart broken by this sweet little triangle who actually isn't sweet.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Eight of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: this was The Big One, gang. And now I expect for the next several months I'm gonna get comments from y'all rereading earlier chapters going HOLD ON WAS THIS LINE FORESHADOWING THAT LITERALLY THE ENTIRE NIGHTMARE REALM IS PART OF BILL? And the answer is: yes. yes it was. Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!! 💕

also this was THE absolute hardest chapter to write, goddamn.)

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 4

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader 3569w pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3

phew! that's a long one, but i'm really proud of it, i've tried to get more comfortable in my pacing, hope u guys like it<3

The grass still smelled the same, bringing back unwanted memories of yesterday’s humiliation. Sweat ran down your forehead as you used your shirt to wipe it off; Ona would be proud of that move. The exhaustion got the best of you and you let yourself flop on the turf, breathing heavily and rolling on your back. Every coach who had ever trained you had told you to walk it off, but there wasn't any scientific evidence of that, and more importantly, there were no coaches around you.

The Barcelona sky was bright blue, though you could spot a few clouds here and there. If you were in a better mood, you’d have tried to guess what object their shape matched. The gentle wind caressed your face and you couldn’t contain a shiver. When you had arrived earlier in the morning, it was still dark, and you had witnessed the sun rise. Yesterday’s mistake pushed you to come to the field early to train. You needed to plunge your head back in the game, and quickly. The taste of humiliation still bitter in your mouth.

You had pushed yourself through multiple sets of drills, though none that would really improve your timing as you were training alone. But still, you knew you needed to run off the embarrassment, so you tackled shadow opponents, working on quickly going up and down. You sprinted until it felt like your legs would fall off. You did so many ball control exercises with intricate cones patterns it made your head spin. The previously pristine pitch now scattered with proofs of your training while you lay sprawled on the ground.

A voice shut up behind you, startling you in the process. “You do know what recovery day means, right?” The blonde had a disapproving tone matching the look on her face. “You’re not supposed to sneak in extra practice.” she finishes sternly. You gave your capitain a sheepish look.

“Running never hurt anyone?” you tried, but it seemed like Alexia wasn’t having any of it. So you followed up, “Why are you here anyways, are you not supposed to be in the recovery room?”

The older woman was not impressed.

“Part of the recovery plan today is to have an activation session.” she glared at you and you felt your body shrink in the dirt. At that, her voice softened when she added “Now stop being snarky and tell me what’s wrong, Cariño.” Her gaze felt heavy on you, like she was trying to see right through you. Maybe she did.

You open your mouth to speak but words are caught in your throat, no sounds leaving the tip of your tongue. Your hands are clenched and you can’t help but stare at them, or really anything but Alexia standing in front of you. The blonde sighed, and gently came to lay with you on the pitch.

Alexia isn’t sure of what to do. For the few days she has known you, you were always such a cheerful and energetic person. You managed to coax smiles out of the most serious players, all because your chaotic aura was incredibly endearing. She guessed your personality might have fooled them all, you’re still only a child after all. Seventeen and so much pressure on your shoulders.

“You’re doing great you know” she starts her voice warm, but you look up at her, frowning.

“I tackled a cone yesterday.” you whisper, words spilling out of your mouth before you could really think about it.

She frowns. “…That’s what it’s about?” her head tilts, giving away her confusion.

“Well, I mean, It’s just…” you struggle to piece together a correct phrase. You look up to see Alexia giving you a gentle, encouraging smile, and somehow it’s enough to send you in a ramble.

“Because, I’m trying really hard! But then I messed up that tackle. And, and! The Mapi cardboard, it was just to be funny, since we had talked about it during team bonding.” You rattled, gesturing without making much sense.

“But fans aren’t happy with me, and they’re right! I’m here to play football, because it’s my job! You guys shouldn’t have to deal with this, we’re not here to have fun, It’s not- I shouldn’t-” Your distress was cut off by Alexia, pulling you in her arms, but you can’t stop yourself. “I just, I should not be making everyone’s life harder,” your voice breaks and you clutch at your captain like your life depends on it.

The blonde gently caresses you back, shushing you and you feel yourself sink into her.

“Why are you apologizing? You have done nothing wrong, I promise you no one is mad at you, for anything. You’ve made us laugh so much in so little time, and we can see you’re working hard,” her voice is full of gentleness, and you can tell she really means it. She gently wipes away some of your tears with her sleeve.

“The cone!” you half sob on her shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Alexia’s lips and she slapped a hand on her mouth, you recoiled, audibly gasping and looking at her with wide eyes.

And the absurdity of the situation hit you like a freight train.

You were somewhere between a laugh and a cry now, “It’s not funny!” you whined, pushing her shoulder with your hand.

“Perdón, Cariño” the blonde chuckled, “It’s just, all this for a cone?”

You pouted, and the captain shook your shoulder slightly, giving them a squeeze.

“You’ve just been promoted to one of the best clubs in the world, you’re fitting in really well, you’ve got potential and Mapi is basically your mentor already, but you’re worried about one failed tackle?” she questioned with a smirk.

You hid your face in your hands. It seemed so stupid said like that, and you felt so embarrassed and vulnerable. Alexia got up, clutching your hand in hers to pull you with her.

“Come on, Diablilla, let’s go get changed before activation begins, sí? ” she awkwardly patted your head and started dragging you toward the locker room. “Oh and, I think Mapi is going to want to see your cardboard soon again, apparently she has many ideas for pictures” she said, her voice mixed with amusement and disapproval while you chuckled.

Alexia really did find you very endearing, and she knew the whole team felt the same way. They just needed to make you understand. It seemed really well timed when Mapi saw you walking in the tunnel and pulled you into her arms.

Her arms squish you into her body, and you give her a weak laugh. When Mapi pulls back and sees traces of tears on your face, she frowns. “¿Estás bien?” she asks you, her face full of concern.

“Better now,” you answer truthfully.

“Actually, Mapi,” you begin, “I wanted to say, thank you. For what you wrote, on the cardboard…You know.” you voice is low and when your eyes meet, you shy away.

When you look back to her though, she’s got a smile going up to her ears, her eyes sparkling. The brunette pinches your cheeks, surprising you.

“Well, look at you being all emotional?” Her voice is full of playfulness and you can tell she’s not going to spot annoying you.

“Mapi! Stop!” you squeal. You two bicker the whole way to the locker room, pushing each other.

She puts her arm over your shoulder and pinches the back of your neck with her thumb and index. “I’m just doing mentor duty, Cariño,” she smirks.

“You’re supposed to be the mature one!” you whine after she tickles you for the third time.

Alexia smiles profoundly seeing you two walking in front of her. You looked so shaken up when she had seen you on the field, she wasn’t sure anything she might tell you would help.

You made your way to the door entry, almost running to escape from Mapi’s rough love. You spotted Ingrid and ran to hide behind her.

“Ingrid! Mapi is annoying me!” you fake a pout.

The Norwegian looks surprised at the forward love you show both Mapi and her. But still, she plays into your game, throwing her arms up to take a more protective role.

“María, leave Skrulla alone.” she says sternly.

Mapi sighs, giving up and going to her place, grumbling bad words at the both of you. You just stick your tongue out at the tattooed woman, earning yourself a disapproving look from Irene. But Vicky’s voice shoots up before you can say anything else.

“Oh Mapi, looks like you’re going to sleep on the couch because of the new kid!” Her voice is teasing, making the whole team bark out a laugh.

You made your way to your locker, still snickering from the scene that had just happened. It felt a bit crazy to you, the way your teammates had managed to get you to calm down from your self deprecating state so quickly. Normally, it would take you days of very rough training to get over a mistake like the one you had done yesterday. Yet, Alexia alone had managed to take so much of the weight off of your shoulders. If the captain of the team, one of the most hardworking people you knew, did not see any trouble with what happened yesterday, then you’d trust her.

You reached for your locker, wanting to get changed in some jogging before going to the activation session, as you won’t be playing football. They mainly consisted of cardio and active stretches.

As you turned the lock open, an avalanche of neon orange and yellow fell in your arms. What felt like close to one hundred cones were spilling from your locker, getting everywhere on you and bouncing off the floor as you tried to catch them.

The whole team laughs as you turn around, mouth wide open and still clutching some of the cones against yourself.

“WHO?!” you scream, still shocked.

“Thought you needed extra tackling practice!” Pina manages to say in between wheezes which sends the team crackling even more. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

“That’s karma for making Ingrid tell off Mapi,” Jana adds, not helping your case.

Then it’s Ona who chimes in, “Looks like Diablilla got tricked,” but you hardly hear them, your eyes get caught into Pina's eyes and she bolts.

“She’s so dead!” you yell as you start chasing Pina, who runs away, still clutching at her ribs from laughing too much.

Pina almost manages to run away until she reaches a dead end in the maze of hallways the stadium is. Instead of letting herself be caught, she simply traces back her steps, feinting you so you can’t trap her, and making a beeline for the locker room, again. You chase her, smirking when you realize her mistake, in the locker room, you’ll be able to trap her.

When Pina bursts through the door of the room where most of your teammates are, quickly followed by yourself, you can hear Caro and Irene telling the both of you off.

But your brain doesn’t register it, you’re too focused on wanting to catch the forward. Pina had spotted Alexia and decided to mirror the situation you were previously in with Mapi and Ingrid, except she literally gripped Alexia and threw her at you, using her like some kind of shield. The look on your captain face is laughable, a mix of shock and bewilderment

“¡Madre mía! Pina, Y/n, Para!” the blonde screams in frustration, trying to separate you like two children fighting.

Except the harsh scolding is enough to distract Pina, giving you time to throw yourself at her, wrestling her to the floor.

Neon colors near you grab your attention, so you pick up one of the flat disks and drop it on top of Pina’s head.

“You got cone-ed!” you squeal, your body vibrating with laughter. You step back and look around the room, everybody is wheezing at your banter. Mapi is absolutely dying from the look on Alexia’s face (who still hasn’t recovered from Pina almost sacrificing her to save her skin) and you’re sure the tattooed woman will never let the captain forget.

Salma and Vicky are snickering while filming the both of you. You’re certain it’s going to be posted on the official fcb account, but you’re laughing so much you can’t bring yourself to be bothered.

Irene shakes her head, “Dios Mío, these kids are more tiring than Mateo.” But the smile tugging at her lips tells you she doesn’t really mean it.

“So, you are all going to inhale for 5 seconds, hold it in for 5 seconds, and then exhale for 5 seconds, we’re going to do it together. Remember to keep your eyes closed.” The yoga teacher said with what she probably thought was a soothing voice.

Apparently, in the weekly recovery session, yoga classes were mandatory. They happened after the activation training, which the coaches probably hoped would help the team settle before yoga. You had gotten through the actual yoga positions well enough. But they were followed by a few minutes of meditation, much to your dismay. Staying still and keeping your mouth close was not something you had ever been good at. Especially not while trying to “clear your thoughts away”. You were sitting in the lotus position, looking around, fully aware you were disrespecting what the instructor had said mere seconds ago.

You audibly sighed when you realized all the women had their eyes closed, deeply uninterested in doing anything else than the breathing exercise. Unfortunately for you, your sigh was heard by Alexia, who opened one eye to shoot daggers at you. You quickly turned your head and shut your eyes. You’d have never guessed the Catalan woman to be so into meditation.

“We’ll redo the same thing, but now, you are going to release all the tension in your body when you exhale,” the teacher continued to dictate.

The collective noise of inhaling was loud in the room full of tranquility.

Suddenly, a piercing screech broke the peacefulness.

“AAAAAAAAAH” you just couldn’t help it, the tension had escaped your body, without meaning to, in a very dramatic way. You froze, not daring to open your eyes and the whole team stilled.

“What was that?!” Mapi exclaimed herself, her voice breaking the silence quickly followed by a snort.

“Did someone just exorcise a demon?” Jana said, faking being scared.

“Someone isn’t feeling very zen,” said Ingrid with an amused voice as she elbowed you in the ribs barely holding in her laughter.

You opened your eyes to see the whole team staring at you, the teacher looked bewildered. You felt yourself sink in the mushy mat, “I didn’t mean to!” you mumbled weakly.

“It’s called the scream it out method! Very trendy,” Pina said, leaning against Patri stile cracking up and you shot her a glare. She was pushing her luck today, and the smirk she gave you confirmed it. The prank war was on.

Even Alexia couldn’t help herself, “That’s certainly not in a yoga manual.”

You let yourself flop back on the mat as you heavily groaned.

“Though I’m sure the tension did leave her body,” replied Frido. You stared at her trying to look annoyed, but the Swedish woman just shrugged, still laughing.

Mapi had apparently managed to calm herself. She had gotten up to plop down next to you. Her eyes were mischievous when said “Why would you just release tension when you can traumatize the entire team by screaming?” and even you couldn’t hold back a chuckle with how proud she looked about her joke.

The “traumatized” team seemed in a very nice mood, all cracking up more as the team continued to pile their jokes on you. You covered your face with your hand, still slightly embarrassed but the chuckle of the whole team made you feel better.

Alexia got up, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, we’ll stretch out a bit more and then we’re done for the day. And no more screaming, Cariño” she said with a stare. You nodded, giving her an embarrassed smile.

“Wait, that’s all she gets? Last time I did something like that, you made me run 10 laps!” Pina added, looking astonished.

“Only one of us can be the favourite!” you replied. Irene, who was walking behind you, gave you a soft tap on the back of the head making you wince.

“That’s child abuse,” you deadpanned and Irene choked back a snort, giving you a judgmental look.

Mapi and you were exchanging about various defending strategies while you rolled your calves on the foam, frowning when it hit a particular tense spot. The Spaniard was leaning into Ingrid while the Norwegian was chatting with Frido.

The team was scattered into multiple different friend groups and you couldn’t quite believe you had lucked out in the middle of defender heaven. You would have spent more time fangirling about it in your head if you hadn’t been struck with the smartest plan ever.

You knew you wanted to take vengeance for Pina’s prank, but Alexia and Irene, as good captains, were keeping a close eye on you, apparently feeling your prankster aura. But they underestimated your brain, and what you were capable of, really. What was better than being able to mess with someone without them knowing you’d be the one doing it? Ok, tackling an opponent was better. But still, your idea was pretty cool.

A mischievous smile took over your lips as you opened your phone, logging into your fan account to start editing a meme. Once satisfied, you set a timer so it would publish in 10 minutes.

You raised your eyes from the screen to see Mapi staring at you, she was squinting and her head was tilted.

“What is our little Diablilla planning again?” she said with a smirk, loud enough for the two Scandinavians to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re imagining things, Mapi.” you tried to secure your voice as much as possible. You realized using the fan account and posting while surrounded by the team was risky. But you knew nobody has seen you, and with the delayed post? They wouldn’t figure it out. So you placed your phone on the ground, and joined Frido’s and Ingrid’s conversation. You knew both women (all three of them, really) loved coffee, so you couldn’t help yourself when you heard they were speaking about coffee shops.

“Oh! Do you guys know that one place around the corner? I used to go there before practice when I was at La Masia,” you started rambling.

It didn’t seem to bother them though, instead, the women were listening attentively to your story about what you called “the best coffee in the world”. They were so interested in fact, that you all decided you’d go there together tomorrow, and you couldn’t hide the gigantic smile on your face.

The coffee talk was interrupted by Frido’s phone pinging, she picked up the phone, eyes sparkling with interest.

“New post from the TacklerCulers account!” she announced and Ingrid quickly leaned over her shoulder to be able to see the screen.

tacklerculers

posted 36 seconds ago… liked by 259 others.

TacklerCulers: Everybody hold their boots! Pinagoal or, should I say, Spongeboal?

Both women burst out laughing and threw the phone at Mapi so the both of you could have a look too.

“You have to see this!” Ingrid had blurted out between chuckles.

Mapi had looked at them with a curious expression, until her face had changed into one of pure happiness, her eyes crinkling.

“Pina! You’ve been turned into a meme now!” Mapi called out, making the small spanish come running toward you. You gave a knowing chuckle. God, this was even better than you had planned.

“…I don’t know if I should be flattered or annoyed?” she said after being blessed by the sight of that meme.

“Definitely flattered,” you said as innocently as possible, “This is a work of art.”

“This feels like a hate crime.” she shot back, frowning at you.

Frido is laughing harder when she chimes in “It’s already trending, wait till people start showing up to matches with posters of this.” Her statement made Pina frown, putting her hand on her forehead dramatically.

“Actually Pina, that’s really what you looked like,” you add quickly with a smirk.

“Who even runs this account?” the forward shriek, and her eyes narrow at you.

“I’m not brilliant enough I fear,” you reply trying to seem sincere, but you can’t help feeling a cold sweat running down your neck, making the hair stand up, alert.

A few other players had seen the commotion and had come to check it out, eyes full of curiosity. Patri was laughing hard when Frido had tilted the phone to show her.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” she observed.

“I hate you all.” Pina blurted out, sending the whole group gasping for air.

You clutch at your belly from how painful it is to laugh so much. You’re not even trying to hide the fact you’re full on snorting in a loud, uncontrollable way. The joy is warm in your body, filling it delightfully. You’re overwhelmed by a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in a while, and maybe everything would be ok, after all.

[naburi]

ALL OF US ARE NOT DEAD

HWANG YEJI X LEE CHAERYEONG X READER

TAGS: HORROR, GIRLXGIRL, TONGUE KISSING, THREESOME

3K WORDS

The school ground is silent and dark besides the one lighted classroom on the third floor. “Cheers,” the three students said quietly, celebrating their successful trip. You manage to gather food that can last for a few weeks. Yeji put her arm across the younger girl, encouraging her to eat. Chaeryeong is still shocked by what happened. As the night wears on, the two eventually share laughter together, but this is not the only thing they share tonight.

“Run! Don’t look back!” You instructed the two girls, knowing that some of your classmates are already turned. You run upstairs with hoards of infected students trailing the three of you. Despite the noise of the chaos, you heard the cries coming from the two girls as they ran ahead of you. “Fuck!” You cursed, you found an extra strength to keep running until the three of you found an empty classroom. You quickly lock the doors to secure your safety.

“Shh…” you tried to quiet down the girls as they were having a breakdown. Yeji tried to hold her own mouth, while you embraced Chaeryeong into a hug to muffled her cries. It’s getting dark but the three of you are still, visibly shocked on what’s happening. Afraid to turn the lights on with the thought that the infected will notice, the trio just lays down on the dark classroom floor to sleep, hoping this is just a one big nightmare.

2 days have passed since the outbreak. The three of you observing the chaos below through the window. You noticed that the infected only are attracted by noise. “We can get out,” Yeji claims, she knows that you can’t just stay here forever. “Where are we going?” Chaeryeong asks. The two girls look at you waiting to hear your thoughts. “Let’s get some food first,” you said.

Peeking out the door, you go out of the room for the first time since the outbreak, you walk down the hallway in high alert, ready to run back to the room if danger comes. You signal the girls to stay put and wait for you to come back. Passing by some empty rooms, you realize that you might be alone on this floor. Going downstairs, you found the same empty halls but the sound of ragged foot steps can now be heard from below. It seems like the infected are only on the ground floor.

“I’ll do it,” Yeji said after hearing your plan. She volunteers to be the one to distract the infected. She will be on the other side of the building, throwing stuff on the cars below to attract the attention of the infected without putting herself in harm. You didn’t object as you are more confident in her being alone than Chaeryeong. You and the blond girl will walk silently to the nearby stores to gather food and water. You empty the biggest bags in the room to bring them with you. You carry two backpacks, one in your back and the other infront, while the blonde girl has one in her back.

Yeji starts to throw things at the cars. The infected quickly run up to the noise. You and Chaeryeong sneak out of the building unharmed. An hour has passed, Yeji is getting worried. You are yet to go back with the blonde girl. The two of you found a convenient store. You put down your bags and fill them up with as much food and water as it can carry. Chaeryeong smiles when she notices that you also packed up some liquor. You instruct her to get some plastic bags to carry more food while you get some first aid items you can find in the store.

The two of you stayed still when you heard the door open. Two boys entered the store looking for the same thing. They first saw Chaeryeong, they ran up to her to take her bags. You manage to throw a punch on the boy to get a hold of your bags. The other boy checks on his friend before charging on you. You exchanged punches with the boy as Chaeryoung joined the action, throwing some punches as well. The first boy who got punched sneaked in Chaeryeong's back. He pulled her away holding the girl by her waist. Despite the Chaos, the boy took this opportunity to put his hand on the blonde girl’s boobs, groping them while his other hand was covering her mouth.

Adrenaline sets in when you see Chaeryeong gets molested. You got on top of the boy, beating him to a pulp. The other guy saw this and pushed your friend to the side before charging at you. You get to hit him first again, but now you don't stop until all he can do is breath. You quickly check on Chaeryeong, she reassures you that she’s fine and you need to get out of here. Before leaving, you pack more plastic bags to carry food as you know that other survivors will loot this place soon. Yeji was relieved and surprised when she saw the two going back to the building but with more bags than you can carry.

The three are now back in the room, sorting out the food they collected. They figure this can last for a few weeks even over a month if they eat rationally. You told Yeji what happened as she hugged Chaeryeong. The blond girl teared up but she’s more glad that they have food to survive. Yeji patted the girl’s, telling her that she’s brave in going out and fighting the other survivors. This made Chaeryeong cry as she buried her head on Yeji’s shoulder.

“Cheers” the three students said quietly, they each had a bottle of soju, paired up with snacks. While sitting in the makeshift blanket on the floor. Yeji is reluctant with the idea of this celebration but you convinced her by reminding them that you haven’t eaten any meaningful amount these last 2 days. The three students clink their bottles, celebrating their survival and drinking away their worries. Each took turns in expressing their worries about their families and friends.

Yeji felt the growing heavy feelings in the group, she tries to change the subject in hopes of brightening up the mood of everyone. She brings up memories from their childhood as she and Chaeryeong lived in the same neighborhood. The blonde girl is embarrassed with the stories that Yeji is telling as the two share laughter together. Chaeryeong answers back, she told that Yeji is disgusted with kisses so their friend group starts kissing Yeji to tease her.

Yeji is so embarrassed she denies it unintentionally. The three of you pause for a moment. You walk up to turn off the lights, trying to hide your location. You go near the door to listen if some infected is walking upstairs. You can barely see the two sitting on the floor as they stay still nervously. You move toward the window trying to catch if someone is going towards the building. After long minutes on high alert. It seems like you didn’t attract any infected. You decided to switch on the lights. The two girls are now intertwined, Chaeryeong is sitting on Yeji’s lap as they’re exchanging kisses.

Their kisses are slow and cautious, not trying to make a noise. Yeji’s hands are wandering the girl’s curves as she finds her hands holding the perky boobs of the blond girl. Chaeryeong is holding Yeji’s face as she tries to kiss her deeply. Her tongue is slithering inside her mouth inviting her tongue to meet hers. Chaeryeong's hands are now holding her head by the hair as their tongues are intertwined with the other. In shock at what you’re seeing, you stand up still not knowing what to do.

The two girls noticed that the lights were on, they looked around the room to find you. Chaeryeong looks embarrassed that you saw them in the act but she couldn’t care less. She signals you to sit besides them. She sits on Yeji’s lap, grinding her slit to her leg, while Yeji is busy opening her uniform. This leaves the blonde girl’s lips available, which she uses to kiss you. You can taste the soju in her mouth as the two of them start making out. You have had a crush on the blonde girl ever since you became classmates but you didn’t pay attention to your feelings as you don’t want to enter into a relationship right now.

You felt Chaeryeong moaning in between kisses as the black haired girl is now playing on her nipples. Yeji’s nails are pinching her nipples enough to make her moan. While her other hand is caressing on her boobs. The blonde girl doesn’t want to moan out loud because of the action of the other woman. She pulls you deeper into a kiss as she tries to muffle her moans in your make outs. Chaeryeong now moves on top of your lip while still not breaking up the kiss. Her arms are across your neck as she clearly appreciates your kisses. She likes that your kisses are passionate and needy as if you have been waiting for this moment. Her tongue moves in your mouth swiftly as she wants to get into you deeper. You reciprocate her advancement as your tongue kisses her as well. Your tongues are outside your mouths fondling with one another. The two tongues move against one another feeling all sides of one another. Your tongues are intertwined like they are longing for one another. You didn’t know that you were capable of such erotic tongue kissing but here you are with your classmate making out in front of someone.

Yeji reaches down on her wet slit as she gets turned on by how the two kiss each other. Her slender fingers effortlessly enter her slit, as she touches herself watching the erotic display in front of her. It seems like the two of you sense that Yeji is touching herself by watching you. Chaeryeong starts to grind on your hips to give Yeji a better performance. Your bulge is now visible as her grinding made you rock hard. The blonde girl felt this as she moved on top of your bulge to grind directly on it. The sight of Chaeryeong wet panties hitting your bulge made Yeji’s mind go blank.

She plunges her fingers deep in her as her orgasm. She holds her mouth with her other hand to muffle her moans. Chaeryeong notices this and goes to the girls wet slit to have a taste of it. You stand up with Chaereyoung to now remove your pants. Your cock is bulging through your pants, begging to be left out. Your thick cock is now exposed, stroking it while watching the blonde girl eat her out. Yeji is looking at your thick cock as she taps Chaeryeong's head to look in the same direction. The two girls quickly moved in front of your thick cock. Yeji held your cock first, stroking it as she exchanged glances with Chaeryeong. The two start to make out again in front of you as Yeji continues to stroke your cock. Your cock is throbbing hard as you get turned on by the two pretty girls making out.

Yeji pulls your cock closer as she puts your cock in between their lips. The two girls are now sucking and licking your cock on each side. Yeji sucks your cock in different places like she’s trying to give it hickies while Chaeryeong tongue swirls on your tongue making sure to lick every part of it in her side. Your thick cock is now wet with their saliva as the two girls make out again in front of your cock. You try to tease them by slapping their face with your cock as you notice Chaeryeong smile with what you’re doing. Yeji’s hands go inside the blonde girl's panties as their make out continues.

Chaeryeong knows that she’s a loud moaner. All she can do right now is to kiss Yeji deeper to muffled her loud moans. The black haired girl was forced to lay down as the blonde girl is now aggressively kissing her. Yeji pulls her finger out of her then puts in her Chaeryeong lips. She immediately sucked the wet fingers that’s on her lips. Bobbing her head like she’s sucking a cock. The girl looks back as she continues to suck it. Signaling you to put your cock in her. With no hesitation, you position yourself on the blonde girl back while she’s still on top of Yeji. You pull her wet panties aside, tapping her slit with the tip of your cock.

Chaeryeong's eyes are glued into your cock, she wants to see it go inside her. You didn’t wait for her for long as you put the tip of your cock in her slit. She looks at you before looking back on how your cock disappeared inside her. Yeji notices that Chaeryeong is about to moan, she pulls the girl into a kiss. You groan with how your thick cock is being hugged tight inside. You slowly pull your cock out as you feel all her inside walls. Chaeryeong knows the danger of making a noise but she can’t help it. She put a hand on her mouth to prevent her loud moans. Before your tip leaves her inside, you push it back in again. Chaeryeong heads snap back with how her inside is being stretched by your thick cock. You hold her slim waist as you repeatedly push and pull your cock inside her.

Yeji tries to help her contain her moans. She pulls the blonde girl into a kiss again with now being the one to initiate tongue kissing. Yeji’s tongue tries to reach the other girl’s mouth which she welcomes greatly. The girl has been distracted for a while to not moan as she feels all of your thick cock rampaging her inside. The distraction didn’t last for long as you got turned on by how the girls are making out while you’re fucking one of them. Chaeryeong's head snapped back again and she tried her best to cover her mouth. Yeji notices how her perky boobs are now dangling in front of her. She catches one of them with her mouth. Chaeryeong quickly reacts to the girl’s tongue circling her boobs. Her muffled moans are still getting loud. You quickly remove her hand to be the one to cover her mouth. The size of your hand covers her mouth better. Her moans can be contained but her orgasm is on its way. Chaeryeong's legs shake, signaling to you that she’s near. You hold her head by her mouth while the other hand is in her hips. You thrust faster and deep inside her to finally meet her orgasm. Chaeryeong's whole body shakes as her orgasm flows out of her while your cock is still impaled deep in her.

Chaeryeong lay down to the side, exhausted by her orgasm. This leaves Yeji in front of you. The girl looks surprised by the sudden opportunity to get fuck but you didn’t let her think as you align your thick cock on her slit. She looks hesitant to take it as this has been the thickest cock she have seen, she’s not sure if she can take it well like Chaeryeong did. You didn’t mind her hesitancy as you pulled the girl by her thin legs. You put the tip of your cock in her entrance just before thrusting it all in. Yeji’s back curved up with the sudden sensation. Yeji catches her moans as we slit got stretched that quick. You found yourself groaning as well, also caught surprised by how fast your cock goes in her. You didn’t realize that Chaeryeong juices lubricate your cock well which made the penetration go swiftly.

Yeji’s body is getting rocked back and front as you hold her by her thin legs. Her legs are now resting on your shoulders. Yeji can only hold her mouth as she’s getting fucked by your thick cock. She looks to the side to see Chaeryeong now sleeping peacefully. She looks at you, meeting your hungry eyes. Yeji got turned on by your gaze. She moved her hips more upward to give you a better angle to go deeper. You took this furthermore as you went to her closer meeting her for a kiss. Her legs are now pressed against her chest. Yeji moans slips through her hand as you're now thrusting even deeper inside her. Yeji is now biting her lips trying to contain her lustful moan. She haven’t got fucked this good before. Your cock is hitting the right spot, the thickness of your cock is stretching her walls up, your pace of thrust when pounding her. Her thin legs twitch, signaling she’s near.

Yeji pulls you into a hug as she reaches her second orgasm. You meet her lips as you give her a few poundings before removing your cock in her. “Cum in my face,” she said weakly. You move your cock in front of her face, stroking it fast to give Yeji what she needs. Spurts of hot cum, touches her forehead up to her nose. Yeji was surprised at how much you load on her. You just noticed that Chaeryeong is asleep but you still directed your cock in her face to cover her lips with your cum, you watched as some of your cum dripped down inside her mouth. You give your cock few strokes to let out all your cum. You pat Chaeryeong's sleeping face with your cock as you found her too cute when asleep. You lay there between the two girls, sleeping the night away.

A few knocks on the door wakes you up, you look at the two girls still asleep. “Help, help, I’m not infected” you heard a girl’s voice on the other side of the door.

[hwonnrinji]

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

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now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

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"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

~

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

[shuenkio]

LoserXLover | 희승 헨.하.이.픈. (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ💨

Paring: Loser!seung X M!reader

Genre: Smut Synopsis: Being such a brat he is, you decided to punish your boyfriend in a very edgy way. Cw: pure smut, cum undone, edging, freaky af, cursing, dirty talk.

English is not my 1st | This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A$N: from an anon request! This is probably my last update this month since next month who knows I'd be busy but I won't accept any requests sooner. Btw 'but' using alot here, ignore it 🥲 I'm having a mental breakdowns trying to make it perfect I'm suck still at writing smau.

Finished schedule for today's promotion is a relief that everything went smoothly yet there's something that has bothered you lately which you have bottled up for sometimes now. Despite being a sub-leader in the big group full of older boys at a young age, it is half bad and half good. The good parts were already doing great the nice ones while the bad part is they're grown boys.

You'd question your own self that it is worth it? In a frustrated good way of course. Not only are all of them a ball of chaotic energy but they're also clingy, teasing, if they'll tease you, all you need was a punching bag sand to Express your annoying. However it gets used to it till it becomes a habit and sort of like everyday shit. And that's not the case for nowadays. Heeseung the oldest hyung is getting on your nerves lately.

One was he accidentally made a small mistake during the finish part today on stage yeah that's forgiven but still driving you nuts as a perfectionist you are. Two, at the dorm, Heeseung would leave his ramen bowl without washing, dishes soaked in the sink for days unless you point it out. It's one of the hell rides having the same floor and dorm with him.

Not to mention Ni-ki says nothing about this as if he is not in the same dorm. Three, the gamer boy is getting out of hand. The nagging, the yelling, the reminding is just an air that went from one ear to another gosh how difficult can he become more. He's not a damn teenager but a 23 year old guy. Did he do all of these on purpose or is it just so unbelievable that you thought this was some kind of joke? Only god knows.

By doing all of the voices won't make him flinch anymore you'd have to come with some other punishment to make him won't repeat all of the childish behavior anymore that could leave him a bit traumatized, for some time in a very good~ way. What if he might love the idea more? Only to find out. Burst in his personal room, leaning against the door way as you are staring at the lazy guy who is on the bed, scrolling on his phone as if he didn't have a busy schedule the next day. Closing the door behind, as you make you way closer before sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Heeseung hyung? We need to talk!" Murmur in a serious tone yet so calmly, request for talking. But in return he just hums in response, rooting to the core as if his body is stuck on the bed which makes you have to control yourself from being violence.

"please sit up, before I change my mind" is another demand yet this time he did as he was told. Sitting up, resting his head on the headboard.

"yes? M/n What do you want to talk about?"

"about your behavior, not to be disrespectful but this is not how I wanted you to act hyung!, you're 23 not a toddler" You claim, explain in as calm a way as possible. However, it seems like it won't work on him ever.

"I am the way I am m/n what are you... Talking about? I know I'm the oldest but I don't act like a child you say, don't just come up like that" Heeseung response, his tone is slightly offensive to your words but that makes him look even more stubborn. How can he even let those slip out. Anger boil almost explodes, trying to maintain your compose while explaining how many things about him that bother you a lot as a sub/co leader that left Heeseung dumbfounded.

But that won't last long when he just ignores the fact, carry on acting like a brat once you finish talking. This is getting out of hand, you force yourself to give him one last chance before a disaster would occur.

"what are you gonna do about me then? I'll like how I am right now, leave my room you're such a headache for me m/n, hyung need alone time" Scoff is all what left your sweet mouth, this is so irritated it's like telling a siblings to go bed time but they denying. What's more irritated? The fact he was your loser boyfriend makes it worse. Heeseung turned away and sat on his desk, opening his computer to play some games. Would you let that happen? Not this time. Stroking away your hair in boil pointed before locking the door tight, making your way to your boyfriend.

This might be the first time you've had to punish your brat lover. Seeing the sock scatter on the floor, you come up with an idea, if you can't punish him emotionally, how about physically? Smirking, like the idea so much. Before Heeseung could wear his headphones on, his gamer chair turned around by your grips. Slightly starlet the next thing he knows, both of his hands are tied up by his own socks. A very lovely sight to see such submissiveness. Yelping, confused running through his head to your new side, he can't help but to be afraid one bit, asked.

"m/n?? What are you doing? Untied me now, this is not funny.." speak in a shaky voice, as he sees your unusual attitude. Meanwhile deep down inside of him, he knows what's going to come for him. Somehow he liked it? Or he just pretends to drive you nuts so he could get this attention of yours?

"You're never gonna like it, and I won't stop until you reflect your own shitty behavior, hyung!" Waste no more time, your body lean close to him as your naughty finger sneaking on his crotch. Fiddle on his pants, around in a circling, teasing to make it rocket hard as you planning to make him so hard, so dry until he begged oh wait, why don't you make him edge? Those feelings are the worst haha.Heeseung squirmed under your touch, in a trembling breath. he was expecting this but This just feels so different, the idea of you would stroking him only to make his soft dick hurt from the tight fabric. And the fact he didn't stop you makes sense that he was waiting for this. Biting on his lower lip he stays quiet, silently enjoying your touch on his meat. He wanted to please you so badly, to make you touch him even more than this, not only to play but to make use of it.

Realized Heeseung is actually enjoying this, making you angry even more, he can't enjoy this, you need to make it hard for him to ever even feel good. In another one swift move, you unzip his pant, let it spring free out a twitching, huge hard throbbing dick that is leaking already. Such a good start,a clean cut tip free is so arousing to look at, and abuse it.

"p- please i... It kinda hurts you have to finish it m/n, y.. you're the one who started this" pleasing, his hand are tied up, it reasonable that he wanted you to finished it up as he leaking so much already ehh those transparent sticky stuff on his head.

"No, let me hear something else. Where is the brat gone hmm? I don't see any"

"but—m/n I'm not in the wrong, I'm just being myself everyday like how my routine, what do you expect from me?" He fired back, getting real pain in the ass . How brave he is to spit those out. Snort out loudly that click heeseung in the head that, he did it for himself just now, he'll be in big trouble.

"you're getting brave for real now hyung I think I might pee myself from it, but I think hmm oh well, you seriously push my buttons" Before hee can react, you hand wrapped on his shaft tightly, stroking him so fast that makes his head spinning to the weirdly speed pace. He moaned shamelessly, filled in the small space with his vocal like he was on the edge to see heaven. His stretchy hairy balls jiggle each movement you jerk him off , making a raw plopping sound mixed with pain and pleasure without liquid. Your bf's chest becomes more hitching and breathless, he wanted to scream so bad in high pitch but he couldn't, afraid the other who was in the same dorm might hear.

He knows and you know he can't do anything but to beg for your mercy. Instead It's the opposite of what you expected, you thought you'd hear him begging, whining, for mercy to stop but he was actually asking for more, and he really wanted to release it off, so impatiently. Knowing his weak spot, what are you waiting for? Masturbating his dick harder, in another brutal speed that left his eye nothing but a white eyes ball. His brain malfunctioned, feeling senseless at the moment. A few more strokes later, Heeseung started to feel jolted as his body signal he'd cum at anytime unpredicted soon.

"H- holy motherfucking shit m/n— I...I'm about to cum please... please I wanted to cum c...can I?" Hearing him beg for mercy and being so submissive for the first time make your body goosebumps, thrilling wash over as you actually found him adorable in this state or did they call that a... Kink? A new discovery kink? No way, you need to see more of this. You want more whimpers from him, making him beg, and submissive ugh so fucking turn on.

Enough with the thinking, his body soon shaking in a sign of soon to explode and your plan was to edge him off, what would he react to if you did it? Isn't it going to be fun??

"Ah...ohh... Fuck m/n I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm CUMIN— NO" he yelled it out, to be come undone but before he can cum you quickly pull your hand away for a good seconds which make him going nut on the spot, finally his body shattered undone in a half satisfied, splashing all his hot sperms on his own sweatpants. His body odor perfume all over the room, the scent of his cum, smells like cow milk, that's crazy. And Nor did he be mad or sad, his expression is clearly he's not satisfied with your action. However at least he did cum.

"why... Why did you do that? For what for??M/N?"

"This is your first punishment, you should remember this from now on. If you continue to act so stubborn again, I bet there's more evil punishment for my loser boyfriend and not just edging you— do you get it?hm?"

"y...yes my.. love I'll be a good boy.. and your good boyfriend I...I'm sorry I'll be better" he was scared ...

"that's what I love about you— very demure very lovely very good boy"

[ylangelegy]

hii,

for the prompt game: seungkwan + " its not like i'm in love with you or anything"

can't wait to see what you do with it !! ♡♡♡

ⵌ non-idol!seungkwan x reader. ⵌ word count: 999. ⵌ notes: alternate universe: non-idol, childhood best friends, fake dating -ish. a, i will give you the world!!! 🫰

"You've got to be kidding me."

Alas, you've known your best friend Seungkwan long enough to know that he is, in fact, not joking. You can see the familiar set of his jaw, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It's the same expression that the brunette has sported since you were children on the playground, pulling pranks on one another.

This was yet another one of the many practical jokes he wanted to pull, except you were now an accomplice instead of the victim. "Kwan," you say. Slowly, like you're explaining something to a five year old. "I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just to make your ex jealous."

"Why nooot?" he whines. He's splayed out on your bed, half his body hanging out the mattress as he attempts to give you a pitiful, puppy dog-like gaze. "It's not like I'm in love with you or anything. I just need to show her what she's missing."

"By going out with the girl you told her not to worry about?" you ask wryly.

"Exactly! You got it!"

"I was being sarcastic."

Seungkwan lets out a drawn-out groan. He curls up further into your sheets, his expression contorted into one of childish petulance. It's difficult to believe that the man in front of you is twenty-something and not, in fact, a teenager who isn't getting his way.

"You're a terrible best friend," he accuses. "The absolute worst."

You would be more offended if you haven't received the brunt of Seungkwan's tantrums throughout the years. "I am," you say empathetically. "And that's why you're still here, bothering the hell out of me."

He gives you an exaggerated sniffle in return. "It'll literally be just for a day. You don't even have to say anything― just stand there and be your usual, pretty self."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Boo."

"This isn't flattery. It's a negotiation." A beat. He looks thoughtful, which is never a good sign for a conniving Seungkwan. "Okay― how about you just hold my hand?"

From where you are across the room― your computer chair, by your desk― you raise an eyebrow. "Hold your hand," you repeat.

It's not a particularly novel idea. Seungkwan was fairly tactile― prone to hugging you from behind, tugging you to and fro. Hand-holding was usually reserved for more serious moments, though, and so it feels like a bit of a travesty to imagine it being used in his little ploy.

"Just hold my hand," he prompts, scrambling to sit up. Your renewed interest in the idea seems to have given him a burst of misplaced hope. "You don't even have to― we won't even call you my girlfriend or anything. Just hold my hand for, like, an hour."

"An hour? You're greedy!"

"Alright, thirty minutes."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five!"

You huff out a sigh. You've never been able to deny Seungkwan, not even on your best days. "Fine. But you owe me."

You're already thinking of what you might want to cash in as the two of you roll up to your destination for the night: The dreaded high school reunion, where everyone who's anyone is gearing up to boast about their lives. Seungkwan has been single since his tumultuous relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and you can't even blame him for his petty need to prove a point.

At the door of the speakeasy, the two of you share a look.

"Ready?" he asks, holding out his hand.

With a heatless glare, you take it. Your fingers slot into the spaces between his, the same way it has a couple dozen times before this. "Twenty-five minutes," you say.

There's a hint of a smirk on your best friend's face as he pulls open the entrance for the two of you. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm already counting down in my head."

Seungkwan holds your hand as the two of you make your way to your designated table. He waves at old friends with his free hand; sometimes with your clasped hands, as if showing it off. Every so often, he'll mumble to you under his breath. Seven minutes. Thirteen minutes.

You're so caught up in the feeling of his warm palm against yours that you completely neglect one very important thing.

The dinner has started, and Seungkwan is seated at your side― your joined hands over one of his thighs― and only then do you realize. You lean in so that your mouth is by his ear, keeping your voice low amid the thrum of conversation and the faint pop music in the background. "Kwan, she's not here."

As if on instinct, Seungkwan squeezes your hand. He hums a quiet 'hm?' back, tilting his head so you can whisper a little easier.

"Your ex," you hiss. "She's not here, you idiot."

"Huh?"

Seungkwan surreptitiously glances down the table. Sure enough, the girl that had broken his heart is nowhere in sight to witness your little stunt. "Oh," he says, his tone quiet and stunned. His gaze briefly flicks to your intertwined fingers. "I didn't even notice."

Despite yourself, your heart does a little kick-flip in your chest. You clear your throat, just enough to say, "Right. Well."

"Right. I guess―" Seungkwan starts, and he makes the most half-hearted effort to disentangle from you. It's laughable.

It gives you the courage to suddenly say, "You know how you owe me?"

He pauses in the middle of pulling away. "You're cashing in already?" he inquires, that smirk from earlier making a reappearance.

"Yeah." You shift slightly, just to make sure your fingers are still snugly fit between his. With a boldness that you could applaud yourself for, you say, "I want you to hold my hand for the rest of the night, Kwan."

The smirk morphs into a smile. His fingers hold yours just a little bit tighter, because Seungkwan was never one to deny you, either. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and he makes good on that promise.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[luvismenu]

chap: 11 — don't wanna be too much ✎ ,, index

“so why do you wanna hang out with me?”

you glance up at the man sitting across from you, his raised brow suggesting curiosity rather than suspicion. he takes a sip of his coffee, waiting for your answer.

“huh?” you say, caught slightly off guard. “oh. well…” you trail off, scrambling for a reason that doesn’t sound too rehearsed. “you seemed cool to talk to.”

his brow furrows briefly before his expression shifts into something resembling surprise. “really?”

you nod, taking a sip of your coffee to avoid his gaze.

“didn’t you call me annoying in our first year?” he asks, his tone light, but his words make you freeze midsip.

the liquid burns your tongue, and you flinch, coughing slightly as you put your cup back on the table. “that was ages ago,” you say, trying to wave it off with a smile.

he leans back in his chair, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “yeah?”

“you’re not annoying, jason,” you say quickly, your tone earnest as you meet his gaze.

his brows relax, and the surprise fades into something closer to amusement. “okay,” he says simply, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

he believes you.

thank fuck.

it’s not like you actually want to hang out with jason.

the day after jungkook ended things—well, not officially, but enough to leave you enraged—you decided to go find him. you thought maybe you’d apologize for overreacting. you didn’t want to admit it, but maybe you’d let your emotionls get the better of you.

you wanted to tell him that; you don't wanna be too much.

but as you made your way to his class, rehearsing what you might say, you saw her. a woman you’d never seen before, standing close to jungkook. too close.

your steps faltered, and your stomach twisted as you watched her lean into him, laughing at something he said. you couldn’t hear their conversation, but you didn’t need to. the way he smiled at her.

it told you everything.

anger bubbled up inside you, sharp and overwhelming. you wanted to walk up to her and pull her away from him, demand to know who she was and why she thought she could be that close to him.

but then you caught the way he looked at her, like she was the only person in the room, and that anger quickly turned to something else.

something heavier.

he’s moving on, you thought bitterly.

he’s really fucking moving on.

you knew you were a bad communicator. you’d accepted that a long time ago. but deep down, you thought—no, you hoped—that he’d wait. at least for a little while.

he didn’t.

it's okay.

it's fine. whatever.

if he could move on that fast, so could you.

and that’s how you ended up here, sitting across from jason, pretending to care about what he’s saying and convincing yourself that this will even the score.

jungkook is stressed.

why are you so against talking about what’s going on? he wonders, running a hand through his hair.

all he wanted was to clear the air, to talk about how things between you both don’t feel “casual” anymore. you’ve noticed it too. he knows you have. but every time he tries to bring it up, you shut him down, insisting everything’s fine.

it’s not fine.

it's not fine at all.

and now you’re walking around with some new guy?

who the fuck is he?

he's never seen this guy before and honestly, he wants to beat the shit out of him.

over the last few days, he’s seen you laughing and smiling with this stranger, and it burns him up inside. every time he’s tried to approach you, you’ve brushed him off, your indifference leaving him more frustrated than ever.

and so he decided;

if this is how it’s going to be, i am not backing down either.

that’s how he ended up here, walking into the café with mia by his side. truthfully, he doesn’t know her well. she approached him a few days ago for help with some classwork, and he didn’t think much of it. it wasn’t like him to turn people away; besides, it seemed harmless.

but now?

now it feels like the perfect opportunity to play along wih whatever game you’re starting.

“jungkook, can you get me something sweet to drink, like you?” mia’s voice is sugary as she leans closer, whispering the last two words on purpose.

jungkook forces a polite smile. mentally, he sighs.

this is too much, he thinks.

mia’s is not someone he would date, not even close. if things were normal between you and him, he wouldn’t have given this moment a second thought. but they aren’t normal, and he’s had enough of feeling like he’s the only one who cares.

if this makes you feel something and makes you want to talk to him, so be it.

just as he’s about to respond to mia, he catches sight of you in the corner of the café.

you’re with him.

that fucking guy with that stupid fucking grin.

you’re sitting there, coffee in hand, looking right at him.

his jaw tightens as your eyes meet, and for a brief moment, it feels like the rest of the room fades away.

then you glance at mia.

jungkook sees the subtle shift in your expression,, the slight frown, the way your lips press together, his eyes catching the way your fingers tighten slightly around your coffee cup, your jaw clenched as you stare. his chest tightens, but he raises a brow at you instead, daring you to react.

you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to your coffee.

he scoffs under his breath.

so stubborn.

“of course,” he says, turning back to mia with a bright, deliberate smile. “something sweet for someone sweet.”

mia giggles and nods, oblivious to the silent tension crackling between you and him across the room.

what the fuck is he doing?

is he seriously with that woman right now?

in the same room as you?

you can see him talking to her, leaning in slightly, his expression relaxed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. and the way she’s giggling at whatever he’s saying? it’s really irritating you.

your hand tightens around your coffee cup, and for a split second, you imagine marching over there and giving her a piece of your mind. or worse.

maybe that’s an overreaction.

maybe not.

but it’s exactly how you feel right now.

“is everything okay?” jason’s voice pulls you back to reality.

you blink, turning to look at him. his brows are furrowed slightly, concern etched into his features as he glances between you and the direction of jungkook and mia.

“yeah, yep, everything’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing.

“you sure?” he presses, his tone soft but skeptical.

you nod, taking a sip of your coffee even though it doesn’t do much to settle the storm inside you.

but when you glance back toward jungkook, you catch his eyes on you.

he’s watching.

you notice the way his jaw clenches, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as if he’s holding himself back. a small frown forms on his face, the kind that could almost be missed if you weren’t paying attention. but you are.

your pulse quickens, the tension in the air wrapping itself tightly around you. still, you refuse to look away.

instead, you smile.

just slightly, a curve of your lips that is meant to get under his skin and turn your attention back to jason.

“so, what were you saying about your project?” you ask, your tone deliberately light, pretending not to notice the way jungkook’s gaze burns into you.

jason raises a brow, clearly sensing the sudden shift in your focus but continues, “oh, right. i was saying it’s been tricky, but i think i’ve figured out a solution.”

you nod, leaning in just a bit closer to him, giving him your full attention, or at least the appearance of it.

from the corner of your eye, you see jungkook shift in his seat, his expression darkening as mia says something to him. he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flickering back to you and jason.

good. let him stew in it.

you’r not even sure why you care so much, but the sight of him with her acting so casual had set something off inside you. and now, you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

jungkook sees you, sitting across from that guy, listening intently to whatever he’s saying, a soft smile playing on your lips. his jaw tightens, and his fist clenches slightly against the table.

he hates this.

hates how easily you seem to have moved on, hates how that guy can make you smile like that, as if nothing between you and jungkook had ever mattered.

are you really going to act this way instead of talking to me? he thinks.

“oh! is it all over my face?” mia’s voice pulls him back, her tone overly sweet as she gestures to the bit of cream on her lips.

jungkook glances at her, clearly unimpressed. she could easily wipe it off herself, but it’s obvious she wants him to do it.

he mentally rolls his eyes, annoyed by her theatrics, but then his gaze shifts, catching you glancing in his direction.

without thinking, he reaches out and wipes the cream from mia’s lip, forcing a small smile.

“there,” he says, his voice neutral.

mia giggles, looking at him through her lashes as if he’s just done the most romantic thing in the world. jungkook barely notices her reaction; his eyes are already flicking back to you.

he sees the way your expression hardens just slightly, your shoulders stiffening before you quickly turn back to the guy in front of you.

his chest tightens, and he has to fight the urge to get up, to pull you away and demand to know why this all feels so messed up.

instead, he stays where he is, his hand dropping back to his lap as he forces himself to focus on mia. but the irritation bubbling inside him doesn’t go away.

because right now, he doesn’t know what else to do. he’s tired of second guessing every glance, every word, every interaction. if seeing him with mia stirs something in you, then maybe it’ll push you to say what’s been left unsaid.

he steals another glance in your direction.

you're frowning.

good.

let it bother you.

because watching you with that guy; laughing at his jokes, leaning just a little too close, makes something ugly twist in his chest.

is this jealousy? he wonders.

are you feeling the same way he is?

he doesn't know. but if this is what it takes to finally make you break the silence, then fine. he’s willing to play along.

but the truth? the truth is that he’d drop this entire charade if you’d just look at him the way you used to. if you’d just talk to him, even for a moment, and stop pretending like everything between you two hasn’t changed.

he exhales sharply, forcing himself to focus on mia’s chatter as he heads to the counter. but his mind is elsewhere.

on you.

you're on his mind a lot.

it’s frustrating, really. no matter how much he tries to distract himself, whether it’s with mia’s empty conversations or the endless tasks piling up, his thoughts always circle back to you.

he wonders what you’re thinking right now. if you’re still smiling at whatever that guy said, if you’re still glancing his way when you think he’s not looking.

he wishes he was in your mind too, even just a little.

but the way you’ve been avoiding him, the way you seem so at ease with someone else, makes him doubt it.

and that doubt? it’s what drives him crazy.

on the other side, watching jungkook with that woman. watching him talk to her and make her laugh like that?

it drives you crazy.

a/n: wow 4 owiu updates this week, isn't that crazy? (i am sleep deprived) and also yay we're halfway through the series aaaaa!!! this chapter was a last minute thing lol i didn't wanna write but here we are (also, i am hoping to finish owiu asap hehe)

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

@kyuupii @https-mei @internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097

[elvensorceress]

saturday snippet of longing and pining and being completely unaware of your own feelings! (feelings are hard, okay)

@tizniz @hippolotamus @livinginsunnyhell @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus @monsterrae1 @ronordmann @wh0rebehavi0r @epicbuddieficrecs @chaosandwolves @singitforthegirls @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @sofa-king-lame @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @blutterlie @sazanahashi @smilingbuckley @inell @bekkachaos @evaneds @rainbow-nerdss 💕

more of this 🥰

"I don’t know how anyone could not want you.”

Buck stares at him again with that piercing, soul-rending gaze that skewers directly through Eddie’s chest. But then Buck closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sardonic huff. “He’s straight. So. Doesn’t really work that way.”

Probably says something that Eddie’s first thought is, why not?

Why would it matter? Who would even care about sexuality if it were Buck offering his heart? Attraction is made up bullshit anyway. Who actually looks at someone and wants them when you know nothing about each other? Who wants to fuck just because they think someone is good looking? No one falls in love at first sight. It’s romanticized, telenovela fiction. And people lying to themselves because they’re lonely or want attention or orgasms or whatever. 

There’s a lot you can convince yourself of when you’re lonely, heartbroken, afraid you’ll die alone, afraid you’re a failure as a person, a husband, a partner. There’s a lot someone might do to be what other people want. There’s a lot that gets cut out and tucked away in order to be what you’re supposed to. 

All the more reason Eddie judges and dislikes anyone Buck dates. He’s totally justified. None of them get him and they don’t adequately appreciate him at all and Buck deserves all the love in the universe. At the very least, he deserves someone who will love him just as much and just as fiercely as Buck loves them. 

“Weren’t you ‘straight’ until Tommy?” Eddie asks. “Or— not that it was dependent on him, not that he did anything— but you thought you were straight until you realized you liked him. Right?” 

Buck looks at him, stares too hard at him for far too long and it makes goosebumps wash all over Eddie’s skin. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and swishing, churning flips through his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Buck answers quietly. “I don’t think that’s the case here though. Doesn’t matter. It’s not— It’s late. Too late. It’s really too late. We should sleep.”

Yeah. They should. Eddie has a long day of more packing to do tomorrow and another long distance tour with the realtor. Even if thoughts are whirling in his head. Too many thoughts. 

How does Buck know it’s unrequited? How does he know what he’s feeling now if he didn’t before? Did something change? How the hell would Tommy supposedly know if Buck didn’t know? 

How does Buck feel when he likes someone? 

How does anyone feel when they like someone? How do you know if you do? Is there supposed to be something you feel when you’re looking at someone beautiful? How would you know they’re beautiful if all you know about them is how they look? 

How do you feel anything for someone? Especially if you don’t know them? People say sex is better with someone you love, but is that more romanticized bullshit lies? Probably not. Sex is overrated honestly. It’s fine. Mostly. Just. Not what everyone seems to say it is. Nothing earth shattering or life changing. Nothing all that intimate either. Not technically. It’s just distant, avoidant, using each other for a moment of relief. He and Shannon did it so they didn’t have to talk. When they didn’t want to talk or actually be close. They didn’t have to go on dates or bare their souls or anything. They could just take off some clothes. 

Isn’t that what everyone does? Isn’t that the difference between dating someone versus being friends with them? 

Is it supposed to be different? Is that why people like sex? Because it’s different for them? 

Does anyone actually feel the kinds of intense, fervent, passionate emotions that people make up stories about? Isn’t romance just another fantasy? Like fairy tale magic and otherworldly phenomena? Like dragons and unicorns and mythical creatures? It’s a nice fantasy, but still a fantasy. None of it is real. 

Love isn’t sex or attraction or beautiful people being beautiful. None of that is love. 

Love is sacrifice. Connection. It’s blood and battle and being torn apart. Giving up everything because there’s no alternative. Because you’re not whole anymore without the person you love. They’re part of you. So losing them is losing yourself. 

Is that all love is? Loss? 

Eddie reaches out and holds onto Buck’s shoulder. They should sleep. He’s tired, too. But there’s heaviness in his chest and a swirl of despair whirlpooling inside him. It’s small now, but it’s been growing and he needs to hold onto Buck. 

When it’s not enough to just grip his shoulder, Eddie lets his hand slide down until it’s again resting on Buck’s chest and he can gently rub back and forth a few times. He hopes it’s comforting. He hopes Buck knows he’s not alone. Eddie won’t let him be alone. Someone will love Buck the way he should be. 

A wave of envious aching crashes through Eddie’s chest and he swallows hard. Buck should be loved. Buck is loved. Maybe not the way he wants. But Eddie loves him. Every beat, every breath, every single shred of his soul holds love for Buck. It might not be enough, but it is there. Eddie would love him until Buck finds someone he wants who loves him properly. 

Eddie would love him after that, too. Even when Buck is happy and settled and doesn’t need him anymore. 

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and holds it tightly as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t turn back around. And he doesn’t let go. 

Eddie just wants to inch closer and hold tighter. 

There’s something faded, slipping away like tides and wet sand through his fingers. 

Why can’t he keep this?

Why can’t this be the answer? Why can’t Eddie love him the way he wants? Why can’t Buck love Eddie this way? Why can’t they be in love with each other? 

[k-yurieee]

'ALMOST ALWAYS' CHAPTER 4 IS HERE!! WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 🎉🎉

(Edit 3 : I started writing this post/reblog last week Monday. Don't worry about what day it is today. I just kept nitpicking at it and having more thoughts that I wanted to add everytime I came back to this, and time kept getting away from me because of irl events, sooo yeah. Stuff happens.)

Edit 1 : My usual yapping will be under the cut for this one, cause I might ramble on for bit longer than usual today. Yeah, I've got some things to say. They might not be particularly intelligible, but is anything I ever say on this app comprehensible? Probably not. Soooooo buckle up I guess 🤷‍♀️

Edit 2 : (also please ignore that I'm posting this like wayyyy after I've read this chapter, I had this saved and edited as a draft and thought I had posted it after editing it, before I decided to take a nap, but... Guess I was mistaken lol. And sleep deprived, but that's besides the point. Also I guess the draft didn't even save properly earlier??? Because I'm rereading the whole thing now and I'm pretty sure there's stuff I added earlier that seems to be missing now so.... That's sooo fun haha 🙃 I'll try to re-add anything I can remember 🫡)

Edit 1 (continued) : ohhhhh my gosh, this chapter was another ✨emotional rollercoaster✨ (which isn't anything new with this series, and honestly I should've expected it but mannnn, it just gets me every. single. time 😭😭😔)

Let me just quickly gush about this part first because EEEEEEEEhEEhEEEeeeee I can never NOT giggle and kick my feet over sweet moments like this, are you KIDDING me, I'm an absolute sucker for fluff, and I will die on that hill (also I just need to let myself simmer in this fluffy warmth before I divulge into my slightly more serious thoughts, I'll get to those in a second but firsttttt LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEE👇👇👇😭😭😭😭)

'You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.'

When I tell you this made me wanna scream (wouldn't be the first time this fic affected me this way lolll) into my hands and jump up and down 😭😭😭 like girl can you PLEASE be normal (and by 'you', I mean 'I', as in ME. I need to relax lmaoooo 🙃)

This chapter... This chapter was so much. I truly am not sure how to put into proper words everything it made me feel, but I will try. Honestly I feel (and have felt) more than a bit conflicted about them (Joe & R, obvs). And I mean, that's kind of expected, right?

I want to support them but I also low-key want to smack them both upside their head sometimes (but like, in an affectionate 'why did you do that, you flippin idiot, I believe in you and know you can act better than this' kind of way)

It made me remember this quote I heard a while back that went something like "sometimes we dislike other people because we see the parts of ourselves that we dislike, in them". And it irked me because it reminded me of how I'd treated certain people in my life before, in ways that I'm not proud to admit. In one of the previous chapters, Joe had a thought somewhere along the lines of "I can't control my feelings, but I can control how I treat others", and I thought 'this is great, he knows how he should move forward, good for him, he's learned his lesson.' And I hoped it would be the same for the Reader character as well, and that both of them would implement this afterward.

And then... Then this chapter happened, and yeah, maybe they weren't in a completely committed relationship with the people who were sleeping in their beds, and maybe they 'weren't doing anything illegal', and all that, but... They could still be hurting someone else's feelings. Again. Low-key I had my face in my hands like "guys please, I know y'all can't stay away from each other, and I want you guys to end up together too but likeee there's got to be a better way to do this, pleaseeee" 🛐 😭

And maybe that's the point. They're human. They make mistakes. Sometimes they learn and grow from their past mistakes, and sometimes they continue doing the same stupid thing a million times over even if they know it won't end well for them. And it was when they made those questionable choices, when they tried to pretend that their problems didn't exist, when they constantly made excuses and kept repeating the same regrettable cycle over and over – it was during of all those moments that I looked at these characters, and I saw a part of myself. Parts of myself that I didn't like, but acknowledged was there nonetheless. It was these aspects that I could personally relate to.

This is why they feel so fucking REAL to me.

I just really hope things will end well for everyone in the last chapter because mannnn 🥲🥲😭

'But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.'

This part hurt me more than it should 😭😭😭😭

(I know I wrote more about my personal feelings than about the actual fic, but like I said before, I had written more about it - over a week ago - in this draft that didn't save properly, and my memory is generally not that great, sooo yeah. I at least know that I had some thoughts about Emily's response to the whole situation and stuff but I can't recall anything specific I'd written rn. I want to reread this chapter at some point to see if it re-sparks any of those thoughts I had last time but... we'll see lol.)

Anywayssss I can't believe there is just ONE more chapter left to this series omggggg this fic has been an experience for sure

(I'm gonna need to lie down again aren't I 🥲🙃)

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: -

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,��� you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”  

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.  

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan. 

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.��

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.  

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

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@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWELVE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings a lot of angst this time whoops 🤭

kalena speakss 🪽! so there’s like four chapters left guys woah. i’m sorry for this one and the next one because it’s lowkey just angst but you’ll live 😆

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“You did what?”

“Azz—”

“No you dumbass, you did what?” Nika cuts in, her voice echoing through my phone speaker as she repeats Azzi’s question.

I had just landed from our latest road trip, mindlessly trying to unpack and clean up around the apartment. Maraye was coming over and I wanted to have everything looking good by the time she showed up.

I’ve kept our conversations brief over the last couple days. Every time I hear her voice it just triggers my throat to close up and my mouth to get all dry.

But I can’t avoid her anymore. Whether I tell her about Nyla or not, she’s bound to find out. So I’m left with no other choice to tell her.

“You really want me to say it again?” I ask them, turning down the volume on my phone. Each time one of them yells it feels like my ear drum is seconds away from being ruptured.

“You had sex with Nyla? Why the hell would you do that?” Azzi yells again, confirming the fact that she heard me the first time.

Azzi is filled in on the lore more than anyone. So I know she’s irritated, she almost gave me a concussion when I told her about hooking up with her before the championship. I know if we were in the same room now she might actually render my abilities to play.

“I already told you it was an accident.”

“Oh, you accidentally fell into some pussy? Good luck explaining that to Maraye.” Nika laughs at me. I just know if I could see her face she’d be red from laughter.

“You didn’t tell her yet? Oh my—”

Azzi obvious exasperation is cut off when I hear my front door knock. My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest. I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for my phone.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s at the door so we can talk later.” I breathe, not even waiting for a response before hanging up on the group call.

My feet drag against the floor on the way to the door.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been nervous for a girl to come over to my place. Even when she was here last week, it felt natural. Like she was supposed to be here anyway.

But now my palms are all sweaty and slipping against the silver doorknob.

I think I might stop breathing the second I see her. Raye’s always been perfect, she could be wearing a garbage bag and I’d still think that’s true. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in person completely barefaced, not even a little blush on her cheeks or mascara on her lashes.

Just her. No enhancers, and looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her.

Raye wears that one jacket that every girl in LA seems to own, the Lululemon one. I didn’t get it at first but now I totally get the hype, the navy fabric clings to her arms and waist and everything in between, making her body look otherworldly. The matching shorts, however, are too damn short. I might not be able to control myself.

“So, can I come in?” Her nose scrunches as she asks almost like she’s shy but also teasing me over my gawking.

I don’t even waste any time tugging her arm and pulling her body into mine for me to hold.

I can’t help but grin to myself at how fast she returns the gesture, her arms wrapped around my neck and mine pressed to her lower back. Raye kicks the door shut behind her, humming softly.

It feels light, the hug. Almost like thousands of pounds of weight were lifted off of both of us and now we’re just floating together.

“Someone missed me, huh.”

I let out a breathless laugh, resting my head on top of hers. She smells incredible. “So fuckin’ bad, Raye.”

Raye is pulling back from me slowly, limb by limb detaching from me with a little fight as if they were stuck.

My lip travels between my teeth, looking over her whole outfit once again. Navy looks so good on her, and I start thinking that I might have to buy her more colors of this exact set because of what it’s doing to me.

“This lil set is cute.” I compliment, tugging at the spandex material on her mid thigh.

“Yeah?” Raye asks, looking over her own body. “I was supposed to go to the gym and then you called.”

The statement brings an embarrassing smile to my face. The fact that she dropped what she was doing, changed her plans to come and see me.

I’m embarrassingly whipped over her.

“We can do sum exercise here. No worries.” I smirk. She’s quick to drop a hand from my shoulder to mush my face off to the side.

“Shut up.” Raye giggles, “you wanna get some food?”

I lick my lips as slyly as I can, which really is a lot harder than I thought. There’s something, something that makes my mind run a thousand miles a minute. Her eyes, which I swear I’ve been obsessed with since we first met. Her skin, it’s glowing, looking like glitter that covers her skin. The smell of whatever curl cream she used lingers in my nose.

“Well I needa shower first, and then I wanted to talk.” I explain. My hands trail down to the backs of her thighs, just under the curve of her ass. She lets me, not even fighting me off or telling me that all of this is wrong. It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with her that hasn’t led to kissing her.

Which makes me want to do it even more.

“About?”

"You." I say gently pushing her back against my front door and Raye raises her eyebrows. "And me." I add on.

Her tongue slightly slips from her lips, poking at the corner in the way it does when she’s concentrating or listening or thinking. She holds the back of my neck with one hand, her acrylics grazing the hair at my nape. I shudder, finger nails subconsciously digging into her skin.

“Okay.”

—

I’m not sure what I thought Paige’s room would look like. Her apartment— large and spacious, floor to ceiling windows, lights that set the mood so well that i’m sure every girl she’s had in here was throwing themselves at her— fits her completely. But her bedroom, is almost bare.

Cream white walls and a bed in the center. Oddly enough, there’s no purple decorating it like I assumed. Her duvet is a tan color, pillows that match, and a white throw blanket that is a nice addition to it.

The mattress nearly sucks me in when I lay back on her bed. Her phone in my hand as I order us some Chinese as per her request.

I can’t help but let my eyes wander. The room is clean. So clean, not a single book or pencil or sock out of place.

A bible sits on her beside table, along with a journal and some pens.

Then the more I look around the more the room becomes Paige. The bible is her, the picture on her full length mirror of her and her siblings, the framed piece of nylon she cut down from the net in April, the affirmations on sticky notes above her dresser. It’s all Paige. Everything that I know makes her the annoyingly smart, beautiful, and sweet blonde that I know her to be.

And she gets to be mine. As soon as I tell her that Julian isn’t my boyfriend anymore, things get to be the way they should be. I get to feel good around her rather than guilty.

Even if I do. If I do feel guilty for enjoying myself around her, I’d live with it. Because it’s Paige, and no matter what she always finds a way to get my mind off of everything.

My ears perk up the second I hear the shower turn off and I swing my feet off the side of the bed, almost in excitement of seeing her face again.

Her phone buzzes avidly on the blanket, just slightly muffled but I still hear it. I reach for it immediately, thinking that It’s our DoorDasher confirming our order. I type in the password she told me, clicking on the message notification.

lmk when you get bored of that LA girl again

i’ll be right here like i always am 😂

When you’re like me, and have been in your fair share of shitty relationships, you sort of become numb to it all. The lying, the hurt, the yelling.

I deal with it through music. Spending hours in the studio or in my room writing. It works. It helps me remember that the Earth will keep spinning.

But for a second, it does feel like the world has stopped. Like the planet, that spins a thousand miles an hour, has come to a complete halt and everything is just crashing around on me.

I have to stop looking, protect what’s left of that goodness in my heart and not keep fucking reading. But my thumb moves anyway. I read this girl’s text to Paige from last Sunday. The day after I stood in her arms and told her I’d make a decision. The night after she told me she’d wait for it.

A texts that reads: “had fun ;)”

That fucking wink. It makes me seethe. I swear it’s meant for me, just to rub it all in my face. My heart thumps so loud, and I feel like I’m underwater just drowning.

Within seconds I’m scrolling through what seems like years of texts messages, years of pictures and intimate texts that make me nauseous.

This has to be what karma feels like. I did it to Julian, right? I kissed and touched on someone else while making a promise to him. And now it’s all getting thrown back at me.

Paige took everything I gave to her, and went and gave it to someone else.

Her bathroom door glides open, a cast of steam coming into the room and she follows. “Are you sure y’on’t want anything more comfy to wear? Y’look sexy, but I can—”

Paige stops when she sees I’m not looking at her but rather that my eyes are trained to her phone.

“Ma, you aight?”

“Let me know when you get bored of that LA girl again, I’ll be right here like I always am. Paige, do you take me for a joke?” I ask her, rereading the text out loud to her before finally looking up.

I can’t let her see my tears, the ones that build and poole at my waterline, but Goddamnit they sting. Everything does. My throat feels small, the lump in my throat huge in contrast. And I want to cry. Like all this, all the confusion and the trust and the happiness she made me feel was all for nothing.

I see all the color drain from her face in an instant. Her shoulders dropping.

Paige only has on a sports bra and some sweatpants, the white towel around her neck picks up all the water that drips from that perfect blonde hair, and I’m so mad at myself for thinking about how irresistible she looks.

It’s entirely too reminiscent of the first time we met, when she was all flushed as sweaty and standing there looking like everything I’ve ever wanted.

Now I look at her and just feel like a boulder is crushing my chest.

“Raye.” She starts, stalking over to me and I stand up, feeling like that’s the best thing I can do to stop her from touching me. “Baby, just listen.”

“Me? Listen? To what. Listen to you lie to me about how you just want me? Because you obviously don’t.” I shake my head at her. “It took you 24 hours, Paige. 24 hours and you were fucking some other girl.”

“I—” She starts, sighing and tossing the towel in her hand on the bed. “I thought you chose him and I got drunk.” She babbles. Each step she takes towards me sets me off just a little more, and I feel suffocated.

“I didn’t! God!”

“What?”

“I didn’t fucking choose him, Paige. We broke up, I ended it. But instead of communicating with me when I called you, you went all silent on me.”

My voice cracks as I feel my composure slipping. It’s unbelievable, the entirety of it all.

“But now it all makes sense. You were with her.” I laugh, except it’s not funny. I think it’s the only thing I can do to stop me from lashing out at her, screaming and crying and fighting her in a way that makes me look like the bad guy.

Paige’s eyes flicker. And I know her. The confident and slightly cocky blonde girl that would double down on anything. She’s stubborn, more than me, so when I see it; the slight hint of guilt in those crystalline blue eyes, I know she’s not going to say anything I want her to.

“Wait a minute, you don’t get to be mad at me over this.” She shoots. The words hit my heart violently, sharp, like a knife. “You were with him. The whole time, who I was with is not something you get to be mad over.”

“You knew, Paige! You knew I was with Julian. And I fuckin’ told you over and over that this had to stop. Don’t turn it back on me when it’s what you wanted.” I defend, my voice cracking under her gaze.

She’s nearly unrecognizable. This isn’t Paige. Or at least the Paige I knew and fell for, because I thought she would never do something like this to me, yet she did.

Paige takes a step back from me, running her fingers through her wet hair.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t be mad about. I trusted you.”

“Julian trusted you.” She says, bitter and harsh. “But that didn’t stop you from kissin’ me and tellin’ me you have feelings for me, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“It’s exactly the same, Maraye!” She yells. “But I’m tellin’ you the truth. I’m tellin’ you straight what happened, and you ain’t even do that for him.”

Maybe it’s the way she says it all like it certain. Like she knows me so well that she assumed I didn’t tell Julian anything. Or even the way her voice is so animalistic, full of emotion that I’ve never heard from her. But I lose it. All that is left of my composure, if you could even call it that, goes down the drain and I’m breaking down.

The tears in my eyes finally slip, making my lashes stick together. They’re hot, burning my cheeks.

I hate that I’m letting her see me cry, hate that she gets to see me this emotional. She doesn’t deserve to see me cry. Paige doesn’t deserve to know that she hurt me this bad.

At the same time, I want her to see it. To understand how fucking stupid her actions were. That what she did hurt me to my core, because I don’t even cry in front of people like this. But I am for her. I’m crying, and the tears don’t fucking stop falling.

“You think you know me! You don’t know me, Paige.” My eyes narrow and my arms fall to my sides. “I told him everything. I told him that you made me feel different, so much better than he ever could. A-and I told him I was sorry. I fuckin’ apologized for having feelings for you. I owned up to it, and I messed up so many times but you, God, Paige, you made it all worth it.”

When I look at Paige she isn’t even looking at my eyes. She always does, but now she looks at the ceiling, frustratingly running her hand over her chin.

“And you didn’t. You didn’t tell me the truth, I found out myself like an idiot.” I scream until my voice is raw. Her phone in my hand feels like hot coal, burning my hand and then burning a hole in her sheets when I throw it there. “Fell for you like an idiot.” I murmur under my breath.

“Hol’ on, Angel. C’mon.” Paige says. It’s soft, the quietest her voice has been all night. Of course Paige hears me. She steps to me again, reaching for my hand that I pull back with haste.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“I made a mistake. A huge fucking mistake, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this shit out.” Paige reaches for me again, I throw my hands away from her, hitting my hand on her bedside table and breaking a nail in the process.

“Fuck.” I groan, shaking my hand off and turning away from her. “Move!” I yell, stepping to the side so she isn’t that damn close to me.

“Raye—”

“I don’t trust you.” I breathe, shrugging my shoulders at her and trying to wipe the tears that stain my cheeks. “It’s not about working this out. You broke my trust and y’can’t even apologize for it.”

“Jus’ listen. Please.” I hear her voice crack, that guilt I could pick up on when she first came out of the bathroom so evident in the way she looks at me.

Paige’s blue eyes are rimmed with red, I nearly scoff. She doesn’t get to cry. She did this, she went to her, confided in her instead of talking to me. I shake my head in an attempt to wrap my head around all of this.

“I’m sorry.” And I thought that hearing it would make it all better but my chest just burns. I’m honestly running out of patience because this isn’t working. I’ve made up my mind, she’s done something so fucking unforgivable and it’s sad. I never would’ve imagined it from Paige.

“Really, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I can’t do this.” I blurt like word vomit. “I just can’t. Ion even wanna look at you right now, Paige.”

“Maraye.”

“I’m gonna go.” I say under my breath, nodding as if that’s what I’ve decided to do. I reach for my phone on the dresser, trying to ignore the pulsing feeling in my broken fingernail. The room suddenly feels so small, suffocating. Filled with hot air and lingering insults.

Paige looks at me incredulously. Almost shocked that I was willing to leave it at this, that I didn’t want to hear her out. “I-that’s it? We’re not gonna talk? You just gonna leave like none of this shit matters.” Her voice is low, throat almost scratched raw.

“I don’t know what to say to you that’s not gonna make this worse.” I explain.

“I can fix it, Raye. Please.”

It’s so hard. Hard to not fall victim to everything that she is and give her what she wants.

Believe it or not, I want to, I want to hear her out and have her tell me just how much she regrets it all.

But every time I look at her, I keep thinking about that girl. That girl who had Paige first, seemingly long before I did. Who had her hands in Paige’s hair the same way I do when she’s laying on my couch with her head on my shoulder.

That girl who got to feel Paige’s lips. Soft and plump with that enticing color of pink. The same lips that told me she felt something for me, told me that she’d give me time. The lips that made me feel like I was the only person in the world to her.

Don’t even start on the image of the two of them— a girl who’s probably prettier than I am or funnier or impossibly more into her than I am, and my perfect blue eyed Paige— being together in a way that we haven’t. Kissing and touching and moaning together.

Being together.

It’s nauseating.

So I just turn around, dragging myself to her hallway and to her front door. I can hear her soft footsteps following after me fast. I sniffle as I slip my shoes on, hoping that if I leave just fast enough I can hang on to the words she said to me before she slept with someone else. The words that let me know that it was just us.

Maybe those are enough to get me to forgive her, eventually.

But right now. I can’t.

So I leave. The door slamming shut behind me, and more tears falling before I even get a chance to stop them.

[ruruumin]

young

₊˚ ᗢ canon! alhaitham x gn! reader.

⤷ inspired by this guitar cover of young girl a. 2.4k words.

as the official recordkeeper of the akademiya, the burden of notetaking and historical artifacts rests upon your hands. students and scholars come to you with their discoveries, hoping to be kept alive through history books and beyond. much of their research is rubbish, half-haphazardly put together in an attempt to seem great. 

days stretched out longer than they needed to. work becomes overbearing. it seeps into the corners of your mind. going out with tighnari didn’t help, drinking tea with collei did nothing to soothe the ache in your jaw and hand. a close friend of yours from the same darshan expressed the worries of drinking too much coffee. but nothing was helping. your mind was burning up. your fingers felt like they were on fire. and it couldn’t have been just your pyro vision.

your brain felt like a string being pulled too hard you can hear the vibration wringing the air. you keep your head low in your office, praying to lesser lord kusanali that there won’t be another person coming through those now worn-out doors. you have your hand pressed against your forehead, your eyes peeking through the cracks of your fingers, furiously writing a report upon someone's recent expedition. 

don’t forget to write about how they entered the desert runes. add the part where they stumbled next to the entrance. make sure you indent here. transcribe every part of their dialogue as perfectly as you can. do it as if you were there. these racing thoughts were doing nothing but pulling you back and forth, pushing you toward the edge you could see the bottom of. your breaths felt hot. your skin was sweating. everything was damp and sticky. 

you grip your vision tightly, trying to hold out as much as possible before exhaustion could hit you like a train. in the confines of your office, you think about unspeakable things. what would alhaitham do? that snarky, know-it-all scribe, what would he do in this situation? would he stress out like you are? does he even feel stressed? are you just competing against some robot with no emotions? what if he couldn’t even feel pain at all? why were you thinking of him at all?

perhaps it was all the time you spent in your younger years at the akademiya, having been in the same darshan as him once before graduating and going back to school for a second diploma. maybe it was the way he constantly one-upped you in everything you did. one point off of a test score. one second behind his mile time. hell, he even got the job of acting grand sage so easily, while you had to work your ass off sucking up to the previous recordkeeper. why was it so easy for him to become a scribe and grand sage?

he never had to say it out loud, but the look in his eyes, the turquoise gaze that he leaves you when the doors close, made you all the more furious. 

you wanted his job so badly. being a recordkeeper was the closest thing you could have that was remotely similar to sumeru’s scribe. you might not be able to get the same amount of pay or recognition, but it was something. you could still put your love for writing and history into books. all of it would be great. you could be satisfied. if only you didn’t want more. 

the ticking clock is like a metronome. click. click. click. one sentence down. the next one. click click click. halfway there, if you push a little harder, click, click, click and run through your thoughts one more time, click, click, click, you can finish this in less than an hour. click. click.

what happened to the third click? you look up and see a familiar face staring down at you. his lips were squeezed tightly together into the same thin line you always saw in the classroom. 

“when was the last time you slept?” he asks, raising his hand to your forehead as you lean back in your chair, barely escaping his grasp.

you raise a few fingers, eyes glancing down at your paper. “one… three.. one and a half hours.” he lets out a huff, sounding rather disappointed in your answer. 

“the well-esteemed recordkeeper, unable to keep record of their sleep. how ironic is that.”

“if you came here to taunt me, you know the door is that way.” 

he doesn’t say anything in this instance. no response. no backtalk. he’s so eager to jump on any flaws you exhibited, and suddenly, when you gesture towards the door, trying to be unfazed by his comments, he is quiet. it grosses you out.

“tighnari told me you weren’t doing so well. looks like you've been working on this paper for a while now." he brushes back a few strands of his hair, "you know, you could always ask me for help. as a scribe, i have some knowledge of recordkeeping.”

there it is.

really? tighnari had to tell him? had you known he was going to tell the scribe, you would have never said anything. you want to be frustrated at him but knowing how kind he is, he was surely doing it out of the kindness of his heart. your reply to alhaitham has a sharp, sarcastic tone. 

“what don’t you know? don’t you know everything already?

“stop making it sound like i’m so much better than you.” his response was instant this time.

you grip your pen tightly, fingers trembling at the pressure. that’s what he gets out of all of this? you thought after being academic rivals for so long, he’d know how you feel about him. and the reasons why you’d even villainize him in the first place. was he always this blind? questions were racing through your thoughts again and for once in your life, you wished that the entire world could just disappear so you could have a moment of peace. 

“you don’t understand, alhaitham,” you start, teeth trembling, “i don’t think you do.”

“yes, i don’t understand why you’re pushing so hard. you’re only a recordkeeper, the job doesn’t require much other than documentation. but regardless, i won’t know unless you tell me.”

slamming the pen down, you raise yourself from the chair, slapping him across the face as he looks back at you in utter surprise. the skin on his cheek was beginning to grow red. your entire body felt cold the moment those seven words came out, and yet the anger you felt was warming you up from the inside.

i won’t know unless you tell me.

so ignorant. so blind. that’s what he was. and you despise him for it. 

“only documentation? that’s what you got? i’m just working so hard over nothing, right? this is just some stupid job, it’s not even as special as your lavish one. i’m no grand sage. no scribe. i’m not even a matra. i’m just some lowly recordkeeper that has to write about everyone else’s accomplishments, while i have absolutely none to my name."

you can't control your words. "do you know how many times i have to write your name down? for everything you did for sumeru? for lesser lord kusanali?” 

the air is growing hot, and so is your skin. did anyone leave the doors open? where was the breeze? who turned on the heater? your head was beginning to feel light. “sorry, maybe i’m too stupid for you. not everyone has the mind of grand sage.”

“grand acting–”

“my apologies, grand acting sage. not everyone is like you.”

“like what?” he says, a lower tone following his words, “rational? logical? cool-headed? have you forgotten everything you learned in haravatat? or has switching to a new darshan made your brain forget the lessons our professor taught about burnout?”

you? burned out? those words hover over you like a looming darkness. “you seriously–can’t understand.” 

“understand what?”

don’t say words you can’t take back.

“that i hate you!” a scream ripped through your throat, ah, there it is.

“i despise you. i hate everything about you. you’re so nonchalant about everything, when we graduated, all you could say was ‘oh, thanks.’  even when you’re declared grand acting sage, you didn’t show an ounce of gratefulness or humility. you saw it as some kind of chore when that job–your job! was all i ever wanted!” 

everything was spilling out of your mouth like bile. with your vision heating up to burn the surface of your skin, you fail to see the hurt in his eyes. the flinch his fingers carried, and the way he stepped back at the raise of your voice. 

“so i don’t understand why they gave it to you when you–fuck– you don’t even care! you don’t care about anything! so now i don't even know why i do!” squeezing your eyes shut, you block out all the unnecessary noise that isn’t your voice. “i tried so hard, i switched darshans so i could do more, but the best i could do is be some shitty recordkeeper that can’t even handle a few paperwork.”

"of course the grand acting sage of sumeru can't understand the feeling of being mediocre. after all, you're the perfect alhaitham. grand acting sage alhaitham. sumeru's feeble scribe alhaitham. the know-it-all jackass alhaitham!" you run your fingers through your hair, pulling on it, "fuck, can't you just show me that you're at least grateful that you got the job, the one that i've been working so fucking hard for in the past few years."

“this is a joke.”

you let out a gasp when his hand reaches out to grab you by the face, squeezing your cheeks tightly. “the only person being ungrateful here is you. are you even hearing yourself right now? being a recordkeeper is a huge accomplishment. you’re doing what many sumerians can only dream of doing. graduating from two darshans? how many people can you name off of one hand that can do that? lisa only graduated from one. most of us did. and here you are, having done two.” 

"if it was me in your shoes, having done two darshans back to back, would you say the same thing?"

"hah? of course not–"

"so why are you wasting your breath complaining about yourself?" those words hurt a lot more than you thought they would. but what did you expect? some sympathy after all of this?

a laugh is choked out of you, “yeah, i guess you’re right. i should be more happy that i got this job. after all, i’m just some spoiled brat to you.” his hold tightens up, veins bulging from his wrist. despite the change of tone in his voice, the expression on his face conveys a different feeling. one that is mixed. you don't know how to describe it.

“did you even listen to me?”

“i don’t know. what did you say anyway?” your body trembles. fingers wrapping around his hand, trying to loosen his grip as tears swell. you wish you had the strength to clamp your jaw shut.

“i don’t even know what i’m doing anymore.” 

his turquoise eyes begin to soften. his grip losing its strength. this gives you the moment you need to breathe.

he doesn’t know what to say. for someone so adamant on accomplishing what is seen as extraordinary, you didn't see it at all. to him, you were a ball of sun, a brightly shining star that could never lose its color or flame. seeing you like this is twisting his hearts in ways he cannot fathom.

he thought it would be nice seeing you vulnerable, to see you at your most raw. he always liked how enthusiastic you were about beating him. but he doesn’t know if he feels this way anymore. you, at your wit’s end, despite graduating in haravatat and having experience in a multitude of languages, being unable to come up with a proper response was more than heartbreaking. it makes him feel sick.

and before you can push him away, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest. this unexplained action is incomprehensible to you. and you fear that he's doing this out of pity.

the air grows quiet as he’s pensively thinking.

“i’m sorry,” his voice is as soft as a mouse. its timid, something you never thought to hear from the grand acting sage himself. 

“i don’t know if this is what you wanted to hear. but i don’t think of you any less. i’m sorry my actions made you feel that way. being a recordkeeper is a lot harder than i made it out to be. you have to balance everyone's story and make sure they're all written accurately and true.” he is unsure if this is the right thing to say at the moment, but it's the only thing he feels is true.

“i was too harsh on you because i thought it might push you forward. i thought things were the same as they were in the akademiya. but now that we're older, i see that the way i treated you was... more than wrong."

he wants to bite his tongue, humiliation burning through his cheeks like a bullet wound. "there is a lot that you should be proud of. so..." he is beginning to mumble, "don't cry." that last part comes out like a question.

you hesitantly hold onto him, keeping him close to you as if he’s the last person on teyvat. alhaitham, the great one himself, was giving you an apology. a rather heartfelt one too, even if he seemed inexperienced in it. you should be a little grateful he had the guts to tell you rather than pass around notes as he did when you were younger.

you shiver when his hand runs down your spine, moving up and down to comfort you. you could feel your vision pulsate in reaction. your heartrate spiking. if the past you saw where you were now, they’d be mortified. to think you’d be this close to the one person you considered your worst enemy. and despite that, sharing this moment of vulnerability with him was oddly comforting.

it made everything feel okay.

a breath is drawn out of you, one that was flimsy and weak, “i’m scared.”

“what are you scared of?”

“i don’t know what to do,” your words come out shaky, “i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. this job, my feelings…all this work that’s piling up, students who are counting on me, everyone– what am i supposed to do?”

“is there supposed to be a manual?” 

your jaw locks up in an attempt to hold back a laugh. you instead roll your eyes, trying to force him off of you but he remains glued to you, intent on keeping you as close as possible. almost as if you’d fly away if he loosened up a little. maybe you’d burn up like a star, suck the entire universe with you, including him.

“point is, even if you don’t know what to do, there is still plenty of time. if you need to take a break, then do so. travel the world if you have to. leave sumeru and find your purpose.” the last part was more for exaggeration and dramatics. he'd rather die than admit he doesn't want to see you leave sumeru.

he presses his forehead against yours, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “those scholars can wait. it's not the end of the world if they don’t get their measly report written.”

“but–”

“relax. you and i know they’re all pretty whiny. would it kill you to just take a break so you don’t have to listen to them?” his comment finally breaks a snort out of you.

“you’re as good as you are. without you, a lot of what we’ve learned and experienced might get lost. being a recordkeeper is still a very esteemed title. it won’t be hard to ask for a raise.” 

“you joke too much.”

“kaveh says i don’t do it enough.” 

you inhale another deep breath, noting the smell of sage and pinewood on his shirt. it's rather earthy (and you were surprised to know he bothers spraying anything at all.) the gem between his collarbone is flickering underneath the chandelier light in your office. and you could feel the slight tense of his muscles as he adjusted his hold on you.

the words that come out of your mouth feel like needles. “do you hate me?”

“i don’t.”

“even when i said all of those horrible things to you?”

“even so.” his resolution was clear in his answer. 

the burning sensation you felt was beginning to fade away. the flame inside of you finally quelling. you would have never thought in a million years that the man you’ve competed against could make you feel so strange. so conflicted. so unsure. yet at the same time, so secure. 

perhaps, with him in mind, you might be able to take things a lot slower. maybe consider a vacation. you can stop comparing yourself to someone who's on a different path and appreciate what you have already. or at the very least, appreciate yourself, before anyone else. 

you don’t know how to put it into words, so you press your face in the crook of his neck, releasing a content hum. his adam apple bobs with hesitation, his body tensing up as if he’s nervous to breathe in your embrace.

“thank you.”

… 

“that slap really hurt. i think you might need to fetch an icepack for me.”

“i can give you another.” 

“please don’t.” 

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

[fantaatix]

"i have no home now"

i remember a while back when this episode was still being highly anticipated people were debating whether or not stolas would be stripped of his title and powers, maybe even hired by blitz, and why that might be a bad thing

i'll just rip this straight from the post i found in my likes:

"Saying that Stolas needs to abdicate so their relationship can be healthy implies that a commoner really CAN'T be with royalty"

the thing is that i don't think that's necessarily what the show is trying to imply. i'll give them some credit, they posted this in august, i forget when exactly apology tour came out but i think there was a general acceptance that they'd be back together by the end of the season

i don't think that's the case either and here's why;

i think one of the overarching themes of this season is how blitz simultaneously ruins and saves people--whether or not these are his intentions varies from person to person

for example, those he believes he's ruined are his sister, fizz, his mom, and verosika

verosika is an outlier because of the fact that a) the three prior were close enough to be considered family, b) the three prior can all be pinned down to the same event, and c) i feel like he definitely meant to at least piss her off, as a means to push her away

you don't "steal their car, run three rings to wrath and max my credit on shitty horse-riding lessons" because you think it'll brighten someone's day

those he's ruined mostly want nothing to do with him, or keep themselves at a distance; barbie wants nothing to do with him, verosika hates his guts (used to, rather), and while they definitely care about each still, his friendship with fizz is not what it used to be

but now, with IMP, he seems to be on a trend of making a life for himself and giving others a new chance

these images are always paired together as like, "before and after" and i'm sure it's been mentioned dozens of times, but again--there is an outlier, and i think in this case it's moxxie

with millie and loona blitz identifies their struggles himself

with loona, he sees how rough she acts on the outside but sees the soft interior and recognises himself--he wants to give her a real chance at a life, free of judgement

with millie, it's essentially the same deal, except millie straight up tells him about her struggle to make a living and he offers her a job

but with moxxie, there is no "identification", at least not to the specifics. he's in jail, moxxie's in jail, things suck regardless. if anything, maybe blitz figured that being incarcerated was "the struggle", which is probably fair; i don't think you're gonna get "my dad is a sociopath, my mom left/died and my boyfriend left me for dead" first try

moxxie was not special to him in this moment; blitz didn't recognise some divine struggle or empathic connection, they've known each other for 30 seconds and know literally nothing about each other. blitz is looking to break out and see his daughter, that is his goal here. the question was not, "what is this guy's struggle?" the question was "can this guy work a gun?" and the answer may or may not have been yes

and you can tell, like...just by the way blitz looks at him after. it is so possible that he just planned to ditch him after they both got out but ended up not doing so for whatever reason. like, "oh wow, that definitely meant more to him than it meant to me"

that seems to be the case with all of the people he's helped in one way or another; he can't even see that he helps. it's confirmation bias, all he sees is the bad. he needs people to reel him back into reality, people like millie or fizz or maybe possibly stolas later on cough cough

but now back to the point i'm trying to make (and what brought this post to life);

first off, the face blitz makes once he is confronted with the idea that people would actually miss him if he was gone:

and secondly, these two lines:

blitz: you need a ride home

stolas: i...have no home now. everything i have is gone.

this is stolas at his most vulnerable. he has no powers, no home, his daughter is in custody of his Bitch Wife, and he has no lover.

you could argue a few of those things in western energy but in this moment he has absolutely nothing to fall back on, he is alone.

and then blitz invites him to stay with him because that's what he does, he helps people at their most vulnerable moments. he gives them a home.

that is the point here--this isn't about their relationship right now, this about blitz having an irresistible urge to protect people he cares about and acting on it, because like it or not that's his job for the time being. he's not a bodyguard but he'll be playing that role until he dies or stolas gets his powers back.

he can finally actually protect stolas now, maybe even feel fulfillment in doing so, not having to fall back on things like "i didn't think you could get hurt" and seemingly forgetting to mention the fact that "oh yeah someone's plotting to kill you you should maybe look into that"

this is where they learn trust in each other. trust and devotion.

[pinklivesmatter]

Show U Off

Rafe Cameron had always been the loudest in the room, the one who couldn’t sit still, who craved attention like air. But when it came to you, he was quiet—almost reverent. That’s what made moments like this feel so surreal.

The party was in full swing, the music thumping through the walls, but Rafe wasn’t paying attention to any of it. He was next to you, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder, his thumb brushing absent circles against your skin. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear.

“You know you’re the prettiest one here, right?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’ve said that three times already.”

“Only ‘cause it’s true,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m just reminding you.”

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, the way his affection poured out of him without hesitation.

Later, he was dragging you outside, his fingers laced with yours. You barely had time to protest before he stopped under the string lights in the backyard, a soft glow casting a golden halo over everything.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he spun you around to face him.

“Showing you off,” he said with a smirk, his hands settling on your waist. “They don’t appreciate you enough in there.”

“Rafe,” you said, shaking your head, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. His eyes were soft, full of something you couldn’t quite put into words, but it made your heart ache in the best way.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You make everything better. You make me better. And I don’t care if I have to remind you every single day—I’ll do it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could respond, he bent down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t showy or dramatic—just real.

When you finally made it back inside, Rafe didn’t let go of your hand. In fact, he seemed to hold on tighter, like he was afraid you might disappear. Every so often, his gaze would flicker to you, and he’d smile, like he couldn’t believe you were there with him.

He pulled you to the center of the room, right in front of everyone, and started swaying to the music.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing as he spun you in a slow, clumsy circle.

“Yeah,” he admitted, pulling you close again. “Ridiculous for you.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and kissed your cheek in front of everyone.

“Let them look,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care. You’re mine, and I want them to know it.”

By the time the night ended, you were tucked into his truck, your head resting on his shoulder as he drove you home. The world outside blurred, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Rafe’s hand found yours on the center console, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I’ll never stop,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Never stop what?”

“Loving you like this. Telling you how perfect you are. Showing you off to everyone, even when you roll your eyes at me.”

You smiled, your chest tightening in the best way. “Good,” you whispered.

He glanced at you, his lips tugging up into a small smile before he turned back to the road. “Yeah. It’s good.”

And in that quiet moment, you realized that with Rafe, love wasn’t about grand gestures or flashy displays. It was in the little things—the way he held your hand like it was a lifeline, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing he needed.