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akirasarchives · 3 days ago

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[00] Valuable Addition.

Summary: You wouldn’t say you’re in debt, but the dwindling money in your bank account is looking that way. Oh yeah, and a man in a suit won’t stop bothering you about playing a stupid child’s game.

— warnings: usual squid game behaviour, female reader

platonic squid game x reader, side romantic moments but it’s for the plot

[ 12TH, MONDAY, 08:47 ]

The subway station is busy. Businessmen, students and elderly passer-bys push past and shove into you as you stand clueless next to one of the big subway posters. Despite living in Seoul for so long, you barely know your way around and you’re at mercy to the beehive system. And it takes no prisoners.

You’ve been trying for the last 10 minutes to get the attention of anyone, but each person either ignores you or runs on to grab their train, but with each train passing your anxiety grows. It feels as if time has stopped around you as the vibrant chatter of people around you turns into mumbles and whispers as you attempt to understand the subway line. Even as you trace what you think is the blue line, it eventually turns into purple and now you’re on the other side of town!

With a heavy sigh, you turn to face the crowd once more. The crowd had thinned out in the last 10 minutes of your lone confusion and with a quick glance at your phone you see that it’s quickly approaching 9am.

It’s now or never.

“Excuse me, sir!” You tap the shoulder of the nearest well-dressed businessman. The man, seemingly in his 30s or early 40s turns and flashes you a charming smile. He dons a freshly pressed, steel grey suit made of soft, rich fabric. From a quick glance, you can tell the suit is made of expensive material as you spot tiny workings of the logo within the fabric itself. You feel as if you're staining the suit by touching it.

I just had to ask the good-looking one.

“May I help you?” He asks, using his free hand to smooth down his already wrinkle-free suit. His smile drops over time, yet he makes an effort to make it appear that it meets his eyes. Though, working in hospitality makes it easy to spot a false smile.

“I am sorry to bother you, but can you tell me which train takes me to Hannam-Dong?” You glance down at your phone. Foolishly, you forgot to check which train took you in the direction of the job interview you had scheduled today for a big company which would pretty much pay off the majority of your tuition fees in one wage. You practically burst into tears when the conductor told you that you purchased a ticket for the wrong line. The image of the money decreasing from your bank account due to a stupid purchase made you want to scream.

“Are there no ticket inspectors?” He hums, looking around. He looks around and almost comically turns in a circle before sighing. As if you couldn’t feel stupid enough for thinking you had to use a different line, the man in front of you had to make a theatrical out of it.

“I think it is this line.” He motions at the platform on the other side with the hand holding his expensive looking briefcase. You watch as it swings, seemingly empty.

“Thank you, sir!” You bow your head and smile, taking off before you finish the sentence. Soon enough you’re lost in the crowd again and hopefully not too late for the train.

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 08:29 ]

Stupid nepotism. Yesterday, you arrived at the interview 10 minutes early despite the subway fiasco but you were informed that the role was filled that morning by an “experienced candidate who met the needs of the role”. Do you want to know who the candidate is? The CEOs nephew who just left high school and took a business class.

Now what? You’re at the same subway station waiting on the train to take you to your part-time cafe job 10 minutes away. Usually, you would walk it seeing as you don’t really like throwing away ₩1500 on a ticket that takes you 6 stops away but the torrential rain outside and your cheap umbrella were blocking you from walking 15 minutes.

The ticket crumbles in your hand as you fiddle with the flimsy paper. Maybe this was God’s sick way of telling you that you’re too ahead of yourself or that you’re destined to continue spending money that you don’t have. You trace over the price stamp, thinking over what you could’ve spent the money on.

Maybe a shitty cup of ramen?

“May I sit here?” A smooth voice breaks you from your trance. You glance up, straightening your posture. It’s the man from yesterday, gleaming down at you with the same formal smile. Again, it doesn’t reach his eyes yet you nod, shuffling to the right to allow him space on the bench.

“How was your interview?” He asks casually as he sets his briefcase beside him. He turns his back to you as he traces the cool metal edges of the case, popping it open with ease.

You gape, “How did you know I was going to an interview?”

“Well, you were dressed well and now you are in an apron. I assume you don’t go everywhere in a formal blazer.” He cracks open the briefcase as he casually explains. He’s weirdly observant, but his comment on the apron makes you glance down. Each wrinkle and subtle stain becomes more noticeable, but reminds you of each gruelling hour you put into the place. Each penny earned.

You can’t help but get lost in thought, barely processing as thick blue and red folded paper is passed into your eye-line.

“I am assuming you’re a café worker… That can’t pay much, no?” He motions at the cafe’s coffee bean logo on your black shirt. You nod, still dumbfounded by the paper squares.

His stare is so intense it leaves you a bit flustered so you naturally let out a nervous laugh, swapping your attention to the time on your phone. 10 minutes until your train...

“Um, no, I suppose not.” You reply, albeit awkwardly. He hums, satisfied with your late and short answer. Oddly, this is not one of the weirder conversations you’ve had at the subway station.

He shifts so that he’s facing you, “Let’s play a game, you know Ddakji, right?”

You glance between the paper and his face. He looks so sincere, but you can’t read his eyes. They’re deep, black almost and oddly… mischevious for a middle aged man. Honestly it’s quite disturbing.

“Each round you win, you’ll get ₩100,000. How about that?” The expression on your face coaxed him to continue. Perhaps you looked just as perplexed as you feel.

“Who are—“

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

… Is this man fucking crazy? You want to just leave the station but at the same time you’re so intrigued by what the fuck this man wants. Surely he has better things to do? Was he carrying the ddakji with him yesterday too?

The way he sits still as if he’s a mannequin is also quite disturbing. It’s as if he’s giving you time to process the question but you’re not debating the game, you’re debating just running out in the pouring rain.

“Well?”

“Railway line through Cheongpa-Dong is now boarding. Please board.”

You stand quickly, jolting the businessman with your speed.

“My train is here. Bye.”

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 22:09 ]

The whole day the scenario played through your head. You were so caught up in thought that you burned yourself with the steamer and spent 10 minutes in the office running your hand until cool water. Even then, your mind wandered back.

It’s just so odd. You’ve never seen him before but now twice you’ve spoken to him. Has he always been there and it’s just more obvious now? Does he offer everyone this game? Is he following you? Does he know where you work?

You barely knew the time. Each drink passed by in seconds and each customer morphed into each other. Every time a man entered the shop in a suit, your heart pumped ferociously.

You can’t tell if you’re terrified of him or excited for the interaction. Maybe he’s just a fucking weirdo who walks around with ddakji in hopes of getting to slap people.

Plus, you could do with the money. Even if you win just one round, it could pay for your phone bill or electric meter.

The walk home isn’t exactly easy either. It’s dark and each corner turned, you’re expecting to see him waiting under a streetlight for you holding those red and blue squares.

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

Unbothered, he extends the squares towards you. It feels as if you’re sucked out of your body as you stare at him. Time slows and no one else is there. Did he just ask you to sleep with him? What in the world could that mean? Is this man a trafficker and he has his eyes set on you? The questions flurry through your brain in a span of mere seconds, yet you still feel the cool air pass over your skin as the train rails in beside you. Your hair falls into your eyesight as you gape at him.

“Well?” He motions towards the cards.

What in the fucking world.

[ 16TH, FRIDAY, 22:35 ]

The pile of unread emails grows in your inbox. Failure to attend lectures, the price increasing of your off campus housing, monthly payments that leave you with just under ₩145,000 to survive for a month. It’s unbearable. You’ve gotten used to the growl in your stomach and the lightheadedness that comes with the fatigue of hunger. Missing night outs with your friends, walking long distances until your feet ached and slaving away at work for nasty people while your eyes threatened to close. It’s all becoming a bit much, especially as your final year in University comes to a close.

The burn on your hand doesn’t help either. It’s right between the juncture of your thumb and index finger on your right hand and it aches when any sort of warmth meets it. You can’t afford to throw away money on soothing gels at the moment, so you bear with the pain. It’s already been a few days, so hopefully it disappears soon. You hope anyway.

Walking home in the dark used to scare you but as needs be, you’ve gotten used to it. Work looms over your head as your feet trudge through fallen leaves and debris kicked up by bikes and feet. The walk from work to home isn’t too bad, the area can be sketchy at times but you’ve learned to keep your head straight, don’t make eye contact and keep a hand on the box cutter you keep in your right side coat pocket.

Luckily, you’ve come across most of the same people. An older man always passes by, seemingly walking home from work and always flashes you a smile. A few students usually run by too and the occasional office worker. Most times however, it’s quiet.

Unlike tonight.

Faint sounds of slapping, cheering and grunting bounce off the walls of the buildings surrounding the dark streets. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, who it’s coming from or why but you prefer to keep it that way, but as you grow closer to a dimly lit side street, the noises become louder.

You sigh, hand grasping the box cutter. Your thumb presses onto the button, holding it steady in case you need to use it.

Keep your head straight, [y/n]. This doesn’t involve you.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes to your left as you walk past. A man lies cowering on the ground as he grasps his face with his hands. He’s whimpering, blabbing something to the taller, well-dressed man that hovers above him.

Is that the man from the subway station?

You quicken your pace. Your feet fall over each other as you attempt to walk away as naturally as possible, but you accidentally kick up some rocks as you scatter past. The suited man turns, casting his eyes on you. The pit in your stomach grows as you continue walking with urgency, daring not to look anyway but forward.

I am so fucked!

[ 22ND, THURSDAY, 12:09 ]

“Long-time, no see.” A shadow casts over your figure, effectively blocking your view of your phone screen. You glance up at the man that is effectively disturbing one of the only peaceful moments you’ve had lately.

He’s dressed in a black variant of the steel grey suit you saw the past couple times of meeting him, but he still carried the same stupid suitcase. You sigh, swiping your music app closed and locking your phone with a click as you use a hand to cover your eyes.

Always with the same fake smile.

“I don’t want to play your game, sir.” You try to reject as kindly as possible, but you’re kind of freaked out that he found you once more. He looks slightly disheveled, as if he’s been toying with his hair or the heat today had worn him down. Weirdly, he looks more human, though little emotion lingers behind his eyes.

“That’s unfortunate. I brought it with me.” He lifts his suitcase higher into view. You frown, glancing around at other patrons. You take the time to unplug your earphones from your ears as he seems to ground his feet into the pavement before you.

He’s hard to get rid of.

“You bring it everywhere with you.” You reply, a bit more harsh than you’d want to but he seems amused by it. Suddenly, the image of him hovering over the cowering man flashes in your head.

Don’t piss him off.

You grasp your iced coffee, ignoring how the condensation soaks your hand. The subtle clinking of the ice works to calm you down as your heart begins to race at the thought of being in the position of the cowering man.

“How did you—“

“Bread or lottery?”

You blink.

“What?”

He shakes his hands, “Bread or lottery?”

“I don’t want to choose.” He seems to hold back something as he sighs.

“No matter what you choose, nothing will happen.” He assures you.

He is determined.

“I won’t have to ‘pay with my body’?” You reiterate what he said at the station. He cocks a brow, but nods nonetheless. It’s odd, it’s the most emotion he’s ever shown and it’s because you threw his words back at him.

You don’t quite fancy the idea of taking food off of him, despite its packaging being intact, so you motion for the lottery ticket silently. He hands you it quickly, fetching a spare penny from his blazer pocket. His hand lingers on your own as he passes you the coin, causing you to stare at him. His lips curl at the corners and you feel as if you just fell into a trap.

“Go ahead.” He almost sings, shuffling to stand over you.

The weight of the coin in your hand is replaced by a ton of bricks. Since when do scratch cards look so intimidating?

The lapels of the salesman’s blazer graze against your back as he stares at the blue sheet with you. You’re effectively caged against the bench that you're sitting at as he extends over your left shoulder and rests against the table.

A shaky exhale passes your lips as you stare at the sheet. The coin shakes in your hold as you begin to scratch, revealing a seven.

“Just three sevens, easy, right?” He chimes in, leaning closer to your face. The smell of his clean, fresh and most likely expensive fragrance wafts past your nose, reminding you just how close he is.

Each scratch feels like it’s taking a lifetime to reveal, but you eventually reach a second seven. You dare to glance to your left, marvelling at how close he is. You can see each fine detail across this enigma of a man’s face. In the short few seconds, you notice his asymmetrical eyes, the whisper of facial hair around his mouth and the dark excitement lingering within his eyes.

Eventually, you scratch away the last box.

“Congratulations, Miss.” The salesman hums, as he stands back straight. The hand he used to rest against the table slips up your arm to press firmly against your shoulder.

You’re astonished. I won? Seriously?

“No way.” You whisper, staring at the sheet. ₩500,000! It’s not the largest amount offered in the lottery but it’s a damn good amount for you. You can pay off a bit more of your loans and maybe afford a half-decent meal tonight.

You barely take notice as the suited man lifts his briefcase once more, and turns to look back at the park. The homeless people he once targeted are still filing through the bread he stomped on and destroyed, bar the one he left over for you. He grasps it in his hands, mulling over his options.

“Excuse me!” He yells out, tossing the bread in the air and catching it. The small crowd of people scattered around the pile of bread and some passer-by’s stop.

You gape, staring at his back.

“You can thank this young lady here for the bread!” He tosses the bread into the pile of people with a sharp throw. You watch as the homeless crowd revenge against each other, shouting and yelling their demands for the food.

You stand from the table, slipping the winning sheet in your handbag and grasping your mostly melted coffee.

I should cash in and go home.

“Hey, did she win?” A gruff voice yells out. You freeze, staring at the businessman. Anyone with any sort of wit would say no, right?

“Of course.” He smiles, standing to the side so the crowd peeps a better view at you.

He’s just fed you to a pack of very hungry wolves.

You want to say something, but the sight of about 10 people suddenly rushing towards you causes the words to die in your throat. You clutch your bag strap and almost drop your coffee as you scramble over the bench you were sitting on.

However, a barrier is formed before you. The crowd stops, staring at the swinging briefcase that blocks their path to you.

“Hey! We deserve that money!”

“You deserve nothing.” The salesman spits back. The disheveled man looks astonished, glancing between you and your new bodyguard.

“You got your card and she got hers. Play fair, weren’t you taught that in school?”

The homeless man is visibly rattled, mumbling and spewing out insults.

“I am not the one who made that decision. You are the one who threw it away!” He shouts. Suddenly, he steps forward and swings his case out, causing the crowd to fall back. Some fall over themselves and create a domino for the ones at the front.

As he revels in the chaos he creates, he misses how you slip away into the crowd.

[ 25TH, SUNDAY, 10:57 ]

“Miss, I understand you are a student but I am also a landlord, I can only wait so long without payment.” Your landlady frowns as she stands outside your door. You scramble around, picking up the last remaining notes you earned from the lottery ticket.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Kwon! Please, take this ₩300,000 I have. I promise I will get you the rest on Friday! I get paid then!” You plead, passing the money into the woman’s hands. She’s quite frazzled, pulling back her hands as you grab them to slot the notes into. Usually, the money would come out of your bank account but you locked your card as you can’t afford for her to take the last of your money.

She splutters, backing up as the money falls to her feet. You scramble to pick up the notes.

“Miss, your rent is ₩900,000 a month. You missed out a part of last month too! Where did you get this money from?” She quizzes, watching as you recount your notes. She wasn’t wrong, you were short about ₩250,000 last month and you were damn lucky she let you off on it.

“I understand, please take this to cover some of the money I missed out on.” She takes the money, sighing as she flicks the notes between her fingers and passes you back ₩150,000. You try to refuse but she uses your previous tactic on yourself.

“Take this. Listen, my granddaughter is in a place like you so I understand, but you cannot keep living like this. What happened to your last job interview? You told me you would never be short on money again!”

Your gaze drops to the floor at this point. Again, you’re forced to remember how the opportunity was practically ripped from your hands before you had a chance to even try.

“He gave it to his nephew.” You reply.

Mrs. Kwon sighs, glancing at the other tenants' doors. None of the neighbours ever cause her as much trouble as you do, yet she finds it hard to evict you. Even now, you look like her granddaughter, defeated and at the mercy of the world.

“Just pay me what you can on Friday. I will give you until your graduation to sort this out, okay?” You nod, thanking her profusely.

Maybe I should play that game of ddakji…

[ 1ST, SATURDAY, 14:26 ]

“Are you crazy? Some man keeps asking you to play ddakji and you’re going to say yes?” Your coworker pales as he finishes mixing up some drinks. You nod, glancing back out at the glass doors. The café is quiet today despite the few regulars, so you find yourself able to fall into conversation with him quite easily.

“Ddakji?” Your other coworker, Junhee, pops her head out from the kitchen. You nod, expecting the same reaction from her but it never comes.

“I’m good at that. Try to hit it with the folded part down.” She smiles, popping back in.

“Hey! Why would you tell her to do that?” Yunho scolds, passing the drinks to the collection station. You can’t help but laugh as you round the corner to pass the cups to the customers. They are used to the usual bickering behind the counter so they pay no mind as the two talk back and forth. Most of your customers are students anyway, so they don’t care much as long as the drinks and food taste nice.

The fight continues into the night, even as Yunho is locking up and watching the shutters fall.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” He offers, but both you and Junhee decline. Yunho is nice, almost a bit too nice so you don’t want to feel like you’re taking advantage of him.

“Me and [y/n] will walk home together. Thank you, though.” Junhee answers. Truthfully, she doesn’t live far from you but she is closer to the café than you are. You know she’s struggling a bit with rent too and you’ve both discussed the possibility of moving in together, but she is having trouble with her boyfriend so you don’t want to pry and become the main reason she leaves him. She hasn’t told you much but it is financial and she fears she may be pregnant.

As you fall into pace together, Junhee begins to wring her hands nervously. You know she’s holding out on telling you something as it’s the same thing she did before she told you what Myunggi did.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, glancing at her shorter fame. Despite her hair hanging over her eyes, you can see the worry spread across her face,

“Listen, [y/n], I played ddakji with the same man.” Junhee stops in her path. You pause. He had played with her?

“The businessman?” You ask, to which she eagerly nods.

You step closer, looking around nervously. “Did you pay with your body?”

“Yes. He slapped me.”

“He what?”

Junhee throws her head back, “I won every time, but the last round I missed. He slaps you if you fail to flip the ddakji!”

As concerned as you should be, it feels as if a lightbulb blinks above your head.

“So what you’re saying is that I just have to be good at ddakji?”

“What I’m saying is to be careful! He gave me this card too…” She fumbles in her bag, pulling out a cream card with a circle, square and triangle printed onto it. She flips it, displaying an address.

“He said to go there in 3 days. He didn’t really explain it much but he said there were still some spots open.”

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:07 ]

“I can’t believe my eyes.” He muses, “I almost think you’ve been looking for me.”

“And what if I was?” Defiantly, you meet his dark gaze. As long as Junhee was telling the truth and he was only going to slap you, it would be easy. It’s not like he’s going to knock your tooth out.

Hopefully.

“Give me the blue one.” You hold your right hand out, requesting the brightly coloured square. He fumbles with his suitcase as he attempts to not look as excited as he is.

He sets the red square face down onto the pavement. Yes, pavement. You caught the fucker as he was stalking down the back alleys near your house as he was probably on his way to find another player.

“You know, you’re one of the first to ask me to play.” He hums, watching as you steady your two feet. Truthfully, you never played ddakji but the guise of the game was nothing too hard to grasp. Plus, you practised a little in your house.

“Try to hit with the folded part down.”

Junhee’s word echo throughout your head as you fling the card down with a bit of force. As told, the red square flips round.

“You’re good. Here you go.” The businessman passes you ₩100,000., the first of the night.

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:18 ]

“Alright, last round. You have almost emptied me out.” He motions to his discarded case. The last ₩100,000 sits pretty, almost beaconing you to take it straight from its place. But, you must play fair right? Even the businessman thinks so as you remember back at the park when he fed you to the crowd and saved you at the same time.

“I’m starting to think you’re a lucky charm for me.” You laugh, taking the blue square from his hand. Since he showed up, you’ve started to notice a stronger cash flow and hopefully the card he’s bound to give you continues the lucky streak.

But, instead of laughing or seeming amused, he flashes you a sinister smirk. You stare as he fixes himself. He had long abandoned his blazer, instead opting to roll his sleeves up and really give the game his all seeing as you had won 5 rounds. You have to admit, his disheveled state wasn’t the worst sight to look at.

“I think I’m quite the opposite.” He replies, hands smoothing down his waistcoat. You try to shake off his reply as he’s most likely trying to throw you off your game.

Maybe I shouldn’t be playing ddakji in a dark alleyway with him. Alone. At 11pm.

Tearing your gaze away, you return to the form that has won you five rounds. Steady feet, steady arms and steady breathing aided you in your last rounds and it’s almost as if it’s become second nature to you.

The square leaves your hands in a flash and you don’t bother to look as you stand proudly. A large thwack jumps off of the brick walls surrounding you both as you stare at him with nothing but pride on your face.

But…

Why is he coming at me?

Within a flash, the man’s left arm swings into your peripheral and you squawk as you jump back, throwing your arms out to push him away. Your eyes clench closed as your heartbeat thumps so loudly, it sounds as if there’s drums in your ears.

“You dodged me. That’s not fair.” You stare incredulously. The speed at which he swung at you would’ve landed you on your ass in a second flat. Junhee never told you that. With a dumbfounded expression, you look to the ground.

I missed.

“You tried to punch me. What the fuck?” You scatter, grasping your bag from the ground. You don’t need that damn card, what the fuck was Junhee on about? Is she crazy? Why is she going to that place tomorrow?

“I told you. If you lose, you pay with your body.” He explains casually, as if he didn’t just try to send you to the e.r. “Plus, I was going to slap you.”

“You would’ve knocked my fucking tooth out!”

“It was your choice to play, now stand still for me.”

You step back as he steps forward. Like Hell you’re letting him lay his hands on you.

“I don’t like people who don’t play fair. Please don’t make me hate you after we had so much fun.” He stresses, caging you against the brick wall. Your eyes flicker around, attempting to find a way to slip out. But, he’s read your mind, kicking a nearby bin over on its side.

“I never agreed to you hurting me.” You retaliate, flinching as he brings his right hand to your left cheek. Your eyes clench once again, but the delicate touch of his hand makes you gasp.

What is he doing? Is he seriously caressing my cheek?

The dim light from the nearby street lamps cast a soft light across his features, softening his appearance. If you weren’t so goddamn scared for your life and it was a man 20 years younger, maybe you wouldn’t mind this.

This is a textbook murder. What the fuck have I done?

He sighs, his fingerprints tracing a light pattern across your cheek. Each touch tingles, reminding you of where he’s touched. It’s similar to how your ex boyfriends would hold and touch you. It’s wrong, so wrong.

How can I think of Haejo right now!?

But, that’s until he gets rougher. Soon, he’s manhandling your face, using his thumb and fingers to hold your face in place by your chin. You spew complaints, twisting your body and using your hands to attempt to push him away.

“Didn’t anyone tell you to not talk to strange men on the street?” He sneers, disliking how you’re gradually dislodging yourself from his grasp. You ignore him, focusing on punching, shoving and kicking. You’re so distracted you don’t notice how his hand drops from your chin until it hits you.

He hits you.

You’re yelping, falling and scraping against the brick wall as tears cloud your vision. You’re crumbling, falling into yourself as you cry fat tears. Your ears are ringing and your face feels hot to the touch.

I’m reporting this fucker to the police.

“Fuck you!” You shout, looking up at his figure. Suddenly, you are the man you saw a few weeks ago. He stands unwavering, almost enjoying your crouched form. You can barely see between your tears and clumped lashes and you’re almost one hundred percent sure your mascara has streaked across your eyes, but you don’t care. You’re so fucking angry and scared, you’re shaking as you look at him.

“You agreed to play.” He’s right, but so obnoxious about it. He crouches to meet your form, staring at you as if you’re nothing but a scrawny child or animal. You might as well be.

Suddenly, he flicks a card between his index and middle finger, dropping it into your lap. It clatters and lands on the dirty ground, but you recognise the shapes Junhee told you about.

“Go to the address tomorrow. You’ll be the most valuable addition yet.”

With that, he leaves.

masterlist

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game series #squid game fluff #squid game smut #gong yoo x reader #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho x reader

322 notes · View notes

mimipolo · 3 days ago

Note

Hey I have a request

Some Nam-gyu x reader where he developed a crush and sneaks of to talk to you at random times even tho you vote opposite of him he can overlook that however when he’s with thanos he’s mean and insults you which shocks and upsets you will you forgive him?

Nam-gyu x reader

I had so much fun writing this ngl, I hope I did the idea justice <33

Sorry Se-mi it's for plot

You had met Nam-gyu and Thanos after the first vote. At the time you felt a small sense of determination that you could make it through the games, get a higher prize and pay off all your debts in one go.

They had praised you excitedly, Thanos slinging an arm around you and going on about how they'd both protect you. You had trusted them for the most part, yes they were both a bit sketchy but they had a prescence among the players so it'd be easier to follow them. You had mixed feelings about the duo, one was always hyper and loved to mess with you and the other had a serious staring problem and a stupid smirk.

At the moment it didn't matter how you felt about them, you needed to get out of here. And now. You had barely survived the last game, knees grazed from when you fell and quickly scrambled to your feet. You wince at the pain as you curl in on yourself and rub your thumb over your bloodied hands. You were desperate for a sense of comfort or solidarity which at the moment only you could provide for yourself.

You were startled to see a head of black hair come out of nowhere from the ladder to your bed, angled eyes meeting yours hazily. Nam-gyu, a rare visitor. You're still startled by his sudden appearance, clutching your chest slightly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"Nam-gyu? What are you-"

"I'm coming up."

You don't get the choice to protest against it, he's already hauling himself up to get on your bunk, sitting cross legged in front of you. For a moment you're genuinely confused to why he's here, your bunk was fairly high off the ground and from how he was earlier you didn't expect him to be capable of climbing. Guess he sobered up. He's sighing softly as he links his fingers together, gazing at you as if in deep thought.

"You're gonna vote "X" next right?" He lifts his head up to see your reaction, clenching his linked fingers when he sees your lips purse as you look away from him. That was enough of an answer.

You personally are terrified, you had never been particularly close with the man and you were tense as to why he decided to make the trek up to your bed to ask you such a question. What's he going to do? Is he angry? Noticing the small shift in your body language he stops spacing out and runs a hand over his face. This sucks, honestly. The small infatuation based of pure curiousity he had for you had developed into a genuine crush he couldn't shake off. You intrigued him to no end and he was just working up to talking to you more.

So why'd this have to happen?

He's not that upset you want to leave, as much as he preached about how everyone should "Play one more game!", He understood the main basis of wanting to leave was the simple passion to live. A passion that'd he'd lost touch with after he lost everything he had. But you were in a similar situation, yet despite that you always seemed slightly hopeful things would work in your favour, and when they didn't you kept a level head. A rationality he wished he also had. You were smart, attractive and worst of all reasonable. Which is why you wanted to leave.

He's still staring at you but you feel less creeped out, you feel more worried. The usual carefree demeanor he had seemed to be crumbling right before you, he almost looked more tense than you.

There was a reason why he had come here, he didn't want to ask in front of Thanos. With him he'd be obligated to maintain this facade of now hating your entire being, but that wasn't the case, in fact it was very far from it. He wanted you like nothing else, selfishly. He could only hope you read him openly from the small amount of vulnerability he'd give you, something you were good at.

"Choose "x", I don't really care."

"Oh."

You are honestly pleasantly surprised by his words, your anxiety lowering massively. With the tensity gone you could see he looked...worried for you? You weren't totally sure but he laughs bitterly, pulling his signature move of pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Just know that, I'll vote to stay. So I'll still be sticking with Thanos."

You looked at him confused, and honestly he was too. There was no need to share all this information with you but he couldn't help it, he wanted to be open with you, show you how he is when you could be alone together.

You jolt slightly when he lightly takes one of the hands you're holding onto and taking them in his own. Streaks of blood crumbling away when he rubbed it away with careful thumbs, you could only watch him silently, admiring his oddly considerate actions. Even if the tint of blood still stained your palms. What's with all this special treatment, did he like you or something?

Before you could question him about what had just happened between you two he's sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together, ready to climb off your bunk.

"I'll try look out for you when I can."

And with that he's gone, you're left to sit with your thoughts and overthink how sweet he was to you just now. He was never like that before. Before you realised it a small smile was on your lips as you savoured the cold, brief moment of his touch still on your hand.

Though the next moment left you quite confused, it was time to vote. Everyone was still conflicted but you had made your choice and had a silent comradery with Nam-gyu. It gave you the bit off confidence to press the "x" button, some cheered while others groaned as you quickly switched your blue patch for its opposing side.

You could hear the familiar deep voice of Thanos going "What the hell man, we agreed one more game??" the direct confrontation made you physically tense as you made your way to side of potential exit. Nam-gyu didn't say a word, didn't even look at you either. Strange, you thought but you mostly brushed it off.

What the hell [Name], we agreed to keep playing, ya just switching on us all of a sudden?"

Thanos' voice echoed in your ears as he had you cornered near your bunk, you glance to Nam-gyu for some sort of support, even if it was just telling his friend to relax but you were quickly disappointed.

"Tch, did you really expect them to stay, I saw 'em practically trembling after the last round."

You felt your heart aches at his words, your expression immediately dimming as you stared at him confused. But unluckily for you he had mastered his poker face to the last detail. If he felt any guilt for what he said you wouldn't know, it was all behind that senile smirk now.

"Kehaha, nah you're right. All those loud sounds scare ya already?"

"Poor thing."

Thanos pushes you back accusingly, forcing your back to meet the unforgiving metal bars of the bunks, just as suddenly he's in your personal space, grabbing the red velcro badge on your chest roughly as he shook you. His eyes dilated widely as he threatened you with crazed, wild eyes.

"You're lucky this is there's a revote, switch this "x" to an "o" or I'll never let you live it down, got it?"

He laughs when you stagger back when he lets you go, Nam-gyu joining in with own mocking chuckle, it hurt you in a way it wouldn't have before. What was all that about earlier then, was it just a lie? But why, he didn't get anything out of it.

And again you're left alone to deal with your own self destructive thoughts, you just wanted to leave this place, it felt like you were suffocating within its walls.

Things ended up more violent than he had expected, he's panting as he rips the fork from the man's neck for the last time. How he felt? Great. It was like some great awakening as he stumbled up to his feet. It's only then he takes the time to digest the fact Thanos is dead, what a sad way to go hm?But also equally as pathetic. He wanted to laugh but he wanted to shout in frustration too. He does neither, looking down at his unpredictable partner in crime now laying on the floor covered in grime and blood. It's when he starts to feel the growing ache in his chest that the guards finally barge in to stop the fighting, forcing them all out the crime scene.

You're on your bunk, cuddled up to yourself as usual when you spot him, bloodied and worn along with other men. Your heart sinks as you take in the situation, watching as they shouted and cursed impurities from both sides. You had switched sides of sleeping arrangements due to the votes, so now you were able to get a slightly lower bunk bed. He shouldn't know where you were and yet his eyes snapped to you, for a moment they crumble slightly, a sliver of the worry he had coming out just for a moment. And then he's walking off, not looking back once.

It's lights out and you were terrified, you had finally found out what had happened in the men's bathroom and you knew it could lead to nothing good. Everywhere you thought to hide felt dangerous and you had no one to rely on, no one to truly trust.

He's shaking, his hands trembling as he sits perched on Thanos' bed, in memory of the annoying guy. He's feeling conflicted, he couldn't tell if he had cared for him or not, all he knew the indifference he felt for others wasn't the same with colourful haired man. He pops two pills in his mouth, brushing his knuckles against his lips as if the action were sacred. Soon thoughts drifted back to you. How were you holding up? Did you have anyone there to protect you? A sick part of him hoped not, he wanted to be the only one to look out for you, the only one you'd think to turn to.

He feels amazing, never felt so resolute in the entirety of the games than when he killed. Hissing in satisfaction as he struck the deadly cutlery into Se-mi's neck for what felt the 100th time. Wiping the blood of his face with the back of his hand when he feels a prescence behind him. He doesn't bother taking back his weapon as he gets up from his crouched position to turn towards the figure.

It's you.

You look absolutely terrified, your upper body was uptight and you could've gotten away with looking less afraid if it wasn't for how your legs trembled ever so slightly. You're fighting with yourself and you finally will your body to run but he's quick, yanking you back by your arm and holding you against him possessively. His breathing is hard and his bloody hands are firm against your back.

Heavy breaths fill your ears as he looks at you with wide shaken eyes, he'd been looking for you, even on this killing spree.

"You asshole, what are you doing are you crazy??"

"Heh- huh, yeah I feel like it a little..." the small chuckle he lets out feels distant from his true feelings and he wished you'd tell him why he's like this.

"You lied, you said you'd look out for me, prick." You want your words to be firm but the fear of everything around you was still so intense, it shook your words and made your throat tight.

"I know, I know alright. I said when I 'can' Thanos would've made things worse for both of us if I said something..."

"But he's not here anymore... I'll watch out for you, for real this time, promise."

Even in his drugged state you could tell these were his thoughts the whole time, and his visit to your bed made slightly more sense, he just wanted you to know he didn't actually hate you. What a weird guy, why not just come out and say what the game plan was? You wanted to ask him all these things, shout and push at him until you got all your frustration out.

But you're drained, there's still the far away screams of new victims being made and you couldn't tell what was side was losing.

But he's shushing you quietly, when you weren't even crying, but now it triggered you to. Hot silent tears running down your face as he huddled you into a corner and made you sit against the wall behind a fallen mattress. Grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered softly.

"Nothings happening to us, we're getting that stupid cash prize and leaving this shitty place."

And then he's off again, you don't know where, but you'll stay here quietly and hope for his quick return.

#squid game #squid game x reader #nam gyu #nam-gyu x reader #player 124 #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #se mi squid game #thanos #thanos squid game

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0samue0 · 13 hours ago

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The best example of this, in my opinion, is Supernatural.

For those who don't know: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke and supposed to be five seasons long. He did get his five seasons but by then the show had become so popular that it was decided to give them a season 6 (which eventually went up to 15) - without Eric Kripke who had already told his story.

The last episode of season 5 was heartbreaking. It was one of the saddest things I had ever watched because it beautifully tied up all the love and tragedy and hope and fear of the previous seasons. They won. And paid an incredibly high price for their victory.

It way truly gut wrenching.

And I was okay with that. Because while one of the brothers ended up in hell, locked up with the prospect of an eternity of torture he did that for his brother and for us. To live. Not just survive, but live.

And thanks to the absolute fantastic storytelling, directing and acting of that episode, both the viewer and the surviving brother could make peace with it and try to live our life to the fullest.

Which was the point when the supposedly dead brother showed up on screen without any and all explanations. Never ever have I been angrier at a plot twist. Certainly not at one that saved a beloved character from a terrible fate.

What followed were 10 years of the brothers being the most codependent idiots we've ever seen on TV. Honestly, I'd say 8 of the 10 following seasons can be summoned up with: Brother A dies, Brother B does something stupid to bring him back, Brother A is pissed at Brother B and swears to never forgive him until Brother B dies and A does something stupid to bring him back. Accompanied by gay pining and much suffering for the angel.

Have you ever wished for your favorite character to die?

I have. Around season 9 I got fed up with Sam being angry at Dean and was waiting for Dean to finally bite it again so that Sam would turn normal again.

Now, that doesn't mean I didn't like season 6-15. I wouldn't have watched them if I didn't enjoy them. I've just always been salty about the wasted ending from season 5.

And then the show's finale came and oh boy was it bad. It was sad too. One of the brothers died again but got the other to promise not to bring him back. And for some reason he actually followed up on that promise.

The problem was that it felt pointless.

Prior to that we lost Castiel, the angel, to his supposedly final death, right after (as all of tumblr probably knows) he had told Dean that he loved him.

And that destroyed Dean. For one episode. All in all the plot ended with the brothers losing everyone they had cared for but each other. They had won but at this point you weren't celebrating the victory, you thought "Ok. What's next?"

The wildest part was, that none of that was in any shape or form important for the last episode. They were happy, enjoying life, eating pie, not working through their emotions at all and dying thanks to sheer carelessness. One of them. He goes to Heaven, everyone and their mothers are there, including the apparently not dead angel.

Do you think they talk to Cas? Or to the kid they had basically adopted? To their mother whom they'd dearly mourned or the father whose shadow they had finally outgrown? Nope.

I mean, thank God it was their actual Dad and not their sperm donor that greeted dead brother and explained all of the above but still. There was no closure. No tying up loose ends, not heartfelt reunion.

Just a drive in the car and a time lapse of the surviving brother's live until he died of old age and showed up in heaven the same age he had been when his brother had died.

The End.

So yeah, the difference between a good ending and a bad ending isn't the "happy". It's the heartfelt.

i hate when ppl act like the only reason to not like a "sad" ending is because you can't take it or whatever. personally as a tragedy enjoyer, i hate a poorly written ending. i hate an ending that is just kind of a bummer. i hate an ending that feels mean-spirited to the audience. i hate an ending that's redundant. i love a sad ending that is thematically consistent, poignant, and bespoke to the rest of its narrative.

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pbaz7 · 8 hours ago

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ONE SHOT: FULL COURT PRESS

paige x azzi

warning: heavy drinking, suggestive content

word count: 12k

A/N: This was not supposed to be this long and it’s extremely chaotic/all over the place😭. it’s honestly a reflection of my brain. one shots are actually really hard to write and be comfortable with ending lol. they meet in a bar ✨. leave live reacts and comments if you can !!

—————————————————————————

October 2023

Paige was definitely drunk. With each shot she took the weight of everything didn’t seem to press down on her chest as heavy, it all became less suffocating. Basketball used to be her sanctuary, her place of peace. The one thing she could always count to be a breath of fresh air when she felt like she was drowning. But now, every game felt like a tsunami where perfection was the only acceptable outcome for her. She just wanted to feel normal sometimes, even if it was only for one night here and there at random bars.

The dimly lit bar she sat in currently offered the anonymity she craved. Or at least, she hoped it would. She swirled the ice in her glass, completely lost in her thoughts as she was zoned out staring at who knows what, when the door opened the bell catching her attention.

A girl walked in, exuding an effortless confidence that Paige hadn’t seen in a while. Her brown curls framed her striking face, tan skin glowing under the warm light of the bar. She was tall and had a quiet energy about her, the kind that made people take notice without her even trying. Paige found herself staring, immediately captivated, admiring every part of her face that she could see.

So without thinking, she signaled the bartender over. “Whatever she wants, it’s on me.”

The bartender nodded, and a few minutes later, the girl glanced in her direction, lifting her glass with a smile, a dimple popping as she did. At this acknowledgement Paige felt a spark of courage—or maybe it was just the alcohol—as she pushed herself out of her seat. Making her way over to where the girl was sitting.

“I figured I’d come introduce myself. I’m Paige. Paige Bueckers,” she said, licking her lips as she leaned casually against the bar, her usual confidence with women radiating off of her.

The girl smiled, setting her glass down as she extended her hand. “Azzi.”

Paige shook her hand casually brushing Azzi’s hand with her thumb, her blue eyes lingering on Azzi’s for just a beat too long. “Do you have a last name Azzi?”

Azzi’s lips curled into a playful smile. “Fudd. Azzi Fudd.”

Paige licked her lips, keeping her gaze steady as she took her in. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Azzi Fudd. You’re gorgeous.”

Azzi tilted her head, as she studied Paige before saying. “Thank you superstar.”

Paige blinked, her confident smirk faltering for just a second. “Mmm, so you know who I am?”

Azzi took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Paige’s. “Hard to miss in the basketball world. UConn’s golden girl, right?”

Paige chuckled, leaning in slightly as her charm slipped back into place. “Yeah, sure, something like that.” She tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What, you hoop?”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I do.”

As Paige stood there the two of them falling into easy introductions, the world outside the bar seemed to be fading away. Azzi’s calm, confident demeanor was a breath of fresh air for Paige who was used to people throwing themselves at her. Azzi didn’t seem fazed by Paige’s notoriety, and her playful confidence kept Paige intrigued.

“So,” Azzi said, her brown eyes having a slight sparkle. “What brings you to a random bar in the middle of nowhere?”

Paige shrugged. “Maybe I needed a quick break. Or maybe I was just waiting for someone like you to walk in.”

Azzi laughed softly, lifting her drink for another sip as her eyes held Paige’s. “Someone like me, huh?”

Paige leaned in just a little, her tongue darting out to lick her lips again. “Yeah. Somebody exactly like you actually.”

Azzi’s gaze flickered down for just a moment before she tilted her head, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping intentionally. “I’m not sure you can handle someone like me.”

Paige met her gaze, the tension between them crackling, and without thinking, she let her eyes trail down Azzi’s body, then slowly back up before saying “I’ll be more than happy to show you.”

Azzi noticed the once over, a smile curving her lips as she watched it happen. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what this is.”

Paige smirked, confidence still unwavering. “Who said I wanted to sleep with you?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “So, you just buy random girls drinks to chat with them?”

Paige hummed at this. “Touché…so what is it? I’m not your type?”

This time, Azzi’s gaze swept over Paige, pausing for just a beat longer than expected near her exposed abdomen before she replied, her voice low. “Mmm, I didn’t say that.”

At this, Paige's lips eased into another smile as she leaned closer. “Why not then?”

Azzi shrugged, her demeanor calm, even as her eyes stayed locked on Paige’s. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

Paige tilted her head, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Who said it had to be just one night?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I also don’t sleep with someone I just met.”

Paige with her elbows resting on the bar said, “Ahh ok..so, what’s the rule? Three dates? Five? I need to fill out an application?”

Azzi glanced up at Paige through her eyelashes, resting her cheek in her hand as she replied. “You’re really persistent.”

Paige’s smile widened as she looked at Azzi before saying, “It’s not every day I come across somebody as gorgeous as you.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige, the air between them a little heavy now. Her eyes flickered between Paige’s blue ones and her lips, a silent tension building as she tapped her finger lightly on the bar.

After a moment, Azzi leaned back, breaking the spell with a soft smile. “Let’s start with a conversation that doesn’t involve you trying to charm your way into something.”

Paige pretended to look offended. “Charm? This is just me being me.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, though her smile remained. “And that’s what makes you dangerous.”

Paige’s grin widened. “You say dangerous like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Maybe I think it is…Or maybe I just want to keep you on your toes. You seem like the type who needs to be entertained.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her voice dropping just enough to hold a playful edge. “Careful, Azzi. You’re starting to sound interested.”

Azzi smirked, her gaze still locked on Paige’s. “Never said I wasn’t. Just that you’re not going to charm your way into skipping the line.”

Paige hummed, leaning in slightly. “So there’s a line?”

Azzi chuckled, her tone teasing Paige now. “Maybe.”

Paige smiles saying, “Good thing I’m competitive. I can play the long game when it’s worth it”

Azzi chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with amusement. “That’s good to know.”

Paige smiled, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Guess I should sit down and get to know you then.”

Azzi gestured to the seat next to her, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Guess so.”

After this their conversation flowed effortlessly, covering everything from basketball to life outside the spotlight. Azzi talked about her experience playing for a smaller college, how she loved the game without the added pressure of constant media attention, though she still got some here and there. Paige found herself completely captivated by the stranger, sharing stories and laughing until her stomach hurt. She completely forgot about what made her show up to the bar in the first place.

Hours passed without either of them noticing. Drinks flowed between both of them, Paige making Azzi never paid for anything. By the time Paige glanced at her phone, it was nearly 2 a.m.

“Damn,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Azzi smiled at her. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

Paige chuckled, a playful edge to her voice. “Who said I was having fun?”

Azzi tilted her head, a hint of tipsiness creeping into her expression as she studied Paige. “You didn’t have fun with me?”

Paige smirked at Azzi’s tone, her blue eyes a little glossy from her drinks. “We could have a lot more fun if you stop playing hard to get.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m sure we could, but I’m not that easy.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted, her confidence undeterred. “Like I said, I’m up for the challenge.”

Azzi tilted her head, her gaze meeting Paige’s with a spark of amusement. “Are you now?”

“Absolutely” Paige said simply as she reached for her phone, a sly grin on her lips as she began to unlock it but before she could speak again, Azzi leaned forward speaking to the bartender, catching Paige's attention.

“Excuse me,” Azzi said, glancing at the bartender. “Mind if I borrow a pen?”

The bartender passed her a pen, and without missing a beat, Azzi reached for Paige’s hand, her fingers brushing lightly over Paige’s skin as she began writing her number on the palm of her hand.

Paige watched, amusement flickering in her eyes. When Azzi finished, she glanced down at the number and then met Azzi’s gaze, laughing slightly. “You could’ve just put it in my phone, you know.”

Azzi capped the pen with a smile, standing up as she put on her jacket. “I could’ve, but this leaves more of an impression.”

She leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against Paige’s ear as she added, “And I want to make sure you’re still thinking of me in the morning.”

With that, Azzi straightened up, her eyes sparkling as she gave Paige one last lingering look before walking out of the bar.

Paige sat there, staring after her, a wide smile spreading across her face as she realized she was grinning like an idiot.

As she walked out into the cool air herself, Paige couldn’t help but smile. Tonight, she hadn’t been the golden girl, the star player, or the media’s favorite headline. She’d just been Paige, and she liked who she’d met along the way.

…

Over the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi fell into an effortless rhythm. Their phones rarely stayed silent, a constant stream of texts flowing between them from morning until night.

Dimples : What’s your pre-game ritual?

Superstar: Wouldn’t you like to know?

Dimples : I would, actually. I bet it’s something super intense like staring at a basketball for an hour to try to absorb its energy.

Superstar: Lmao. You always think you’re so funny.

Dimples : No denial though, huh? Interesting…

Between the teasing texts, there were long, late-night phone calls where their conversations would drift from basketball to their favorite movies, and childhood stories. Of course Paige made sure she flirted in between.

Paige often found herself lying in bed, the sound of Azzi’s laughter filling her ears through the speaker. “Wait, so you’re telling me you tried to dunk on your brother at eight years old?” Paige asked, barely holding back her own laugh as she tried to hear the story.

“Hey, I had big dreams!” Azzi replied. “Did I fail miserably? Yes. Did I get grounded for breaking the hoop? Also yes.��

“I need to see baby Azzi with big hoop dreams,” Paige teased.

“I’ll show you if you admit that I’d beat you in a one-on-one,” Azzi quipped back.

“That’s never happening,” Paige retorted, her grin so wide it hurt.

The banter always came naturally, but beyond the jokes, there were quieter, more vulnerable moments. Paige always claiming that nobody get’s her but Azzi as she poured out her feelings about basketball and how she didn’t really love it as much anymore.

But one evening, Azzi sent Paige a clip of her latest game with a message: Tell me what you think.

Paige opened the video and immediately dialed her number.

“Alright,” Paige began as soon as Azzi picked up. “Your footwork on that first drive? Chef’s kiss. But…”

“But?” Azzi prompted, a smile in her voice.

“You hesitated for a second on that three in the second quarter. You had more than enough space Azzi.”

Azzi sighed. “I know. I over-thought it.”

They stayed on the phone for hours, analyzing plays, discussing Azzi’s positioning, and even breaking down potential opponents going forward. Paige’s passion for the game peaked through the conversation, and Azzi soaked it all in, listening intently with a huge smile on her face hearing an unusual excitement in Paige’s voice as she talked about basketball.

At one point, Paige teased, “Maybe I should just be your coach.”

Azzi laughed. “Or maybe you could just transfer and come help us win. Imagine the headlines.”

Paige’s voice dropped into a softer, more teasing tone. “You just want me around more.”

“Maybe I do,” Azzi replied, the playful edge in her voice unmistakable.

When they weren’t buried in film, their in-person meetups were filled with just as much energy. Sitting in a booth at another quiet bar, Paige and Azzi leaned in close, the low hum of conversation buzzing around them.

Paige smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, when are you finally going to admit that I have game?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “Ehh, I don’t know. You’re more of a fast-break kind of girl—you had a strong start, but you don’t seem to have the stamina to finish. You’ve been slacking lately.”

Paige dropped her jaw, feigning offense. “Wowww. So now you’re questioning my follow-through?”

Azzi grinned, shrugging. “I’m just saying, I’m not easily impressed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Paige shot back. “But you keep showing up, so I must be doing something right.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that line supposed to impress me?”

“Is it working?” Paige’s voice was low but still confident.

Azzi’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”

The line between playful flirting and genuine connection blurred more each time they were together. Azzi became Paige’s sounding board, someone she could spill her feelings to; her safe space. And with every interaction, Paige felt herself being pulled deeper into Azzi’s orbit.

…

December 2023

The glow of Paige’s phone screen lit up her dark room as she sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers scrolling through endless tweets and headlines. Paige Bueckers chokes again. Overhyped and underwhelming. She’ll never live up to the UConn legends before her.

Her heart raced as she read the brutal critiques. The game hadn’t even been bad. They’d won, she’d put up solid numbers, but the narrative didn’t care about solid. Anything less than perfection was failure in their eyes. And now, the relentless noise echoed in her mind.

She’ll never lead UConn to a championship.

She doesn’t deserve to go high in the draft.

Just another overrated star.

The pressure mounted, her chest tightening with every thought. Her breathing grew a little shallow, and her hands trembled as she gripped her phone. It felt like her ribcage was collapsing in on itself, each breath harder to take.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the panic away. She needed air, needed something—someone.

As if the universe heard her silent plea, her phone rang. Azzi’s name flashed across the screen, the sight alone lifting some weight off of Paige’s chest. Her hand trembled slightly as she swiped to answer.

“Wassup, pretty,” Paige said, her voice shaky but laced with soft flirtation.

Azzi let out a light laugh on the other end, her voice warm. “I can tell you’re overthinking just by your voice Paige.” She paused, letting the words sink in before adding, “I watched your game—you played great.”

Paige exhaled, a mix of disbelief and self-doubt slipping into her tone. “Eh.”

“Eh, my ass,” Azzi shot back without hesitation. “What are you doing?”

Paige took a deep breath, glancing around her quiet room. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

Azzi’s voice softened. “You think too much. You’re gonna give that pretty face of yours wrinkles before you’re 30.”

“I know,” Paige admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.

“How do you wanna play it tonight?” Azzi asked gently, her question open but filled with understanding.

Paige hesitated for a moment, then sighed, her voice quieter this time. “I miss you.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “I miss you more. You wanna talk about it?”

Paige nodded even though Azzi couldn’t see her, her voice steadying just slightly. “Yeah. I do.”

Before Azzi could ask another question Paige said,. “Do you have practice tomorrow?”

“No, why?” Azzi replied, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

Paige hesitated for only a moment before asking, “Do you wanna come over?”

Azzi didn’t need to think long. “It’ll take me some time.”

“That’s fine,” Paige said softly, her voice tinged with relief.

“Ok,” Azzi said, already moving. “Tell me what’s wrong while I get my stuff together.”

Paige let out a shaky sigh. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about what they’re saying. That I’ll never be good enough. That I don’t deserve this.”

Azzi’s tone shifted as she put her phone on speaker to talk as she gathered some things she needed. “You’ve already proven so much. You’re one of the best, and anyone who actually has a brain and knows basketball can see that. The rest? They’re just noise. And we both know you’re more than that.”

Paige felt a lump rise in her throat, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You always have a counterpoint to anything I say.”

“Of course I do,” Azzi teased lightly. “It’s part of my charm. Now keep going.”

Paige nodded, her voice steadier now as she began to open up, the comfort of Azzi’s presence—even from afar—slowly quieting the storm in her mind.

When Azzi arrived, Paige opened the door, pulling her into a hug that was everything Paige needed in that moment. Paige held on a little longer than usual, her grip tight as if Azzi might slip away. Azzi just rested her chin briefly on Paige’s shoulder, allowing her all the time she needed, before Paige finally pulled back.

“Thanks for coming,” Paige said quietly, her voice tinged with a little vulnerability.

Azzi gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Of course.”

Paige guided Azzi into the living room, where the familiar hum of laughter and chatter filled the space. KK and Ice were sprawled on the couch arguing about something, while Nika sat cross-legged in the armchair, her phone in hand. Aubrey leaned against the wall, lazily tossing a small ball into the air. The TV was paused on a game, though it was clear they hadn’t been paying much attention.

“Aye,” Paige began, keeping a steady hand on Azzi’s back. “This is Azzi.”

Ice gave her a friendly wave, her usual laid-back demeanor with anyone but Paige and KK evident. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she said with a smile.

Nika glanced up, a smirk already forming. “Azzi, huh?” she said, dragging the name out teasingly. “Paige talks about you all the time.”

Aubrey gave a quiet laugh, offering a small nod. “Wassup Azzi,” she said, her tone kind although she didn’t say much else.

KK, on the other hand, wasted no time leaning forward with her trademark grin. “Girly pop, you’re way too pretty for her,” she teased, pointing a finger toward Paige.

Before anyone could react, Ice smacked KK’s arm, shaking her head. “Really, KK? Read the room.”

Paige rolled her eyes, brushing off the comment, though a faint blush crept up her neck. “Ignore her,” she muttered, looking at Azzi.

Azzi chuckled softly, her warm gaze flickering between everyone. “It’s nice to meet you guys in person,” she said smoothly.

Paige, ready to retreat from the chaos, gently tugged Azzi’s hand. “Let’s go to my room,” she said, her tone soft but insistent.

Azzi gave a small wave to the group. “See you guys later,” she said, her voice laced with light amusement at the team as she followed Paige down the hallway.

Once inside Paige’s room, the tension from earlier seemed to dissipate. The familiar scent of vanilla and a faint hint of lavender filled the air, and Azzi kicked off her sneakers by the door, glancing around the cozy space. Paige’s bed was unmade, a mix of fluffy pillows and a purple comforter that looked as if it had been hastily thrown back in place.

Azzi smiled faintly, dropping her bag by the dresser before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She leaned back on her hands, her gaze following Paige as she plopped onto the mattress beside her, remote in hand.

“So,” Paige began, scrolling through Netflix, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. “What are you in the mood for? Something funny? Scary? A rom-com?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Rom-com? Is that your go-to move when you have somebody here?”

Paige snorted, rolling her eyes as she kept scrolling. “Please, I don’t need a movie to impress you.”

“Oh, really?” Azzi teased, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Then why are you trying so hard to pick the perfect movie?”

Paige paused her scrolling to glance over at her. “I’m not trying hard. I’m just being considerate of my company.”

“Sure you are,” Azzi replied, her voice laced with amusement. She reached out, playfully nudging Paige’s arm.

Paige chuckled, turning her attention back to the screen. “Alright, what about this one?” she asked, landing on an action movie.

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to deliberate. “Eh, too much testosterone,” she joked.

Paige huffed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Azzi grinned, leaning back beside her, their shoulders brushing now. “So you’ve said but still, here you are, inviting me over and trying to impress me.”

Paige shook her head, a laugh slipping out as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi just smiled, watching Paige scroll through her phone for a moment. “You good now?” she asked softly, her tone shifting to something gentler as she hints at what they were talking about a while ago.

Paige glanced at her, the teasing smirk fading into something more sincere. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Thanks for coming.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her eyes meeting Paige’s. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV and the occasional muffled laughter from the living room. It wasn’t awkward, though—it was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt more like understanding than absence.

Paige nudged Azzi’s knee with her own. “You pick the movie, since you’re so picky.”

Azzi laughed, reaching for the remote. “Alright, but no complaints if it’s a rom-com.”

Paige laughs saying “I’ll definitely laugh at you but sure.”

Azzi finally settled on a comedy, something light enough to keep playing in the background but not too distracting. She set the remote down with a triumphant smile and leaned back against the headboard.

“See? No rom-com,” she teased, shooting a smug look at Paige.

Paige smirked, turning her body slightly to face Azzi. “I’m impressed. You got range.”

Azzi tilted her head, her smile softening. “What can I say? I like to keep people guessing.”

The movie began, but neither of them seemed to care much about the witty banter on-screen. Instead, their attention shifted entirely to each other. Paige’s fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her hoodie as she leaned in just enough to close the space between them slightly.

“What else should I know about you, Azzi Fudd?”

Azzi chuckled, her gaze dipping briefly to Paige’s lips before flicking back up. “I’m not that mysterious. I think you’ve got me all figured out by now.”

Paige leaned in a bit closer, her elbow resting on the pillow between them. “Not even close,” she said, her voice quieter now, a touch more serious.

“Alright, then. Ask me something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it as her fingers idly tapped against her leg. “Okay. What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

Azzi laughed, leaning back slightly. “Oh, that’s easy. People who chew with their mouths open.”

Paige laughed too, her nose scrunching adorably. “That’s fair. What about…” She paused, her tone shifting to something more playful. “Biggest turn-on?”

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave Paige a pointed look. “Very smooth transition, Paige.”

Paige grinned, unapologetic. “What can I say? I’ve been curious.”

Azzi bit her lip, her gaze steady as she considered her response. “Confidence,” she said finally. “Someone who knows what they want.”

Paige’s smirk widened, and she leaned in just enough to blur the line between teasing and daring. “Good to know,” she murmured, her blue eyes locked on Azzi’s.

Azzi tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes as she studied Paige. “Alright, your turn. What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

Paige groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Oh, that’s not fair. There are way too many to choose from.”

Azzi laughed softly, nudging Paige’s leg with her foot. “Come on, just one. I promise not to laugh... too much.”

Paige peeked at her through her fingers, her lips twitching. “Fine. When I was in high school, I was running and I tripped trying to jump over the hurdle. Full-on faceplant in front of the whole crowd.”

Azzi burst out laughing, her hand flying to her chest. “Please tell me there’s a video of that.”

“There probably is,” Paige admitted, laughing along with her. “But good luck finding it.”

Azzi shook her head, her laughter tapering off as her gaze softened. “Okay, that’s not so bad. At least you owned it.”

Paige leaned back, crossing her arms with a mock pout. “Your turn to embarrass yourself, then. What’s something you did that you wish you could forget?”

Azzi smiled slyly, her voice dropping just a touch. “I really don’t get embarrassed easily. But...” She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Paige’s lips for a split second before meeting her gaze again. “I have been caught staring at someone a little too long before.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, really? Who’s the lucky someone?”

Azzi’s smile grew, and she leaned in slightly, her voice smooth as she tried to move things along. “Well, right now, it’s you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing. “Right now? So, who was it another time?”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, no, it’s not like that. The other time was a complete misunderstanding. I got lost in thought, I wasn't even looking at the person, but they thought I was checking them out.”

Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Ahh, got you. So, you accidentally made someone’s day, huh?”

Azzi laughed softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she looked at Paige. “Something like that. But this time, no misunderstandings. I know exactly what I’m looking at.”

Paige tilted her head, her gaze holding Azzi’s. “And what are you looking at?”

Azzi leaned in slightly, her voice dropping a notch. “Someone who swears she’s hard to fluster but has been blushing for the past five minutes.”

Paige felt the warmth creep up her cheeks, but she didn’t break eye contact, her confidence undeterred. “I’m just giving you the satisfaction. Didn’t want you to think you weren’t having an effect.”

Azzi grinned, her tongue brushing over her bottom lip. “Oh, don’t worry. I already know I am.”

Paige leaned back slightly, resting her weight on her hands. “Confident, aren’t you?”

Azzi mirrored her movement, leaning back as well, her eyes gleaming. “I’d say it’s justified. What do you think?”

Paige’s gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. “I think you like to keep me on my toes.”

Azzi’s smirk deepened. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy it?”

The air between them felt a little charged now, their playful exchange laced with unspoken tension. Paige tilted her head, “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi’s gaze dropped to the string of Paige’s hoodie, grabbing it to twist it slowly around her finger as the air between them shifted. Her voice softened. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer, her attention fixed on Azzi. “What’s that?”

Azzi glanced up, her eyes locking onto Paige’s. “You’re the one who keeps saying how much fun we could have. But…” She let the word hang in the air, her fingers releasing the string and brushing lightly against Paige’s chest. “You haven’t even tried to kiss me.”

Paige blinked, her breath catching for a moment before a slow smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re the one who stopped us last time, remember? Told me I needed to figure my stuff out first.”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice growing softer, almost challenging. “That was a month ago, Paige. Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for permission.”

Paige smirked as she leaned closer, their faces inches apart. “So I take it there’s no line anymore?”

Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her gaze steady. “Paige, the line was gone as soon as you sat next to me at that bar.”

Something shifted in Paige’s expression—her smirk fading into something more serious, more intent. Without another word, she reached out, her hand cupping Azzi’s jaw with a gentle firmness. She held her there for a moment, their eyes locking as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

When none came, Paige leaned in, closing the distance as her lips brushed against Azzi’s in a slow kiss. Azzi exhaled softly through her nose, her hand finding its way to Paige’s hoodie, gripping the fabric as she leaned into the kiss, melting into the moment.

Paige, emboldened by Azzi’s response, slid her hands to Azzi’s waist, effortlessly pulling her into her lap. Azzi let out a quiet sound at this but didn’t pull away, her arms wrapping around Paige’s neck as their kiss deepened. The air between them grew heavier, the couple of months of tension dissolving.

After some time, Azzi finally broke the kiss, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she caught her breath. Her lips curved into a small smirk, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Should I be concerned at how good you are at this?”

Paige laughed softly, her hands settling on Azzi’s hips as she shook her head. “Nope. Not at all.”

For a moment, Azzi’s gaze faltered, a brief flicker of hesitation crossing her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Without saying anything else, she leaned back in, her hands cupping Paige’s jaw as she pulled her into another kiss, this one a little more sloppy, filled with the kind of urgency that had been building between them for months.

As the kiss deepened, Paige’s hands roamed Azzi’s sides, her thumbs brushing over the bare skin just above her waistband. The heat between them grew quickly, and when Azzi’s hands tugged slightly at Paige’s hoodie, Paige took the cue immediately. She pulled it off in one smooth motion, leaving her in just a sports bra. Azzi followed without hesitation, peeling her shirt off and tossing it aside before their lips met again.

The contact of skin against skin heightened the tension, and Paige wasted no time shifting their position. She slid her hands beneath Azzi, lifting her off her lap and laying her down against the bed. Hovering over her, Paige’s blue eyes locked on Azzi’s, searching for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was anticipation, the flicker of trust and desire that had been simmering between them.

Paige leaned down, her lips brushing over Azzi’s once more before trailing a path down her jawline, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of her neck. Azzi’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair as her body arched slightly beneath her, silently encouraging her.

Paige’s lips pressed against Azzi’s neck with a renewed intensity, her hands roaming Azzi’s body more freely as she left soft marks on her skin. Azzi’s breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair, urging her on. The sensation of Paige’s lips leaving heated trails across her neck made Azzi’s chest rise and fall in a quick rhythm, and she couldn't help but vocalize her pleasure. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” Azzi murmured, the words only spurring Paige on.

As Paige continued, inching lower to Azzi’s chest, she could feel Azzi’s body tremble slightly beneath her, her pulse racing. Azzi’s hands moved to Paige’s shoulders, a firm grip on her as she suddenly pulled Paige up to meet her lips in a desperate, heated kiss. Azzi broke it after a few seconds, pulling back just enough to catch her breath.

“Your teammates are here,” Azzi said softly, a hint of amusement in her voice but also a recognition of the reality they were both avoiding.

Paige, barely taking a moment to breathe, flashed a smile. “The walls are thick.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at her, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You sure?”

Paige laughed softly, brushing her lips over Azzi's neck as she whispered, “I swear,” her voice low and filled with a mischievous edge as she went back to kissing Azzi’s neck.

As she kissed down her neck again, Azzi’s breath caught, her body reacting everytime Paige’s warm lips sucked on her neck. She let out a soft moan, her fingers threading into Paige’s hair, pulling her closer. “Fuck, okay,” she gasped, her voice trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment.

Azzi's eyes fluttered shut, trying to keep control, but it was becoming harder with every kiss, every stroke of Paige's lips against her skin. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head slightly, whispering, “I’m still going to be quiet, though.”

Paige nodded against her, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s sports bra, a soft hum of agreement escaping her. She was about to lower herself again when—knock knock.

Paige groaned softly, dropping her forehead to Azzi’s stomach in frustration. "Please, no," she muttered under her breath.

The knock came again, this time firmer, more insistent.

Azzi chuckled softly, a breathy laugh escaping her as she ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, her smile still teasing despite the interruption.

Paige groaned, reluctantly sitting up and adjusting her sweats that were hanging low on her hips. She threw a quick glance at Azzi, giving her an apologetic smile before getting up to answer the door.

She cracked it open just enough to keep Azzi out of view. On the other side stood Ayanna, looking a little awkward. She glanced up and down Paige’s figure before pausing, her eyes widening when she realized what Paige had been in the middle of. "Oh shit, sorry," Ayanna blurted out laughing a little. "I didn’t know you were... busy."

Paige laughed softly, rolling her eyes. "It’s fine, Yanna. Wassup?"

Ayanna gave a grin, still standing there awkwardly. "I just wanted to borrow one of your chains... the long silver one?" she asked, her eyes flicking to the jewelry box that sat on a nearby shelf.

Paige nodded and stepped aside, making room for Ayanna to enter. She walked over to her large jewelry box, pulling it open to search for the chain. "Sure," Paige muttered, her voice still tinged with a bit of frustration from the interrupted moment.

As Ayanna stepped in, she glanced over at Azzi, who was still laying on the bed, a playful grin curling on her lips. "Hey, uh, I’m Ayanna. Sorry for interrupting," she apologized, raising a hand in greeting.

Azzi’s laughter rang out as she shot Ayanna a look. "Don’t worry about it," she said, her voice light.

Ayanna looked between the two of them, eyes lingering the clear marks Paige left. She paused for a second, her lips quirking into a grin as she nodded toward the bed. "Seems like you two were having a good time," she said, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle at the subtle remark. "We were," she admitted, shooting Azzi a quick glance as she found the chain Ayanna had asked for. "But I guess it’ll have to wait." She handed the chain over to Ayanna, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

"Thanks," Ayanna said, giving both of them a sheepish smile. "I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t want to get in the way."

Paige gave her a smile, relieved that she could now finally get back to Azzi. "No problem," she said with a slight chuckle. "See you later."

As Ayanna left, closing the door softly behind her, Paige turned back to Azzi with a sly grin, her eyes still a little dark. She crossed the room and climbed back onto the bed, settling on top of Azzi once more.

"Now," Paige murmured, leaning down to capture Azzi's lips in a slow kiss, "where were we?"

Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s waist as she returned the kiss, the tension between them building again. But just as the moment began to intensify, Azzi gently pressed a hand against Paige’s shoulder, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh.

Paige blinked, confused. "What’s wrong?"

Azzi bit her lip, her cheeks tinted pink as she chuckled. "That was the universe trying to save me from the embarrassment of your team hearing me," she teased, her voice light but carrying a hint of sincerity.

Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face in Azzi’s neck before muttering, "The universe hates me." With a reluctant sigh, she pushed herself off of Azzi and flopped down beside her, one arm draping over Azzi’s stomach as she stared at the ceiling.

Azzi turned her head to look at Paige, her teasing smirk softening into something more affectionate. “You know,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face, “I’ve learned something about you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Azzi grinned, “You’re pretty dramatic.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, tilting her head toward Azzi. “I’m allowed to be dramatic—it’s been a long day.”

Azzi chuckled at this, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Paige’s cheek. “Fair enough,” she murmured. Reaching over, she grabbed the remote from where it lay forgotten on the bed.

“Alright,” Azzi said, settling back against the pillows. “Let’s find something we’ll actually watch this time.”

Paige smiled, her body relaxing as she shifted closer to Azzi, the moment between them now filled with a comforting ease.

…

January 2024

Paige had always been used to the spotlight, the constant expectations and scrutiny from the media. But after a recent game—one that, in her mind, had gone just fine—she was overwhelmed by the pressure. The game had been solid, not spectacular, but because she didn’t score 30, the media called it a "bad game." The headlines came fast, and her phone blew up with comments about how she didn’t deserve her projected draft position, how she would never be the one to lead UConn to a championship.

She drowned her frustration in alcohol at the bar where she and Azzi had met months ago. Paige absolutely hated feeling this way, lost in the opinions of others, feeling disconnected from her own love for the game. She ordered round after round, ignoring the warm buzz at the back of her mind as she tried to numb the constant spiral of negative thoughts.

Azzi had been texting Paige all night, but Paige had ignored the messages. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, no matter how dark they were, no matter how awful they made her feel.

At some point during the night, Azzi showed up. She had been worried when Paige’s messages stopped coming, and after doing a quick glance at socials she had a feeling Paige would be at the bar. Finding her slumped over at a corner table, nearly incoherent from the alcohol, Azzi rushed over, concerned. She managed to get Paige into her car and back to her place, basically carrying her to her room.

The room is dim, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the floor. Paige stumbles as Azzi helps her sit on the edge of the bed, her movements slow and unsteady from the alcohol. Her face is flushed, her hair messy, and her eyes, though half-lidded with drunken exhaustion, are filled with something deeper—something darker, Paige looked broken.

Azzi pulls the blankets over her, but Paige swats them away, too restless, too tangled in her own thoughts.

"Azzi..." Paige’s voice is slurred. She lifts her head, locking eyes with Azzi. "I don’t even care anymore. About any of this." She gestures vaguely, her hand trembling slightly, as if the words themselves are heavy. "Basketball. The fans. The media. All of it. It doesn't matter. It never will. I hate it now Az.

Azzi, who had been sitting beside her, quietly watching Paige’s descent, let out a soft sigh. She watches Paige closely, trying to gauge if she’s speaking from the weight of the alcohol or if this is something deeper—something Paige can’t suppress anymore.

But Paige’s next words slice through the haze of drunkenness with a clarity that leaves Azzi speechless and heartbroken for the girl she’s grown to care about so much.

"My mom… she won’t even look at me if I’m not perfect." Paige's voice cracks on the last word, and her eyes well up, her vision blurring as she blinks hard. She doesn’t try to hide it. "If I don’t score enough, if I don’t win enough, if I’m not the best, she… she won’t even talk to me. It’s like I don’t exist unless I’m this… this thing she made me out to be." Her hands are shaking now, her chest tight, breath hitching as she speaks faster, more urgently. "I hate it. I hate how everyone just looks at me like I’m some fucking… machine that’s supposed to perform. I hate that I don’t even know who I am without all of it. Without the games, without the applause, without the pressure. I’m just… nothing."

Her voice breaks as she lets out a small sob, her body trembling as the weight of her own words crashes over her. Paige tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing, trying to hold herself together.

Azzi sat frozen for a moment, her chest tightening as she listened to Paige’s words. The rawness in her voice, the cracks of vulnerability that Paige so rarely let show, cut deeper than anything Azzi had ever heard. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand finding Paige’s and gripping it tightly, grounding her.

"That’s not true," Azzi replies softly, her voice steady but warm. "You're not a 'nothing' to me. You’re someone who’s hurting. And that’s okay. It’s okay to hurt." She lowers her gaze to the floor for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice is firmer, more certain. "You don’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to be flawed. We all are. I know what it’s like, feeling like you’re not enough—like you’ll never be enough, no matter how hard you try."

Paige’s gaze drifts downward, her thoughts swimming in a haze of alcohol and self-doubt. She looks up at Azzi, but her words come out bitter, a defense mechanism against the intense emotions bubbling just below the surface.

"You wouldn’t even entertain me if I wasn’t who I am," Paige mutters, almost too quietly for Azzi to hear. "I’m just a player on a pedestal. If I wasn’t who I am—if I was just… me—you wouldn’t even be here right now. You wouldn’t have talked to me that night.”

The words sting, hanging in the air like a cold weight. Azzi’s heart skips a beat, the sharp edge of Paige’s insecurity cutting deeper than she expected. She doesn’t respond immediately, unsure if the alcohol has distorted Paige's perception or if there’s truth in the words that sting too much to ignore.

For a long moment, Azzi simply watches Paige, her expression softening. Despite the hurt she feels from the insinuation, she knows this is just another layer of Paige’s pain speaking through her, the doubt and loneliness that plague her when she’s this vulnerable.

Azzi leans in slowly, and without saying a word, presses a gentle kiss to Paige’s cheek. It’s soft—like a quiet reassurance, an act of comfort without expectation. Paige’s eyes flutter, and she flinches just slightly, as though the unexpected touch has made her feel something she wasn’t prepared for, a softness she hasn’t felt in a while. So she doesn’t pull away.

Azzi pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, her voice gentle but firm. "That couldn’t be further from the truth and you know that Paige. You’re drunk so we’re not going to talk about this tonight."

Paige opens her mouth to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she sinks back into the bed, her body limp from the weight of the alcohol and the emotions swirling inside her.

Azzi stands, her heart still aching for Paige, but knowing the best thing she can do right now is give her space. She takes a deep breath, turns away, and heads toward the door.

"Get some rest," Azzi says softly, her voice like a whisper in the quiet room. "You don’t have to figure all of this out tonight. Just sleep, Paige."

Without another word, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Paige can hear her footsteps down the hallway, moving further away. When she lies back against the pillows, the room feels impossibly empty.

Azzi settles down on the couch in the living room, the silence between them thick and unresolved. She pulls a blanket over her, eyes closed but unable to drift into sleep. There’s so much she wants to say to Paige, so much she wants to reassure her of. But right now, all she can do is wait—wait for Paige to come to terms with her own truth, and for herself to figure out how to be there when Paige is ready to hear it.

Azzi exhales softly into the dark, wishing she could fix it all, but knowing that this journey is one Paige has to take on her own.

The next morning, Paige wakes up with a splitting headache, her heart racing with the sudden realization of figuring out where she was. Paige groaned, pressing her palms against her temples as the pounding in her head intensified. The faint morning light streaming through the blinds felt like a spotlight, amplifying her discomfort. “Fuck, please no,” she muttered hoarsely, her voice scratchy and weak. Her heart raced slightly as she tried to piece together the events of the night before.

Where the hell am I? What did I do? The questions spiraled, sending a wave of nausea through her as flashes of the bar, the drinks, and her overwhelming feelings surfaced. A cold knot of dread formed in her chest.

Fuck Did I… do something? With someone that wasn’t… The thought made her stomach churn, guilt clawing at her even though she and Azzi weren’t technically together. Her memories were blurry, but the fear lingered, and she refused to let herself sink deeper into the pit of self-loathing.

Forcing her heavy limbs to cooperate, Paige shifted slightly, scanning her surroundings.

She glanced around the room, disoriented, before spotting the familiar art on the wall—the same art she had seen the few times she’d been here and Azzi had shown her during their first few Facetime calls. She exhaled in relief, but the sense of discomfort didn’t fade. Her mind raced with confusion about the night’s events. Her body felt heavy, sore, and her brain buzzed with the aftermath of the alcohol.

She noticed a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the dresser and quickly took the water, hoping to ease the pounding in her skull. She shuffled toward the kitchen, the faint sound of sizzling drawing her in. As she stepped into the doorway, she saw Azzi standing at the stove, her back turned as she carefully flipped something in a pan. The familiar sight should have put Paige at ease, but something was off. Azzi’s movements, usually fluid and unhurried, were now methodical, almost stiff.

Paige’s lips parted to speak, but she hesitated, unsure how to bridge the gap between them. Instead, she moved forward, wrapping her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice was a little raspy.

Azzi froze for a moment before squeezing Paige’s hand briefly in acknowledgment. For a second, Paige thought things might be okay—until Azzi said softly, “Let go of me, please.” Paige immediately stepped back, her arms falling to her sides as she leaned against the counter.

Paige’s throat tightened, guilt swelling in her chest. “I’m sorry about last night,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes flickered to Azzi, who stood at the stove, her back still turned. The silence that followed felt heavier than the pounding in her head.

Azzi turned off the burner and set the spatula down carefully before facing Paige. Her face was composed, but her eyes carried a weight that made Paige’s stomach churn. Azzi crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter as she studied Paige with a look that made it hard to breathe.

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” Azzi’s voice wasn’t harsh, but the question hit like a hammer.

Paige opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed hard before replying, “I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t mean to be such a mess.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t soften. Her gaze stayed locked on Paige, who fidgeted under the scrutiny. “You weren’t just a mess, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice steady but laced with an undertone of frustration. “You scared me.”

Paige’s heart dropped at the words. She looked down, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor her. “I’m sorry, Az,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes, and I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t want to drag me into it?” she repeated, her tone hinting at some disbelief.

“Yeah,” Paige muttered, barely audible, the weight of her own words pressing down on her.

Azzi took a deep breath, turning back to the stove. She grabbed the plates, carefully dividing the eggs and bacon between them. Her movements were measured, but Paige could see the tension in her shoulders.

As Azzi set the plates down on the kitchen island, she spoke again, her voice softer but no less serious. “What do you mean by that?”

Paige hesitated, feeling the knot in her chest tighten. She slowly walked over to the island, pulling out a stool but not sitting down yet. “I mean… we’re not even together, Az,” she said, her voice strained. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I usually just handle it on my own.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened slightly, and she sat down, sliding one of the plates toward Paige, silently telling her to sit down. She didn’t touch her own food, her focus entirely on Paige. The silence that stretched between them was a little deafening.

Finally, Paige sat down beside her, but her hands stayed folded in her lap, her appetite nonexistent. She glanced at Azzi, whose posture was relaxed but whose eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the counter. “Paige,” she said gently, “you think being a burden is the same as needing help? Because it’s not.”

Paige looked down at her lap, her voice barely a whisper. “It feels like it is.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone softening even more. “You really have to stop doing this to yourself. You don’t have to carry all of it alone. Not with me. We’ve talked about this.”

Paige’s eyes stung, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “I just… I don’t want to mess things up. You mean too much to me. I don’t want you seeing that part of my life… to scare you away,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Paige carefully. Her silence felt heavy, almost unbearable, as if she was weighing every word Paige had just said.

After a moment, Azzi spoke, her voice calm but tinged with something Paige couldn’t quite place. “You think that part of your life would scare me away?”

Paige nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I’ve dealt with it alone for so long because… it’s messy. I’m messy. And I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Azzi’s eyes softened as she sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She exhaled deeply, the weight of her thoughts apparent in the tension of her shoulders. After a beat, she leaned forward, her expression a mixture of frustration and care.

“Paige,” she began, her tone steady but laced with emotion, “I keep telling you over and over—you don’t need to deal with it alone anymore. I feel like I tell you that every single day.”

Paige glanced up, the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice cutting straight through her defenses.

Azzi shook her head lightly, her hands uncrossing to rest on the counter as she continued. “You’re not some burden I have to carry. Your life isn’t too messy for me. Stop thinking you have to keep everything locked inside because you don’t.”

Paige’s chest tightened, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her fork. She struggled to find the words, her voice barely audible as she whispered, “But what if it’s too much?”

Azzi met her gaze, unwavering. “Then we’ll have to deal with it together. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, Paige. But if you keep shutting me out every time you feel like things are falling apart, how can I help? How can I be there for you if you won’t let me?”

Paige’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She felt exposed, like Azzi could see every crack and flaw she had tried so hard to hide. And yet, there was no judgment in Azzi’s gaze—just unwavering patience and care.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Paige admitted, her voice trembling.

Azzi smiled gently, the corners of her mouth barely lifting, but the warmth in her expression was undeniable. “I don’t either… but we’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “But it starts with you letting me in even when it’s ugly.”

Paige nodded slowly, her eyes glistening as she whispered, “I know, I’m sorry baby.”

Azzi didn’t reply, her hand reaching out to rest on Paige’s.

The moment hung between them, heavy with meaning, until the sound of Azzi’s roommate entering the kitchen disrupted the fragile silence.

Azzi glanced at Paige, her voice gentler now. “We’ll talk more later. Just… eat something, okay? I really don’t want you throwing up on my counter.”

Paige offered a faint smile, her heart still racing, and picked up her fork again. The food still felt heavy, but Azzi’s words lingered, a thread of hope tying her together.

…

February 2024

Azzi had a big game tonight. It was the first time Paige had attended one of her games making promises that she would find time to come to one despite her own schedule. Paige wasn’t just showing up because it was important to Azzi—she was showing up because it meant the world to her that Azzi knew she had someone there, cheering her on, no matter what. It didn’t matter that Paige was recognized by fans or that people were whispering about her presence as soon as she walked in. All that mattered to her was Azzi.

The game was packed with energy, but Paige couldn’t focus on anything except Azzi. She watched intently, her eyes never leaving her. Azzi’s every move was so graceful and confident, and as Paige watched her in her element her chest swelled with pride.

Azzi, in turn, couldn’t help but glance over at Paige every so often, her heart skipping each time their eyes met. It didn’t matter that the crowd was roaring, or that her teammates were all over her after she hit a big shot. In those moments, it was just her looking at Paige.

After the game, as Azzi made her way off the court, she spotted Paige waiting for her in the stands. She walked straight to her, her smile widening as she approached her.

“You actually came,” Azzi said, breathless, a playful laugh in her voice.

Paige’s smile was immediate and wide. “Of course I did. I told you I would. You were amazing out there.”

Azzi’s grin softened, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “It means a lot that you’re here. I know things are crazy for you with your schedule going into march, so this… it says a lot.”

Paige stepped closer, her heart racing as she reached out, pulling Azzi into a hug. The hug was deep and comforting, lingering just a little longer than usual. The crowd around them started to murmur—surprised to see the two together, given Paige’s status and the two of them never being seen together before this moment. They were close, but this moment was something else. Paige held Azzi tighter, wanting her to know just how much she meant to her. Azzi reciprocated, her grip on Paige firm as she took in the moment.

As they pulled apart, a few fans who had been watching took note of their closeness. Whispers began to circulate, but neither of them paid any attention. They were in their own world.

Paige smiled softly at Azzi, her voice quieter than usual. “I’m proud of you.”

Azzi looked at her, her eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The two of them stood there, a quiet bubble in the middle of the chaos, just taking in the moment. Azzi’s smile was soft, a mix of exhaustion and happiness, but there was something deeper in her eyes. Paige had kept her promise. She was here. For her.

Paige pulled Azzi in for another hug and they held each other for a moment longer than most people would have expected, and it felt so right that neither of them wanted to pull away. Azzi couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through her chest. It wasn’t just the win, it was having Paige there—fully present, giving her all her attention, all her support, in a world that constantly asked for her attention in a hundred different directions.

Before they could say anything more, a few fans, recognizing Paige, began to approach. Their voices cut through the quiet, making Azzi’s smile falter just a little. But she didn't mind. That was the reality of Paige’s world. But it was still strange, seeing her become the center of attention even in this moment when it felt like it was just for them.

One fan, a young woman, stepped up, a hopeful grin on her face. "Hey, Paige! Can we get a quick picture? Big fan of yours!"

Another fan, a man holding a jersey that wasn’t Paige’s, chimed in, "An autograph too, please?"

Paige, still holding Azzi’s gaze, didn’t break her focus. She gave the fans a polite smile, but her voice was a little firmer than usual.

"Not tonight, guys. Sorry," she said, her tone calm but respectful. "I'm just here for someone else tonight." A few of the fans murmured in disappointment but ultimately understood as they gave the girls space.

“It’s okay, really,” Azzi said gently. She stepped forward, a reflexive smile on her face. “You can take a picture, I’ll wait for you—”

Before she could finish, Paige’s hand tightened around hers, as she looked at the girl, meeting Azzi’s eyes.

“No,” Paige said simply, a slight edge of protectiveness in her tone. “I’m only here for you, Az. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”

Azzi froze for a moment, her breath catching at Paige’s words. There was no hesitation in her voice—no compromise. Paige’s eyes were steady, unwavering, and Azzi realized then that this wasn’t just about a promise she’d made; it was about the space Paige was creating just for Azzi in her life, in front of everyone, despite the noise and the demands of the crowd.

Azzi blinked, her chest tightening with gratitude, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. "That was… sweet," Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned a little closer to Paige. "I didn’t expect that."

Paige shrugged, the corner of her mouth turning up into a half-smile. "I told you I don’t let anything or anyone take me away from the important things. And you," she said, her voice dropping just a little, her eyes soft and focused on Azzi, "are important."

Azzi’s smile softened, a small laugh escaping her lips, her eyes filled with a quiet affection. “You’re incredible,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s grin grew, her fingers gently squeezing Azzi’s hand. “I’m not the one who just dropped 32, remember?” she teased.

Azzi laughed, the sound light and carefree, before she pulled Paige a little closer, the gym now basically empty, their hands still linked. “You know..you’re lucky because I think I’m falling for you Paige Bueckers,” Azzi said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There it was—the truth, as simple and real as anything they’d said. And though the moment could have felt heavy, it didn’t. It felt freeing, like something they’d both been dancing around for too long had finally come to the surface.

“Well I fell for you a long time ago Azzi Fudd” Paige whispered back, her voice steady but full of meaning.

They stood there for a beat, their faces close, breaths mingling, the tension and connection thick enough to taste. It was a moment that felt timeless—like nothing else mattered, except for the two of them.

But just as they were about to close the distance between them, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Azzi!" It was one of her teammates, jogging over to them with a small smile. "Coach is looking for you."

Azzi’s smile faltered just a little, the reality of her responsibilities coming back into focus. She sighed softly, looking at Paige with a mix of regret and affection.

Paige smiled, though her heart gave a small twinge at the interruption. “Don’t worry I’ll be here,” she said, giving Azzi’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “I’ll wait for you by my car.”

Azzi nodded, her eyes softening, and she leaned in for a brief kiss on Paige’s cheek. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Paige smiled back, watching as Azzi turned and jogged off toward the locker room.

March 2024

The energy in the arena was electric, the air vibrating with the sound of fans chanting Paige’s name. Her jersey dotted the crowd, worn by people of all ages, from little kids with wide eyes to older fans who clapped enthusiastically after every play. Azzi had known Paige was a big deal—she’d seen it all over social media, heard the commentators wax poetic about her talent, saw people approaching her first hand out in public—but sitting here, surrounded by the deafening adoration of thousands, was something else entirely.

It didn’t seem to affect Paige at all. On the court, she was a force of nature, her every move calculated, her focus seemingly unshakable. Azzi couldn’t look away, captivated by the way Paige commanded the game. There was a fluidity to her movements, a confidence that made it impossible not to admire her. Watching her in person was different from watching her on TV—there was an energy to it, an intensity that didn’t translate through a screen.

Azzi sat there quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself in the sea of fans, though she doubted anyone would recognize her with all eyes on Paige. They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the game, and Azzi wasn’t even sure Paige knew she was there. Part of her hoped Paige would notice her, but she knew how focused the blonde got when she stepped onto the court.

But then it happened.

It was quick—so quick that the cameras definitely didn’t catch it, and most of the crowd didn’t seem to notice. Paige sank a deep three and as she jogged back on defense, her eyes flicked briefly to the section where Azzi was sitting. She pointed in Azzi’s direction, a subtle gesture that could have been overlooked if you weren’t paying attention.

A small smile spread across Azzi’s face, her heart fluttering at the acknowledgment. She wasn’t just another face in the crowd to Paige. That quick moment, fleeting as it was, felt personal—like it was just for her.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, her smile lingering as she watched Paige fall seamlessly back into her rhythm, her focus unbroken. The way Paige could still find a way to connect with her in the middle of all this chaos, only made Azzi admire her more.

…

After the game the crowd hadn’t fully thinned out by the time Paige made her way toward Azzi, stopping every few steps to sign jerseys, posters, and anything fans shoved in her direction. Her usual easy smile and charm were on full display, but Azzi could see the subtle exhaustion in her movements. Still, when Paige finally reached her, her face lit up in a way that made Azzi’s chest tighten.

Without a word, Paige pulled Azzi into a tight hug, dropping her head onto Azzi’s shoulder and exhaling deeply. Azzi’s smile softened as she wrapped her arms around Paige, resting her cheek against the blonde’s temple. The moment felt intimate, even with the buzz of fans and cameras surrounding them.

When they finally pulled away, Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk as she licked them, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So… you want me to sign your jersey?” she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the small grin tugging at her lips gave her away. “I’m not a fan,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Paige gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Wowww, my own girl isn’t my fan?”

Azzi shook her head, her smile widening. “I’m probably your number one fan, actually.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, and she grabbed the sharpie from someone behind her. “That’s more like it,” she quipped. Without hesitation, she bent down slightly to scribble her signature across of Azzi’s jersey.

Azzi glanced down, noticing the hearts Paige had added at the end of her usual autograph. “Hearts huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Special treatment,” Paige murmured, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear.

As the two stood there, fans crowded nearby, calling Paige’s name and clamoring for her attention. Paige glanced over briefly, flashing her signature smile and promising to get to them in a moment, but her focus quickly returned to Azzi.

For that instant, it felt like they were in their own little bubble. Paige stepped back slightly, her gaze lingering on Azzi. “Thanks for coming,” she said softly, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the noise around them.

“You played amazing,” Azzi replied, her voice equally soft, though there was a distinct note of admiration in her tone.

Paige’s smile widened, her shoulders relaxing as she pulled Azzi into another hug. This one lingered longer, Paige’s hands resting securely against Azzi’s back. She leaned in just enough to murmur, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, pulling back slightly to meet Paige’s gaze. “Later,” she promised.

Paige smirked at the reply. With a quick glance at the barrier separating them, Paige reached down and helped Azzi step over the rope, ensuring she was on the same side as her.

Once Azzi was safely on the other side, Paige flagged down a staff member. “Can you take her to the back for me? I’ll meet her there in a few minutes,” she said, her tone polite yet firm, making it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Azzi hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning Paige’s face, but Paige gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back there soon I promise,” she said, squeezing Azzi’s hand briefly before turning her attention back to the eager fans still calling her name.

Azzi nodded, casting one last glance at Paige before following the staff member toward the back. Paige stood for a moment, watching her disappear into the crowd, before turning back to the fans with her usual bright smile, ready to finish taking pictures and signing autographs.

…

When Paige and Azzi stepped into the dorm, the silence greeted them like an unspoken invitation. No one else was around yet—a rare luxury that Paige didn’t intend to waste. She dropped her bag carelessly by the door, her arm draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder as they walked inside.

As soon as the door to the suite clicked shut, Paige turned to Azzi, wasting no time. Her hands found Azzi’s face as she leaned in, pulling her into a deep kiss. “I missed you so much,” Paige murmured against Azzi’s lips, her voice tinged with a mix of longing and relief.

Azzi pulled back just enough to laugh, her hands resting lightly on Paige’s waist. “You just saw me last week,” she teased, her grin warm and playful.

Paige shrugged, her fingers gently trailing down Azzi’s arm. “Doesn’t matter,” she said with a smirk.

Azzi shook her head, her smile softening as she looked at Paige. “It’s empty in here,” she noted, her tone dropping slightly, her implication clear.

Paige’s smirk widened as she caught the hint, and before she could respond, Azzi reached for the jersey she had on. In one smooth motion, she tugged it off, revealing her bra beneath it, and turned on her heel, heading toward Paige’s room without a word.

Paige stood frozen for a moment, her lips parting in surprise before breaking into a grin. “Fucking finally,” she muttered under her breath, her heart racing as she followed Azzi down the short hallway.

When they reached her door, Paige paused briefly, grabbing a couple of hair ties from her desk and slipping them onto the outside of the door handle. She shut the door behind her with a soft click, her gaze fixed on Azzi, who was already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her with a smile on her face.

Paige stepped closer to Azzi, her hands instinctively finding their way to Azzi’s face as she settled herself between her legs. Her movements were slow as if savoring every second. She leaned down, her forehead briefly brushing against Azzi’s before capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

Pulling back just enough to whisper, Paige’s voice was filled with a raw tenderness. “I love you so much,” she said, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s as though trying to convey everything words couldn’t.

Azzi’s lips curved into a warm smile, her hands gliding up Paige’s sides. “I love you more, superstar,” she teased softly, though her tone carried a depth of sincerity that made Paige’s heart swell.

Before Paige could respond, Azzi tugged her down, their laughter mixing as Paige allowed herself to fall gently on top of her. She buried her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent that had become a source of comfort and peace.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Paige allowed herself to fully let go. No pressure, no cameras, no expectations—just the steady rhythm of Azzi’s heartbeat beneath her and the quiet certainty that she had found something she never wanted to let go of.

Settling deeper into Azzi’s embrace kissing her deeply, Paige realized she was finally with the woman who had changed her life in less than a year.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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3amfanfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

#tf 141 x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #fic: our girlfriend

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mayakern · 1 day ago

Note

In light of finding out that there's actually people out there being jerks to you in your inbox, I wanted to tell you how much joy you've brought into my life without even knowing about it! My girlfriend introduced me to your art and your clothing and I've been a huge fan ever since! Your art makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin and see beauty where I hadn't thought to look before, and watching you succeed puts a smile on my face. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of joyful memories and interesting stories!

aw thank you, this is so incredibly sweet 🥺🥺🥺

we did have a couple ppl being weirdly combative at the combo of me asking why ppl hadn't purchased from the canada store (this was a genuine question to see if there were issues we didn't know about, which there were) and then me talking about what a rough position the business is in currently, but largely people have been nothing other than extremely kind and supportive and wonderful.

i think it often comes down to the sad reality that when a small brand like us, which is more expensive than fast fashion in large part because we use certified ethical labor, talks about our financial/sales issues in a time when most people are struggling, people sometimes get defensive.

even if i am not being aggressive or mean or blaming our customers--i am also a non-wealthy person who lived through 2024, i have not at any point been unaware of just how difficult things have gotten and i don't blame anyone for their financial situation--because of the type of business i run, seeing me or the business fail can make people feel guilty. because even tho a lot of people try not to think about it, when you buy a fast fashion shirt for $5--or when you buy several, knowing that they'll fall apart after just a few wears--there are so many "invisible" costs. knowing that you can afford a shein clothing haul because someone was, at best, paid pennies to make the garments wears a person down. knowing, too, that that piece of clothing that was made by exploiting other humans is going to end up in the trash relatively quickly also takes its toll.

for a lot of people, fast fashion is all they can afford. and also for a lot of people, they have convinced themselves that buying a higher quantity of cheap garments that will fall apart quickly is more affordable or a better deal than saving up for one more expensive piece that will last them multiple years. after all, buying a single garment that you'll wear for years doesn't give you nearly as much of a dopamine hit as getting an entire clothing haul that costs the same amount up front.

and i think because of this--because a lot of people make this choice and do not feel proud of it--when they see me or my business struggle, they project their own feelings of guilt and assume that i must be blaming them personally. that i am figuratively breathing down their neck and haunting their closets.

the truth is, i know the path i have chosen is not the easy one. i could probably make a lot more money and live a lot more comfortably if i operated on a business model that more closely resembled fast fashion. but for as long as i can afford them, i would like to stick to my ideals. and i don't blame other people for not being able to do the same.

#ask #store #long post #sorry turns out i had a lot to say haha

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tousey-mousy · 2 days ago

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I have to disagree with the last half of the sentence.

I agree that disabled lives are not inherently filled with suffering. I do not agree that most of the suffering from disabilities is artificially put there.

A lot of it is, but the large majority is not. A large majority of that suffering is because disabilities are awfully painful and uncomfortable and inconvenient a lot of the time.

I think the part that is missed, though, is that none of these things make those lives less valuable - or less worth having?

Like. It's okay to admit that disability sucks ass. It's okay to admit that. When you don't admit that, you look like an idiot because people can SEE what MS is doing to you. People can SEE that you struggle to cook meals for yourself because of your CP. People can SEE that you are clearly impaired by having low vision.

And like. None of that means your life is less valuable or less worth having. And none of it means you're a bad person for wishing it could be different, while also being proud of yourself for being you and not being different.

Disability pride isn't about bloodymindedly insisting that disabilities don't suck a lot of the time. It's about being proud of who you are ANYWAY, because you are still YOU. You are still a valuable, important person.

It's not about whether you can make a contribution - it's nice if you can, but that's an inherently pretty cold, callously capitalistic look at a person's value. It's about whether you are better off than you could be through not existing - and I think most people feel they are. You don't have to all the time, I don't. But I think you should let people feel like shit occasionally without pretending that it's all artificially imposed, and without acting like it NOT being imposed would somehow legitimise eugenicist arguments.

Disabilities occasionally sucking ass, or even USUALLY sucking ass, without it being artificial doesn't legitimise eugenics.

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 2 days ago

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We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT4

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

P1 P2 P3

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho - Use of (Y/N) - Heavy Angst - Protective!In-ho - Panic!Reader - grammar mistakes -

"You must be joking" Were your first words after listening to Gi-hun's plan. "Do you even know how many guards are out there? Or how prepared they are?"

After another round of voting things had ended in a tie. Not much time after it a fight had occurred inside the men bathroom. Gi-hun had said how most likely the ones who voted circles would attack the X group during lights out.

And while it scared you to no end, specially for your dear baby, his plan was still something your mind could not get. If they had all the power to make so many peopel vanish and also kill them off like it was nothing...what chance did they had against them?

In-ho who knew very well how much that plan would fail (even if he was not inside the games) was only worried over you.

Since the talk during the last game he had got protective. He was by your side, making you be behind him and having a protective grio on your arm or hand.

The rest did notice but no one commented a thing, besides it would only make the athmosphere uncomfortable.

Jun-hee was the only one who had asked you during one go to the restroom. She was not judging, her own baby's father was here after all. She was just curious on what was the story of you two. Why you two seemed to be so apart at the start and now were close.

"Its almost a story you would read on a book" Jun-hee said as you cleaned your hands and laughted.

"Barely, it all started as a one night thing. Then I was so stupid that I forgot the pill. We did not see each other for months and now...we are here"

"But he cares. He cares so much. Really I can see it on how he looks at you!! Even before the migle game"

"Yeah...I do care for him too. I want us to get out and try to live together or be a real couple..."

"Well, we may be able to leave but the plan of Seong..."

"Its crazy. We wont make it. I- I cant even help them"

"I cant either, only thing I can do its hide once the lights go off" Jun-hee tried to make you feel better. "Its better like that, we need to think not only for ourselfs but our babys"

"You are right, but Jun-ho wants to help..."

"You are worried for him" She indicated "Thats cute"

"And a pain, I wish he would have said no to that plan"

"Maybe he is thinking in you and the baby. Maybe he wants to leave really badly and sees no other way out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once you two returned the place seemed to be under lots of pressure. There was a tension, how some circles would look at Xs and back. It was unnerving and maybe even worse than the games themselfs.

"Can we talk?" In-ho came towards you "Alone" He added seeing Jun-hee besides you who nodded and went with the rest of the group.

In-ho moved so you two were away from everybody.

"Its this about Gi-hun's plan?" You asked and he nodded.

"Yes, it is. You should hide when the lights go off and not participate when we go for the guns" In-ho said in a serious tone. Even if the guards would never (if they liked their lives) put a hand on you unless he said so, the rest of the players were out of his control.

"I know, I cant do much anyways" You responded touching your belly "Why did you end saying yes ? We could win tomorrow ...."

In-ho took a deep breath. The reason were multiple ones. On one part this would be a good chance to get himself and you out from the games. If he did things right. And on other part he did not want to risk on tomorrow voting. Even if during the night Xs fought and lived nothing did for centrain said they would not vote circle next day.

"I believe in him" He lied "I understand its a dangerous move on our part, but I dont trust the others, not for tonight and not for tomorrow's voting"

You wanted to tell him to back off from it. You did not want to lose him in case the plan went wrong. But his next words shattered you.

"And I want you two out of here. Another game would cause you much stress, its not good for you our the baby...the little one has been strong so far but there is nothing like being safe and out of here"

When he said "little one" there was a small soft smile on his face, you could see how his hands wanted to reach and caress your belly once more but he held himself back.

"Hide well, I mean it. I dont trust any of them"

"I will, please dont worry about me"

Impossible. You and that baby are the most precious things to me right now.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho insisted on staying besides you when the lights went off. Just in case.

He had one hand wrapped around your waist and had pushed your head into his chest. He told you to close your eyes and ignore all of it, that if someone even dared to come near the bed where you two were hide then he would kill them. Of course he did not use these exact words in order not to scare you.

The screams of pain were terrible to hear, In-ho tried to shh you and tell you that it would soon end while also keeping a watchful eye.

Finally it was time, he kissed your cheeck on impulse and told you to not intervene. He went out just as the guards started to get inside the room.

You saw one coming towards him, but before it could even check the infamous chip inside his neck (as Gi-hun had explained earlier) he took them with force and in a clean move ended their life while also taking their gun.

The next was a small exchange of bullets and screams, the guards were finally leaving but one was left behind. Even if you saw them as nothing as monsters...their seemed scared.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Stay here, no matter what you hear. Stay here with Jun-hee. It will be safe" He assured you, like he knew more than what he was letting out.

"But what if you- what if something happens to you?" You asked him with tears already falling, not knowing that he would be safe.

It broke his heart to see you like that. So worried over him when there was nothing to be worried about. But he could not tell you, not here.

"Shh, I will be fine. I promise you" After a small pause he added "I promise both of you" His hand resting on your belly.

"In-ho, its time" Gi-hun said softly when he saw the exchange, part of him felt bad for interrumping the sweet moment. And was feeling guilty already, he knew he could not let In-ho die.

"Yes, on it"

"I love you, both of you" In-ho softly said finally leaving.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The gunshots would be hear from the room, you flinched everytime, worried that one of these was mean for In-ho.

"Breath (Y/N)" Jun-hee reminded you when she saw you starting to panic. "They will be alright"

"Jun-hee...dont tell me things you can guarnate" You whispered hugging her and she just held you there. It was true, she could not be sure if they would make it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In his mind this part was supposed to be easy, trick Gi-hun into thinking that he and the rest had died. But it would mean making you believe that he was dead as well.

He pressed his lips on a thin line, worried over you and the baby. His little one. The only good thing was that he would be able to pull you out from the games but-

But you would have to believe that he was indeed dead.

"Take player 344 from the room, bring her to my room and call the Doctor too. Do not harm her" He ordered to one of his most trusted square guards.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once more the guards entered, pulling everybody to their knees and demanding them to be under control.

You started to tremble not because of the imposed figure of a saqueare guard over you, saying something about you having to go back with them. Your mind was working on In-ho..was he? Was he really?

Jun-hee despite the protest of player 333 went towards you and the guard to try and keep you there saying how you had nothing to do with the attack. But the guard only pointed their gun to her, that broke your somehow dazed state.

"I will go, just let her be"

"No (Y/N)!" Jun-hee tried to go towards you but was held back by Player 333.

"Dont worry Jun-hee" You said giving her a sad smile.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You had no idea where you were being taken. The guard did not say a word but also kept a slow peace like he was taking care over you.

You two made it a elevator, all black inside. The guard urged you inside and pushed some buttons till it started to move.

The doors opened revealing a dark corridor the guard guided you towards a big black door, he opened it revealing a big screen now turned off and a black couch. But there was another guard, however this was only had his face covered by the black fabric only his eyes were seen.

You took note of a few medical tools and you started to get nervous.

"Stay calm, I was told to check on your health and your baby, please sit here. We can move you to the bed to examine your baby"

Now you were confused, why check your health? What about Jun-hee?

"But there is another woman who-"

"I was only told to check on you. Please" He said tone incredible soft.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the examination the Guard (who told you he was a doctor) said that the baby was healthy, but that you needed rest and more food.

Both guards went to leave, but you stopped them.

"W-wait, im not going back?" You asked confused.

"Player 344, you have been eliminated from the games" Was the only response you got and were left alone in the dark room.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Sir, player 344 has been examinated and left in your room" The guard said to their Boss who just nodded back.

"I will be there soon"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Hours passed, you were scared. You stayied on the bed, too tired to move, this bed was too confortable too, and after listening to the Doctor's words you imagined this was good for your baby.

Even if you still felt bad.

You had been crying for the last hours, not beliving that In-ho could be dead, no in fact part of you refused to believe it.

And Jun-hee your friend...the one who was in the same desesperated situation as you. You could not believe she was still there...

Outside the door stood In-ho in his Front Man clothes, he was scared of your reaction, would he tell you it was him ? What was he supposed to do ?

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The doors opened making a sound, you had fallend asleep after crying. One hand on your belly like you were protecting it even in your sleep.

In-ho felt his heart go down and up, the sight was...beautiful in a strange way. Why could things dont be easier? You could wait for him like this everyday, the three of you could live together and he would be such a good father.

His gloved hand went to touch your face, slowly tracing your cheeck. Your tears broke his heart.

Your eyes started to move, and he pushed himself away. Not wanting to scare you.

Once you finally woke up you saw a dark figured, a black mask, you moved away against the wall.

"W-who are you?" You tone was evident, you were scared and confused.

"Im the Front Man, player 344 you have been eliminated from the games and will be sent back"

"What? Wait, does this mean I-"

In-ho held up his hand dont wanting you to continue, things were already too difficult for him.

"Your situation was analyzed and so decided that you wont continue"

"But- there is another woman! Jun-hee, player 222, she needs to be out as well" You exclaimed getting up and going closer to him.

"Player 222 will continue in the games. Thats final"

"B-but why?"

"Should you not be happy for you and your baby?"

"Im, but im not a hearthless person, if I can get out because of my situation then she can too"

In-ho took a deep breath, he could not believe how even now you were thinking in others.

But he that was part of your charm as well...

"Its a final decision, besides you are soon to give birth. That was what the Doctor said, we cant let that happen in here"

Without thinking his gloved hand went to your belly, one more time, he needed to feel it just one more time-

"Dont touch me" You said in grith theeth taking his hand and pushing it away. In all honestly I hurted him more than any pain he had endured before.

"You are a monster, you- You keep the games going and let others die. You are nothing but a piece of shit"

In-ho knew you were nervous, scared, angry and much more. But your words cut deep, his soul breaking.

"You will be send back home soon. I recommend you dont try to talk about this to others. Nothing good will come from it" These were going to be his last words for you when he turned back.

"W-wait, player 001, In-ho...is he"

"Player 001 has been eliminated" Were his final words, he did not turn when he hear your cry, knowing he would not resist going back and comfort you.

No, instead he went away. Blocking your cries. Outside a guard stood still waiting for orders.

"Check on her, make sure she does not hurt herself and that she eats her food tonight. All of it"

A bittersweet goodbye

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: An epilogue will be out !! 💜

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Tags:

@maria-trisha @blueyesuguru @imenekiki @victorie767 @futuristicdefendorfart @heyitsmefall

@love-you-louise @fantasylovestoryme @sleepyycatt @nightdark-dreamdark @lindsay00000 @ourlovesarang @smally97 @zigmasstuff @aleemendoz @the-disaster-in-waiting

@ilovequeen978 @sc4rrc @sylviavf @l4venderia @blueeclipsepaperstudent @annasnape7 @llawlietluv @florgenegrastuff @luv1ze @jspidey5

@moonoteru @saaraahnger @hope4rain19 @soniiyi @angelmoneter @skywalker0809 @ashsallyblue2 @realrintaro @bellstwd @tojisrealwifey @otterluver05 @yuan1819 @spanish-delulu-23 @lisaannwalterlover @yodayyy @tenzko @tinylawyerbluebird @istanstraykidss

I could not tag some of you 😔

#squid game x y/n #squid game imagine #squid game imagines #squid game x reader #in ho x reader

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mellowmusings · 2 days ago

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Blessed mistakes | Prologue Azriel x Reader

part 1

A/N- This is just a drabble for now and its been sitting in my drafts for a while so i decided to post it. Not sure if i'm gonna continue on this though.

summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

This was miserable, He was miserable.

The stale tavern air reeked of unwashed bodies, alcohol and bile. Men and women sang bawdy songs in offtune tones drowning out the music, in a corner a brawl went on, men punching one another over a rigged game of poker, women flirted with him, and none took to his liking.

How the mighty had fallen, he mused. He gulped down his whiskey, the burn in his throat grounding him. A few centuries ago he would have been drinking himself to his limit with his brothers and bedding whatever pretty female came his way, but that wasn't the case anymore. Somewhere along the path he'd fallen in love and started caring for females who could never love him the way he loved them. Now his heart was a stupid, broken mess of emotions and feelings he didn't like, and so he spent his days working himself trying to forget his feelings, now he spent his nights training because even sleep had abandoned hom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy, genuinely happy and felt Loved

*2 centuries ago*

The cool summer breeze ruffled his hair, the birds sang in the background, almost harmonizing with one another. He could make out the call of the Mockingjay, A cuckoo bird, and maybe a peacock too. He sat besides y/n, his who was like a younger sister to him. She'd practically grown up with him, Cass and Rhys since they were teenagers. "Hey Az, can i ask you something?" She carefully unfolded the petals of a half bloomed daffodil. "Sure what is it?" "If you had to choose between Mor, your mate and me who would you choose, to love I mean." She asked, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice. Her question caught Azriel off-guard, he loved her but not in a romantic manner, he loved his mate more, no matter who she was, after all, she was his other half. Mor on the other hand was everything he yearned for, she was simply...perfect. He admired and respected her a lot, but more than that he loved her a lot. He thought for a moment before responding "It's tricky, on one hand, there's Mor and on the other, there's my mate. I'd say, my mate" He said carefully, not sure where this was going. Y/n's face fell just the slightest, if he didn't know her well, he wouldn't have noticed, but he did. "What's the matter, princess?" He asked softly, "What about me?" y/n asked softly He huffed out a laugh before responding, "I love you a lot, I really do princess, but you're like a younger sister to me, plus my mate always comes first." "right, of course they do." she said dejectedly, swinging her legs back and forth holding back tears. "Whats the matter princess?" 'The thing is Az you could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt, gods why can't you see it? I love you, and I love you more than you could ever imagine.'

She didn't say those words but gods did she want to, she wanted to tell Az how stupid he was for giving his heart to some females who were just gonna stomp on it and leave but she didn't because Azriel loved Mor and some mate he didn't know more than he loved her. She was always going to be a friend to him, nothing more, nothing less. So she continued swinging her legs and lied to his face with a simple 'I'm fine, I swear'. He didn't believe her, they both knew each other well enough to know that much, still he didn't pry any further. So they sat in silence, and stared at the setting sun while the world around them went quite, she averted her gaze away from Azriel as tears fell and landed on the broken yellow petals. if y'all wanna be tagged, just let me know :) @starlightazriel @scorpioriesling @velarisdusk @siriuslystyle1989

#acotar series #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfics #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel #sjm books #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel fic #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #fanfiction

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delulustateofmind · 2 days ago

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"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

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