#it's killing me that it's only in my head

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray )

—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.

“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...

“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.

He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.

“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”

He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible. 

And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.

“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.

“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”

You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.

Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.

“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”

“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.

The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”

You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.

His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.

Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.

Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.

“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.

You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.

“Young-il?”

“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.

He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.

“You're special. Very different from the others.”

Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.

He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.

You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”

Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you. 

Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.

You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.

“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”

His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.

“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.

Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”

Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.

But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.

“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”

You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.

“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.

He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.

“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.

You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.

“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.

“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”

“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”

“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.

His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”

He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.

You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.

“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”

In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.

And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.

“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.

“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”

Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”

“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you. 

“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him... 

You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.

“Yes”

“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.

He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.

“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.

“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.

You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.

His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.

“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.

Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”

His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.

“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.

But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”

One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.

"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”

Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.

“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.

“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”

You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.

You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.

“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”

“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.

“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”

You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.

“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.

“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”

In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...

“Good girl”

God.

He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you. 

They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.

His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.

Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.

“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.

“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”

“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”

Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.

In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.

Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.

And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.

“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"

“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.

“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”

He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”

This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[quimichi]

≡;- ꒰ ° Sick fuck... ꒱

TW: NSFW - MDNI, name calling, slight cnc, yeah thats it???

character: Nam-gyu x F!Reader

summary: You pressed 'x' now you'll face the consequences of your actions

word count: 4.724

a/n: look, for some reason, he was my fav, idk why, idk how, its how it is ok???? I can't take myself seriously lol. I rarely write smut, I'm probably HORRIBLE at it, but we need the content for him ok??

Nam-gyu dragged you into the female bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You try to free yourself from his grasp, but there's no use. "Hey-! HEY-!! For fucks sake guards-! If you don't do shit, why are you even here-!" you keep yelling as he struggles to shove you into a stall.

He shoved you against the cold wall of the stall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. Leaning in close, his black eyes flashed with anger and lust as he growled, "Listen up, you little cock-tease. Next time we vote, yeah? You'll press 'O", understood?" His other hand groped and squeezed your breast roughly through your shirt. "Mmm, but maybe this is what you wanted all along, huh? To get me all worked up and desperate for your tight little body?"

He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal, kiss, biting and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to make it throb. "Strip," he commanded coldly, releasing your wrists only to start tearing your clothes off yourself. "Now! Before I rip them off and fuck you on this filthy floor." With one quick motion, you slap him across his face. "Fuck you-! I don't even fuckinh know you, so what do you want from me?! I pressed 'X', and?! We keep playing the fucking game anyway!" you shout at him. Nam-gyus eyes flashed with rage as you slapped him hard across the face. The sharp sting of your palm against his cheek made him see red. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you face-first against the grimy bathroom wall. His body pressed firmly against yours, pinning you in place as he leaned down to growl menacingly in your ear.

"Listen here, you fucking slut," he snarled, his hot breath tickling your neck. "I know for a damn fact the longer we play, the more people wanna press fucking 'x'. And I wanna keep going, so after the next round, the next vote, you'll press 'o'. If you don't, I'll make sure I kill you, and not a fucking game." His rough hands immediately found their way to your tits, groping and kneading the soft flesh harshly as he grinded his hardening bulge against your ass.

"I'll fucking ruin you," Nam-gyu hissed venomously, giving your nipple a sharp twist through the thin lace of your bra. "Scream for help and see if anyone gives a shit. They all probably jerk off to ya. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told, or do I need to get rougher?" "No-!" you stutter out, "you got your point across-!" You're 90% sure you'll die in the games anyway, after seeing the first you knew you wouldn't survive. Better play along now, than suffer even further with whatever he has planned. If you're lucky, he just did all that to scare you off...at least you hoped so. Playing tough wasn't so easy....

Nam-gyus grip on your wrist loosened slightly as he sensed your submission. He kept you pinned against the wall, his hips still pressed firmly to yours as he leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

"Damn right I got my point across, baby," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "As a reward, we're keeping you save next game, hm? How's that sound?" He slid a hand down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly as he grinded his now fully erect cock against your backside. "Now, since you've been a bad girl, I think you deserve to be punished. Lucky you! You'll get both, a reward and a punishment. Aren't I nice?"

Nam-guys other hand slid under the hem of your pants, pulling them down. "Cute, did you know this was my favorite color on you, hm?" he teased, hot breath tickling your ear as he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties.

"Sick fuck..." you mumble, more to yourself than for him to actually hear it. Nam-gyu smirked cruelly as he heard your mumbled insult, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. "Yeah, I'm a sick fuck, but I'm YOUR sick fuck," he taunted, punctuating his words by shoving two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt.

"But you aren't a healthy minded bitch either, look at how wet you are." he chuckled darkly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly, curling them to rub your walls with each thrust. You try to swallow down moans and gasps, but you can't. It feels too good and for some reason...you even enjoy it. He quickly turned you around, shoving your back against the wall. His thumb found your clit and rubbed the sensitive nub hard, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around his digits.

"Listen to this desperate cunt sucking on my fingers like they're my cock," Nam-gyu laughed mockingly. "You can't get enough, can you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this pussy exactly what it needs."

Having fun never hurt anyone, right? After all, you're a sick fuck too...

[rose24207]

Just a salesman pt.2

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst, dark

TW: mention of death, little gaslighting, reader is a little twisted about the situation, the games in general

A/N: Wow I didn’t expect for pt. 1 to blow up like that and for so many requests about a second part. But here we go! I take requests about squid game btw. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.1

Masterlist

The room fell into an unbearable silence as you stood there, trembling, your tears streaking your face. Gi-hun’s words echoed in your ears like a bell you couldn’t unring. Your husband, your safe harbor, was a killer. A manipulative, calculating man who had built a world of lies around you.

And yet...

As much as your heart screamed in betrayal, it also whispered something darker. A small, insidious part of you—a part you didn’t even recognize—wanted to protect him. Wanted to believe that somehow, some way, this could still make sense.

“Leave,” your husband said, his voice low and commanding. It wasn’t directed at you, but at Gi-hun.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gi-hun spat. “She deserves to know the full truth.”

“I said, leave.” Your husband’s tone grew colder, sharper. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand flexed at his side as though itching to act.

Gi-hun took a step forward, his jaw set. “You think you can scare me? After everything I’ve been through because of you? I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’m not—”

“Stop,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Both men turned to look at you, surprised. You wiped your face, straightened your back, and forced yourself to meet Gi-hun’s eyes. “Please. Just… go.”

“What?” he said, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need to talk to him,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered. “Alone.”

“You can’t trust him,” Gi-hun argued, gesturing toward your husband. “He’s a monster. He’ll manipulate you, just like he’s done to everyone else.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care what you think. This is my marriage. My life. And right now, you’re not helping.”

Your words were harsh, but your heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Gi-hun looked at you, his face contorted with disbelief, before letting out a bitter laugh.

“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shot your husband one last glare before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Silence settled over the room once more. Your husband stood there, watching you cautiously, as though waiting for you to lash out or collapse. But you did neither. Instead, you walked to the table, picking up the strange card Gi-hun had left. You turned it over in your hands, the cryptic design doing little to ease your growing unease.

“Is it true?” you asked finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “What he said about the games? About you?”

Your husband hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. “Yes.”

The word hit you like a physical blow, but you didn’t falter. You set the card down and looked at him, your tears drying as a strange calm settled over you. “Why?”

“For you,” he said simply, stepping closer. “For us.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, your voice cold. “Why would you do something so… horrific? Why would you—”

“Because it’s the only world I know,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “And it’s the only way I could give you the life you deserve. Don’t you see? Everything I’ve done has been for you.”

“For me?” you repeated, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something darker. “You think I wanted this? That I’d ever want you to hurt people—kill people—for me?”

He stepped closer still, his eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t understand,” he said softly. “The world isn’t kind to people like us. I’ve seen what happens to people who don’t take control, who don’t make the hard choices. I made those choices so you wouldn’t have to.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. Every instinct told you to run, to call the police, to do anything but stand there and listen to him. And yet… you didn’t move.

“Do you love me?” you asked suddenly, your voice raw.

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the man you’d fallen in love with. “More than anything,” he said. “You’re the only good thing in my life.”

Something inside you twisted at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. He was a monster, yes—but he was your monster. The thought made your stomach churn, but it also filled you with a strange, horrifying sense of power. He had done terrible things, but he had done them for you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said quietly. “But I need you to understand that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To keep you with me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you took a shaky breath. “You’re going to tell me everything,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. “No more lies. No more secrets. If you want me to stay, I need to know exactly who you are.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by something darker. He nodded. “I’ll tell you everything.”

As he began to speak, unraveling the web of lies and horrors he’d kept hidden, you felt yourself sinking deeper into a world you didn’t understand—a world you weren’t sure you wanted to understand. But one thing was certain: you weren’t ready to let go. Not yet.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @blueyesuguru, @annimoony, @jasmineee05, @astrophe0, @riri53

[decoy-sammy]

Well, my dear knitingtoday, do not worry for I hold the answers you need!

Hmm... Let's start off with Bayverse, in there Starscream used to be a teacher/babysitter before the war and even got recruited to the Decepticons during a literal school field trip!

After some classic Transformers bullshit The Fallen was all " I want an army, I do not CARE how long it takes!" and that bitch was like "Yeah sure. But I'll need 500.000 years and your valve." So like. Now there are around 200 thousand sparklings on the Decepticon ship whom Star was taking care of on his own before he died in the most pathetic way possible.

In Armada Starscream first saw minicons as "pets" just as all other Decepticon only for his whole outlook to change once he got Swindle/Grid. He kinda just. Straight up adopted the minicons and became the best father they could've ever asked for and I ain't even got much to say on this it's just really cute.-Well before he committed suicide to save earth but his children are with the Autobots and the human children-whom some may argue he also adopted-so it's all fine!

Cyberverse, motherfucker went crazy, abuse abuse, worse death scene I've ever seen, still haunts me and that dumbaft losing his mind leading to becoming a god and adoptibg scraplets and believing them to be the 13 Primes or whatever. He adopted goddamn scraplets.

G1, he made the Combaticons. While he denies to have anything to do with them he does use the "I AM YOUR CREATOOOR!" talk to try and get outta trouble.(It was in the scene where Shockwave betrayed him while on Cybertron that leaded to the two fighting and getting captured by the Combaticons in Revenge of Bruticus,-Yes, I have the episodes memorized,don't ask >_<)

Uhm It's getting around 4 in the morning right now and my heads kinda foggy but uhh... Yeah let's see......

Earthspark, Hashtag, a 6 months old femme actually listened and believed that he was abused instead of laughing it off that ended with Starscream finally risking his life for someone and adopting her on the spot. It was quite cute, well, except the parts where Megatron came back to try an kill him and he showed clear signs of PTSD but let's not get into that.

Animated, he made clones of himself that all inherited a piece of him-one being a femme, ooh, trans Starscream??-and like, they're like kids, I dunno. There's also the twins that the Autobots experimented on using Starscreams DNA without his consent so they're technically his kids too. All biological as well....

Gonna cut this here since I need to sleep but yeah, he very much so has kids, my brains hurting right now... Anyways goodnight~!

[crushpunky]

actress!reader’s reaction to drew’s new hair (+ eyebrows)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

lil' bonus blurb because of drew's new hair lol

Y/n sat on the couch, scrolling her phone as she waited for Drew to come home. She was gnawing at her thumbnail, waiting for what Drew warned would be a “drastic transformation”. She had pried for more information, even going as far as messaging his manager, who claimed she was told to keep it under wraps by Drew himself. With the sound of the front door opening, accompanied by Charleston excitedly hopping up from his spot at y/n’s seat, y/n’s head whipped up to find Drew coming inside. He was wearing a hoodie, his hood up over the baseball cap he wore. The hat cast a bit of a shadow over his face, but the nervous smirk on his face was still evident.

“Enough, enough! Take off the damn hat you’re killing me!” Y/n scrambled over as Drew took his hood off, patting Charleston’s head lightly.

“This is only for while we’re shooting, then I’m buzzing it off for OBX, a’ight?” Drew let out a small chuckle as he finally removed his hat. Y/n let out an involuntary gasp, her eyes widening as she took in the sight in front of her. His hair remained the same length on the top, his bangs falling into his face, but his sides shaved closely. However, his familiar, natural blondish-brown was now bleached to a bright yellow-blonde… and so were his eyebrows.

“What do you think?” Drew said, wiggling his bleached eyebrows with a smirk. Y/n bit her lip, trying to fight back a shocked laugh but failing.

“It… it’s certainly different.” Y/n sighed, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair before falling to rest on his cheek. Drew rested his hand on top of hers, turning to press a kiss to her palm before relaxing into her touch with a cheesy smile. She continued to look at him intently, examining his familiar features alongside his new look.

“I think I miss your eyebrows.” Y/n teased, tapping a finger on Drew’s bleached brows.

“I thought you liked the bleached look?” Drew scoffed playfully, wrapping a hand around y/n’s waist as he pulled her closer.

“Yeah… for your hair…” Y/n bit her lip, her finger trailing back to run across Drew’s lips. Drew parted his lips, biting y/n’s fingertip playfully, causing her to collapse against his chest in a fit of giggles.

“I guess I can deal with it for a little while.” Y/n sighed dramatically as she looked up at Drew, who wiggled his eyebrows again as he wrapped his arms around her.

“What if I want to keep them?” Drew teased, causing y/n to shoot him a sharp look.

“Don’t push it, Drewseph.” Y/n chuckled, pushing at his chest playfully. She moved away only an inch, Drew’s grip on her waist keeping bringing her right back to him as he laughed.

“Oh, you love me and my bleached eyebrows.” Drew pressed a kiss to y/n’s head.

“I do, Starkey, very much so.” Y/n grinned, raising up on her tip-toes to press her lips to Drew’s cheek.

[artbyblastweave]

Yeah, I'm the guy that all those fuckass writing prompts are addressing in the 2nd person. Yeah, all of them. It's fucking exhausting. Time and gravity and all sorts of other constants are always cutting in and out for unclear reasons and there are all these numbers over everyone's head, and any time I figure out what they correspond to there's some bizarre horrifying outlier number implying whoever I'm looking at is some kind of incredibly dangerous freak, and by the time I resolve whatever shitshow comes of that there's a whole new set of numbers over everyone's head that means something else. I tried to get an entry level job on a long-haul space freighter last week and every other member of the crew was from a different dumbass brain-dead alien species that treated every single behavior of mine as some worldview shattering paradigm upending signifier of human uniqueness, I couldn't tie my shoes or wipe my ass without them oohing and ahhing. Frankly the only thing stopping me from killing myself is that every time I do that I end up navigating some zany kafkaesque afterlife or playing some idiosyncratic game like Chutes and Ladders against Death for my soul. And if I throw it on purpose I usually just end up meeting the Author. The first time I had a really good speech taking them to task for their godly failures but after the second or third time it was just. I don't know what it was. I'm tired. I'm really tired. But if I go to sleep I'll die instantly or wake up in another life or something so coffee and uppers it is

[saintwyfe]

࿐ ˚ . ✦ YOU'RE KILLING ME, JUDE! jude bellingham

summary. holidays are meant for reuniting with friends and family. your ex? i think that depends.

cw. crack, a thing or two of cursing. not proofread.

wc. 1283

your ex-boyfriend, jude, knew how to push your buttons. it didn’t help that you were next-door neighbors.

so, when you’re back home from uni for the holidays, he finds himself staring at your window, every now and again. accidentally, of course. your room isn’t pitch black, but dim enough to read the pages from a book on which your attention is anchored.

he catches himself staring for quite a long time. it’s not until his dad yells for him downstairs that his eyes divert. then, he jolts toward his closet, trying to find some clothing to slip on as beads of water drip down his back.

he scratches his arm as he finally makes it to the kitchen to find his dad. he doesn’t say anything when he realizes that his parents are sharing a laugh with a guest—your mother—at their kitchen island.

“jude!” your mother, helene, gasps when she realizes he’s standing a few feet away from them. her arms open as he walks closer to engulf her in a hug. “haven’t seen you in forever—how are you?”

he pulls away, a smile etching the corner of his lips as his hip nudges the corner of the island. his parents are looking at them, burgeoning excitement, as they watch them reunite. after all, it’s been a while since the two families have had a proper get-together. years, probably. 

“just football, y’know. always football.” he cocks his head as her fingers reach up to pinch his earlobe. 

“gosh, you and jobe get taller every time i see you two,” her head shakes in bewilderment, despite only getting to see him once, maybe twice a year. of course, they’d grow just a tiny bit every time.

he wraps around the kitchen to grab a glass of water from the fridge. and they’re… still staring when he turns around. “speaking of jobe, where is he?” he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes once he’s figured that he hasn’t seen his younger brother since noon.

helene’s finger points in the direction of her home, next door. “he’s over hanging out with nate [your brother!]. fifa, i think.”

he shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head. “figured he’d be doing that.” carefully placing the empty glass in the sink. “i’ll head over there, then—just to see if i can join.” 

“the door’s open. you’re fine to just walk in” helene waves goodbye and watches as he towards the front door.

giving the adults a quick goodbye, he slips some sandals on before walking a few steps next door. and of course, the only noise coming from the quiet house is upstairs, to the right. he follows the sound of the two boys yelling and cursing obscene things at each other. but, his body follows the door opposite nate’s, making a sharp turn toward your door. he stands before the door, leaning on the frame as he contemplates talking to you. after all, it’s true that he’d never gotten over his high school lover, the girl next door. but suddenly, the door opens, and his eyes widen in shock.

“what are y—” you stand in front of him, your voice slightly hoarse before he covers your mouth with his palm, redirecting the two of you into her room before shutting the door. thankfully, nate and jobe were still taunting each other in the other room, loud enough for no one in the house to hear the door shut. he locks the door shut, not pulling away his palm until you’re sitting on the corner of your bed, staring up at him with seething eyes as you try to tug his wrist away.

“if i let go, you’re not going to scream,” he mutters, his knee nudging the comforter next to your legs as he looks down at you with slight fear. you’re dumbfounded, tempted to bite the skin of his palm. shaking your head in confusion while furrowing your eyebrows, he slowly retreats his hand from your lips.

you wipe your lips, huffing as you scoot back on the bed. “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

he steps away a reasonable amount. “uh—my mom, she invited you over for dinner. i figured i’d come over and ask mys—”

“your mom has my number,” you interrupt him, giving him an annoyed look.

“doesn’t matter. it’s still nice to offer, y’know.” he retorts, giving you a smug look as he sassily crosses his arms. “clearly you don’t know anything about being nice, cursing your guests over. you haven’t changed a bit, y/n.”

you raise an eyebrow in confusion, humor… surprise? you didn’t know what to think. to scream, or to burst out laughing. “are you high?”

“what? am i high?” his jaw drops as he feigns offense. and this is when he goes off about how it was actually out of his kind nature to take time from his night to come over and offer dinner, and how your mom would be offended if she’d heard you tormenting him like this. you just stare for a few seconds as he rambles. then, you get the bright idea to lock his knees together and get the six-foot-one man onto your bed. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DO—” he shrieks, but your hand covers his lips before he can finish his thought. someone from across the hall has definitely heard, and your heart can’t help but race, though the door is locked. you breathily giggle as you look at the door for a few seconds, sitting on his lap, and meeting his eyes with a you better hope no one heard look. your lips hover to his ear, taunting him in the same way he did just a few minutes earlier.

“are you gonna scream?” you whisper in his ear, smiling cockily—in a way where he undoubtedly hears you smile in your words, despite not seeing your face. he doesn’t say anything the first time, but his hand reaches your thigh and grabs the skin tightly, slightly stinging. he pushes your buttons so easily, but you can’t help but chuckle as you lay atop your ex-boyfriend of two years.

your hand clutches his mouth a little tighter, more aggressively. “i’m not gonna let go. if you scream, we’re so fucked—you’re so fucked.” all he does is look at you with narrowing eyes. but, you cave in, trusting that he isn’t going to rat himself out this blatantly. you pull your palm away, and he retains a calm composure for about five seconds before letting out a loud screech.

your eyes widen. before you can think, your lips crash onto his, trying to shut him up. shit.

his hands reach up to caress the small of your waist, adjusting your hips to sit more comfortably on his lap. he knew what he was doing, but you can’t help but admire how much you’ve missed his lips.

but, as you’re kissing each other, a loud knock sounds at your door. 

“yo, are you good in there?” your brother, nate, asks.

your head is perked toward the direction of the door while jude stares at your lips, circling the skin of your waist. “i’m watching a show, sorry!” you can hear him shake his head and jobe giggling from across the hallway as they return to playing fifa. you look at jude in annoyance. 

“swear, you like to piss me off on purpose,” you scoff, glaring at him as you hover over his face. 

his fingers pull pieces of your hair behind your ear as he quietly chuckles. “can you do that thing again? where you kiss me like this?” 

and suddenly, you're flipped on your back, engulfed in a kiss with giggles cascading the room, and it feels like you're both 18 again.

author's note - hope you guys like this! haven't posted in literally over a year--i'm so sorry. i missed you all though!

[thebrokengate]

The only two stories I didn't care for that we were required to read was 1984 and Beowulf. Beowulf just wasn't something I was interested in, and the way 1984 was written, the majority of our class had no idea what was going on ever and the other 10% were just bored with it at least until the torture scene (that's the 10% I was mostly part of tbh, and I stopped paying attention during part of it so I ended up in the 90% of people who didn't understand it for a while too).

The Outsiders was my seventh grade hyperfixation - both on the book and movie (the original version, not the re-released version of the movie where they put that fucking surfer boy music in during Dally's death scene and whoever the hell decided that it was a good idea to replace the original score should be bonked on the head with a hammer). Romeo and Juliet and The Crucible were great because those of us who were assigned to certain characters got to voice act. Even though I struggled a little to understand The Great Gatsby at first, I ended up enjoying it in the end, along with the movie. Of Mice and Men made me cry, and I loved To Kill a Mockingbird.

I dunno, there were so many enjoyable stories we read as a class over the years.

I straight up do not trust you if you did not enjoy a single book you had to read for English class. I know they assigned some real stuffy stinkers and the curriculum varies across districts but not one? Not The Outsiders? Not The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not Fahrenheit 451? Not even Frankenstein? Damn. That’s crazy.

[charliewrites99]

Buck: My gay situationship is moving to El Paso and I don't know how to cope-

Mobius: My gay situationship became one with time.

Dean: My gay sitautionship went to hell for loving me too much.

Crowley: My gay situationship left me to become the head of Heaven's middle management

Bucky: Mine went back in time to his ex.

Eliot: My gay situationship sacrificed himself to save me after I told him I didn't want to be with him and I never had a chance to tell him I lied.

Daniel Molloy: My gay situationship tortured me physically and emotionally and then brainwashed me only to turn me into a vampire 50 years later and now he is avoiding me.

Thomas: Mine got a virus that turns you into a blood thirsty monster and he begged me to kill him.

Merlin: My gay situationship died from a magic sword by a man I saved when he was child and I haven't seen him in over 500 years but he is coming back any day now.

Eve: My gay situationship was an assassin that I was supposed to catch. Tried to kill me a few times.

Vi: Mine became a dictator after we broke up.

Jayce: Mine became a god like cult leader and tried to kill everything.

Will: My gay situationship was straight up a canniball.

....

Buck: Oh g- I think I'll just call Eddie, tell him I don't want him to move of something.

House: Yeah, do that before it's too late and he dies of cancer.

....

Louis: *kicking the doors down*: Did someone say gay situationship?!!

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[cotton-candy-anon]

This one's OOC but also in character for Blair not Candy, this is Blair and Mod speaking and it will be kind of vent-like so it will be under the cut.

"We listen we don't judge"

"I think everyone could be a better person if we all just tried and accept each other and I also believe everyone has a reason for acting like they do. Like oh this girl talks a lot, has a lot of interests, and flinches whenever you move fast around her? That's because she's a little autistic girl being abused at home and can only talk about the things she likes to her friends without being judged openly to her face. Oh they want to lay in a field naked covered in flowers with people who they think they can love, maybe even trust with their body when they know both them and their partner are ready and consenting and you think they're a slut? That's actually because ever since they were a small child they've been objectified for being a girl and started getting sexualized about it too and they just want to have a loving, respecting relationship with who they love without being judged and they still get sexualized no matter what they do or say, or even dress as occasionally even though they'll be wearing a long sleeve turtleneck and jeans. Oh they never talk about their parents or home life much and keep talking about Greek Mythology and people online who aren't their 'real friends' they must have their head in the clouds and they must get their head in the real world. How about the fact I'm being fucking abused and those 'fake friends' online are my real friends and they Greek Mythology is my fucking religion and those two things are one of the only three things keeping me from killing myself!?!?!?"

@1ceyanonhasarrived @lightning-wielder @zippyskyfalls @this-orange-anon024 @zigadoodle @lethia-not-athena @sleepy-4n0n @a-ghostly-ghoul-anon

We listen and we don't judge

When I was 7, me and my friends saved a fish from drowning

(Tag your moots)

@literallylink--who-tf-is-ravioli @sunlights-daughter @protagaster @somereaderinblue @fronzie @notesbyaphrodite

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART NINE

paige x azzi

word count: 6.4k

A/N: Alright I’m feeling much better and I’m no longer losing my shit after CD said she wouldn’t call it an injury 🙂‍↕️. Here’s the next chapter! It’s a little rough at the beginning but just get through it trust me . Please leave live reacts if you can, I need a little extra motivation today 😭

—————————————————————————

October 2022

For weeks after their argument, Paige kept her word. She stayed true to her role as Azzi’s best friend and was there anytime the younger girl needed her, it didn’t matter what she was doing, she was there. She did make Azzi stop coming with her to physical therapy though, and Nika had stepped in to take her place. Physical therapy always got a little too intimate when they’d ask whoever accompanied Paige to push on her knee and Paige knew that she and Azzi couldn’t handle that right now. They still spent time together–Paige helping Azzi in the gym here and there, texting during the day, hanging out sporadically, studying–but everything had changed. There were clear lines now. They didn’t flirt, they didn’t touch in ways that meant anything more than friendship. It was as though they were back to where they started, but it was painfully different.

Paige had started hanging out more with Ice, the freshman who quickly became a source of amusement for her. Ice's humor was dry and a little corny, and Paige found herself genuinely laughing more than she had since her and Azzi ended things. If that’s what you would call it. But even with Ice’s company, there were still moments when she couldn’t help but think about Azzi. It wasn’t that she didn’t love their friendship now, but it didn’t fill the large space Azzi once occupied when they were clearly more than friends.

Ice leaned back in her chair, her expression one of pure disbelief. “That’s bullshit. I refuse to believe there was a point when you and Azzi didn’t like each other.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, we couldn’t stand each other. Every little thing she did annoyed me and she hated me honestly.”

Ice raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And now look at you, a full-blown simp. How the tables have turned.”

Paige rolled her eyes, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“So how’d you two even get past that?” Ice asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “Like, how’d you go from ‘can’t stand each other’ to…” she gestured vaguely, “this?”

Paige’s laugh softened, and she shrugged. “The gym, mostly. We kinda connected over basketball first. That was the one thing we could agree on. At first, we only talked about basketball—nothing else. But once we built a decent foundation of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds, we started hanging out more. It just…happened from there.”

Ice nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Why don’t you just do that again this time then?”

Paige gave her a look. “We don’t need to build a foundation, Ice. She’s still my best friend.”

“Righttt,” Ice said, dragging out the word with heavy sarcasm. “Your best friend that you’re in love with, and you haven’t seen in like five days.”

Paige rolled her eyes again, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “We text.”

Ice snorted. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

Paige shrugged again, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s just… a little hard to be around each other sometimes now.”

Ice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

Paige didn’t answer, but the grin on her face grew wider, her expression practically glowing with unspoken thoughts.

Ice groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ew, dude. You’re disgusting.”

Paige just laughed, grabbing a basketball nearby and bouncing it lightly off Ice’s arm. “Shut up.”

But as the laughter faded, Paige’s expression softened, her smile dimming into something more thoughtful. “Honestly though, Azzi just needs some space from me to figure things out, and I’m trying to give her that.”

Ice tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Space for what?”

Paige hesitated, her fingers idly spinning the basketball in her lap. She glanced away briefly before answering, her tone careful and measured. “She has a lot of internal things to figure out before she can even think about being with me. I realized it a while ago but I don’t know if she has.”

Ice’s brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “That sounds… rough.”

“It is,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “But she’s worth it. So I’m giving her what she needs.”

Ice studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a small smile. “Damn P, you really love her, huh?”

Paige didn’t even flinch. She met Ice’s gaze, a soft but unwavering certainty in her eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

Ice smirked, her teasing tone returning. “You’re still a simp, though.”

Paige groaned, chucking the basketball at her again, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Shut up, Ice.”

November 2022

The next month was much harder than Paige thought it would be. Between missing Azzi and being sidelined by her injury and not being able to start the season with the team, she felt like she was drowning most days. Basketball, her usual escape, was no longer an option. Instead, she found herself in the gym, not to work out but to just sit in the silence, wishing she could push her body for hours on end. But eventually she’d get too frustrated when all she could do was shoot a few flat footed shots and she'd just let herself cry in the empty gym until she didn’t have any more energy. Other times, she’d just sit in her car, staring ahead, trying to calm her thoughts. More than once, she ended up sick at the sight of the back seat—a painful reminder of what, and who, was missing.

Azzi wasn’t doing much better. She’d become a mirror of who Paige used to be, burying herself in the gym day and night, trying to outrun her thoughts. Paige was still there for her, though, which made Azzi feel like even more of an ass, having somebody as sweet as Paige, just waiting for her to get her shit together. When things were a little too hard and Azzi would come to her door with tear stained eyes in the middle of the night Paige always let her in, let her talk about whatever she needed to or just sleep. The first time it happened was a random Tuesday at 3am.

Azzi’s knocks were gentle and tentative at first but it was enough for Paige to stir, her mind still fuzzy from sleep as the knock came again, a little louder this time. She groggily threw off her blanket and shuffled to the door, blinking against the dim hallway light cascading from the bottom of the door.

When she opened it, Azzi stood there, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, as though the weight of the world had poured out of her. There were no words, no explanations, just a look that said everything, Paige didn’t ask, she just stepped aside, letting Azzi into the warmth of the room. Azzi’s shoulders were trembling, but she didn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow uneven breaths. Paige closed the door softly behind her, then walked back to her bed, sinking back into the mattress where Azzi now laid, holding one of Paige’s pillows close.

Paige reached over, draping her arm against Azzi’s torso as she pulled her closer but not quite cuddling her. Just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t alone as Paige’s eyes fluttered shut drifting back to sleep.

After that night Paige couldn’t imagine not being there for Azzi, knowing what she was struggling with. But things weren’t the same. They didn’t text everyday anymore, and their hangouts had all but stopped after it became clear that they didn’t really know how to be just friends anymore. The space between them, once so easy to close, now felt like an endless stretch.

Azzi blamed herself for what happened between them. She was constantly fighting an internal battle that seemed like a losing game. One part of her knew exactly how she felt about Paige, knew she wanted the older girl more than anything. The other half was a constant pull against this thought process. The part of her brain that was telling her she wasn’t the type of person who takes risks like this, she didn’t gamble her future that she had worked so hard for. Constantly in her own ear telling herself she had every right to be scared.

Now, Paige sat alone in the empty gym, her legs stretched out in front of her, a basketball resting at her feet. She knew she couldn’t play much, just dribble around and shoot here and there, so she came here to think, to feel some semblance of peace. The quiet of the gym was comforting, even if it couldn’t heal what was broken, only Azzi could do that.

The sound of the door opening broke the silence. Paige glanced up to see Azzi standing there, her figure framed by the dim gym lights. Azzi paused, stuck in the doorway. The sight of Paige, lost in thought, felt all too familiar, stirring memories of another time they’d both hesitated to bridge the distance between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both caught in a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Paige chuckled softly at the irony, breaking the tension, and nudged the ball with her foot, sending it rolling toward Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile as she stepped inside, picking up the ball. She hesitated again, glancing at Paige, before making her way over. She sat down beside her but left enough space between them to keep the air light, uncertain. Neither of them spoke right away, the quiet wrapping around them like a truce.

Paige was the first to break the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness. “You played like shit last game.”

Azzi blinked, then burst out laughing, the unexpectedness of Paige’s comment catching her off guard. “Shit is an understatement,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Paige smirked, leaning back slightly. “What’d you come here to work on?”

Azzi shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. “Anything, I guess.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully as she got to her feet, grabbing the ball. Ice’s words from October echoing in her mind now. She spun the ball between her hands, glancing at Azzi. “Why you been taking so long to shoot lately?”

Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. “The passes are all over the place,” she said simply. “I got used to you hitting me in stride so it’s a big adjustment.”

Paige paused, nodding as she processed Azzi’s words. There was a quiet understanding in the air—an acknowledgment of how much they relied on each other, on and off the court.

By now, Azzi had stood up, her eyes tracking the ball as Paige passed it casually between her hands. Paige grinned. “Let’s work on it.”

Azzi raised a brow, confused. “Work on what?”

Paige laughed, her grin widening. “I’m about to throw you some of the worst passes of your life, and you’re gonna work on shooting without taking too much time to adjust the ball.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her feet were already carrying her toward the court.

Before they began, Azzi paused and looked at Paige. “I miss you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

Paige’s expression softened, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face. “I miss you too, Az,” she replied, her tone equally tender. Then, without missing a beat, she threw Azzi an intentionally terrible pass, the ball veering off to the side.

Azzi barely managed to catch it, quickly gathering herself for the shot, but the ball clanged off the rim.

Paige smirked. “Not bad. Now do it faster and try making it next time.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. They fell into an easy rhythm after that, Paige throwing increasingly awful passes, and Azzi working to shoot without hesitation. Laughter echoed through the gym when the passes were too bad to catch, blending with the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the hardwood.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were back in sync—no words needed, just the game and each other.

The rhythm they had fallen into was effortless, the sound of Azzi’s playlist flowing through the speakers now as they worked on her shot. Laughter occasionally filled the gym, the tension from the past weeks melting away with every pass and shot.

That is, until the music cut off, replaced by the ring of an incoming call.

Azzi, mid-dribble, glanced toward her phone sitting on the floor. “Can you check who it is?” she asked Paige, who was closer.

Paige hesitated for a moment before walking over. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing boldly. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, but it was enough for Azzi to notice. Paige cleared her throat. “Somebody named Elle,” she said, her tone a little too neutral.

Azzi didn’t miss the shift in Paige’s posture or the way her eyes flicked away from the phone. She didn’t need Paige to say anything; she could see the wheels turning in her head.

“It’s not what you think, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice firm but gentle.

Paige shook her head, brushing it off with a forced smile. “No, Azzi, you don’t have to explain—”

“Paige,” Azzi cut her off, stepping closer. “She’s my partner for a project. That’s it.”

Paige looked down, her fingers grazing the edge of her shirt. “It’s fine if it was something else you know,” she said softly, though the words felt hollow even to her.

“No, it isn’t,” Azzi said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt in Paige’s mind. “It isn’t fine because I don’t want anybody else. I only want you, Paige. I’ve told you that, and I mean it.”

Paige’s shoulders sagged slightly, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s not really my place.”

Azzi stepped even closer, her eyes searching Paige’s. “It is your place,” she said, her voice softer now. “So you don’t need to apologize.”

Paige glanced at her, caught in the sincerity of Azzi’s gaze. The tension in the air softened, the weight between them shifting back into something warm and steady.

“Okay,” Paige finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, giving her a small smile. “Good. Now come back over here—I’m not done getting used to these terrible passes.”

Paige chuckled despite herself, picking up the ball. And just like that, they found their rhythm again, though the words exchanged lingered, a quiet reassurance binding them closer.

After finishing up in the gym, both of them grabbed their things and headed out. Paige made her way toward her car, expecting Azzi to follow. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed Azzi strolling casually along the sidewalk.

Paige frowned, stopping in her tracks. “What are you doing?” she called out.

Azzi glanced back with a small shrug. “I didn’t drive.”

Paige’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of offense and exasperation flashing across her face. “You thought I was going to let you walk?” she said, her tone incredulous.

Azzi chuckled but didn’t respond, her smile widening as Paige simply muttered, “Unbelievable.”

With a grin, Azzi turned and walked toward Paige’s car. Paige muttered under her breath the whole time, just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “She’s gotta be crazy. Can’t believe she thought I’d let her walk. Who does she think I am?”

When they reached the car, Paige yanked open the passenger door, motioning for Azzi to get in. Azzi stepped in with a laugh, and Paige shut the door with more force than necessary, her irritation over something so small almost comical.

By the time Paige slid into the driver’s seat, Azzi was grinning at her. “I miss how dramatic you are,” she teased, still laughing softly.

Paige shot her a glare as she started the car. “You give me a fucking headache Azzi,” she said, but there was no bite to her words.

When they arrived back at the dorms, Paige’s suite came up first. She slowed to a stop, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning toward Azzi.

“Night,” Paige said, already halfway to the door.

Azzi nodded but didn’t keep walking. “Paige,” she called, her voice stopping Paige in her tracks.

Paige turned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “I’ve been thinking…can we maybe talk tomorrow?”

Paige blinked, her confusion evident, but she nodded. “Yeah… of course,” she said, her tone cautious.

Azzi’s smile widened a little , though she didn’t offer any explanation. “I’ll text you,” she said simply.

Paige gave her a small smile in return. “Okay. Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, P,” Azzi replied, her voice quiet but warm as she turned to walk toward her own suite.

Paige lingered for a second, watching Azzi’s retreating figure, her mind swirling with questions. Finally, she shook her head and headed inside, her thoughts lingering on the way Azzi had looked at her just now.

…

The next day, around 1 PM, Paige’s phone buzzed with a text from Azzi.

💗: You hungry? Let’s grab some food

Paige smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.

P 💗: Yeah that works for me

It didn’t take long for Azzi to reply.

💗: We’re taking my car.

Paige frowned slightly, shooting back a quick question mark.

P 💗: ?

The response came almost immediately.

💗: I almost threw up in your car yesterday when Steve Lacy came on

Paige let out a loud laugh, immediately understanding what Azzi was referring to as she had her own struggles being in there sometimes. She shook her head, typing back with a smirk.

P 💗: That’s dramatic, even for you

Azzi’s reply was short but effective.

💗: Not taking any chances

Still chuckling, Paige grabbed her things, her mood lighter than it had been in days. Azzi always had a way of pulling her out of her head, even with something as simple as sending a few texts.

They sat down at a corner table, the comforting hum of the restaurant around them as they ate their Chipotle bowls. The familiar, easy chatter filled the space between them yesterday being what they needed to return to the natural rhythm of their friendship, the laughter, and the simple joy of each other's company.

But, as the conversation slowly died down, Azzi looked at Paige, her expression shifting slightly.

“I want us to start over,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but serious.

Paige blinked, furrowing her brow. “Start over? What do you mean?”

Azzi took a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words. “I want us to try this again, but—” she paused, trying to make sure she found the right words. “I want us to do it the right way this time.”

Paige tilted her head, her confusion evident but her tone gentle with Azzi like always. “Azzi, what are you saying?”

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering as she leaned forward slightly, the space between them feeling more intimate. “I want us to date, Paige,” she said, her voice steady.

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before a soft, teasing smile tugged at her lips. “So... you want to be my girlfriend now?”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers tapping gently against the edge of the table. “No…at least not yet,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I want us to go on dates and test the waters. We did things the wrong way, and I want to fix it.”

Paige’s eyes softened as a slow smile began to form on her lips. She leaned forward slightly, clearly proud of Azzi. “Tell me more about it.”

Azzi smiled at the shift in Paige’s expression, the spark of curiosity now in her eyes. “We can go on dates,” Azzi continued, her voice steady as she outlined her plan she thought a lot about. “But I’m not going to let you kiss me until we have a few dates. And we’re not going to have sex for a while, or we’re going to at least try really hard not to. I want us to get to know each other as two people dating, not just best friends who happen to be doing this.”

Paige nodded, as she listened to her. She hadn’t expected Azzi to say something like this when she asked her to lunch today, but it made sense for her. It was a different approach, one that felt like it had the potential to be something more controlled. Something more grounded. Which is exactly what Azzi needed.

“So, where’s this coming from?” Paige asked, her voice low with curiosity but also a touch of tenderness. “I thought you were—”

Azzi cut her off, her gaze soft but unwavering. “Despite what you think, Paige,” she said quietly, “I’m in love with you. These past few weeks have done nothing but show me that. I’m still scared as hell, but I want to at least try.”

Paige swallowed, her heart beating a little faster at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She really hadn’t expected this, she expected Azzi to try to mend their friendship, try to get back to their usual routine of hanging out. But the more Paige thought about it she understood. Azzi was always so detailed and plan oriented. She always needed steps and checkpoints to ease her mind, to let her see the progress she was making.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Azzi continued, her voice a little shaky now that Paige hadn’t said much. “I just want to start fresh. I want us to really try.”

Paige leaned back slightly, her arms folded across her chest as she processed Azzi’s words. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, hung heavily in the air. She couldn’t help but hesitate, uncertainty creeping in despite the hope in her chest.

“How do I know you’re not just going to change your mind again?” Paige asked, her voice quiet. She wanted to believe Azzi, wanted to dive into this with her, but it was hard to shake that lingering fear of being hurt again.

Azzi didn’t flinch at the question. She just looked at Paige, with a calmness that her voice conveyed when she answered. “You don’t,” she said simply. “That’s the thing I had to get over. We don’t really know what’s going to happen. That’s been my fear this whole time. Not knowing. Not being in control of it. But we never know what’s going to happen at any point in life so.”

Paige’s gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, taking in what Azzi was saying. But Azzi wasn’t done, and she shifted slightly, her hands in her lap as she continued.

“I was talking to my mom the other day,” Azzi began, her voice quieter now, but still with a hint of vulnerability. “And she tried to make me laugh by asking who shat in my breakfast. But honestly, it just made me cry more than anything.”

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly how Katie could be. “Figures,” she said with a soft smile, her heart lifting slightly at the mention of Azzi’s mom.

Azzi smiled too, but the smile was fleeting, and the seriousness returned quickly. “Yeah. But... I told her everything that’s been going on. All of it. How I feel about you. About us.” She paused, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. “Some parts of the story shocked her, honestly. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she didn’t. She just listened.”

Paige’s eyes widened a little, a surprise settling in her chest. She hadn’t expected that. For Azzi to talk to her mom about them already? It was a huge step. It made her heart skip a little—an odd mix of pride and tenderness swelling inside her knowing Azzi had come out to her mom.

“How... how did it go?” Paige asked softly, unsure of how to phrase the question but needing to know. She could sense how much this conversation had meant to Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “It was fine. Perfectly fine, actually,” she said, her voice steady now. “I thought it was going to be hard, but... she already kind of knew. I mean, she’s not blind. She said she could tell something was going on, especially with how much time you spend at our place whenever we’re on break. She thought it was pretty obvious.”

Paige blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought Katie would pick up on that. “Really?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze soft but thoughtful. “Yeah. She’s always been good at reading me, even when I’m not saying anything. We were talking for a while after I explained everything... she said something that kinda struck a nerve.” Azzi’s voice lowered again, a little more humor to it. “She was explaining some stupid metaphor that I could never understand, and she said life is all about taking chances. Usually, the best ones—the ones that really matter—are the ones that scare us the most.”

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, and there was something raw, something real, in the way she looked at her. “And you scare the hell out of me, Paige,” she said quietly, her words filled with sincerity. “So that’s exactly why I can’t just let us pass by. I can’t keep living in the ‘what ifs.’ I’ve been too afraid, and I’m tired of being afraid.”

Finally, Paige let out a deep breath and reached across the table, her hand finding Azzi’s with a gentle squeeze. “I’m scared too,” Paige admitted softly.

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Paige’s hand in return, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for anything more than what I said. I just want to try, Paige. I want us to take it slow, to get to know each other again and see where it goes.”

Paige’s smile was small but genuine, her heart fluttering at the thought of what could be. “Okay. We’ll try,” she said, the words feeling right. “We’ll take it slow.”

Azzi’s smile mirrored hers, though it was still laced with vulnerability.

…

This is how, a few days later, Paige and Azzi were on their first date.

Azzi had initially tried to take the reins, attempting to plan every detail, but Paige quickly vetoed the idea, claiming she’d been waiting for months to make this happen. Azzi didn’t even try to argue with that logic.

Now, they were on their way to a mystery destination Paige refused to disclose, with music filling the car. The ride was easy, lighthearted, and full of laughter—until Azzi reached out and skipped another Steve Lacy song.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at her. “What? Are we never listening to the album again?”

Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t entirely hide the amused glint in her eyes. “Not for a long time, we’re not,” she retorted firmly, her voice dripping with mocking distress.

Paige only chuckled as they pulled into a parking lot. Azzi’s curiosity grew as she turned her attention ahead, her brow furrowing slightly until recognition dawned. Her lips curved into a wide grin.

“You brought me to the fair?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Paige glanced at her, her own smile soft but proud. “Yeah. Dinner’s boring,” she said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious decision in the world.

Azzi laughed, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. “Of course you’d think that.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, looking out at the glowing lights of the fairground. “Come on, big head,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

…

Their date was going amazingly. Azzi, naturally, made Paige get her a funnel cake, ignoring Paige’s protests as she tore off a piece and practically forced it into Paige’s mouth. Paige grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

As the night went on, it became obvious that Paige was annoyingly good at everything. Every time Azzi swore Paige was about to lose a game, Paige proved her wrong. Neither of them wanted any of the prizes, so Paige made a habit of giving them away, handing stuffed animals and trinkets to random kids. The two of them would watch as the kids ran off, bouncing with excitement, leaving Azzi shaking her head at how effortlessly charming Paige could be with all ages.

Now, they were strolling through the fair, Paige’s arm casually draped over Azzi’s shoulder while Azzi leaned into her side, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like the glowing lights of the fairground. But their quiet bubble burst when a small fan recognized Paige.

The fan approached cautiously, smiling nervously. “Hey, Paige, can I get a quick picture?”

Paige offered a warm smile. “Of course.”

After the fan snapped a picture with Paige, they hesitated before turning to Azzi. “Um, can I get one with you too Azzi?”

Azzi blinked in surprise before smiling and nodding. “Sure.”

Once the pictures were taken and the fan left with a cheerful wave, Paige’s attention shifted, her eyes catching sight of something in the distance. “Oh my god,” she muttered, her face lighting up as she grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“What?” Azzi asked, laughing at Paige’s sudden enthusiasm.

Paige didn’t answer, pulling her toward the basketball booth, where a massive Olaf stuffed animal sat on display. “It’s too good to be true,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

When they reached the booth, Paige handed the worker some tickets. He explained the rules, telling her she needed to make three out of five shots to win. Paige nodded and stepped up to the line drawn on the concrete.

But the worker held up a hand. “Nah, I know who you are. You gotta scoot back,” he said with a grin.

Paige laughed, stepping back as Azzi chuckled beside her. “Uh oh, the pressures on now,” Azzi teased.

Paige made the first four shots with ridiculous ease, defying the odds of the notoriously rigged carnival game. As she took her time with each shot a small crowd had gathered to watch her, but Paige was unfazed.

The worker let her take the fifth shot just for fun, even though she’d already won. Azzi, standing to the side, couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re such a show-off,” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Paige, knowing full well Azzi secretly loved it, grinned as she lined up the last shot. Without breaking eye contact with Azzi, she released the ball. The ball going in.

Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re irritating.”

Paige strolled over to the worker, who handed her the massive Olaf. Without hesitation, Paige turned and placed it into Azzi’s arms.

“This one’s yours,” Paige said with a confident grin.

Azzi looked down at the stuffed Olaf and then back at Paige, her expression softening. “You’re cute, you know that?”

Paige just smiled at her, as she felt a tap on her lower back seeing a little girl with a huge smile on her face.

After Paige and Azzi finished taking pictures with a few fans who had crowded around to watch Paige play the game, she and Azzi resumed walking through the fairground, their steps in sync. Paige’s arm once again draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder, the familiar, comforting ease of their connection returning.

They walked in silence for a few moments, but the air between them was full of understanding. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words—just the presence of each other was enough.

When they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi like always. Azzi smiled, appreciating the gesture every time Paige does it, before sliding into the passenger seat. Paige walked around the front of the car, slipping into the driver’s side. She took a moment to glance over at Azzi, who was still holding the Olaf stuffie, her eyes soft but smiling.

Paige gave a small smirk as she started the engine, teasing, “You’re actually keeping it, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting the stuffed Olaf on her lap. “Yes, it’s Olaf. I’m keeping it.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pulled out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between them as they drove off towards UConn, the glow of the fair behind them, leaving only the warmth of the moment to hold onto.

…

Long after Paige had “dropped” Azzi off following their first date, she found herself wandering into the gym. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about the court always drew her in. Spotting Azzi on the court dribbling, Paige couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself.

Azzi noticed her almost immediately, stopping mid-dribble with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

Paige smirked, walking further onto the court. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Azzi shrugged as Paige closed the distance, casually swatting the ball out of her hand. Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, there’s my annoying best friend.”

Paige laughed along, saying. “Ahh, so I’m ‘best friend Paige’ right now, huh?”

Azzi nodded, still grinning.

Paige raised an eyebrow, tilting her head dramatically. “Okay then, tell me something. I heard you went on a date tonight.”

Azzi chuckled at Paige’s antics, her laughter light and easy. “I did.”

Paige dribbled the ball a few times, casually lining up a close-range shot. “How was it?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Ehh I was a little nervous at first, but I actually loved it.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Nervous? Why were you nervous?”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she shrugged, her voice quieter. “You know why.”

Paige arched an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Humor me.”

Instead of answering directly, Azzi pivoted the conversation. “I went on some dates when we weren’t talking, like you suggested.”

Paige paused mid-dribble, her curiosity piqued. “You did?”

Azzi nodded, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah... with girls.”

Paige hummed at this as she resumed dribbling, her voice casual but interested. “How were they?”

Azzi shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “They were okay. It’s not like I was trying to figure out feelings for them... more so to figure out myself.”

Paige nodded, her gaze softening with a soft smile. “And?”

Azzi smiled faintly, her tone more serious now. “They helped. The conversation with my mom I was telling you about? A whole lot easier after that.”

Paige paused her dribbling to smile at Azzi, her voice full of warmth. “I’m proud of you, Az.”

Azzi’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile, the sincerity of Paige’s words lingering in the air.

Azzi met Paige’s gaze, her tone playful yet sincere. “There’s a little more attention that comes with going on a date with Connecticut’s version of Jesus though.”

Paige burst out laughing, tossing the ball softly at Azzi, who caught it with a grin.

Azzi continued, her voice shifting to something more serious. “I was nervous at first because I knew people would recognize us—mostly you. It’s a lot of extra attention.”

Paige nodded, her grin slowly growing as she listened.

Azzi tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”

Paige leaned casually against the wall, her grin turning a bit smug. “You know I picked the fair on purpose, right?”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “No...”

Paige smirked, folding her arms. “It’s far enough from campus that we wouldn’t be recognized as much, but it’s also a Thursday, which means there weren’t going to be a lot of teenagers or people our age there. Just a bunch of kids with their parents or older people. People our age would usually go on Fridays or Saturdays.”

Azzi blinked, processing the thoughtfulness behind Paige’s planning.

Paige stepped closer, her voice softening. “I picked today because I knew anyone who approached us would either be a super-excited kid or an old-school basketball fan who wouldn’t care why it was just the two of us there together. I wanted it to be... easier for you.”

Azzi was stunned, her lips parting slightly as she stared at Paige. “You really thought that far ahead?”

Paige shrugged with a casual air, though her gaze was warm. “I know you, Az. I know how hard this is for you.”

Azzi laughed, her tone light again as she tried to hide how much Paige’s words meant to her. “If you knew what I was struggling with the whole time, why’d you let me make it seem like basketball was the only thing stopping me?”

Paige’s smile softened, her voice dropping just enough to convey her sincerity. “Because I needed to give you time. It’s not a realization someone else can process for you.”

The air between them shifted as Paige leaned casually against the wall, her height slightly towering over Azzi with the way they were standing. The space between them grew smaller without either of them noticing.

Azzi tilted her head up to look at Paige, her expression soft. “I miss your eyes,” she said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out without her permission.

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s always the first thing you say to me.” Her grin widened, teasing but fond.

Azzi didn’t bother denying it, her gaze unwavering. The weight of her words lingered in the air, pulling them closer in a way that had nothing to do with proximity.

After a moment, Azzi whispered, her tone playful but with a hint of nervousness, “I’m not letting you kiss me.”

Paige’s toothy grin grew, her confidence shining through. “That’s fine.” Her voice was low, carrying just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch.

But Paige didn’t move away. She stayed close, her presence overwhelming yet comforting, as she just took in Azzi standing in front of her.

Azzi didn’t respond, her lips quirking up just slightly. Instead, she shook her head with a quiet laugh, looking away but refusing to step back.

Paige finally stepped back, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. The sound lingered in the air, as she picked up a basketball and started dribbling casually.

Azzi rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag muttering, “I’m leaving.”

Paige’s laugh grew louder as she called after her, “See you later, princess!”

Azzi didn’t stop or turn around, but a faint smile spread across her face. She lifted her hand and stuck her middle finger up in response, a playful gesture that made Paige laugh even harder as Azzi walked out of the gym.

[cognitiveoverload]

I know who you are! (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: Knowing a lot about serial killer cases can come in handy when the new resident who asked for your number is a little too familiar.

tags: witness protection era!Hotch, hint of a soft!dom personality, children's book author!reader

It’s an itch in your brain that you can’t scratch. You know that you have seen him before, you just don’t know where. A coffee shop? A grocery store? It’s killing you, driving you crazy, but no matter how many nights you spend thinking, you just can’t remember. How could you forget someone like him? There is something about him, that rare smile, those warm brown eyes that you can’t stop thinking about.

Then, as you are watching an FBI press conference about a serial killer on the loose, you suddenly remember. Of course. Your little obsession with serial killer cases comes with a lot of these press conferences and interviews, that’s where you saw him. And his name… What was his name? Determined to find the answer, you begin to investigate, searching for articles and videos on the internet that luckily doesn’t forget. 

And there he is, standing on the steps of a police station, wearing a suit that seems so strange compared to the casual clothes he wears these days. He looks extremely serious, strict, and in all honesty, you can’t blame him. What he did on a daily basis must have been a lot to handle mentally, especially if he had a son to look out for.

The next day you send him a text to find out when he’ll be home, and to your surprise, he replies in a minute, saying he’s there so you can jump in whenever you’re around. It’s been over a week since he asked for your number at his son’s soccer match, but you only texted and talked on the phone so far. Yet, even those were enough to let you learn a lot about him, and you grew to like this man. 

When he opens the door with that stupidly handsome smile of his, you begin to wonder if revealing what you know is a good idea, but deep down you can’t help yourself. “Hey. So… is this you?” you ask with a cute smile, showing him a screenshot on your phone. 

The blood drains from his face, and his suddenly serious expression tells you maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. He grabs your arm—surprisingly gently, so it won’t leave a mark—and pulls you inside, then presses your back against the now closed door. “Where did you find this?” 

“I knew I’ve seen you before, but for days I couldn’t remember where. Then I saw a press conference with an FBI agent about a serial killer on the loose and bam! It came to me as a vision,” you explain calmly. You’re not afraid of him, because even though he definitely looks like someone who could hurt you, you can also tell that he has no intention to do so.

For a long moment he watches you in silence, but then he lets out a sigh and takes a few steps away from you. “Did you tell anyone about this?” he asks quietly, although his voice is laced with worry. 

Without hesitation, you shake your head. You’re not that dumb. “You recently moved here with a fake name… Must have a reason for that. I don’t want to get involved, it has more to do with satisfying my curiosity. Now your reaction confirmed I was right, and the case is closed as far as I’m concerned,” you explain. 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” 

He nods, then inhales and exhales slowly, his eyes carefully studying your face. The serious expression is eventually replaced with a much softer look, but he remains silent, as if he was trying to gather the confidence to say what’s on his mind. But it’s weird, he hasn’t struck you as the type of guy who lacks confidence. Quite the opposite, actually.

And then he speaks up. “Stay for dinner,” he says, his voice gentle and a little hesitant, as if it has been a while since he asked anyone out. Or was it that? You must be seeing a little too much into this invitation.

But then you realize what this is all about. “That’s your way of keeping me silent?”

He flashes a boyish smile at you. “Trust me, if I wanted to silence you, that’s not how I would do it,” he points out with a laugh.

“Was it a threat I should be afraid of, or… Never mind.”

“No, no, say it,” he tells you, the request sounding a little like it was an order. “Or what?”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, because why would you tell him what you were really thinking about? Hell, you feel ashamed for something like this even occurring to you, you won’t make things worse by saying it out loud. Maybe it’s time to leave, maybe this is the moment when you turn down the offer and walk out of the house with your dignity still intact. 

Sadly, when you gulp and move to open the door, he steps closer to you and covers your hand on the doorknob with his to stop you. You must look like a deer in the headlights as you look up at him, frozen from terror because you feel trapped, but it doesn’t bother him, he just raises an eyebrow and waits for your answer in silence. 

With a soft sigh, you try to pull your hand away from his, but he only tightens his grip around it. “It just had a weird edge to it, like the sentence had a kind of rated R meaning,” you explain, speaking so fast you hope he doesn’t understand a single word. 

But he does. And that smug bastard is enjoying every second of your suffering. “Clever girl,” he purrs as he leans closer. “So, dinner. Now that you know who I am, the least you can do is take the time to one, tell me why you remember stuff like those press conferences, and two, give me some proper adult company.” The end of that sentence shocks you, but he sees the look on your face and quickly shakes his head. “Not that kind of adult company. Just a glass of wine and a conversation after Jack goes to bed.” You let out a sigh of relief, but that peaceful moment doesn’t last long. “Unless you want a different kind of adult activity, because…”

“Hey!” you warn him as you playfully slap his arm. “Just so you know, I spend my time writing children’s books, I need a hobby. Serial killer cases and horror movies are good for me.” He gives you a doubtful look, although there’s a teasing smirk on his lips. “What?”

“Be here at six,” he says as he finally lets go of your hand that slides off the doorknob. “And wear something nice for me.” 

For a moment you only stare at him, but then you nod. Damn it, you can’t say no to this face. Anything you want, handsome.

[hurtspideyparker]

Happy Hogan and his Nemesis (a Teenager with ADHD)

Peter Parker is a very unorganized SI intern who inadvertently and constantly terrorizes Happy Hogan, the head of security.

Peter regularly forgets his badge and sets off alarms, and then goes "you know me, I'm here all the time!" to any and everyone who stops him

Peter who steals very expensive and weaponizable tech because "I thought I could work on it a bit at home?"

Peter who accidentally wanders to restricted areas because "well I'm always curious what others are working on, I'm here to learn" ("how did you even get in, there are three locked doors between here and the elevator?!" "well first I saw my janitor friend and she opened the door for me to chat, the second one was propped open, and the third time I just walked in after this random guy. If he called security on me then he's really telling on himself...")

Happy who is always trying to get this random intern fired for his irresponsibility, terrible time management, spying, and dangerous lack of safety protocol, and yet he still comes in everyday to Happy's (and HR's) disgruntled amazement

Peter: Happy! Happy! Tell these guys to let me through!

Happy: Only my friends call me that, 16 year old interns do not.

Peter: Sorry, sorry. Mr. Hogan, please tell these guys I work here. I just misplaced my badge again

Happy: Peter you need that badge, what if you were fired? I can't be letting just anyone into the building

Peter: I so was not fired, ask FRIDAY

FRIDAY: Confirmed sir, Peter Parker is still employed with Stark Industries

Happy: God I know it's true but I don't know HOW

Happy becomes convinced the boy is part of a corporate espionage scheme and someone is hacking their system to delete all the complaints against him. He starts to stalk Peter to watch out for any nefarious activity, like poisoning the scientists' coffee orders

This (one-sided) feud comes to an end when Happy learns that this is not one of hundreds of interns within the company, but Tony Stark's personal intern. Tony loves this kid and waves off any and all HR complaints. To Happy's chagrin Peter is, in fact, an irreplaceable genius, and not a complete moron who only got the internship through nepotism

Happy: What the hell is he doing here, he's gonna get you killed! Either he's a spy or he's an idiot. Actually he's probably both, because I catch him doing shady stuff all the time

Tony: Who, Peter? He works for me directly. I hired the kid on his emails alone, but then I saw his work. That medical imaging model that's 30% cheaper for hospitals to run? He did that his first week here

Happy: But...but...

Peter: Happy do you think you could make the badges pink? I don't think I'd lose it if it was pink, the white is so boring. Also I need a new one, I stepped on mine again :(

Happy: 20 years I've worked for you, you finally start to retire, then hire someone just as chaotic but 3 times younger. Tony Stark Jr... This job is going to kill me.

[repostedpoliticalarts]

Some things to consider:

Our doctor started us on the LOWEST dose possible: .25mg and we adjusted to the meds. This is NOT medically induced bulemia, and if it is the dosage should definitely be adjusted. There was some nausea but it was easily manageable with some ginger chews. I experienced no noticeable effects at this dose whatsoever and I know this because I did regular weigh-ins and kelt a journal. Other than occasional nausea my eating habits and appetite remained the same.

We decided to increase to .5mg/week after a month and i started to see some very slow progress. Our electronic scale that measures not only weight but body composition (fat%, muscle, water, bone) confirmed that my losses this year have all been primarily fat stores. This has been correlated with my clothes fitting better and my being able to return to some of my older clothes I didn’t want to throw out.

At .5 i noticed that while i still had a good appetite the one major thing that changed was that my psychological guilt over “wasting food” vanished. I grew up pretty financially limited and wasting food is a guilt i carry around to this day. This means I’ll eat leftovers before they go bad because I can’t stand the thought of food being wasted. What surprised me is that I started being able to leave food on my plate, even if just scraps, and throw it away without a trace of guilt. Which was surprising because I assumed that was entirely about upbringing and psychology, but apparently there is a physical link there.

My wife reported that the “food noise” in her head, just thinking about food, planning meals, feeling the push/pull of temptation evaporated. Which obviously helped her mental state.

Eventually I moved up to 1mg/week and was seeing the most progress not in just my appearance but in my ability to move and feel comfortable in various positions without feeling my weight literally restricting what I could do. I was only on that for two months when insurance sent a letter saying they would only cover the .5 pen and only till Dec 31, 2025. So I had to pull back. I haven’t lost an ounce since but have maintained at that level.

I’m concerned about gaining back what I lost when my supply runs out. But my doctor says that data shows some regain but almost no one going back to baseline weight. I’ve heard some people quit and get crazy binging cravings, so my plan is to ration out what I have left and slowly wean off the injections at lower and lower doses. Slow on, slow off. So that it’s not a shock to my system.

Again, my doctor would like me to still be on it, and I CAN still technically take it. But the smallest dose I’ve had, which does nothing for me starts at $700 a month. This is literally just making ozempic a luxury drug for rich people.

Also, my wife doesn’t have diabetes but she is at an extremely high risk of developing it because of her genetics and family history, it killed her father while she was still in college. So this drug is being DENIED to her, even though it could help PREVENT her from DEVELOPING diabetes. So IF she gets type II diabetes she can have the drug, but NOT before, even though it can help her.

Asinine.

Fuck insurance companies. People’s healthcare should be free (for one) and their choices of what they need, what is necessary, what is helpful, should be entirely between them and their doctors.

I have been debating sharing this for some time, but with the new year weight loss ads amping up, I feel it's something I have to say. I'm worried for people's health.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you probably already know about people taking the diabetic drug ozempic for weight loss. You've probably heard the debates about the ethics of taking needed drugs away from diabetes patients and maybe even the side effect of "ozempic face." However, there is one side effect of taking these drugs that, in my opinion, people are not being warned about.

If you carefully pay attention to the television ads, you will hear them mention "pancreatitis" as a possible side effect. If you're like me a decade ago, that word probably means nothing to you. Let me warn you, however, it is no minor thing. My husband suffered from chronic pancreatitis for five agonizing years. The pain is beyond comprehension. Doctors who specialize in the pancreas describe it as the worst pain a human can endure. There is no actual cure. Little is understood about the disease, so treatment is difficult. Doctors who understand it are few and far between. It took my husband forever to get diagnosed. He went through multiple surgeries and procedures, but nothing worked. He had to go on an extremely limiting diet. If he varied from it in any way, he would have an attack. The only way to recover from an attack was to not eat at all for days, then slowly add in broth and jello. Did he lose weight? Yes. As a matter of fact, one day he stepped out of the shower, and I burst into tears at the sight of him. He was skin and bones - I could count every rib. Was it worth it to be thin? If you even ask that question, I'm concerned for your mental health.

They couldn't figure out exactly why my husband got pancreatitis. At that time, they thought only alcoholics and drug addicts got pancreatitis. This made it difficult to get compassionate medical care, unfortunately. Now they know that prescription medication (particularly diabetic medication) and high cholesterol can also cause it. Then there is another group - where they just don't know. But you better believe I would hesitate to take any medication that could cause pancreatitis. I would weigh my options carefully to assess if it was worth the risk. In my opinion, weight loss is not worth that risk.

My concern has been heightened seeing the Hers commercials for these drugs (under different names, but rest assured, it is the same thing). These commercials brag that you can get these drugs from Hers with just a simple virtual call, no questions asked. I wonder if people are fully aware of the risks of these drugs. I also wonder if we even know all of the risks yet. I also fear that the culture around these drugs could develop into an us vs. them mentality. That if it's so easy to be thin, why wouldn't you be? And some are getting dangerously thin on these drugs.

I know some diabetics who are on these drugs, and necessarily so. They tell me that it causes nausea when they eat. That's why they don't eat much. Again, that doesn't sound like a pleasant way to live. If you need it to regulate your blood sugar, that's one thing. But if you don't? Why would you do this to yourself?

My husband is now healed of pancreatitis. It was a miracle. You may not believe in that sort of thing, but I'm telling you, there is no other explanation. We had exhausted every medical solution, then the pandemic hit. We were concerned because hospitals were only taking life or death cases. What if he had a bad attack and needed an iv of pain meds? What would we do? Weeks passed - no pain. A month passed - no pain. Six weeks passed - no pain. He decided to grill a steak - something he hadn't been able to even take a nibble of in 5 years. I watched him take a bite, holding my breath. Nothing. He ate the whole thing. No pain. Five years later, still no pain. The doctors can't explain it, either.

So our story has a happy ending. Not everyone else's does. I hope people take the time to read this. If you do, please, please share it. I don't want anyone suffering needlessly.