#maybe that was her happy ending all along

[dyingswanpavlova]

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.”  You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[burningcheese-merchant]

YOU!!! YOU GOT ME INTO HAVING BEAST X ANCIENT AS MY GUILTY COMFORT SHIPS!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!

Guilty? Of what? Guilt implies wrongdoing, which I have not committed and neither have you :) I am but a humble merchant, peddling my humble wares. Caveat emptor, my anon friend. Beast x Ancient is a highly addictive substance, it says so on the tin. Maybe you should've thought it through better :)

"How dare you". Lol. Lmao, even. How dare I? I dare like THIS

Oh nooooooo Mystic Flour stopped being an emotion-denying pussy and finally popped the question!!! Dark Cacao said yes!!! Look at them gooooooo I hope their honeymoon is nice

Can it be? Is it... them? Is it Shadow Milk with his other half? His most treasured marionette? His dear Silly Vanilly? Are they enjoying a nice, romantic lunch together in the cute little date area I designed previously? Is Shadow Milk laying the flirting on extra thick? Is Pure Vanilla laughing and playing along? Are they trying to feed each other? Is Shadow Milk making kissy faces? Are they happy? Are they in love? Can they live without each other?

Whoooooaaaaaa what's that? What's that special, admittedly haphazardly constructed Valentine's Day area? What's it for? WHO is it for???

NO WAY!!!!!! BURNINGCHEESE IS REAL!!!!! THEY GOT CAUGHT IN 4K!!!! QUICK GET THE TABLOIDS!!!! GET THE PAPARAZZI!!!

Look at them together on the swan boat 🥹 so happy! So smitten with each other! Burning Spice and his precious thief, his beautiful little bird, his delicious prey; Golden Cheese and her love, her darling, her handsome brute, her ruby 🥹🥹🥹

And the LOVE BOX! Ice cream date in the love box! The lighthearted bickering! The banter, that amusing little back-and-forth they always love to have with each other! Her confidence and wit, his straightforward passion! Neither ever backing down from each other! Neither repent or have any regrets! Nothing here but joy and fun and affection!

And... the chocolate tent 👀 wonder what they're up to in there, huh? What are those looks they're giving each other? What's that seductive pose Burning Spice is striking? Are they just relaxing after a lovely day together? Maybe having some more dessert? Having each other for dessert? Are they conceiving Pepper Jack in there 👀👀👀 (that place better be soundproof, man)

You will join me in the Beast x Ancient abyss!!! You will love the complex dynamic that exists between the 5 pairs!!! You will analyze them incessantly to the point that you can make 10k word posts about them and their relationships!!! You will start imagining fanchildren!!! You will want to explore them in all aspects: standard toxicity, Beast redemption, Ancient corruption, forbidden love, and everything in between!!! IN THE END, YOU WILL BECOME ME! AND IT'S GONNA FEEL GOOD

Ok I'm done being stupid now lol. Welcome to the dark side, Anon, we have cookies with psychological issues and hero/villain codependent romances

[vaampiired]

No Time To Die

One Piece!Various x F!Gojo!Reader - 3,300 words

Synopsis: In a world dominated by warring marines and pirates, a young girl, you, is born with extraordinary abilities causing the power balance of the world to tip and for unlikely friends to be made.

I have this book posted on another site and much longer, this is only the first chapter. Book is linked at the end. Please don’t steal!! ^^

From the moment you were born, everything was handed to you on a silver platter.  Your food, your homework, even your powers.  Yes, it’s no secret that you were born with immense strength.  Constantly being showered in praise about how you were the honored one.

The only known bearer of Six eyed Haki, also known as Limitless Haki.  On the same par, if not above Divine Haki.  Limitless Haki allows the user to manipulate and distort space, along with various other abilities including ‘infinity’.  The ability to slow down anything entering a certain radius of you.  Essentially stopping anything from touching you at all.

You we’re told you were untouchable.  The Honored One.  And you hadn’t even reached your teen years yet.  You truly were a miracle to the world..

Maybe this would be a dream come true for some, not for you.  You were isolated, unpunished, and miserable.  Every day was honing your powers, studying, and manners.  Though, they couldn’t exactly stop you when you wanted to go out.  The first time you ever ventured outside the walls of your mansion was when you were ten years old. 

“[Name]-Sama!” One of your attendants called as you walked through the gates. “You must’ve leave, I beg of you! You-“

A sharp glare from you was all it took to make her shut up. Everyone in the estate respected you.. or would fear be a better word?  After all, such a powerful ability was currently in the hands of a child.  A child who hated her life.

“Try and stop me.” You challenged, your gaze unwavering.  A chill ran down her spine, she felt as if you could see into the very depths of her soul.  In her mind, anyone could crumble under your glare.

She reluctantly backed off.  You knew she would.  No one in this house ever challenged you.  That’s what made it so boring, everything was just given to you.  You’d never felt a sense of accomplishment because your grades were what was expected and you never truly earned anything on your own.  You were sick of it.

”..Please be back soon, [Name]-Sama.. your studies are important-“ 

“I’ll be back tonight.  Don’t come looking for me.”

You turned around and continued walking out of the gate, completely disregarding her words.  No one in town seemed to even know who you were.. people kept walking on by, going about their daily lives.  Children your age were playing around, chasing each other and laughing.  Small shops were set up on the street selling various items from food to souvenirs to clothes. 

To you, everything was dark.  All you picked up on was everyone’s Haki signature, no matter how small.  Everyone had Haki, just very little and unable to use.  Courtesy of the Six eyed Haki.

You turned away from the sight of happy families going about their lives.  Children being free to be children with only the weight of what candy they would like resting on their shoulders.  Something deep within you yearned for that same life.  The life of a normal kid.  But, life is far from fair.  Dealing you a joker card that could be seen as a blessing or a curse depending on who you asked.

You stood at the edge of town, looking down at the harbor below.  Merchant ships were docked at every point they could be with men loading and offloading cargo.  

The sounds of idle chatter filled your ears and the smell of salt invaded your nose.  The cool breeze blowing off the ocean pushed your hair around.  It felt freeing.  You looked out over the ocean, as far as your eyes could see.  For once, it wasn’t all dark.  The view actually was bright and lively, refreshing.

“[Name]-Sama.  Please pay attention.” Your mentor gently chided.  Practically begging for you to give his lesson an ounce of your care.

”This is boring.” You grumbled with a small scowl.  Despite how you felt about everything, you knew you had to do it.  It was your responsibility.  The world was thrown out of balance the moment you were born and it was up to you to keep it in check..

So, begrudgingly, you stayed put and payed attention to the lesson.  Everything he taught was about how Haki worked.  Obviously, he couldn’t teach about your own Haki since only you possessed it.  There were no textbooks to aid him in teaching about your Haki.  He could only do his best in teaching the basics and hope you were clever enough to figure the rest out on your own.. much to his dismay.

-

“That’s excellent, [Name]-Sama!” Another mentor of yours clapped as you displayed your abilities in physical training.

”No one could possibly stand up to you!” She continued clapping and drowning you in compliments.  

You stared her down.  Your six eyes in full effect as you analyzed the small changes in her.  The temperature in her face changed slightly, signaling a changing emotion.  You Tsk’d.  She hated you.  That little change was detest.  Scorn.  Still, you didn’t say a word, going back to your training.  

What she personally thought of you didn’t matter.

-

“[Name]-Sama.. please, you must eat dinner.” An attendant urged you.  You simply scowled at the unappetizing meal on your plate.

It was no secret you were a very picky eater, all the chefs and attendants knew this.  Despite that, they continued trying to convince you to eat things you didn’t find appetizing.  Sure, this may not be a big deal in the big picture, but what 10 year old wants to eat ratatouille and caviar?

You pushed the plate away from you and stood up, leaving.  No one tried to stop you.  No one said a word as you exited the room with a displeased look plastered on your face..

You took a deep breath of the salty air.  Seagulls called from above as they flew around the ships, stealing scraps of food from unsuspecting workers.

You made your way down the stairs that led to the harbor.  Each step was a slightly different height, it didn’t surprise you much since it was carved in stone.  You reached the docks and looked up in awe of the massive ships.  The view from your previous position didn’t do Justice to just how massive the boats were.  Why is this the first time you’ve ever seen this..?

You looked down as you sensed something approach.  A black cat.  It walked between your legs and rubbed on you with a small purr.  You kneeled down and pet it, causing the small animal to purr louder.  After a minute of this, the cat wandered off, it just came and went.  How weird, were all cats like that?

You watched as the cat walked up a ramp into one of the ships and disappeared.  Having nothing else you wanted to check out, you followed the cat up the ramp and into the ship.  It wandered up to the main deck and jumped up on some cargo, you followed in its footsteps.  It felt weird for you to not have to be proper.. but good at the same time.

It meowed and jumped up on top of the cabin, you jumped up after it.  It was a game! You had to catch the cat.  Eventually, the cat took off running, prompting you to do the same.  It jumped off the railing and back into the dock and continuing to run.  You followed close behind, jumping off the railing and landing on the dock before giving chase to the small feline.

The cat jumped onto a box a man was carrying, causing him to lose balance for a moment.  Then you also used the box as a stepping stone and the poor man fell over.  

“Stupid kids—“ He growled as he hit the ground, glaring at your back.

The cat was running all the way to the end of the harbor with no intentions of stopping.  Believe it or not, this was your first experience with a cat.  Within your family’s estate there were no pets.  The most you saw were birds and squirrels.  You silently chased after the cat as it reached the end of the dock.  It stopped and rubbed on your legs again as if it was fully aware you weren’t going to hurt it.

It walks between your legs and hops onto a small boat.. what an odd design.  The actual hull, if you could call it that, resembled a black coffin.  It had a single mast that looked like a massive sword with black sails attached.  

The cat sat down on the chair right in the center of the boat and curled up.  Something about this ship said not to touch it.  So obviously, you touched it.  Hopping onto the boat to pet the cat as it slept.

Your attention was drawn when you picked up on the strongest Haki you’d ever felt coming up behind you.  Whoever was approaching made it very clear that they were on another level.  Sure, you had Haki that no one else in the world had but you were still just a kid.  Anyone with more experience would obviously have an advantage and at the moment… the gap in skill was obvious, even to you who was raised being told she was the strongest.

You whipped your head around to pinpoint where the Haki was coming from and zoned in on a man.  Sharp golden eyes sharp as a blade, a long black coat, and a large sword on his back much like the mast on this boat.  What were the chances that this was his boat?  The closer he got the more that probably solidified.  Who was this man?

He stopped on the dock next to his boat, looking from you to the cat you were petting.  You felt.. small.. under his gaze.  Like you weren’t anything more than an insect to him.  That wasn’t something you were used to.  For a moment that seemed to drag on for ages he didn’t say a word.

”Child, what are you doing?” He broke the silence with a simple question.

”..Petting a cat.” You pushed down your nervousness to answer as you stepped out of the boat.  Shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Shouldn’t you be at home?” 

“I left for the day.” You kicked a rock.  It wasn’t a lie, and you didn’t wanna say you ran away because you would be going back.

”And you decided to follow a cat on a strangers boat?” He asked with an ever so slight undertone of judgment.  

You nodded.  Your pride prevented you from apologizing to him for jumping on his boat just to pet a cat.  You never tore your eyes away from his as you spoke, trying to look unfazed by his presence.  You had yet to learn who he was, so..

”Who are you?” 

He took a moment to answer.  Looking down at this odd little girl who looked like she held the universe in her eyes. An odd sense of kinship with the small little being in front of him arose.  Why? He doesn’t quite know himself.  But he knows you’re not an ordinary child.

”Dracule Mihawk.” He paused.  “You?”

”[Name] [Lastname].” 

[Lastname].. he’s heard that somewhere before.  Between the hushed whispers of marines and fearful talk among pirates.  The name most assumed was nothing more than an old wives tale made up to scare people.  He couldn’t resist asking.

”Does the phrase ‘Six Eyes’ mean anything to you?” 

Your brow creased by a hair and that was all he needed.  The rumors were true, the legend and the mystery.  The [Lastname] clan wasn’t just some old tale from the grand line, they were real.  And it seemed you were a daughter of it.  Fascinating.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked a bit defensively.  Admittedly, you had little to no experience with people outside of those within your estate, so a situation like this was foreign territory for you.  

“Your surname has quite a reputation.” He stated as he sat down on the chair the cat formerly sat on.  It had ran off when he arrived.  “I’m actually quite curious about the six eyes, would you care to indulge me?”

You found yourself wanting to talk about your ability.  Wanting for some form of validation from him.  Why though?? You get plenty of praise from the attendants and mentors at home.  The reason why was because he was strong.  You could tell from the moment you sensed him that he was on a whole other level.  No one back home was strong in your eyes.  This craving to be acknowledged by someone stronger than yourself grew and grew, causing you to eventually take a seat in front of him and start telling of what the six eyes are.

He listened intently as you explained how it worked.  So much power at such a young age.  No wonder your family was legendary.  His face remained stoic throughout your explanation with subtle changes every now and then when you told him something particularly interesting.

“And that’s how the six eyes work.” You finish, excitedly waiting for what his reply would be.  Was he impressed? Did he think you were cool? Why were you all of a sudden so desperate… maybe the lack of parental figures played a part..

“Enthralling.  You can do so much with Haki at such a young age.  How old are you, child?”

”Ten!” You answered immediately.

Ten years old.. was he even near that level at that age? He couldn’t be sure.  What he did know was that the child in front of him was extraordinary.

”And how have you learned to use these abilities?” He assumed you must have a very skilled teacher in order to develop this much.  

“I have a few mentors.  They just taught me the basics, that’s all.” 

That genuinely shocked the man, though he didn’t show it.  This much power and only having been taught the basics? You were truly a gifted child.  Something in him was inclined to… help..? To train you.  To make you even better than you were.  An out of place emotion for the older man.

So, he took you under his wing.

Over the next few days he stayed docked on your island to train you.  Your attendants noticed they you often disappeared before sunrise and came back after sunset.  Your new training was much more exhilarating.  More on your level! You’d already long since mastered the basics and to finally be trained by someone you viewed as strong was the best training you could ask for.  

Just in those few short days, your power increased.  You could keep infinity up for longer, your stamina increased, and your power output more than doubled.  All because your mentor had real experience and talent.  What a difference that made.  He’d even gotten you a pair of darkened sunglasses when you complained about your eyes making your head hurt.  Admittedly, it helped.

You’d learned that Mihawk was something called a Warlord, meaning he had to leave soon.  He never stayed in one place for too long.  Your makeshift training camp was coming to a close and strangely, you didn’t want it to end.  You’d finally met someone you could actually learn from.  On your end, the farewell was sad.  It was sad on his end too only he kept his stoic facade up.

He patted your head as he boarded his ship during the early morning hours.

”Keep growing, [Name].  I’ve no doubts you’ll become even stronger.  Impress me.” He encouraged as he pushed his boat away from the dock.  With your pride on the line, you tried so hard not to be emotional.  To be strong like he taught you to be.  It’s strange how affected you’d become after only a few days.  Were your daddy issues that bad??

After a few minutes of watching his ship get smaller and smaller, you broke.

”Please, stay safe!” You yelled at the top of your lungs.

He was too far for even your six eyes to see his face clearly, but he smiled.  You’d grown on him quite a lot over the past through days, and he silently prayed for your safety as well.

His ship got smaller and smaller, until you could no longer sense his presence on the horizon.  You stood there for a long while after he departed, staring at where the sky meets the sea.  That became your motivation.  To grow even stronger and surpass him, then to meet again and show him how much you’ve grown.

You couldn’t wait for that day to come.  For the day you could finally say with certainty that you’re the strongest.

Years past, you trained harder and harder.  Your mentors finally let you venture beyond the island, namely, to the marine headquarters.  Such a powerful woman should obviously be working on the side of good!

The higher ups in the marines always had their eyes on the [Lastname] clan.  Only the children directly descended from the main branch of it could inherit the Six Eyed Haki.  They wanted to make you an admiral.. after proper navy training of course.  Sengoku himself expressed his desire to be on good terms with you.  You were treated as an adult despite only being 17.  

Unbeknownst to them, you had no desire to become an admiral or a marine at all.  Mihawk was never an admiral.  Speaking of, you obviously asked about the man when you met Sengoku.  Along with the little lie that you were just curious about the strongest swordsman in the world and nothing more.  You still had your sunglasses gifted by Mihawk.  An item precious to you now, serving as a reminder of your goal.

“I do hope you’ll give due consideration to our proposal.” Sengoku remarked as you walked side by side down the halls of the Marineford building.  

“I will.  After all, with just the admirals you have now it must be hard keeping pirates in check.” You smirked.  Oh, and did you mention you’d gotten a heck of a lot more cocky? 

Sengoku had to bite back a scowl.  Cocky brat.

“You can.. put it that way.” He gritted.  With great power comes great arrogance.  And you were a perfect example of that fact.

”I hope you enjoyed your time here.  As I said, please consider our offer carefully.” He offered his hand to shake to which you begrudgingly took.

”Yeah, sure.” You promptly pulled your hand away and shoved it into your pocket.  “Cya.”

Exiting the building and heading down to the ship your clan owned with a small scowl on your face, you thought about how you would even go about your plan.  You couldn’t exactly continue to get stronger while staying on your island all by your lonesome.. and your attendants but they weren’t important.

You walked up the ramp and stepped onto the main deck of the ship, turning and heading to your cabin.  Ignoring the various workers looking your way as you shut the door.

The ship rocked slowly as it departed from the dock and back out into The Tarai Current.  You were temporarily granted special permission to use this current despite not being a navy vessel due to your, Ahem, power status.  And because there was really no other way to reach Marineford.

You plopped down on your couch next to the window and looked out it absentmindedly.  Your mind going back to formulating a plan on how to get stronger.  You didn’t want to join the marines, that was too boring.  And you didn’t exactly care for the thought of being ordered around all the time..

As your eyes drifted across the horizon you spotted something that made a light go off in your head.  A pirate ship.  You smirked.  What about a pirate? What was his name? Gold Roger? The stories made him out to be crazy strong.  And all the Warlords were pirates hired by the government.  And so, your plan was made.  You were gonna be a pirate.

—

Link to Story

[frillydolle]

Hellooooo!!! I love ur page so much it’s so cutesy><<<

If u can and want to write hurt/comfort w Arthur Morgan plssss

Maybe they argue and he yells at her too loudly n scared her off sum, it’s all up to u💗💗

arthur morgan x farmer's daughter reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ hidden relationship , angst , father is an alcoholic , mother doesn't talk to you often , argument , slight comfort at the end.

your mother and father hated outlaws, you knew that well. growing up, they made sure you knew their feelings towards them: nothing more than merciless and ruthless killers. there wasn't one moment that they didn't mutter hatred spews everytime he read their crimes from the newspapers, wanted them gone by the lawmen. you were in love with one.

for as long as you've known arthur, he was always an outlaw while you were terrified of outlaws, but there was something... different about him that drew you to him. either it was his charm or the way he'd would take your teasing words with a smirk on his face. you were enthralled with him and he with you, never met a better man than arthur morgan.

now, after getting seen with him, you've barely heard anything from arthur, just assuming he got really busy being.. you know, an outlaw and... outlaw stuff. you've written countless letters to him and nothing in return which had your worries. out of boredom mixed with melancholy, you wrote another letter to him about needing to see him again and this time, he received it.

“oh arthur, you came!” you say as you quickly make your way over him, wrapping ur arms around his neck in an embrace, and he automatically wrapped his arms around your waist. “'course i did. y'called 'nd i heard.” he replied, kissing your temple. thankfully, your parents weren't in. probably in the town of strawberry, doing whatever.

and then you finally said it. “i didn't mean for daddy to talk to you like that... 'm sorry, arthur.” your daddy... he wasn't a nice man. to him or you, liked the bottle too much. arthur hated the way he treated you and your mother, your father didn't care about no one else but himself.

“it's just— 'm sorry for last time, i was worried about you— 'nd daddy that i—” he cut you off, he never did that unless he was upset. “'m a bigger fool than i even thought.” he says as he turns to walk away from you, and yet you catch his hand, intertwining your fingers into his.

“n—no, wait, arthur! i didn't mean it like that, i just—” everything was just so difficult, and everything was just so overwhelming. you didn't want to lose your boyfriend or your father by some silly mistake of getting caught. “i know he wasn't kind to you, he shouldn't have treated you like—”

“like i ain't worth it? like i don't belong with ya 'nd yer family? is that it?” he says, tone laced with a sort of sterness as you look away, being the guilt beginning to eat at you. you knew your mother and father didn't think much of him but that didn't mean anything, you still love him after all. you didn't think a relationship would be so... overwhelming, being those annoying tears swell up in ur doll-like gaze. you backed off from arthur.

“it ain't like that! my family just want me to have a better life than—” you weren't even sure what to say, you just wanted to welcome hin back proper, like usual. “than me?” his words made you pull away slightly, feeling the tears. oh, your mind was racing, couldnt even think properly. “than choices you make, arthur! i just— they wanted better but 'm happy with you.”

don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

“we've got different lives 'nd yours ain't right, livin' like that-” “yer life ain't any better than mine, with a drunken daddy on the farm like that. with ya comin' t'me fer someone to talk to?” he practically sneered, giving you a stern look.

god, you felt pathetic as you looked away. hiding the pretty pout and the tears that streaked down ur face, all because he intimidated you as she spilled the truth to you. your father was quite the drinker and you didn't get along with your mother well amd arthur all about that. he used it against you.

damn him and his silver tongue.

his gaze softened as your silent crying grounded him, he felt like such a god awful fool for speaking to you like that. what a idiot you are, morgan. the guilt was now eating at him as he just stood there for a few moments, watching you walk away to sit by the wooden seat, just outside your home. he felt bad, really bad but he was never good at words. well, more like he was never good at expressing his emotions. more of an action man.

he walks over to you, kneeling down infront of you. he hated himself for putting you in such a situation, ending you in such a mess. “you can be so mean, arthur...�� you sniffled, looking down at him slightly as his hands reach out to hold yours. he had to admit, you are pretty when you are.

“'m sorry, darlin'.. didn't mean that, any of it. yer my sweet girl, always have been.” he says, his voice as he was gaining the attention of a wounded doe. he always treated you in such a way that often made you giggle, thinking about it every night. arthur stands up, and then he sits beside you, and before you know, he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

“im sorry, sweetheart. i really am.”

“... i know.” arthur then wraps his shoulder around you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

[goldfades]

never felt so alone───paige bueckers

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by @wanderlusturous -> Paige x reader too 🤍 like maybe some teammate fics | i hope you enjoy, babe!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst to fluff, ACL injury stuff, paige being a cutie patootie, not sure if theres anything else but it has a happy ending!

The first time you let yourself cry about it—really cry, not just a few silent tears swallowed in the dark—you were alone in the training room, knee wrapped in ice, watching your team warm up on the screen mounted in the corner. The sound was off, but you didn’t need it. You could hear it anyway. The sneaker squeaks, the ball hitting the floor, the echoes of laughter and easy, thoughtless movement. It was the sound of a world that had moved on without you.

And you hated that it hurt this much.

It had been almost a year. A year since your body betrayed you in front of thousands. Since your whole life had changed in a single wrong step, your knee buckling beneath you in a way it was never supposed to. A year since you lay on the court, gripping your leg with hands that shook, blinking up at the overhead lights while everything around you blurred into background noise. A year since you had to sit in that tiny, sterile room with a doctor who didn’t bother to soften the news: ACL tear. Surgery. Recovery. Long, slow, brutal.

And just like that, everything you had been working toward, everything you had been so sure was yours—the draft, the number one pick, the future you had mapped out for yourself since you first picked up a ball—was gone.

You tried to be okay about it. You told everyone you were okay about it.

But you weren’t.

Because now, every time you walked into that gym, it wasn’t the same. You weren’t the same. You felt it in the way people looked at you, in the way their eyes darted to your knee before meeting your face. In the way their encouragement sounded more like pity, their reassurances empty, weightless.

“You’ll be back,” they’d say, and maybe they believed it. Maybe they didn’t. It didn’t matter. Because you knew the truth. You weren’t the same player. You weren’t the same person.

And you had never felt more alone.

But if there was anyone who understood, it was Paige.

She never said much about it, but she didn’t have to. She had been through it too. She knew what it was like to go from untouchable to sidelined, to watch the game you loved move forward without you, to wonder if you’d ever be the same again.

And lately, she was the only person you could stand to be around.

You had been staring at your phone for so long that the screen dimmed, and for a moment, you just let it. You let the notification blur into the background, just another soft glow in the otherwise empty space of your mind. But the words were already burned into your vision. You could still see them, could still hear them.

ESPN: The new projected #1 pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft has been updated.

You hadn’t even opened the article. You didn’t need to. The bets had been completely off for you for a while now. They had kept your name there at first, had held onto you like a favorite whose odds just kept slipping, but eventually, reality set in. You were old news now. Another cautionary tale. A talent with a question mark hanging over her head.

And now, someone else was in your place.

You stared at the screen, willing yourself to feel something other than this heavy, creeping numbness. You should be angry. Should be heartbroken. Should be something.

But you just felt… gone. Like the piece of you that used to care had been hollowed out somewhere along the way.

A year ago, you had been untouchable. A sure thing. The future. The kind of player people built franchises around. And now? Now, there was a chance there was no draft for you at all.

Because the truth was, you weren’t healing fast enough. You had tried. God, you had tried. You had pushed your body past the point of exhaustion, past the pain, past the doubt. You had done every stretch, every exercise, followed every rehab plan like it was a religion. But the clock was still ticking. And if you didn’t get back soon, if you didn’t prove that you were still the player they had once fought over, then what?

Then no one would draft you.

Then it would all be over before it even began.

Your fingers tightened around your phone, stomach twisting into knots, the weight of it pressing against your chest, against your throat, until you felt like you might choke on it.

And then, suddenly, it was gone.

You blinked, hands grasping at empty air as Paige plucked the phone from your grip, her movements casual but firm, like she had seen this moment coming before you even did.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just held your phone in one hand, looking down at you with those sharp, knowing eyes, the ones that had always seen through you too easily.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, shifting on the bench, trying to sound bored, like your world hadn’t just cracked open a little more. Like you weren’t barely holding it together.

Paige didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t.

She turned your phone over in her palm, thoughtful, before slipping it into the pocket of her hoodie. “You don’t need to look at that.”

The damage was already done.

Your chest still felt tight, your stomach still sick, your mind still racing down the same dark paths it had been on since the moment you read that notification. Paige could take your phone away, but she couldn’t erase the words from your head, couldn’t make you unsee them, couldn’t stop the way your pulse was pounding in your ears, reminding you over and over of what you had lost.

Paige must have seen something shift in your face because she exhaled, long and slow, before sitting down beside you.

“You’re still in this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, edged with something softer.

You laughed, but it didn’t sound like you. “Am I?”

She didn’t answer right away, just studied you like she was trying to figure out how far gone you really were, how much of you was still left.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure of the answer.

The locker room was dead silent. Everyone could feel the tension thick in the air, suffocating, pressing against their chests. No one wanted to look at you. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

You sat there, jaw clenched so tight it ached, hands curled into fists on your knees, staring at the floor like if you looked anywhere else, the whole thing would snap you in half.

"You think this is easy for me?" Geno’s voice cut through the silence, sharp, impatient. "You think I enjoy calling you out like this? I don’t. But this attitude you’ve had? It’s not helping you. It’s not helping the team."

You felt your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down. You always swallowed it down.

Geno sighed, dragging a hand over his face before leveling you with that look, the one you’d seen him give so many players before. The one that usually meant tough love, a push in the right direction. The one that used to light a fire in you.

"You know what I’ve told you before," he continued, voice calmer now but still firm. "Half the battle is in the mentality. You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can prove to everyone that you’re still the player they think you are. It’s your choice."

That was it.

That was the moment you broke.

The moment you couldn’t keep it all bottled up anymore.

Because it wasn’t just about your mentality. It wasn’t just about your attitude. It was about how everything had been taken from you in one second, how you had clawed your way through recovery, how you had done everything right and it still wasn’t enough. It was about the way people talked about you now, like you were a what-could-have-been instead of a what-still-could-be. It was about the fact that you didn’t even know who you were anymore without basketball, and no one seemed to understand that.

Your voice shook when you spoke, but the words spilled out anyway, raw and desperate and unfiltered.

"Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t replay that moment every single night, over and over again in my head, trying to figure out how I got here?" You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was bitter, broken. "Do you think I don’t want to be out there? That I don’t want to be the player I was?"

Your eyes were burning now, but you refused to let the tears fall here. Not in front of him. Not in front of them.

"I’ve done everything I was supposed to do," you whispered, voice hoarse, barely holding it together. "And it’s still not enough."

No one said anything.

Not Geno. Not the team.

No one.

So you left.

You grabbed your stuff, shoved past the stunned silence, and walked out before anyone could stop you.

Paige was the only one who followed.

She didn’t call your name. Didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t try to tell you it was okay, because she knew it wasn’t.

She caught up to you outside the gym, her footsteps quiet but steady, and the moment you turned to look at her, everything you had been holding in—the anger, the grief, the exhaustion—crashed into you all at once.

And without a single word, Paige wrapped her arms around you.

She hugged you tight, like she was holding you together, like she could feel the way you were unraveling, thread by thread. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry. Really cry. Not just a few tears wiped away before anyone could see, but the kind of tears that shook your whole body, that made it hard to breathe, that carried everything you had been too afraid to say.

Paige didn’t let go.

Not when your shoulders trembled. Not when you gripped the back of her hoodie like a lifeline. Not when your sobs turned into ragged, uneven breaths.

And that night, she didn’t leave your side.

She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to.

She just stayed, close enough that you could hear her breathing, close enough that, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel completely alone.

Paige had always seen you as untouchable. As unstoppable.

Seeing you like this? Broken, vulnerable, hurting in a way that even she couldn’t fix?

That broke her, too.

You had always been the one. The kind of player people whispered about before you even stepped onto the court. The kind of talent that didn’t just demand attention but held it, bent the game around you like gravity. Paige had seen it from the first time she played with you, the way you moved, the way you thought the game three steps ahead of everyone else. You were special. And everybody knew it.

That was why, when it happened, it felt like the world had cracked open.

She remembered it too clearly. The sharp sound of your body hitting the floor, the way you clutched your knee, the way your face twisted in pain. She had never seen you like that before. Never seen you down and not bounce right back up.

At first, she thought—hoped—it was just something minor. A bad landing. A scare. You’d get up, you’d shake it off, and everything would go back to normal.

But you didn’t get up.

And when they helped you off the court, when she saw the way you wouldn’t even try to put weight on it, her stomach dropped.

Because she knew.

She knew before the MRI, before the press release, before the hushed conversations about recovery timelines and worst-case scenarios. She knew the second she saw your face.

And that night, when she found you sitting in the locker room long after everyone else had left, staring down at your knee like it wasn’t even yours anymore, she realized something else.

You weren’t just scared of being hurt. You were scared of what came next.

Paige understood that fear. She had lived it. She knew what it was like to sit on the sidelines and feel like the game was leaving you behind, like the thing that made you you was slipping further and further out of reach. She knew how isolating it was, how no amount of support or encouragement could touch the parts of you that ached the most.

But this was you. And in her mind, you had never been touchable, had never been stoppable. The idea of you being anything less than that—it wasn’t something she could wrap her head around.

So she had told herself, You’ll come back. You have to come back.

But months passed, and she watched the way you changed. The way your fire dimmed. The way you started retreating into yourself, isolating, pulling away from the team, from her.

The way your name slowly started disappearing from draft talks.

The way you looked at yourself like you weren’t sure you belonged here anymore.

And now, sitting beside you, holding you as you finally let yourself fall apart, she felt helpless.

Because this wasn’t a game she could win for you.

She could fight for you on the court. She could hit big shots, make big plays, try to keep the team moving forward. But she couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t make your knee heal faster. She couldn’t take away the doubt, the fear, the loss of everything you thought was certain.

She hated that.

She hated that all she could do was hold you, that all she could offer was her presence, her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing against yours.

But if this was all she could do, she would do it.

Because you weren’t alone.

And as long as she was here, as long as she had anything to give, she would make sure you never felt like you were.

--

It started with an alarm.

A shrill, relentless alarm at 5:30 AM. The kind that made you want to throw your phone across the room.

At first, you thought you had set it by accident. But then you heard the knocking.

No. Not knocking. Pounding.

You groaned, pulling your blanket over your head, willing whoever it was to just disappear.

No such luck.

"Get up," Paige’s voice rang through the door, clear, firm, unmovable.

You shut your eyes tighter. "Go away."

The door opened.

You peeked out from under the blanket just in time to see Paige standing in your doorway, arms crossed, dressed in workout gear like she had been up for hours.

You glared. "Do you not believe in knocking?"

"I knocked," she said, unimpressed. "Then you ignored me. Now get up."

You scoffed, rolling onto your side. "Not happening."

You should have known she wouldn’t just accept that.

Paige walked over, grabbed the edge of your blanket, and ripped it off you in one swift motion. Cold air hit your skin, and you practically yelped, curling into yourself.

"Jesus, Bueckers—"

"You can cuss me out later," she said. "Right now, we’re going to the gym."

You stared at her like she had lost her mind. "Paige, it’s five in the morning."

"Yeah, and you’ve got work to do," she shot back, unfazed. "Season starts in a few months. You wanna be ready or not?"

You hesitated.

Of course you wanted to be ready. Of course you wanted to get back to where you were before, to prove that you weren’t just some washed-up has-been before you even got the chance to be a someone.

But that want—that need—was buried under months of frustration, self-doubt, exhaustion. You had pushed yourself so hard for so long, and it still felt like you were running in place.

And now, here she was, asking you to choose again.

Paige must have seen the hesitation in your face, because her expression softened. She sat down on the edge of your bed, nudging your knee lightly.

"I know you’re tired," she said, quieter now, more serious. "I know this hasn’t been fair. But you’re too good to let this stop you. You know that."

You swallowed, looking away.

She sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. "You’re not doing this alone," she continued. "I’m gonna be here every step of the way. If you have to push yourself, then I’ll push you. If you fall, I’ll catch you. But I’m not letting you give up on this. I won’t."

Something in your chest tightened.

Because she meant it. You could hear it in her voice, in the unwavering steadiness of it.

Paige had always believed in you. Even when you stopped believing in yourself.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to get you out of bed.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing a hand down your face before finally, finally sitting up.

"Fine," you muttered. "But if I pass out halfway through, it’s on you."

Paige grinned, already victorious. "You’ll live."

And with that, she tossed you your sneakers, stood up, and waited—because she already knew you were going to follow.

The next couple of months were hell.

But not the kind of hell you had been drowning in for the past year. Not the slow-burning, isolating, empty kind of hell where every day bled into the next, where the weight of your own expectations crushed you before you even got out of bed.

No, this was different.

This was the kind of hell that left your muscles aching in the best way, your lungs burning as you pushed through another sprint, your hands gripping your knees as you bent over, gasping for breath, feeling alive again. The kind of hell that reminded you why you had ever loved this game in the first place.

And it was all because of Paige.

She didn’t go easy on you. If anything, she was worse than the trainers. She forced you out of bed before sunrise, dragged you through drills that made you want to collapse, and refused to let you quit.

"You’re too slow," she’d say, breathless, as you tried to keep up with her full-speed cuts. "Use your damn left hand," she’d scold when your layup was just a little too stiff. "Again." That was her favorite. No matter how many times you told her you were done, she’d look at you with that infuriating smirk and make you do it again.

And somehow… somehow, you needed it.

For the first time in forever, you felt like a player again. Like you were clawing your way back to the person you used to be. And with every day that passed, with every extra rep, every bead of sweat rolling down your spine, every time you beat Paige in a shooting drill and got to see the way she rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder with a muttered, "Whatever, lucky shot,"—you started to believe, just a little, that maybe you still had a chance.

It was exhausting. It was painful. It was the hardest thing you had ever done.

And you had never felt more alive.

But then there was the other problem.

Because somewhere along the way, between the early morning workouts and the late-night film sessions, between the inside jokes and the way she always, always knew exactly what to say to get you out of your own head—something shifted.

You caught yourself watching her too long. Not just as a player, not just as the Paige Bueckers that the world knew. But as her. As the person who had seen you at your absolute lowest and refused to let you stay there.

As the person who had held you when you broke. Who had stayed up with you on the nights where the doubt crept in too deep, the one who knew, before you even said a word, exactly what you needed.

And it scared you.

Because Paige Bueckers wasn’t just some random person. She was your teammate. Your best friend. The person who had dedicated months of her life to making sure you didn’t give up on yourself.

And you couldn’t risk losing that.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way your heart picked up when she brushed against you. The way her hand lingered on your back whenever she guided you off the court. The way she looked at you sometimes, like she was trying to figure something out.

You ignored everything.

Because preseason was coming. And you weren’t where you needed to be yet.

You had made progress—real progress. You were moving better, sharper, stronger than you had in months. But you weren’t there yet. Not fully healed. Not fully you.

But baby steps, right?

You weren’t giving up. Not anymore. And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought you were.

--

The gym was nearly empty when Paige found you.

Late night, lights dimmed, the faint echo of bouncing balls from the other side of the facility. You had just finished your last set of shooting drills, your knee wrapped tight, sweat dripping down your back, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. It was another long day of almost being back, almost being who you were before.

But almost wasn’t good enough. Not yet.

You heard the door open but didn’t look up. You knew who it was. Paige had a presence, an energy that filled the space before she even said anything.

"You really gotta stop sneaking in extra workouts," she called, footsteps slow as she crossed the court. "What if I tell Geno? He’ll make you sit out of practice for real this time."

You rolled your eyes, bending down to grab your water bottle. "You won’t tell Geno, because that would make you a snitch."

She scoffed. "I think it makes me a responsible teammate."

"You dragged me out of bed at five in the morning for conditioning all summer, but now you wanna be responsible?" You shot her a look. "Little hypocritical, don’t you think?"

Paige grinned, coming to a stop a few feet from you, spinning a ball lazily in her hands. "That’s different."

"How?"

"Because I was supervising. You out here by yourself?" She made a tsk sound, shaking her head dramatically. "Reckless. Careless. Dangerous, even."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Whatever."

Paige took a step closer, that knowing look in her eyes. "You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?"

Your grip tightened around your water bottle. It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that. And every time, it hit the same.

"I know," you muttered.

She studied you for a second, then nodded, spinning the ball again before flipping it toward you. You caught it out of reflex.

"One-on-one," she said casually, stretching her arms overhead. "First to five."

You narrowed your eyes. "You just had practice."

"So?" She smirked. "I still won’t go easy on you."

That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip, but it did.

You licked your lips, tossing the ball between your hands. "I won’t go easy on you, Bueckers."

Her smirk deepened. "Good."

And just like that, the banter faded into the familiar rhythm of competition—the kind where words weren’t needed, where the only thing that mattered was movement, instincts, the game itself.

But even as you tried to focus, as you tried to lock in, you couldn’t ignore the way Paige’s eyes lingered a little too long. The way her hands brushed against your waist when she reached for a steal. The way she grinned every time you scored, even though she hated losing.

The way the tension between you two had started feeling different.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more—losing the game, or what would happen if you stopped ignoring it.

--

The sun was starting to set as you and Paige walked back from physical therapy, the sky streaked with warm oranges and purples, the air crisp against your skin. Your knee was sore, but in the way it always was after PT—stiff, a little swollen, but manageable. You were used to it by now. What you weren’t used to was the fact that you didn’t hate these sessions anymore.

Not since Paige started showing up.

At first, you thought she was just being nice—checking in on you, keeping you accountable, making sure you weren’t wallowing in self-pity (even though you totally had been). But then, she started coming every time. She sat in the waiting room during your sessions, tapping her foot impatiently like she was the one getting worked on. She cracked dumb jokes when you winced through exercises, flipped through old magazines and read the worst horoscopes out loud just to make you laugh.

She was like your own personal emotional support dog. If emotional support dogs talked a lot.

And the thing was? She made you feel less bad about all of it.

The injury, the rehab, the endless cycle of progress and setbacks. It didn’t feel so heavy when she was there.

Now, as you walked side by side, your duffel slung over one shoulder, Paige stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, gaze flicking toward you before settling on the sidewalk.

"You know, I’ve been here before," she said after a beat, her voice quieter than usual.

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This place," she nodded back toward the therapy clinic, her expression unreadable. "I came here after I tore my ACL. Same time, same days. Same routine."

You blinked. You knew about her injury, obviously—everyone did. But she had never really talked about it. Not like this.

"That was before I got here," she continued, exhaling, her breath visible in the cool evening air. "Before I really got back. And it sucked. So bad." She huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. "I don’t think people get how… alone it makes you feel. Everyone’s moving forward, the season keeps going, and you’re just stuck in the same place. Trying to convince yourself you’re still the player you were before."

Your stomach twisted at how familiar that sounded.

Paige kicked a loose pebble down the sidewalk. "I didn’t really have anyone who—like, I mean, I had people who cared, but no one who really got it. Not like this. I wanted someone to be there for me the way I’ve been here for you."

You stopped walking. Paige took a few more steps before realizing and turned to face you, her brows furrowing slightly.

"You never told me that," you said, voice softer than you meant it to be.

She shrugged, a little sheepish. "It wasn’t something I talked about much. Didn’t think it mattered."

"It does matter," you insisted.

Paige held your gaze for a second, something flickering behind her eyes. Then, she took a step closer.

"You know what else matters?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "The fact that you were the only person who actually pushed me to get my ass back on the court."

You blinked. "What?"

She smiled, but it wasn’t teasing. It was real.

"You don’t remember?" She shook her head, laughing to herself. "I do. You were a freshman, and you wouldn’t shut up about how I needed to get back out there. You kept saying I was too good to waste it, that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. It pissed me off so bad."

Your eyes widened. You… vaguely remembered that. You remembered standing outside the locker room, Paige still moving stiffly, not fully cleared yet, and you had said something—something blunt, something stubborn, something about how she was going to regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t push through.

"You were annoying as hell," Paige added, smirking. "But you were right. I don’t know if I ever told you that."

You were still trying to wrap your head around it. You had no idea you’d made that much of an impact on her. That you had been the one to push her the way she had been pushing you now.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Then, finally, you huffed, shaking your head. "So… what you’re saying is, this is revenge?"

Paige snorted. "One hundred percent."

You both laughed, but beneath it, something else settled in your chest. Something warm.

She had been there before. She understood.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant you could come out on the other side of this too.

--

The doctor barely got the words out before Paige exploded.

"Let’s goooo!" she shouted, jumping up so fast her chair screeched against the floor. She clapped you on the back—hard, like she forgot her own strength—before pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever been in.

You were still processing it. Cleared. Cleared. After nearly a year of waiting, of doubting, of pushing yourself until you couldn’t breathe, you were finally back.

You let out a breathless laugh, gripping the back of Paige’s hoodie as she squeezed you tighter. "You realize I’m the one who just got cleared, right? Why are you more excited than me?"

Paige pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright, that signature smirk tugging at her lips. "Because I knew this would happen," she said like it was obvious. "I told you. You’re too good not to come back. It was only a matter of time."

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling warmer than you should’ve in an air-conditioned office. There was something about the way she was looking at you—like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. Maybe more.

The doctor cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. "Are you two done celebrating in my office, or do I need to step out and give you a minute?"

You and Paige both whipped around like guilty kids, muttering quick apologies, but the grin never left her face.

And it didn’t leave the rest of the day, either.

She refused to let you go home without celebrating. Took you straight to your favorite restaurant, ordered way too much food, and every time you even thought about checking your phone, she smacked your hand away.

"Tonight is not for film. Or texts. Or stressing," she said between bites of fries. "It’s for you. And me. And this delicious meal I just paid for."

"You literally stole my card to pay," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but I swiped it," she said smugly, sipping her drink. "Which means I paid. Which means you should be grateful."

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped, and you weren’t entirely sure it was from the food.

Because here she was again. Paige Bueckers, making you feel like the most important person in the room.

And that feeling hadn’t gone away.

The first practice back, you were expecting a normal warm welcome. Some pats on the back, maybe a few sarcastic finallys thrown your way.

What you were not expecting was to walk into the locker room and see balloons tied to your chair, a giant cake sitting on the bench, and the entire team yelling, "She’s baaaaaaack!" the second you stepped inside.

You stopped in your tracks, wide-eyed. "What the—"

"Surprise!" Paige called, stepping forward with an exaggerated bow. "Courtesy of your personal hype woman."

You looked at her, then at the cake—white frosting, piped-on basketballs, and the words WELCOME BACK, SUPERSTAR in bright blue icing. You could tell she definitely decorated it herself, because one of the basketballs was slightly misshapen, and the lettering was just a little off-center.

Your chest felt tight, but in a good way. A way you didn’t quite know how to explain.

"You did this?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige shrugged, but her grin was unmistakable. "Figured you deserved it."

The warmth in your chest spread.

"Alright, get over here and eat before I do it for you," she added, shoving a plastic fork into your hand.

The rest of the team dove into the cake, laughter filling the room as people threw icing at each other, teasing you about how they were gonna light your ass up in scrimmages.

And through it all, you kept sneaking glances at Paige.

Because this was the part that was messing with your head.

The way she always knew what you needed before you even said it. The way she was so damn proud of you, like this wasn’t just your win, but hers too. The way she looked at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

And suddenly, you couldn’t keep pretending that your feelings for her were just friendly.

Because they weren’t. Not even close.

--

The second the buzzer sounded, the roar of the crowd barely had time to register before Paige was on you.

You didn’t even have time to celebrate properly, barely had time to process the fact that you had just played in your first official game back, before she grabbed you—hands firm on your waist, tugging you straight into her.

"You killed it," she practically breathed against your ear, voice thick with something deeper than excitement, something that sent a full-body chill down your spine.

You barely had time to respond before she pulled you closer, her arms locking around your back, holding you like she was afraid to let go. Her heart was pounding against yours, fast and erratic, and you swore she was holding on for longer than a normal post-game hug.

Not that you were complaining.

Your hands hesitated for only a second before finding their way to her back, gripping onto the fabric of her jersey, still warm from the game.

"You act like we just won a championship," you teased, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "We won your first game back," she corrected, like that was the real victory.

And the way she was looking at you—the way her eyes were scanning your face like she wanted to memorize it, the way her fingers were still gripping onto you like she wasn’t ready to let go—made your stomach flip so hard you almost felt dizzy.

It was so obvious.

So obvious in the way she refused to move more than a step away from you during the entire post-game celebration, always lingering close, her hand brushing against yours, her shoulder bumping into you.

So obvious in the way she reached for you again when the cameras swarmed, her arm slung around your shoulders like it belonged there.

So obvious in the way she beamed every time she looked at you, like she was the proudest person in the damn world.

And it should have been overwhelming, should have felt like too much.

But it didn’t.

Because if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to let go either.

--

The ice cream shop was packed, buzzing with late-night energy—fans still wearing jerseys, kids on sugar highs, groups of students laughing loudly in the corner. The air smelled like waffle cones and melted chocolate, and the whole team was crammed into two booths, talking over each other, hyped from the win.

And through all of it, Paige wouldn’t leave your side.

She had slid into the seat next to you the second you got there, pressing close enough that her knee knocked against yours under the table. And she stayed there, so damn close, even when there was plenty of room to move.

Not that you minded.

She was warm, practically radiating heat against your side. Every time she laughed—really laughed, head tilting back just slightly—her shoulder bumped into yours. Every time she reached for her cup, her fingers brushed against your arm like she forgot how much space she was taking up.

Or maybe she just didn’t care.

"Alright, we’re making a bathroom run," one of your teammates announced, and the rest of them quickly followed, leaving you and Paige alone at the table.

The shop was still loud around you, but suddenly, everything between you two felt quiet.

You tapped your spoon absently against your cup, not looking at her. "You planning on sticking to me like glue all night?"

Paige scoffed, leaning back like she was just now realizing how close she was. But she didn’t move. "Psh. Please. If anything, you’ve been following me."

You raised a brow, finally meeting her gaze. "Oh yeah? That what you’re telling yourself?"

She smirked, like she had been waiting for this exact opening. "Well, you do like me, so."

Your spoon paused midair.

Your brain short-circuited.

She had said it so casually, like it wasn’t the biggest bomb she could have possibly dropped. Like it wasn’t the exact thing you had been trying not to admit to yourself for months.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Blinked. "I—what?"

Paige just grinned, stirring her ice cream like she didn’t just say that. "Relax, it’s not that deep," she teased, but there was something lighter in her voice, something testing.

You swallowed. "So you’re just out here saying stuff?"

She shrugged, still grinning, but you could see the shift—the way she kept glancing at you, like she was trying to gauge your reaction. Like she was actually nervous.

You inhaled slowly. "Paige."

She finally stopped stirring her ice cream, finally let the teasing drop just a little.

"Okay," she said, quieter now, tapping her spoon against her cup. "Maybe it is a little deep."

The air between you shifted.

You could still hear the noise of the shop, the hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter from across the room. But none of it mattered. Not when Paige was sitting this close, looking at you like that.

Like she had been waiting.

Like she wasn’t scared of saying it anymore.

Your chest felt tight. "Oh."

Paige let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh? That’s all you got?"

You swallowed again, your heart beating way too fast. "I mean—what do you want me to say?"

"I don’t know," she murmured, voice almost playful but not quite. "Maybe that you like me too?"

Your mouth felt dry.

Because you did.

Of course you did.

It had been obvious for so long, in the way your heart jumped every time she touched you, in the way you gravitated toward her like it was second nature. In the way she made the worst year of your life bearable just by being there.

So, really, what was stopping you?

You let out a breath, then shook your head, smirking just slightly. "You are so full of yourself."

Paige rolled her eyes but leaned in just a little closer. "Am I wrong, though?"

You huffed, pressing your lips together—trying to hold onto the last shred of self-control you had, but it was so hard when she was right there, when she was looking at you like she already knew she was right.

And then—

She reached out, fingers curling around your wrist, lightly, like she was giving you an out.

She didn’t need to.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

And before you could second-guess it, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you could believe it was actually happening. Like months of unspoken tension had suddenly snapped all at once.

But then Paige exhaled against your lips, like she had been holding it in for so long, and you felt her smile into the kiss before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her fingers tightening around your wrist, pulling you in.

You felt weightless.

Like everything—the injury, the doubt, the fear—had led to this.

And, for the first time in forever, you weren’t thinking about the past.

You weren’t thinking about the future.

You were just here, with Paige, and nothing had ever felt more right.

[zippidi-dooda]

You were all giggles and smiles.

The air felt hot with how many old students and families there were around. Your outer layer flowed around you, swishing as you sped about. The inner clung to your skin, on the precipice of becoming uncomfortable. But you were enjoying the night too much to care.

All of your old friends were there, once eager pupils now strong heroes, working up the ranks of pros. They were happy too, hugging excitedly and introducing each other to relatives or new friends. It was a breath of fresh air, going from rarely getting a moment to have lunch with one another to spending hours late into the evening with pretty much every old acquaintance.

But there was one person in particular you found yourself hoping to talk to again.

You kept passing by him. Where he sat with arms folded, legs spread carelessly in their baggy pants and thick boots as he was fond of, eyes narrowed and fixed on the floor as others milled about, frown on his face as his companions chatted the night away from where they sat next to him.

You didn't feel that deep flutter as you did before. But neither did you feel skittish fear where you wanted to avoid him. Just that odd sense of longing and hope. You wondered if he even noticed you passing by.

This continued for a while, these glances and wanderings as your old teachers continued their announcements and congratulations around the grounds.

You waved to his friends when you passed, not stopping to talk but smiling and sparing a quick, "Hi!" You're not sure if he recognized your voice or if he was just ignoring it, but he rarely shifted in his seat.

You wanted to talk to Kirishima and Denki and Sero when you had the chance, Mina you wandered about with plenty. But you really wanted to talk to him.

Things hadn't ended right. He was busy, busier now with all his dream chasing. And prideful. You may not get such a lax opportunity to communicate again.

"Hey, Y/N! C'mere, there's people I want you to meet!" Ochaco grinned, looping your arms together.

You smiled, trailing along behind all the seats, glancing back at his head of fluffy spikes.

The girl introduced you to her people and a few friends she had brought along as well.

You engaged politely, distracted for a moment as you caught up. But when the conversation was over, mind free to create scenarios in your head, and she was ready to drag you somewhere else ... the two of you going up the rows now, passing in front of him again ... a final glance ... and you lost your apprehensions.

Untangling yourself from her arm, you told Ochaco to go on ahead, you'd be with her in a moment.

You walked in front of Bakugou, taking him by his collar and pulling him up from his seat. Then you kissed him chastely. "We need to talk when this is over." No shame nor fear bubbled over you.

He looked on confused and wired, heart beating a little faster than intended that night, but nodded curtly unsure of what he really could say.

And you let go, catching up to Ochaco as if nothing had happened.

You spent a few moments wondering and hoping he'd truly wait up, search for you since you'd forgotten to give a location in your haze. But the rest of the night went on joyously, laughter and grins spreading throughout the building, everyone was sad for it to end. Though most stayed out front, kicking up the grass as they decided on a 24hr diner to continue the evening together at.

You expected to look around anxiously for a while, fearing if the man you were waiting for would show. But it didn't take long at all. Bakugou found you first, popping up from behind and taking your hand to pull you away from the crowd.

You two didn't say a thing for a while, looking for an area with less people. And when you found it, he dropped your hand. He kept his eyes forward, hands shoved into his pockets as he started.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Straight to the point as always.

There was so much you could say, long winded explanations you could give. Maybe it'd be best if you went with his go to. Blunt and direct.

"I want to try again." You faced him, "we didn't really end things right last time. Didn't even say we were done, kinda just ... stopped talking. I'd like to make it work this time. And if we feel like something's not right again, I'd like to at least be able to end it properly. With a clarification and goodbye."

He stayed quiet so you continued.

"And I know what I want to do now, Katsuki. I've been working hard towards it this whole time. I know you'll be out a lot, saving people, fighting crime, climbing the ranks, but I think we can manage it. We don't have set hours but I'm okay with the ambiguity. I'll be waiting for you when you get home, wake up early to see you leave, then get to work too. I'll be happy when we see each other, of course. But also with the time we have apart, to wait till goals are met. I'd like to stick around till then."

You took his hands in yours. They were warm and a bit clammy but familiar all the same.

"I want to be with you, Katsuki. And I know we avoided facing our worries before which is why our relationship fizzled out. But I'm better at managing things now and more willing to sit down and face things. And I still love you. Want to kiss you again. Maybe it was selfish of me to have done it back in there but ... no. It was selfish. If you say no and I never see you again, at least I'll have had that. I'm sorry,"

Slowly, you reached out to cup his cheek. He didn't pull away.

He was still very quiet. An odd trait he seemed to have learned over the years. You're not sure if it was good or bad yet.

"Bottom line though? I want to stick through it all this time. Reach a shared goal." Just now you started feeling those sick butterlies again. This wasnt how you intended to end the night either. But you also didn't feel like it was a bad choice to make. "So ... will you go out with me?"

[yandereunsolved]

I feel like clemens' point or shady belle is a GREAT spot for siren!reader since they would need water like humans need air to live. Imagine someone like charles or sadie having to keep an eye on them when they go in the water while on guard duty

-🐟 anon

Great idea!

They need to spend a few hours in the water every once in a while or they get incredibly ill. After all, they are naturally a siren. Staying out of the water for extended periods of time is exhausting.

Charles, Hosea, & Sadie are the main people who end up guarding reader during this time. They are the most resistant to siren reader's song. (No, Arthur is not good at resisting the siren's song. Neither is Dutch.)

Charles always feels slightly embarrassed. It feels as if he is gazing upon something intimate. Few of the gang get to see you like this. And you're so happy. It makes him happy. And he does one of his :3 smiles. But don't get it twisted. Charles isn't going to be lured into the water with you. He doesn't know your intentions. And while he is fairly certain you would never try to drown him ― he would rather not have you siphoning energy from his soul. The closest he has gotten to the water while you are in it is dipping his hands in.

Hosea is old enough to not be eagerly tempted by your song. He is also more parental in his nature so he's so proud to see you in your nature form. While also being worried that you'll find a way to escape. Believe it or not. He'll get in the water with you. He's old and growing weaker by the day. If you truly want to attack him then you might as well. Because why would you? He's been nothing but kind. And he's the one who calms others obsessive tendencies.

So if you kill him you're really fucked. Like if you killed one of the ladies (I love you characters. don't be mad at me.) they wouldn't be incredibly upset. Just because of the fact that yk misogyny and men contribute the most money to the camp. Not to mention the fact that Hosea is one of the founders.

He feels like your siren form isn't real. It's just a hallucination of his. Very much hesitates when touching you. Although he learns that your gills are very sensitive and pull... interesting noises out of you if he's careful enough. Not to mention your forked tongue. It darting out of your mouth and touching him. tasting him. It makes him feel like a young man again.

Maybe he's more susceptible to your charm then he first though... (at least while he's in the water that is.)

Sadie is no nonsense with your little games. Or at least she tries to be. She walks along the edge of the waters in hopes that you'll pull her in. Sensing her want. You often do. And she loves touching your siren form (mostly with child-like innocence). She loves your gills, claws, forked-tongue, scales, and entrancing eyes. She especially loves the texture(s) of your scales.

It's her possessiveness that makes her a good candidate to guard you. She won't let you leave. No matter how much you beg she won't give in. But she has to admit you look really attractive while doing so.

[nouveauxamoris]

does anyone else ever think about how chapters 14.5-15 of bungo stray dogs beast are essentially the parallel chapters to the main timeline’s chapter 39: portrait of a father. do you guys ever think about how portrait of a father is meant to represent the struggles that come with an abusive parent/parental figure and the pain of knowing that you love them and grieve them when they pass despite everything they’ve done to you. do you ever think about how in portrait of a father atsushi learned that it’s okay for these conflicting emotions to exist and she didn’t need to forgive or forget anything that was done to her by the orphanage director even though she loved him like a father and he ultimately loved her like his child too because his actions were still abhorrent and unforgivable and no amount of love can take away from the hurt that was done unto her. do you ever think about how in portrait of a father atsushi was allowed to gain closure with the newfound knowledge that her abuse wasn’t her fault and she was still allowed to grieve someone who hurt her without that demeaning the severity of it. do you ever think about how in beast chapters 14.5-15 atsushi wanted nothing more than to reclaim what was supposed to be a day for her — her birthday — and have that same closure by taking back everything that was stolen from her her entire life. do you ever think about how in beast chapters 14.5-15 instead of being able to find her closure and peace of mind atsushi ended up having to deal with the profound guilt of knowing that her abusive father died by her hands during the moment where he intended to actually express that he loved and cared for her, just as she had wanted him and anyone else to her entire life, because she was so horribly afraid of his presence alone it triggered her to react violently. do you ever think about how the aftermath of chapters 14.5-15 of beast was atsushi being left to blame herself for the death of this man as well as the tormenting knowledge that she both loved and hated him and there is no outlet or comfort that comes with that. there is nothing more complicated and painful than the person who is supposed to love and care for you being nothing but cruel to you and still finding yourself loving them nonetheless. there is nothing more tragic than knowing that that person loved you as you loved them and yet continued to harm you regardless. in the original timeline, atsushi was allowed to come to terms with the horrific reality of having an abusive parental figure and how their death can impact you. in the beast timeline, atsushi was allowed nothing but guilt and self blame for the longest time knowing that with his blood on her hands in the moment where he meant to make amends she would never get to have that closure, that peace she always intended to gain. one of them could heal, the other was left to rot. thats so fucked up

[wazzi2ya]

Art for the portraits in Sinsmas by jigokuhana89

[batcavescolony]

Im gonna say something controversial

Some of you are disappointed in the Agatha All Along finale because you expected too much.

[hplonesomeart]

Ah nothing stings quite like a doomed friendship. Especially when you’ve got no one to blame except yourself for all those careless, selfish actions that pushed them away. Going as far to hurt them for your own gain. You’ve become the catalyst of your own loneliness. A path you forged willingly. A path you thought would bring you recognition…but it’s only lead to you being forgotten. Irreversibly.

[change-the-rules]

I'm wondering if the shortness of the ep is also an indicative factor for the theory that that trial wasn't quite real

[cuteniaarts]

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

Who's the fairest of them all?

[vaguehotels]

had the most braindead repetitive conversation/argument with my parents. buzz cuts are too masculine but if you dye a design on it it become effeminate which is bad because then you look weak and if youre weak then society falls apart (all societies ever that have fallen apart for any reason are actually because of feminine men) and we start sacrificing babies. and also all mental illness is invented because only 4 people had anxiety in the 90s and covid was made up so that we would all become gay and trans and then the government can control us better and be joe biden's little sex slaves. and also i need to keep my hair long because my father finds it attractive. what

[the-void-has-questions]

I’m not usually a huge fan of contrived canon ships, but Zane and Pixal are the one exception actually

[mysticmoondancer]

Etharah Week 2023 - Day 4: Free Day

"Life After The Cure"

After the Lucifractor explosion and defeating Stern, Sarah and Ethan decided to give dating another shot. Almost a year later, a cure for vampirism was found and of course, Sarah took it. Now eight years later, their relationship together is still going strong, and they couldn't be anymore happier. Funny how the darkest time of one's life could also bring so much light into it, as well. She may not be immortal anymore, but her love for Ethan always will be, though. For their love knows no end. Whether it be in this life or the next.