#this was such a wonderful thing to wake up to!!!

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 9 - Smackdown

Warnings: Physical abuse

You wake up to a painfully bright light. Opening your eyes you notice you're in a hospital.

So, like any poor person who can't afford a trip to the hospital, you panic. You sit up straight and try to ignore the slightly discomfort in your body. A hand rests itself on your shoulder and you jump slightly, your spider sense were muddled up currently due to the cafe incident.

When you turn to see who placed the hand on your shoulder you almost scream.

Duke Thomas. Duke fucking Thomas.

This is officially the worst day of your life. How could it not be?

Duke seems to be saying something but you can't find the motivation to listen, he looks worried. People could say Duke was the kindest, most normal person in the Wayne family but you could see right through him.

Something was wrong with him. He's dangerous. He has to be, why else would your senses go into hyperdrive whenever he's around. Sure, he's the most tolerable out of them all but that doesn't make him instantly better.

-

Duke stops talking once he notices your dazed look. You look scared.

He furrows his brows and removes the hand from your shoulder, he slowly grabs your hand - so gentle he may as well think it was cracked glass.

"Y/N..?" He mutters, cursing himself silently due to how awkward it sounded coming out of his mouth. Your name was rarely uttered in the family, all talks being through messages and when talking in real life it was always 'that girl' or 'Aranea's hater'.

Never Y/N.

Duke had mixed feelings about you. He doesn't know what to think.

If only you'd just speak with Aranea, things would be so much easier. You wouldn't be so tormented. That look in your eyes - apprehension, fear, and something else he can't decipher - makes him pity you, you have opinions, they just happen to be the wrong ones.

Before Duke can speak up once more to try and snap you out of your dazed state the hospital door slams open.

Both your heads whip to the door a disheveled looking Dick Grayson is leaning against, heaving for breath.

It certainly snapped you out of it. Great. Just your luck. What is he even doing here? Gonna dump more water on you? Ruin more of your belongings? Rub in the fact you ended up in hospital?

To your surprise - and, honestly, horror - Dick rushes to your side and looks you over...

As if afraid of losing you..? What? Are you hallucinating?

You manage to hear his mutterings, his breathless whispers. It immediately enrages you.

"Thank fuck you aren't dead... I would feel so guilty.."

He would feel guilty? Him?

What about you. Not everything revolves around him.

You're the one that was 'pranked'.

You're the one that had the allergic reaction.

You're the one who now has to deal with her parent's wrath once they see the hospital bill.

With all the strength you have you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. None of them reach out to try and stable you when you stumble slightly.

You take a deep breath before glaring at Dick, you hope your hatred can override your exhaustion so you can actually look threatening.

"What are you doing here." You ask, though it wasn't phrased as a question - moreso a demand. You watch as Dick fiddles with something behind his back before sighing and handing it to you.

"I.. I wanted to apologize for the stunt I pulled. It was shitty of me to do. I bought you a new phone to make up for it though!"

You can do nothing but stare down at the phone in it's box. It was one of the expensive ones your parents always talk about wanting. You know for sure that if you arrived home they'd snatch it from you and hand one of their beat up phones in exchange.

So generous.

"Thanks, Dick..."

What else was there to do but sigh and thank him? He seems proud at your gratitude before turning and heading for the door. He stops before leaving and looks over his shoulder.

"No wonder you're a shitty person, you're room is super shitty." With a chuckle he then, finally, leaves. You hunch over in agitation. You are so done with the Wayne family - and you still need to deal with Duke.

Speaking of, his voice finally reaches your ears.

"Y/N..? Sorry for Dick's comments. That was super underhanded." You side eye him while he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly - what is he? an anime protagonist?

"And, uh, about the whole hospital thing, I can pay if need be!" He looks like he's ready to argue with you about it, as if you were going to reject his offer.

And at first you were, before you realized being indebted to the Waynes is infinitely better than being beaten so hard you see Bruce's parent's stupid faces by your dad.

"Okay." Is all you say, shooting him a thumbs up before looking to see if you had your bag - nope! You just gotta hope Sherri or Tia have it.

Duke looks flabbergasted for a minute before composing himself. "R-Right, yeah, sorry, I expected more.. Fight?" You watch as he visibly cringes and you can't help but deadpan.

You're from an impoverish family, one that wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. You are NOT risking anything.

"Hm. Well, you offered. I'm not going to decline such a wonderful and generous offer!" You try to hide your sneer but it seeps through your words no matter how hard you try.

With that you walk out of the room and to the receptionist at the front of the hospital. You explain how Duke is paying and leave.

The only good thing in Gotham is that the Hospitals are so out of line you could claim Bruce Wayne is paying and they'd just put him down.

Obviously no one is bold enough to do so in fear of Bruce noticing.

Walking home seemed quicker than normal, maybe you were just too eager to go home and collapse on your bed.

You quietly open the door to the apartment, it was already getting dark so you had to be careful.

But, once more, this is most definitely not your day.

Both your parents are up, you can hear your mom muttering to your dad about having a visitor. You walk into the kitchen, hungry, tired, and so done with everything you don't care if your parents hurt you.

Your mother shoots a glare to you while your father busies himself with his food - eating like a greedy pig.

"Where have you been?! We had a HIGHLY important guest here for you and you never arrived!" Her shrill voice grates on your ears and you turn to the pantry, hoping there would be something to eat.

"I was busy... School work and stuff.." You mutter, if you told your mom about the hospital visit she'd lose her head and you'd be on the streets in the blink of an eye.

That would mean your begging with Tim would be for nothing - you'd look like a fool for nothing.

"Stop muttering, child! That's not excusable! Now- What's that..?" You're mother cuts herself off once her eyes catch onto the new and expensive-looking box in your hand.

You hesitate before holding it out, she would've taken it from you anyway, best not to put up a fight.

"... Mr Grayson got me a new phone after accidentally breaking mine" You speak up, louder than before. You mom hated when you spoke under your breath, made her feel like she is the only one who can speak in the house.

She yanks it out of your hands and looks over it, your dad also seems to draw his attention to it. His eyes narrowing as he takes in the fancy thing in your mother's hands.

Your mother turns it around in her hands "Hm... You know, you don't need such a nice phone... You're only in high school. I'll take this and you can have my one!" She grins cockily.

Your dad slams his hands on the table and glares at you and your mom.

"Where is my one" he signs angrily. You gulp, you're in serious danger now..

"I.. Dick didn't get a second.. The phone was meant for me is all!" Your words falling out of your mouth like vomit.

To say your dad isn't happy would be an understatement. Your mom, noticing his demeanor, hums and says something about taking a shower as she leaves the kitchen.

Your dad stands up, fists clenched, he walks around the bench and stalks up to you. You take a step back, you can see your hands shaking in front of you as you brace for impact.

One punch across your jaw, a kick to the knee, a pull to your hair that brings you to the floor with a cry.

if it was a criminal and you were Aranea you would fight back, defend yourself. But, this is your dad, you can't bring yourself to fight back - you hate him, god you hate him.

A kick directs itself into your stomach, then your lips, then back down to your ribcage. You swear your gums are bleeding, you feel blood drip from your busted lip.

You do what you usually do when confronted with this situation.

You zone out, pretend you're in a better world, a better life.

Eventually you go unconscious, unaware of when or how. When you wake up you're on the kitchen floor and the morning light casts in your eyes like a lamp that's too bright.

You groan and sit up, blood on your tongue, your clothes, and your skin. You'll need to have a quick shower because school starts in an hour.

~

Taglist

@rissareader @delias-stuff @hogwarts9 @marsmabe @randomlyappearingartist @coralaura @nervousalpacalady @citrushalo @chericia @soriansick @v0idl1nq @scrumdidiliyumyum @kittykatcreatster @feral-childs-word @anon34570 @shycreatorreview @sunny-sp3lls @fluffypackofships @cynniee @yuyuzi-ling @coffeeaddictxd @starryperson @readermommy @niggrrooo @bunbunboysworld @yanrandom @fluffypackofchips @vanilliona @wizzerreblogs

[urstruly-ghst]

the 1 - the second years !

in which you return home with one last message: it would've been you.

author's note: love when we get to go home! but the cost?

cw: swearing

riddle rosehearts

how dare you?— that was riddle's first thought when you came to his dorm, ecstatic with the prospect of coming home. however, he knew that was selfish— his rose was finally getting their wish come true! what more can he ask?

yet, as he reaches out to your arm before you are whisked away, he only had one question: was he the one? the one you wish to have lived a humble life with? the one who would've been by your side for how long time will permit?

you smiled sadly, because, as much as you are ecstatic, you are gutted at the prospect of leaving him. he was one of your favorite— scratch that, he was your favorite part of twisted wonderland. he was your destined soulmate. how cruel was it for you to figure that out when you don't belong in his world.

"riddle, if i could just easily go back on forth... i would, because you are it, riddle. you're my..." you choked up and looked down at your interlocked hands,

"you're the one." riddle choked

ruggie bucchi

why was he here? ruggie asked as you snuck him out for something. he noticed you seem happier yet withdrawn. he reached out and when you spat you're going home? he froze and nearly wanted to leave you.

ruggie didn't need someone else to abandon him, not after all the shit he put through to make things work out. he's pissed, understandably so, but he also can't help but feel defeated. this "talk" could've been his time at work, he reasoned, but here he was— shattered at the prospect.

his first question was, why? he never had someone genuinely care for him that doesn't benefit them besides his family. so when you and him make it past that enormous mountain of doubt, it was a big deal. now here you are, leaving him for what? as he looked at you, he can't help but feel angry and worst of all, sad. because he usually finds ways, but here, he's defenseless once more.

"leave then." ruggie said as he tried to hide his flattened ears and teary eyes. you reach out to him and whispered your dreams of spending your last days with him.

"i would've loved nothing more than to grow old with you, stressing over bills and making ends meet... and maybe you'll find someone else, someone sweeter and..." you caress his face and smile. "and someone who'll be with you till they get to see you succeed."

azul ashengrotto

its unfair. azul would say, you were supposed to be with him until... then again, was there ever a contract? he prides himself that no one gets away from his grasp, yet here he is, losing the most important person he dreamed to have stayed.

azul dreamed of any outcome, just not this. he laughed, foolish enough to think you would've stayed forever. as you both huddle in your private space in the vip room, he can't help but want to make a deal with you, some deal to make you stay. why not delay for a year? a decade? but as he stared at your longing eyes, he knew he had to let you go.

but he can't help but wonder. you saw how azul accepted that the leech twins will leave him the moment the time comes, it took some time... but he surrendered to that fact long ago. azul blames himself for not doing the same with your departure. he should've kept some piece of himself behind, but how foolish is he to give you his whole heart.

"perhaps we can... my dear.. please" azul hiccuped as he hugged you and unable to find it in his mind to make you stay.

"azul..." you coo, "if i had a say in this, i would've... i would've loved to live this life with you. i would've loved to see you grow your empire and well... i would've been there in every waking moment to see you become the man you dream to be." you smile and kiss his head

"and if anything, i can see you becoming that amazing man." as you shakily kissed him, "you're the one i wish i can spend my whole life with"

jade leech

if you thought he'd not fight with you, you're dead wrong. you're welcome to sit there and think he'd grovel, but he's executing every means to delay you. but once he realizes he cannot keep you any longer, he just sits there in shock.

why? why aren't you going to fight against this? wasn't he a dream of yours? was he not worth the fight? he conjured up so many questions and unabashedly used some of his unique spell so you can speak your truth, and it hurt when you answer in full honesty.

can't he just whisk you away? why aren't you... you both sit together in pain and longing. so many times has jade gotten his way this was one of the first... it hurts. he stayed there holding you close, foolishy listening to your heartbeat.

"jade...?" you whispered, "i love you" he nodded with tears in his eyes. he whispered his reply and he glared at the fact you were honest. he wishes you lied, to make him feel angry... but..

"if i could lie to you, i would've. but jade, i meant it. you're the one. i wish i could say you weren't. it would've been easier but... hey, when did i ever choose easy?"

floyd leech

he squeezed you. he didn't want you to leave. it was not fair. floyd wasn't the type to let go and accept things so easily. you were his, the moment he saw you, but why don't you fucking act like it?

you hiccuped as you were taken into his arms, he was convinced you wouldn't be taken away. floyd opened up to you, he told you things not even his twin would know. who else would be his shrimpy? who else would make things count now.

as he hiccuped and held you tightly, you gave him the dreams you wish to have shared with him. and while floyd doubts he'll get your dreams with how he might avoid it, any connection of you, you smile and just believed him.

"i was wrong about you. you proved to me how fun it was to be loved and love crazy. so floyd, prove me wrong again, and prove to me i wasn't the one for you. but, if i can be selfish, i want you to know you can never..." you gasp for air as you regret saying it, "you can never disprove how you're the one for me."

kalim al asim

he was used to losses, kalim can just find new things. but not with you. never with you. irreplaceable was the only word for you, there could only be one you. kalim wasn't prepared to lose you too.

kalim promises he'll be good, he'll go the extra mile, he begs at your feet. you couldn't leave, no. only you could've broken him down to pieces. your sunshine was what he was missing and what he yearns for every waking moment. humor him, stay.

"i could be more... or i could also!" kalim has begged and traded anything he can for the nth time. you shake your head, giving him the biggest smile you can.

"i don't need anything from you." you say as you told him everything he needed to hear, from you, "because you've given me the world, im sorry if i couldn't have given you half of what you gave me. kalim, find someone that your heart desires, screw what your baba thinks. you deserve the world. you're my greatest treasure, so you deserve at the very least the world with love"

jamil viper

jamil reasoned he should've known better. good things end up gone when it came to him. he wondered if this was some cruel prank you did, to make him face reality. but you weren't.

you sat there with a big sad smile and told him why you're leaving. it wasn't because of x or y, it was just you wanted home. jamil should've known that, but he didn't believe it. why didn't he?

jamil curses himself, he prides on knowing what to do next but he's here dumbfounded and once again one upped by you. yet, as you both accept you'll leave, jamil whispers lowly how he wishes he can be free to choose to run with you

"as stupid as it sounds, i want to run off with you" you laugh and smile. jamil looked away and just shrugged, but you looked down and talked lowly

"i wish i can say "be stupid". but hey, don't. you're too good to run away now. jamil, you're amazing. if only i could see what you'll be in the future, i would be cheering on how you were not stupid." you both laugh as you shared one last night together

"and when time passes, just know, jamil, you were the one i know will rise above everyone else."

"and you would be the one responsible as to why i didn't fail" jamil responded

silver

in dreams, silver had visions of you and him sharing a life. you both were delusional to believe the dreams, when the vision was hazy at best. but, two hearts can dream, right?

silver was shattered when you told him that you'll leave. he wondered if he still had the right to dream about you and him. you reached out to him and told him the honest truth, no. he can't dream about you anymore, not when you were never to be seen again

but, unknown to you, the last night you had with him, he dreamt of you two once more. intertwining your last dream together. let silver be selfish, for these dreams are what his heart kept desiring for.

"what did i tell you." you smile as you are welcomed into the dream both of you built together. a small cottage in a far off land, no pain or suffering touches these walls.

"dear, let me be selfish." silver pouts. and you relent, feeling the bitter pain seep in as you realized this dream shall remain only that: a dream.

"how cruel it is, my happy ending won't be with you" silver muses as you held each other, "seven knows i want it to be with you"

"oh trust me, you'll still have your happy ending. much like how i will still get mine. but if wishes and dreams came true? it would've been you, silver"

[mysticballoonbouquet]

🍼 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who have to take a lot of medication to be able to function day to day

🦄 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who have a hard time regulating their emotions

🍼 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who deal with an ever present feeling of loneliness, even when they’re surrounded by people, even family or friends

🦄 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who get scared and startled easily (and may or may not get teased for it)

🍼 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who may need a little more attention than others

🦄 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who wake up with a tummy ache from anxiety

🍼 shoutout to all the age regressors and age dreamers who need to have their hand held through tasks (literally or figuratively)

🦄 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who feel like the bad times will never end

🍼 shoutout to the age regressors and age dreamers who need to hear this -

you’re perfect just the way you are. just because things are more difficult for you (and me! see, you’re not alone) and so many others doesn’t make us any less wonderful and beautiful. life still has amazing things in store for us; everything will work out okay 💖

[nick-writes-stuff]

One-sided Reunion

In-ho/Young-il x gn!reader

Summary: You had been friends with In-ho since you were kids. In the games, there is a man who reminds you of the ghost from your past. In-ho couldn't help but ask you about him, and after the conversation goes poorly, he realizes how dire your situation is.

! warnings: discussing canon-typical violence

a/n: it's finally here! this was so fun to write, and i'm so excited to start writing more for squid game characters. there may be a part two to this one, so keep an eye out if you're interested.

In-ho expected a lot of things when he decided he would go undercover as a player in the newest set of games. He expected Player 456 to try to help the others beat the game with his past experiences. He expected to witness the plans to overthrow the gamemakers in action. He expected the usual danger and chaos and violence. He'd seen his fair share of games before.

He had never expected to see you. He must have skipped over your file during the recruitment process.

This was a pleasant surprise, of course. He always knew that leaving you behind was one of the hardest things he had to do when he left. Sure, leaving his family was another regret as well, but they had definitely become fed up with his behavior before he left for the games. And now, with what happened with Jun-ho, he grew to accept the fact that that bridge had been burned.

He didn't even know how you would have ended up in a place like this anyway. You were never the type to gamble, get caught up in illegal activity, or associate with loan sharks and the like. He figured you must have been there either to help someone or because someone dragged you down with them. He later found this out to be the case, as your father had been having money troubles and used you to try to dig himself out of the hole he made. In-ho had never liked your father.

The first time he saw you, his gaze lingered for a moment to try to make sure it was really you. Luckily, you hadn't noticed him staring, and he averted his gaze to avoid your suspicion. During the preparation process, he did catch you staring at him, however. He pretended not to notice. He didn't change too much appearance-wise since you last saw him, but the years apart were enough to cloud your memory for him to go unnoticed. His demeanor had definitely changed since you saw him as well. He was hardly the same man you knew.

You had definitely changed as well. You were still undeniably you, but there was a bit of that infectious spark gone from you. Your eyes were no like bright and expressive, likely from the struggles you face outside. He wondered how much of those struggles were caused by him. The two of you were very close growing up, and while the bond with his wife and his brother had been stronger, both of those bonds have been permanently severed. Your bond with him may also be severed by this point. He wouldn't know.

When you first started hanging around Gi-hun's group, he realized how much he has really missed you. Your humor, your wit, your compassion. You both worked amazingly together, and it felt like old times. He watched over you in the games as much as he could without suspicion.

After Mingle, Gi-hun had suggested that they start maintaining a look-out schedule to ensure the X's safety during the night. He seemed to anticipate another fight like the one that occurred during his first game. He was entirely correct in this assumption, as the Special Game was scheduled to start the next day after dinner. Dae-ho and himself were given first watch, but the ex-marine tapped out rather quickly. He left to go wake up someone else to continue.

When he heard footsteps, he turned to look but he couldn't make out anything except the red X patch on the jacket.

"Mind if I sit?" He heard your voice.

He shook his head. "No, it's fine."

You sat next to him with a soft yawn. While he and Dae-ho had been sitting in near silence, the two of you couldn't resist quietly chatting. About the games, about the voting situation, about the other players. Once you exhausted those topics, the conversation moved to things more personal.

"You know, you remind me of someone I knew outside of here." You said softly, looking over to the man beside you. You could hardly read the expression on his face in the dark, but you think he raised an eyebrow.

He was conflicted. On one hand he wanted to know how you felt about him—the real him—after he had left, but he didn't know how he would feel about your answer. What if you hated him? He knew how his mother and brother likely felt, and with his wife passing, you were really his only other connection to his life before the games.

Ultimately, he gave into the gnawing curiosity and decided to play along. "Oh really?".

You nodded. "Yeah, you look a lot like him." You started, pausing for a moment as you thought. "Or at least what I remember him looking like."

He acted puzzled by your phrasing, but he knew where this was going. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

Your expression darkened, looking away from the man inside you. "I haven't seen him in a long time. It's been almost 4 years since he..." You trailed off, not knowing how to put the situation into words.

Young-Il frowned slightly. "Oh... I'm sorry. How did he pass?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No, he isn't dead. At least I don't think he is." You said before sighing. Your gaze lowered to your lap as you began fidgeting with your fingers

"He was a friend of mine since we were kids. I lived a few minutes away from where he and his brother lived. I remember he would always walk me home to my house and then turn around and go to his house. His mom was always annoyed with him because of it but he never stopped." You recalled, chuckling softly.

He forced his expression to remain the same even though he wanted to smile as he, too, recalled this pleasant memory. "He sounds like he is a great man." He said.

"Oh, he's the best." You said with a smile. "He had always been the kind of person that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He even donated his kidney to his younger brother when he had gotten sick."

He had two internal reactions to your description of him. Part of him was beaming with pride as you described him, glad you still thought of him highly after so many years. But there was also a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach as he wondered how you would react if you knew what he had actually been doing in the past few years.

He pressed further, indulging his curiosity about what you thought of him after everything that had happened. "What happened to him?" He asked, pausing before continuing, "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

You shook your head, murmuring a soft. "No, it's fine." before beginning: "Life gave him a bad deal. His wife had gotten sick, and they were struggling to pay for her treatments. He got fired from him job as a police officer. His brother told me he accepted a bribe, but I can't imagine him doing that."

He nodded slightly, making sure his expressions didn't raise any suspicion.

"His wife passed away in the hospital shortly after, and he kind of just disappeared. Packed some stuff and wasn't heard from again." You finished your thought. You took a deep breath to try to keep your composure.

He frowned. "That's awful." He said, shaking his head. Part of him felt awful for prompting you to talk about this when it clearly upset you, but another part selfishly wanted to know what you and his family thought of him now. He felt like a ghost haunting his own funeral, getting to find out what others thought of him when he shouldn't have been able to hear it. "Did anyone ever figure out what happened to him?"

You shook your head. "No. His brother tried to push for an investigation, but the leads ran dry. I know his family is still hoping that he's out there somewhere, but at least his brother is starting to lose that hope." You said.

"What do you think happened?"

The second he asked it, he wished he could take it back. You looked over at him in shock at his eagerness to know.

He felt his heart in his throat as he bowed his head slightly began to speak. "That was out of line, I apologize. I was wondering-"

"No it's fine I just..." You cut him off before pausing. "I just haven't tried to give it too much thought. Sounds too macabre."

Young-il nodded, understanding your hesitation. "That makes sense. I couldn't imagine that being an easy task."

In-ho, however, was somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. He struggled to believe that you hadn't given his disappearance thought until now.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. The pause was much more awkward than he would have preferred. He thought about excusing himself to get out of the conversation, but you began to speak before he could suggest the idea.

"Honestly, it doesn't really matter what happened to him." You said softly.

His expression quickly turned into an almost confused disgust. What do you mean you don't care what happened to him? He was clearly taken aback by your comment.

You also gave him a puzzled look. He quickly remembered that he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to your statement. It definitely seemed strange for someone you had just met to react that way to a situation that didn't involve him.

Luckily, instead of questioning him, you rephrased your statement. "I mean that in the sense that no matter what happened, I just hope he's happy. I don't need an answer about his whereabouts specifically, but I just want to know if he's okay." You said, taking a deep breath to try to maintain your composure.

"How are you content with sitting by and not searching for him? If I were in your shoes, I would find him over anything." Young-il asked, trying to sound as empathetic as possible. Hopefully, you take his statement as him asking for advice rather than an attack on your character.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Your eyes narrowed as your gaze turned to a glare. You definitely didn't take that as a request for advice.

"Excuse me?" You asked, your voice louder than before but not loud enough to cause a commotion during lights out.

He tried to salvage the situation. "That came out the wrong way. What I meant was-"

"I really don't care what you meant. I just don't appreciate you accusing me of not caring about my best friend."

"That was not my intention. I was just..." He trailed off. Wait. Your best friend? You still considered him your best friend even after all these years.

He didn't have a lot of time to ponder your statement as you continued.

"I love him, okay? I've known him since I was seven years old. I would do anything to find him. You have no idea how desperately I searched for him, even longer than the police and his brother."

He couldn't do anything but sit there and take it all in. The whole situation was somewhat poetic. He was both the object of your fury and your admiration. You spat words at him about how much you cared about him.

You paused for a moment to sniffle softly and wipe the tears running down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. Your voice was quieter and your words were chosen more deliberately, but he could tell you were just as angry as before.

"My acceptance of his disappearance is not because I don't care about him. If he is out there living somewhere else without me in his life, that's fine as long as he's happy. I've only accepted the fact that maybe I wasn't enough for him, okay? Good enough of an answer for you?"

Despite all of the thoughts running through his head, he couldn't manage to say anything in response to you. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a moment of waiting, you scoffed and stood up. You headed back toward your bed, intending to wake up Gi-Hun for him to continue watch with Young-il.

In-ho knew he shouldn't have pried any further. How did he think you would be okay with him asking such questions? To you, he was a stranger, so he shouldn't have been so invested in your answers, but he couldn't resist. He really didn't have anything to lose at this point. This time tomorrow, he would be back in his position of the Front Man, and you could very well die in the games.

That realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

You could die in the games.

And he would have to watch it happen.

He felt a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach, finally beginning to comprehend the severity of the situation you both were in. He wasn't sure why it hadn't hit him earlier. Maybe while he was still a player, he thought he would be able to better protect you. But whenever he steps back into his role, he was going to be powerless to save you.

Ironic, considering he was one of, if not the most, influential man in the games.

Wait. He wasn't powerless at all. Quite the opposite, actually. It wouldn't be easy, but he could pull some strings to help increase the odds of your survival. He could do it tactfully in hopes that the staff wouldn't pick up on his intentions. But even if they did, it was highly unlikely any of them would have the gumption to confront him about it.

Even so, it seems like the players may choose to terminate the games after the tied vote anyway. If he played his cards right, he could orchestrate a way for you to come across him in the outside world.

But there was a glaring problem with this plan. If he ever met you in person again, you would likely realize that he was Young-il even if he introduced himself as In-ho. During the games, your constant adrenaline and overall fatigue would cloud your perception for now, but in the outside world, you likely would be able to see through the man's dual identities. Assuming you made it through the games. He had faith that you are capable of doing so, but this group of players is highly chaotic.

If you ever did find out about his position in the games, would you ever be able to forgive him for causing you and countless others so much pain and suffering? Thousands of players have died in the games, and some would argue that, therefore, they died by his hands. Even more than that, their families have to deal with the sudden disappearance of their loved ones. People outside the games would never understand that the positives outweigh the suffering tenfold.

There was one glimmer of hope left for him to ponder. You did say that you would do anything to have him back in your life.

Maybe anything could include setting aside your morals and accepting that the games do have merit to them. All he's doing is trying to better the world. No matter how unpleasant the means.

He made up his mind. He'd do whatever he could to get you out of there. He wouldn't make you win, of course. That would be too far and a clear violation of the rules. It was also wholly unnecessary for his reasoning.

However, getting you out unharmed is doable. That's something they've all done before after Il-nam wanted to become a player. And it was even happening with himself to a lesser extent. There's nothing that could stop him from pulling you out one way or another.

There were a lot of problems that may occur. Would you realize he was himself and not just Young-il? Would you even give him the time of day once learning his role in all of this? Could you even forgive him for leaving in the first place?

No matter. You were really his last shot at having any aspect of his past life back. He has no job to return to. His wife is gone. And he ruined any chance of reuniting with his brother when he put the bullet in his chest. You were it for him.

[its-a-me-mango]

THANK YOU ALL FOR AN AMAZING YEAR! HERE'S TO MANY MORE!

Alllright, final thing to close off today, and what better than with a great big THANK YOU to everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! Regardless of if you’ve been around since I first joined or if you only just followed me today, thank you so much for your support of me and my work. Knowing there are so many fantastic and wonderful individuals who all enjoy what I make is just indescribable, I get to wake up and enjoy creating things I love for the series I love so dearly all while so many amazing people enjoy what I make too. I really can’t put into words how thankful I am for everyone who follows me but genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you all for an amazing year and here’s hoping for many more to come!

Now, I do have a few special dedications to a few certain individuals, if I didn’t get the chance to include you PLEASE don’t think that I don’t value you in any way! There were so many cool and talented people that I wanted to thank but I simply didn’t have time to do so! You are all so important to me and it does kill me a little that I can’t thank everyone, but I am just one guy at the end of the day so again please don’t take it personally, I am still so thankful for everyone and I want you to know this. <3

ANYWAY LONG ASS BLOCK OF TEXT UNDER THE READ MORE

So, in no order in particular

@lizaluvsthis @shygirl4991 @b-r-i-n-g-x - I’m putting you all together as one because I always see you guys working as a group so it feels wrong to split you guys up lol. You were all some of the first people I ever saw in the SMG4 fandom and your contributions inspired me so much to make my own stuff too! Everything you guys make always has so much heart and soul put into it, Brewing Romance, Split into 3’s, Gay Ogres, they’re all some of the first projects I remember seeing and for that I wanna thank you guys for motivating me to make and create my own things within this fandom! Even if you guys aren’t as active now or have moved on from those projects, I still hold them dear to me so keep making and creating because you guys are all so amazing at it! <3

@mothsbakery - Moth my beloved friend, I don’t know where to start, when I first got into SMG4, I was so worried about sharing it with my friends because I was worried it would somehow get turned against me in some way (blame that damn trauma lol), so having you take a passing interest in it was such a major relief to me. I’m so glad I’ve been able to sit down with you and watch the few episodes that we have because they’ve been so much fun! I’m so glad that we’re friends even after all these years. I know I’m not always the best at keeping in touch but I do genuinely appreciate your friendship and all that we’ve done together. Please keep making and creating and enjoying what you love, seeing you come to my DM’s with your newest musical piece is always such a joy to listen to and it’s been so wonderful to watch you improve over the years! Keep being amazing Moth, I’ll chat to you soon I promise! <3

@strange0-0storm - STOOOORM!!! (POINTING AT YOU POINTING AT YOU) FREAK!!!!/J I’m kidding lol, Storm I am so glad I’ve gotten the chance to talk with you, even if it's brief, you are so fun to talk to that I can’t wait to get the chance to chat with you again about OC’s or just anything really! Your work is always so yummy, whether it's SMG4, Gravity Falls, Popee The Performer, and more, your art is always just so full of character and it just makes me wanna keep doing what I’m doing and it helps me not worry about branching out at some point to something else. No matter what I will always come back to your work because it's so amazing and it’s even better knowing it’s made but such an equally amazing person, stay awesome Storm! (also RhythmDoctor 4 life they should kiss and make out more JHBBSGHBSGH) <3

@bluesbox - Blue! Dude you are so freaking cool I cannot put it into words, not only is your work fantastic and such a joy to interact with, but you’re also so dedicated to characters lore and interactions that I can’t help but wanna be just like that! I’ll never forget when you first dropped the TSB lore presentation that shit was SO WILD, knowing there's someone who's so invested in other peoples OC’s (including my own!) to such an extent is honestly so amazing, and it really pushes me to invest more time into my own work! Knowing there’s someone out there who genuinely takes so much interest in it is so uplifting, so thank you for always wanting to know more about what I make as well as everyone else, we need more amazing people like you Blue, keep being you! (also PS, the way you give Mango glasses is probably my favourite thing someone has given him, it makes me so happy to see every time, don’t tell anyone shhhhh) <3

@libbytwq - LIBBY, LIBBY OMG I don’t think I’ve ever met another SMG4 fan who just gets the same sense of humor as me so well, I love being terminally on Tumblr and having someone else who is also terminally on Tumblr, it’s so refreshing lmao! Lore not only are you an amazing person to talk to, you are also so insanely talented to match, all of your work has so much charm and passion put into it that I can just sense it with every piece, I always want to know more with your characters like I NEED the full SMGL:E lore or else I will explode and die, that’s how good you are at getting people invested in your work! You’re so great at creating interesting and engaging characters/stories that it motivates me so much with my own work. You have so much love for what you do it’s so wonderful to see, please keep creating forever and always because your work is such an absolute joy to see. I love getting the chance to chat with you so much and I can’t wait to chat with you again, thank you for being such an amazing friend Libby! <3

@hamlos - Hamlos, your work is truly incredible. I really can’t express it enough, it’s so dynamic and flexible in such a beautiful way, everything you make is just so amazing and that's just talking about your art itself, the characters you have are so interesting I always want to know more about them, especially Cardiac I seriously love him so much and having him paired with Mango is so wonderful, they really go together so well! I’ve never had anyone go so crazy (positive) over my characters before and It’s so amazing to see, every time you come to me with your amazing work it’s always such a nice thing to see! I know I am not always the best at responding but I do always see and read everything you send me and it always leaves me with a big smile on my face. Even if you’re not super into SMG4 right now, thank you for all that you’ve done and all that you’ve made for me, HeartBeet will always have a special place in my heart and I hope it does for you too, they are gay after all lol. <3

@neo91502 @hexsie @aquaproductions - Grouping you all together even though you all couldn’t be more unique and individual, every single one of you is so special and amazing to talk to, I legit get so excited any time one of you joins a VC with me because all of you are so fun to hang out with for so many reasons! Neo omg you are honestly such a nice person to chat to and be around, you’re always so fun to hang out with and you’ve convinced me to sit down one day and listen to Epic the Musical because every time you go crazy over the word Epic, I can’t help but find it so cute lol. Nova your obsession with Hex3 is so sweet and I’m genuinely glad you’re having so much fun with it, seeing you go on rambling about your OC’s will always be such a joy to see and you know what yes one day I will draw Hex3 just for you, gimme a second though (dies first /j). And Aqua, I had no idea how much of a sweetheart you were to talk to, you are honestly so cool and I’m so glad to have you in my DM’s sending me amazing fanart that you know I’ll like, thank you so much for being so awesome and I’m giving you platonic smooches right back at ya so watch out!!! All of you are again so amazing and I can’t wait to keep chatting with all of you! <3

MY BELOVED WHO SHAN’T BE NAMED BUT I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS!!! - Hai babe, listen, I can’t believe the whole time you’ve been dating me I’ve been an SMG4 fan, that must be so embarrassing to you lol /j but thank you so much forever and always for sticking with me. You are truly the light of my life, I treasure every moment we spend together and I am waiting for the future to come so that I can spend it with you forever and always. Thank you for not only indulging in my interests with me, but for enjoying me for who I am, everytime you call me cute for getting giddy over SMG4 it honestly makes my heart flutter and it reminds me of why I love you so much, I wouldn’t be who I am without you and I hope you can say the same thing for me. I cannot wait to get the chance to see you again in person, I need to kiss you sloppy style soooooo bad it's making me bark and growl grrr grrr bARK BARK BARK anyway I love you so much and I always will. (I will forever kiss you for getting me Smug I can’t believe you got him, he’s like a fucked up and evil son to me) <3

@ominus-potato @theartistisme43 @coralalala64 - Grouping you all together even though I have different things to say about all of you, but regardless, all of you are such amazingly talented people that I’d love to get to chat with you all properly one day, even if I’ve talked with you guys a bit it’s not enough! I’d love to get to know you guys better at some point lol. Ominus your work is just so good I can’t help but feel happy anytime I see it. I promise one day we will meet at a convention, I’m so mad I missed you once I won’t let it happen again! Cantro, your work is incredible!!! Every time I see it I’m so amazed with what you’ve made that it just gets me excited to see what else you can create, I am manifesting with all my strength that if you do ever decide to apply as a SMG4 machinima artist, that you get it because god damn you deserve it! And Coral, THE CREATURE CREATOR!!! I love your lil creatures so much, and OMG you have to teach me how to do such amazing pencil work, your work always inspires me so much and I’m so glad I’ve gotten the chance to chat with you a lil, your gif collection is truly frightening but in the best way possible. Again all of you are so amazing so please keep doing what you’re best at! <3

@tiredsmashbros - Tomm, Mr Tiredsmashbros, holy shit where do I even start with you. First of all, I would probably not be thanking half the people in this piece if not for you, I know how scary setting up a server was for you but I will forever be so thankful that you did. Finally getting the chance to chat with not only you, but so many amazing people in the SMG4 fandom has been an absolute joy and I am forever thankful for you for creating such an open and accepting space, you and Radiant are seriously so awesome for all the work you’ve put into that place. It’s from your server that i’ve learnt how wonderful and generous you are as a person, I really cannot think of anyone kinder than you Tomm, the way you always have an essay planned for every piece of fanart you get, from just your overall positive attitude, I am so glad I’ve finally gotten the chance to meet you after just being a fan of your work for so long. Your work has been such an inspiration to me and you’ve always been someone I wanted to chat with and the fact that I am now is!!! Crazy!!! I can’t believe you were scared of me at one point lol. Anyway thank you Tomm for being such a fantastic friend overall, I need to know TSB’s lore right now, can you whisper it to me I promise I’ll keep it a secret, regardless stay awesome dude, you deserve nothing but joy and happiness forever and always. Qwah Tuh (also Burgerfruit beloved, they should get weirder /j) <3

@doodledev1l - Doodle!!!!! Okay I know this sounds weird but genuinely finding another British SMG4 fan has been so refreshing, not only that but you’re super fun to talk to and be around so it’s even better! Getting the chance to hang out and chat with you is always so fun, I love getting to hear what you’re working on for uni and I always hope that it goes well for you, I know how stressful it can be lol. Regardless, I know you’ll do amazing because I’ve seen how dedicated and talented you are when it comes to your work, again I hope the rest of uni goes well for you because you deserve it, we gotta end your bad luck streak somehow lol. Thank you for being such an amazing person to chat and hang out with, keep up the amazing work dude, I’ll get you a tescos meal deal one day I promise. <3

PHEW, THAT’S EVERYONE, again thank you all so much for sticking by my side for a year! Doesn’t matter what time you showed up, I will always be thankful to know all of you, keep being awesome I love you all. I die now

Mango <3

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 8

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.0k

c/w - angst, language

a/n - i am so sorry for the wait you guys, but i’m so happy to finally be putting this chap out!! i hope yall enjoy 😈

When Paige wakes up before the sun rises, she knows something is wrong.

Ever since she was a little girl, Paige has been a sleeper. While the other kids were fighting off naps, she was begging for them. While the other kids began bothering their parents during the early hours of the morning, she would be konked out until noon if her dad let her.

And then she met Azzi. Became her friend. Had their first sleepover.

And ever since that morning so long ago, when Azzi had shyly jostled her awake so they could get breakfast, Paige will not wake up early unless it’s Azzi doing the waking.

But this morning, it’s silent—eerily so. The AC is humming and there’s traffic noises from outside, but something’s missing. In Paige’s half-sleep state, it takes her a moment to realize what exactly it is: the absence of Azzi bustling around, getting ready for the day, calling room service to ask about breakfast options.

Paige cracks her eyes open, to find they feel dry. Shit, did she sleep with her contacts in?

No—she didn’t. She took them out as soon as they got back last night.

As soon as they got back. Tipsy and flirty. Paige, still too aware of the feelings brewing uncomfortably in her belly, asking if they should drink some more, just the two of them. Azzi, reaching into her pocket with a sly smile and pulling out a joint. Paige, thinking she looked so fucking beautiful, moonlit and blowing out smoke from between her lips. Azzi, confessing things, Paige, asking for more. Azzi, shy and giggly—

Paige, giving in to her urges. Letting the marijuana in her system cloud any rational thought she could have. Pressing their lips together and going lower, lower, down between Azzi’s thighs, watching in awe or wonder or reverence as she bared herself completely. Like she trusted Paige. Like Paige deserved it.

Carefully, almost as if afraid, Paige glances around the dark room. She’s on the edge of the bed, facing the window. Senses suddenly overflowing with something acutely familiar, Paige can picture the girl on the bed next to her, almost knows exactly how she’s laying without even seeing her yet.

Deep breath. Don’t get sick, Paige. Be normal.

Roll over. Onto her back, at first, to stare at the ceiling, and then, finally, onto her side.

And there she is. Lying on her back, the sheets bundled around her waist, one arm over her face while the other spreads out to Paige’s side of the bed—Azzi is breathtaking like this.

Breathtaking, and beautiful, and vulnerable. Oh-so vulnerable, while Paige lays beside her, fully clothed. No part of her bare, because she was unwilling to show herself to Azzi last night. She wonders why, now. She doesn’t really have to.

Cautiously, Paige reaches a hand out, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face almost instinctively. Azzi doesn’t stir, and it emboldens her to move her hand lower, fingers tracing delicately over her jawline, down the line of her neck, to her collarbones. It’s only when Azzi does stir that Paige pulls away, reluctantly, because she’s not sure if she’ll get to see Azzi again like this.

And it’s that thought—the thought of Azzi waking up, naked beside a clothed Paige, angry and hurt—that scares her out of bed, ambling quietly over to her suitcase and throwing on a pair of running clothes. She glances furtively at Azzi while she gets dressed, but not once does she wake up, and Paige doesn’t know whether it’s relief or bitter disappointment she feels when she leaves the room without having words with the younger girl.

Paige comes to a stop outside the hotel, Google mapping a running route, and while she’s at it her fingers move of their own accord, navigating to her messages and then to Azzi’s contact. But as she stares at the screen, she can’t find anything to say. Seeing that their last text thread was from last night, she scrolls up to read it:

azziiii where’d u go

u been in the bathroom too long

shoulda let me come w you

for real we’re abt to play a drinking game come back

i’ve been gone for like five minutes paige

the line to the bathroom was long

u guys in the living room??

yeah

bro it was definitely longer than 5 mins

not letting u out of my sight again fr 🙄

ok drama queen

just missed me that much huh?

yeah and what

missed my girl

ok p chill

i’m omw

hell yeah we’re up

The conversation ends there, and Paige distinctly remembers it, how Azzi had left to use the restroom and Paige had sat there, talking to old friends and boring strangers, not even pretending to laugh at their jokes while she waited anxiously for Azzi to come back. And how when she did, she took a mental snapshot of Azzi’s smile when they saw each other, her dimples lighting up the entire room.

The memory, unlike all the alcohol-hazy ones from last night, is vivid. Too much so. Paige shakes out her limbs, stuffs her airpods in her ears and her phone in her pocket, and runs.

She hates running. With her heart and soul, she hates it. If ever she needs to take her mind off of bad things, she goes for a run, because almost nothing could be worse than the feeling of her feet hitting pavement, her chest hurting, her side seizing.

Today, it doesn’t work. Even with music pounding through her earbuds, memories come back to her in crushing tidal waves: Azzi sat on her lap on the couch, Paige’s hands on her ass, Azzi’s lips on her neck. The two of them pressed close together when they migrated to the kitchen, Paige wrapped around her from behind, listening to Azzi talk to a few other students. She remembers how at one point some guy had approached them while they were snuggled up on the couch and asked Azzi for her snap; remembers how she’d practically snarled at the guy telling him to go the fuck away, Azzi teasing her about it afterwards and asking, What if I had been interested? but there was a satisfied smile on her face when Paige only pulled her in closer, as if she’d known exactly the reaction she’d elicit.

She remembers the way they’d held hands in the Uber, and all the way up to their hotel room.

And maybe it was inevitable, their only option, really, to end up the way they did—Azzi spread out naked on a hotel bed and Paige situated between her legs, licking her clean after she came.

Paige doesn’t know why she asked for a second time. Even in her slightly cross-faded, pussy drunk haze, Paige recognized that it might be because this is the only chance she’d get. Because fucking your best friend once is a simple mistake, something the two of them can laugh about later, even. Fucking your best friend twice is a slippery slope.

Azzi had given her another one, even though she was surely overstimulated and tired. Paige never wanted to stop tasting her, but once they were done, Azzi whimpering above her, she got this strange feeling—a need for affection, maybe even comfort? Like she not only wanted sex and fun but also some emotions attached to it, too.

Paige shakes her head, tries to survey her surroundings, tries to enjoy the view of mothers walking their babies, friends going to early trips at the mall, people commuting to work. But with each pound of her feet, something new hits her and it feels like getting smacked in the face.

As Paige crawled back up to Azzi, as they whispered sleepily to each other, Paige didn’t acknowledge the heat between her own legs, didn’t think about how the fact that she wanted affection from a hookup is somehow a larger revelation to her than the fact that she and Azzi just fucked, and she of course didn’t allow it when Azzi offered to return the favor.

She could never ask that of her. So she lulled her asleep instead, holding onto her like she’s afraid she’d disappear—and maybe she was. She wouldn’t have blamed her.

The truth is, Paige thinks that this was a long time coming. Maybe she knew it when they were fourteen and fifteen and slept on each other on the flight home from USA basketball, after a few weeks of knowing each other. Maybe she knew when Azzi’s family invited her to the state fair for the first time and Paige won Azzi a prize before they held hands on the Ferris Wheel. Maybe she knew when she spent the entire summer at Azzi’s house, and they spent nights tracing shapes and hidden letters into each other’s skin, trying and failing to guess what the other was saying. Once, Azzi had written something longer than usual, and when Paige had been unable to guess, she’d begged for Azzi to tell her what she’d said. But Azzi had stubbornly shook her head, told her that was against the rules.

When it came Paige’s turn, she lifted Azzi’s shirt and traced three words into the skin of Azzi’s back. Azzi had always been good at this game, and so there was a long pause afterward, and Paige thought maybe something real was about to happen, but then Azzi had simply rolled over and said, “No idea.”

Paige didn’t believe her then. Doesn’t believe it even now.

If she’s being honest with herself (and she’s never been very good at that) things between them have always been electric, charged by small moments between them, things that always went unacknowledged because both of them were too scared to bring this sacred little thing they had out into the open.

Paige stops to catch her breath, a little lightheaded, clutching her sides in pain. Running has nothing to do with the ache that’s overtaken her or the way she’s finding it hard to breathe.

The sun is up now, and she walks off the sidewalk into the little park she’s stopped at, heading over to a large oak tree in the middle which will hopefully provide some solace from the morning heat. She wipes at her brow, and the shade helps, but her palms are sweaty, back of her neck still hot, and it might be from the memories of last night, the taste she swears is still lingering on her tongue.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes and she knows it’s Azzi before she even checks. She’s always been good at that—sensing when it’s her best friend on the other end of the line. It’s a blessing and today it’s a curse, because she’s nowhere near ready to face the hurricane of emotions wreaking havoc on her mind. She takes a few deep breaths after the phone buzzes, putting it off, afraid of what she will find: an angry message, how dare you; a heartbroken one, why’d you do this to me; the truth, you’re a bad friend, maybe even a bad person.

With one last steadying breath and trembling fingers, she pulls up the message, only to find four words, so non-threatening they’re almost vulnerable: Hey, where’d you go?

She should be relieved, but her heart sort of sinks a little more at that. She deserves the anger, doesn’t she? The heartbreak, the truth?

Leaning against the tree, letting the rough bark bite into her skin, Paige checks the time and types out a reply. Went for a run, I’ll head back now

But she won’t head back now. She needs some more time. So, she deletes the message and tries again. Just went out, want me to grab u some breakfast??

The answer will be no; Azzi is picky about her breakfast, will only eat a certain few foods and never store bought.

So, sighing, Paige sends a simple: Went for a run. Be back by eleven. And before Azzi can reply, she turns her phone on silent, shoves it into her pocket.

She wonders what Azzi is feeling now. If its anything similar to Paige’s train of thought, or more likely, worse: that maybe this was all a mistake, that they can’t continue to be friends like this, that last night was real and that’s really fucking scary.

If Azzi just woke, she’ll be needing more time to think things over. So, jogging back over to the sidewalk, Paige starts running again, further away from the hotel. Further away from Azzi.

—————————————

When Paige steps into their hotel room, her shoulders are tensed, breath held as she waits for confrontation. But with a quick glance around the room, she realizes she can put this off a little longer—the bathroom door is closed, running water coming from inside. She sighs, shoulders relaxing, and closes the door as quietly as she can.

But it must not be quiet enough. Because a moment later, the faucet turns off, and then there’s a set of slow footsteps approaching the door. Paige tenses all over again, watching in what probably looks like terror when the bathroom door opens and there’s Azzi, in a hoodie and sweatpants, braids tied back, eyes and nose a devastating shade of red.

“Hey,” Paige starts, a softly as her strained voice will allow, but to her surprise, Azzi gives a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says simply, sniffling, looking Paige up and down. “Get in the shower. We check out soon.”

“I…I know,” Paige stammers, caught off guard by the way Azzi looks both heartbroken and angry. But, of course, she shouldn’t be. Not after what she did to her last night. Taking a tentative step forward, Paige tries to meet Azzi’s eyes. “Az, listen. I’m sorry about—“

“Stop,” Azzi hisses, stepping out of the bathroom, closer to Paige. “I don’t want to hear it. Not—not fucking now.”

Paige opens her mouth, but Azzi holds her hand up, swollen eyes flashing. “Get ready. We’ll leave once you’re done.”

Everything good and stupid in Paige tells her to fall to her knees, beg for forgiveness, take whatever anger Azzi has to give about last night. And maybe, a few years ago, she would’ve. But she’s never seen Azzi like this, and that alone raises enough alarm bells in her head to do exactly what she tells her to do, hanging her head as she sidesteps her into the bathroom, turning the shower on to cold to try and ease the burning behind her eyes, in her throat.

Leaning against the shower wall, Paige rubs a hand over her face, and wishes she were anybody else.

————————————

It’s one hour into the drive home that Azzi speaks to her—really speaks to her—for the first time all day. And when she does, it’s so unexpected that Paige flinches hard enough to jerk the car aside.

“Let’s go to the park, first. So we can talk.”

Once Paige has righted the car, she risks a glance over at Azzi to try to get an idea of what’s going through her head, but her face is turned away, gazing out the window.

Turning back to the road, Paige doesn’t respond. She just drives.

It’s a hot day but once they pull into the park an hour later, the basketball court is empty, and she’s barely stopped the car before Azzi’s getting out. She goes to the backseat and grabs one of the balls Paige keeps there.

“Az,” Paige says, unbuckling.

Azzi looks at her and slams the door shut. Paige watches her walk away through the window before getting out and following her.

It’s clear at this point that talking won’t get Paige anywhere, which is okay and also not: she’s bad with heartfelt stuff, anything too touchy-feely—it makes her uncomfortable; but talking is also what she does best. She’s never been one to stand in awkward silence or take it when she’s told to shut up, because she always has something to say and it’s why Azzi often affectionately refers to her as ‘my yapper’.

There’s nothing affectionate in the way Azzi looks at her now, nothing soft in those doe eyes, nothing sweet in the dimples borne of a scowl. Paige doesn’t know what to do with this version of Azzi.

After a moment, Azzi starts dribbling the ball, and the mere sound is enough to get Paige kneeling a little bit, body reacting before her mind can, ready for a game. But Azzi doesn’t pass to her. “You wanna play?” she asks tentatively.

Azzi stares at her for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. She drops the ball and it rolls a few feet away from them. “No. Not really.”

Paige nods. Shoves her hands in her pockets, then takes them out.

It’s a torturously long stretch of silence before Azzi says, “What are we doing, Paige?”

Paige looks at her best friend, but she finds she can’t really look her in the eye, and she hates that, so she looks at the asphalt underneath her instead.

“And don’t say we’re pretending,” Azzi continues when Paige opens her mouth to say just that, “because last night—that wasn’t pretend.”

The odd thing is her tone lilts up a little at the end, as if she’s asking a question rather than making a statement. But maybe that’s not odd because Paige wonders, too.

Trying to recall everything she thought about during the long ride here, Paige glances up, takes a small step towards Azzi. “I’m sorry.” She tries to sound both casual and heartfelt, but instead it comes out all raspy and choked, and she cannot cry right now. “For this whole trip, this whole thing—I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me.”

Azzi inhales like she’s going to interrupt. Now, it’s Paige’s turn to stop her. “Just, let me, okay?”

Azzi’s brows are furrowed, but she nods.

Almost immediately, Paige regrets saying anything. It’s now, with Azzi staring at her expectantly, that she realizes she has nothing to say. She has been thinking about it nonstop, all day, and still she doesn’t understand everything going through her mind—the guilt, the fear, the feelings.

She decides it’s safest to start with the guilt. “I need to say I’m sorry. About last night…” she fumbles, tries her hardest to right herself, “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me. Shoulda treated you better, instead of taking out my shit with my mom on you. And I shouldn’t have let things get so…real.”

Azzi doesn’t react much. Her stance doesn’t change, expression doesn’t really waver. Eventually she steps forward, so they’re an arms-length away from each other. “Paige,” she says.

Paige shuffles from one foot to the other. “Yeah?”

“You’re sorry,” she reiterates, and Paige nods, a little confused. Fuck, she’s really never been good with words. “You’re sorry for—last night?”

Something inside her wants to correct Azzi, tell her if she could go back and do last night over, she wouldn’t change it, and she doesn’t think she’s ever had to act when it comes to loving her best friend. But she doesn’t say that, instead opting for something less weighted, more trivial—“And for asking you to pretend to love me.”

Azzi’s stare is flat for another second before her eyes widen, and she turns around, pushing her hands into to her hair and shaking her head. And Paige can’t see her but it almost sounds like she’s…laughing?

“Azzi,” Paige mutters.

Azzi turns on her, then, and there is a smile on her face but it’s bitter, nothing humorous in it. “I can’t believe you.”

It’s Paige’s turn to stare. “What?”

“Paige,” Azzi says slowly. Then again, “Paige. You left me this morning. You fucked me last night and then you left me to wake up alone and you couldn’t even look me in the eye all day and now, what? Now you’re fucking—“ two steps forward, and then she’s jabbing an accusatory finger into Paige’s chest, “apologizing about last night? About everything? Like it was all a mistake?”

Paige can’t help but take a step back, heart racing. “I don’t…I mean, exactly. We’re all weird now—honestly we have been since the first week we started pretending—and I don’t want us to be like that. I hate this, Az. I just wanna be normal again.”

Azzi takes a step toward her. “Have we ever been normal?”

That gives Paige pause. Hands, legs, intertwined; fingers creeping under shirts while they lay together at night; stealing glances when they think the other isn’t looking. All things Paige never let herself think about too hard, because it made her nervous, jumpy. And now, after so many years of buildup has finally come crashing down on both of them, they have no choice but to talk about it.

She has nothing to say.

When she’s met with silence, Azzi scoffs. “Even now, you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it.”

“What?” Paige nearly whispers. “I’m not being stubborn,” and she’s really not, “I just—things were good, between us. You’re my best friend and I’m trying to apologize for—for the way I’ve been acting, for being distant and…and rude, and for being a shitty friend and complicating things and—“

“I don’t care!” Azzi screeches, and it startles Paige into silence. “God, Paige, you are so fucking stupid sometimes. Did you ever stop to think about why I dropped everything and came to Montana for you? Why I let you kiss me and look at me and fucking go down on me last night?”

Paige opens her mouth, closes it, and something curls in her tummy, this coiling in her gut warning her of how dangerously close they’re getting to everything she wants to leave unsaid. “I don’t—“

“Of course not,” Azzi scoffs, and Paige hates the anger in her tone. “I should’ve known. Because you’re only ever thinking about yourself. Making sure everything you do aligns with your little moral compass to make you feel good about yourself—well, guess what, Paige? You did fuck up this time.”

Paige steps forward, trying to wrap her mind around anything else other than the way Azzi’s looking at her like she hates her. “I know, I know,” she says, pleading.

Azzi stands her ground when she says, “You left this morning.”

Paige nods, understanding now. “I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed—time to think.”

“And, until just now, you didn’t realize that might make me upset? Waking up alone after last night?”

Paige watches her, and seeing the way her eyes get shiny makes her own throat constrict. “I guess, no, but I—things were going to be awkward, and I felt bad, and I was scared.” She finally admits it, the fear, and it doesn’t do much to loosen the knot in her throat. “I thought it was a—a mistake.”

“Well I didn’t think last night was a mistake, Paige,” Azzi says lowly.

And it’s then—just then, seeing the way the tears threaten to fall but don’t, trapped behind the words she wants to say but can’t—that realization dawns on Paige. And it’s enough to make her chest constrict because, no, it can’t be true.

Still, like watching a car crash, Paige can’t bring herself to stop looking. “Why?” she whispers, already knowing the answer.

When Azzi looks up at her with a quivering bottom lip and nothing left in her eyes but heartbreak, it’s all the confirmation she needs.

Paige stumbles back, and Azzi lifts an arm like she’s going to reach out, but drops it helplessly as the first tear tracks down her face. “I thought—maybe, you knew. I thought you knew and you were acting the way you have been because—“ she hiccups like a little kid, and it breaks Paige’s heart, “because you were staring to feel the same. I thought, last night, there was something real. Did you not feel it, Paige?” she doesn’t give her time to answer before she’s continuing. “And now I’m wearing these clothes in this weather because I couldn’t stand to look at the marks you left on me and you’re standing here telling me you’re sorry for wanting to fuck me, and God, Paige—I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. I loved you since I was fourteen and I should’ve fucking known you’d end up doing this to me.”

“Azzi,” Paige chokes out, the knot unraveling and giving way to free-falling tears.

“Paige,” Azzi replies, and there’s desperation in her tone like she wants to reach out, but instead she wipes furiously at her face before crossing her arms, effectively creating a barrier between them. “I need to know.”

Watching tears stream down Azzi’s cheeks, it’s all Paige wants to do to comfort her, to wipe them away. But her own vision is blurring and Azzi has this look in her eyes—like she hates her, like she loves her and she hates herself for it.

“Know what?” she whispers, the sun beating down on the back of her neck in a way that makes her nauseous.

“If you—“ Azzi’s bottom lip quivers, “if you feel it, too. If you love me, too.”

When Paige blinks the moisture from her eyes, there’s a moment of darkness and behind it she sees every moment, every fucking moment where they toed an invisible line, only to never speak of it again, to act as if nothing happened.

She opens her eyes, and realizes maybe they’ve spent their whole lives pretending, and only really stopped when they were just supposed to start.

There have always been feelings. Always an intensity when it came to Azzi, evident in the way Paige would get jealous of any of her other friends, the blowout fights they’d have over small things, because they couldn’t talk about the big things.

Paige has always wanted Azzi as something more. But—love.

Love is so complicated and scary and Paige doesn’t think she’d even be that good at it, anyway. And what if they did this—addressed the feelings between them and dated, for real? Azzi would be perfect, like she always is. Kind and gentle and soft, and Paige can only exhale at the thought of having her best friend that way.

But she inhales deeply, and imagines how she would is. She’s stubborn, hard-headed. Bad with words, bad with apologies.

“Azzi,” Paige says for the nth time, the only word she knows anymore, so she says it like a prayer. “We did one thing last night and I couldn’t even do that right. I couldn’t do any of this right, this entire trip. You don’t—you don’t want me. Trust me. You don’t.”

“You don’t know what I want!” Azzi cries, uncrossing her arms to push again at Paige’s chest. “You’re not perfect, Paige, and I am really fucking mad at you,” she bites, “but you have no idea how much I want you.”

“And you have no idea how much that scares me,” Paige replies, eyes downcast, a few tears dripping onto her sneakers. “I’m good at being your friend, Az. Let me be your friend.”

Azzi lets out a sob at that. “Paige, please, I know—you have to feel something, you don’t act the way you do and not feel anything, I—“

“I’m not saying I don’t feel it,” Paige admits shallowly. “It’s just like I said. I’m scared.”

For the next few moments, there’s silence, and in it Paige hears the birds singing, the distant voices of kids laughing at the playground. But then there’s a sniffle, a scuffle of shoes, and she dares to look up only to find Azzi facing away from her.

“Okay,” Azzi says, voice cracking heartbreakingly. “That’s it, I guess.”

Paige clutches at her belly. “What do you mean?”

“After everything that’s happened,” Azzi whimpers, “you think we can just go back to normal?”

It’s stupid, but that’s what Paige was hoping for. But she knows neither of them can forget this, leave it behind. And she doesn’t know if Azzi can forgive her, either.

She wouldn’t blame her if she never did. Even though the notion kills her.

“I’m sorry,” is all she can say, but it’s weak, broken, and Azzi just shakes her head, not bothering to look back as she heads slowly to the car.

“I’m tired, Paige,” she says. “Just take us home.”

————————————

When Paige walks through the front door, the house feels empty—her parents are gone again for work—but when she walks into the kitchen she finds Lauren on a barstool, eating cereal and watching TikTok. Paige tries to slip past her but Lauren perks up, spinning around and grinning when she spots Paige. “You’re back!”

“Yup,” Paige says, trying for a smile.

Lauren hops off the barstool and as she walks up to her, she gets this weird look on her face, like she’s studying her—but then she’s hugging her and Paige breathes a sigh of relief. “You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s Azzi?”

“She’s, uh…out in the car.”

Lauren pulls away to scrunch her nose. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Paige says evasively, unraveling herself from her little sister’s arms. “Listen, I gotta headache, I’ma be up in my room. But lemme know if you need anything.”

Paige makes her way to the staircase, and Lauren follows after, the way little sisters do. She hears the footsteps padding behind her and remembers when she was a teenager, and Lauren was just a toddler, and their mom would always joke that Paige had a little shadow because Lauren would follow her everywhere.

Back then, it was annoying—and it is now too—but it’s also comforting, endearing.

Still, Paige gets midway up the stairs before turning around to face her sister. “I wanna be alone, Laur.”

Lauren frowns up at her. “Why?”

Paige picks at her thumbnail. “Don’t you wanna be alone sometimes?”

“I guess.”

“Well, this is like that. Just need some time.”

She takes a couple more stairs, but Lauren is still following behind her, and she turns around again. “Dude.”

“I wanna hang out with you!”

“I’m sorry,” Paige says, and she really is, guilty about the disappointment etched on Lauren’s face. “I promise we’ll hang later, okay?”

“Like later today?”

“I dunno, Laur.” The thought of doing anything but moping with her own thoughts sounds exhausting, and it’s evident in her exasperated tone. “I’m tired, we had a big night.”

“Really?” Lauren’s face morphs into a teasing smile. “Doing what?”

Paige fumbles, covers it by reaching to play with the cross at her neck. “Don’t, Lauren.”

“I’m sure you spent allll night kissing your girlfriend, didn’t you?”

Paige takes a breath so deep it’s nearly a gasp, for air, maybe, and she spins on her heel, taking the last steps two at a time. “I’m going to my room now,” she says, eternally grateful that Lauren doesn’t follow her this time. As a last thought, she calls over her shoulder, “And don’t bother Azzi, either.”

Once she’s in her room, she heaves against the closed door, looks around. They’ve been here eight days now, and it doesn’t seem like long but they’ve already left their imprint on this room: their scents mingling into the sheets, bed unmade, toiletries scattered in the bathroom.

In her back pocket, her phone buzzes. For a wild moment she thinks it’s Azzi, calling to ask if she wants anything from the coffee shop or to lay out their plan for the day, but she remembers quickly enough that Azzi has no reason to be calling her. With trembling fingers, she pulls the phone out, and is relieved to see it’s Drew on the other end.

“Hey,” she says when she picks up, plopping down onto the bed as casually as possible.

“Guess what,” is what Drew starts out with, and Paige smiles tenderly as she watches her brother give her an expectant look.

“Aw, I missed you, too,” Paige says, and when Drew’s expression turns to a scowl she laughs. “Okay, what?”

“You’re ’posed to guess.”

Paige sighs; she hates this game. “Fine. Um, Dad got us a puppy?”

“No.” Drew frowns. “I wish.”

“Lame. You’re coming to see me?”

This makes Drew frown even harder. “No, but I wish that too.”

“We’re going to Disneyland?”

“Aw, I wanna go to Disneyland!” Drew is downright pouting now. “Your guesses suck.”

“You didn’t gimme any context!”

“The heck is context?” Drew looks at her as if she’s the dumb one, but before she can retaliate he says, “Fine, I’ll just tell you. Dad said when you get back he’s gonna get us those shoes we wanted.”

“Shit, really?” Paige should be reluctant to match with her eight-year-old brother, but in her opinion he’s way cooler than most eight-year-olds. And also, those shoes are pretty dope. “Sweet. I thought he wasn’t gonna cave.”

“Yeah, I gave him my cute eyes.”

“Thought he said you were too old to be cute.”

“He was lying, I guess.”

Drew widens his eyes and pouts, the look Paige taught him when he was a toddler because if she was too old to mooch her way into things, her baby brother would have to do her dirty work. And it looks different now, without the chubby cheeks and missing teeth, but it’s still just as adorable as it was then. “You’re a real one, Drewski.”

“Mm-hmm.” They settle into momentary silence, Drew’s eyes wandering from the phone to something ahead of him—Paige thinks maybe his TV—and his gaze stays faraway when he mumbles, “I miss you, Paigey.”

Staring at her little brother over the phone—the little brother who’s her best friend, who has never been complicated or scary, who is taller every time she comes home from college—Paige’s throat constricts again, a constant ache beginning to form there from how tightly knotted it’s been all day. “I miss you, too. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Still another week.”

“Less than that.”

“Feels like forever.”

“I know,” Paige sighs, suddenly grateful that her too-old-for-emotions little brother is avoiding eye contact, because she can see her own nose and eyes growing red over the screen. “We got the whole summer together, though. By the end of it you’ll be sick of me.”

Drew shakes his head firmly. “No I won’t.”

Again, Paige sighs, trying her hardest to exhale all the feelings creeping up on her. “Me neither.”

“I wish I could come to college with you.”

Paige gives an exaggerated groan at that, causing Drew to look back at her. “No you don’t, I promise. It’s boring.”

“You go to parties every weekend!”

Paige looks at him in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Was it Ice?”

“KK, actually.”

“Yeah, well, KK’s a dirty liar. I’m way too studious for parties or any of that.”

“KK also said you kiss a lot of girls.”

At this, Paige gasps, downright scandalized. “I do not!”

“Well, she said that you used to, before you dated Azzi.”

Her very name is enough to yank Paige out of this bubble Drew pulled her into, and it’s like getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning. “I guess so.”

“Where is Azzi, anyway? I wanna see her.”

“Uh,” Paige hesitates—she hates lying to her brother, because they may be over a decade apart but they are each other’s confidantes—but she can’t just go telling the truth. Not now, and certainly not to a third-grader. “She’s out right now.”

“Out where?”

“The…gym.”

“But you always go to the gym together.”

“Well, I didn’t feel like going.”

“Why not?”

“Drew,” Paige says, a little too firmly, immediately guilty at the confused look in his eyes, “listen,” she says more softly, “I’m sure you can talk to her later, okay? Just not right now.”

Paige expects more complaints, but what comes instead is a bout of silence and then, “Are you okay, Paigey?”

Drew leans closer to the screen to get a better look at her, and instinctively, Paige pulls the phone away from her face. “Yeah, I’m all good. Why?”

“You just seem a little sad.”

Sad generously understates Paige’s state of mind. But, at the same time, he’s right on the nose, reading her incredibly.

“Promise,” she lies. “I’m good.”

By the time they end the call, Drew still seems suspicious.

————————————

When, ten minutes later, Azzi still hasn’t come inside, Paige peeks out her bedroom window. The car is still in the driveway, and the sun is glaring unhelpfully on the front window but Paige can just make out Azzi’s form in the passenger seat. She can’t tell what she’s doing—she’d assumed she’d be calling her mom, because she knows Azzi and when she’s hurt she calls her mom.

Paige has never made Azzi call her mom before. She is officially the very person she’s always hated: somebody who could hurt her best friend, so heartless and cruel she could make the unshakeable Azzi Fudd cry.

She hates herself for it.

Hates herself enough, in fact, that she almost wants to go out there. To apologize a million times over—something she’ll end up doing anyway—and to comfort her and to let her break that last barrier away, the barrier that kept her from saying yes in the park, the root of all her fears and inhibitions. To ask Azzi to give her a chance and to be brave enough to take it. To risk everything they’ve so carefully built over the years for something that could be even better.

But then, Azzi glances up. Paige ducks away from the window, wincing at the sound of the car door slamming.

The front door follows soon thereafter, and Paige presses her ear to the bedroom door, trying to make out Azzi and Lauren’s conversation downstairs. She can’t hear them, though—she can only hear enough to know that Lauren is doing most of the talking. And she doesn’t have nearly long enough to prepare when Azzi’s familiar footsteps ascend the stairs, coming closer to her with each rapid thump of her heart.

Paige barely has the common sense to back away from the door just before she comes in. And then, it opens, and they’re standing face-to-face, Azzi’s eyes red-rimmed and stone-cold as they avoid Paige’s.

“Hey,” Paige says hesitantly.

When Azzi doesn’t answer, Paige steps out of the way, wondering if maybe Azzi wants to come in, but she stays put. Her gaze goes over Paige’s shoulder, to the bed. She looks exhausted.

“You tryna sleep?” Paige asks. Azzi only shrugs, making a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.

“Aight, I’ll…leave, then.”

Still, Azzi doesn’t move from the doorway. Finally, her eyes find Paige’s, and she holds them there when she says, “I think…I think I’m done, Paige.”

She’d implied it, earlier—That’s it, then—but hearing her say it out loud like this is a whole other thing, and it makes Paige want to double over. It’s instinctive, the way she reaches out to beg Azzi to stay, to let her amend for her wrongdoings and make everything right again, but Azzi flinches back and her arm falls limply to her side. “Okay,” Paige says, helpless. “I was looking at flights, earlier—I could get you one for tonight, or tomorrow morning, I know you prefer morning flights. But if you want good seats you might have to wait a couple days, but I could maybe call the airline and see what I can do? Just, whatever you want.”

Azzi winces, shaking her head slowly. “No, I meant—I’ll stay, for the trip. So your parents don’t get suspicious.”

“You don’t—“

“But after that,” Azzi interjects, “I think I have to be done. With you.”

Paige doesn’t react much, not outwardly—she takes a small step that’s more of a stumble back, and her eyes widen—but on the inside it feels as if she’s being ripped in two. “Azzi.”

“Don’t,” Azzi murmurs. She kicks at the floor. “I—we—need this. If we ever want a chance at being us again, we need space, okay? We need time.”

Paige stammers, so many words lunging up her throat but stopping behind her lips, creating a torrent so strong she can only make a weak, helpless sound. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I don’t blame you,” Azzi mutters, looking up at her as she takes a small, tentative step forward. “You can’t help how you feel.”

Paige wants to scream at her, to say I feel it, too, to take her by the shoulders and hold her close and whisper, I love you, too—but she can’t.

So instead she says, “I wasn’t—I meant—I’m sorry. For leaving you this morning, for acting distant a couple days ago—for sending so many mixed signals, for being rude to you at the lake and for being mean when we got here—“ as she says it, it all becomes very clear to her, just how much she has managed to damage the trust between them in such a short amount of time. “It might not help, but I need you to know, you know?”

Slowly, Azzi nods, and her hand brushes against Paige’s arm. “I know you are,” she whispers. “I just—I don’t know if I can…”

“It’s okay,” Paige is quick to fill the silence, her arm burning from where Azzi touched her, “I know, it’s okay.”

Azzi bites her lip, and when her eyes trail back to the bed Paige shuffles awkwardly. “Hey, how about I sleep downstairs tonight, okay?” when Azzi opens her mouth, Paige stops her. “We’ll tell my parents that you kicked me out because I was—snoring too loud, or something. I dunno.”

“But won’t they think—?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige waves her off, stepping aside, relieved when Azzi finally comes in. “You deserve some sleep.”

She doesn’t expect her to, but when Azzi doesn’t protest any further, doesn’t say I can’t sleep without you next to me, it comes with a bitter disappointment.

She really, really fucked up this time.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101 @tropics43 @bueckersss @bigheadfudd @surferandskater5 @iknowth35nd @rhyxanwaters @graceinshade @azzilov

[unriding]

a … a gift from the talented @kruinka 🥹 thank you so much!! ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc (4/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : as charles fights for his life, his wife faces the hardest decision: let go or fight for him. a small miracle gives hope for recovery.

୨ৎ : genre : emotional fiction, angst, fluff ୨ৎ : tws : injury, surgery, medical trauma, emotional distress, guilt, near-death experience, physical pain, anxiety ୨ৎ : wc : 2402

part one | part two | part three | part four

Love is funny, isn’t it? You think you have it all figured out, and then one day, you realize that the love you thought would always be there can sometimes fade into the background. But it doesn’t just fade. No, it burns out, slow and steady, like an ember that’s been left too long. That’s the worst kind of loss—the one you didn’t see coming, the one that happens while you’re still holding on, telling yourself everything will be okay.

You remember when you and Charles first fell in love. The world felt like it was yours, and nothing could get in the way of the connection you had. The world around you blurred into the background, and it was just the two of you. You’d laugh together, make silly promises to each other, the kind of promises that felt forever, like they couldn’t possibly be broken. And in your mind, you believed it. You believed you’d grow old together, that no argument could ever pull you apart. But life has a funny way of surprising you.

The love you shared in the beginning was so full of light. It was easy. It was simple. And somewhere along the way, somewhere between the late-night talks and the quiet moments, you lost that. The arguments crept in. At first, they were small, just misunderstandings, but they grew, louder and sharper, until they couldn’t be ignored anymore. The more Charles drowned himself in the racing world, the more you felt yourself slipping away. But neither of you stopped to listen to what the other needed.

You can’t help but wonder now: If you hadn’t argued so much, if you hadn’t allowed that distance to grow between you, would he be lying in this hospital bed today? Would he still be fighting for his life? Maybe. But then again, maybe not. The thought makes your chest ache with a weight you can’t shake off. You want to believe that everything could have been different, but you don’t know for sure.

---

The steady beep of the monitors is the only thing that keeps you tethered to the present. Charles’s vitals have stabilized since the crash, and you try not to let yourself hope too much, but each small sign of improvement sends a rush of relief through you. You hold onto that hope, even though you know it might be foolish. Every small movement, every little shift in his breathing—each one feels like a promise. A promise that he’s still here.

Pascale’s footsteps break your train of thought. She steps into the room, her face tired, but there’s a quiet strength in her eyes.

“You’re doing everything you can,” she says, her voice gentle, like she’s trying to reassure you that you’re not alone in this. “You’re not to blame for this. The sport… it’s dangerous. We all know that. But Charles loves you. And this—it’s not your fault.”

You swallow hard, your heart heavy with the weight of her words. But they don’t sink in, not completely. You can’t stop the guilt that keeps clawing at your chest. You can’t help but wonder, what if you could have done more? What if you had said something different, done something different? Would he still be here, conscious and fighting? Or would this still be his reality?

“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit quietly, your voice shaky, betraying the calm you try to maintain. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

She takes a step closer, her hand finding yours. “You don’t have to,” she says, her tone firm but soft. “Just be there for him. That’s what he needs right now. And when he wakes up… when he’s ready, you’ll figure it out together.”

You nod, not sure if you believe her. But you hold onto her words like a lifeline. Maybe, just maybe, she’s right. But it doesn’t make the ache in your chest any less painful.

---

Hours stretch into what feels like an eternity. The doctors come and go, each update a little less hopeful than the last. Charles is still critical. There’s no telling when he’ll wake up, if he wakes up. And the waiting—waiting without knowing what’s happening to him, if he’s improving or slipping away—feels unbearable.

And then, without warning, his heart rate drops.

The machines beep with a harsh, frantic sound, and the room erupts into chaos. Your body freezes, the air thick with panic. Nurses rush to his side, hands moving quickly, calling out to each other in a language you can’t fully comprehend. You stand there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do. Your mind spins with fear and confusion, and all you can think about is the man lying in front of you, fighting to stay alive.

Charles’s heart rate flatlines.

A scream gets caught in your throat, but it doesn’t escape. You don’t have the strength to let it out. The world feels like it’s spinning, like you’re stuck in a nightmare you can’t wake from. You watch as they work on him—CPR, chest compressions, defibrillation—but none of it seems to matter. It doesn’t feel real. He’s supposed to be okay. He’s supposed to wake up.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, the doctors manage to stabilize him again. His heart rate picks up slowly, steadily, until it’s just enough for you to breathe again.

The doctors exchange glances, unsure how to explain the sudden shift. They weren’t expecting this. They were preparing to pull the plug. Now, it seems he’s fighting back.

But the fear doesn’t dissipate completely. It lingers in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. There’s no telling if this is the end of the battle or just another moment of temporary reprieve. All you can do is wait.

---

Time passes, but it feels like you’re standing still. Charles’s breathing evens out. The monitors beep at a normal rhythm now, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a glimmer of hope.

And then, as though your prayers have been answered, you hear it. A soft groan. His hand twitches in yours.

“Charles?” You whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

His eyelids flutter, and slowly, his eyes open. The confusion is evident in them. His brow furrows, trying to process everything.

“Y/n?” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but you can hear the recognition in it. The relief that floods through you makes it hard to breathe. You’re shaking, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.

“Oh my God. Charles… you’re awake.”

His eyes flutter again, blinking as he adjusts to the light. He tries to speak, but it’s a struggle. “What… happened?”

“You were in a crash,” you explain, your heart racing. “But you’re awake. You’re okay. You’re breathing on your own.”

His hand tightens around yours, a weak but determined grip. He doesn’t have to say anything else. You know he’s here. He’s alive. That’s all that matters.

You lean in closer, your voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to say anything right now. Just rest. You’ve been through enough.”

His eyes close again, exhaustion taking over. But this time, it’s different. He’s not slipping away. He’s fighting. And that’s enough for you.

---

It’s been a few days since Charles woke up. His recovery is slow, but every step forward is a victory. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, and his vitals are improving steadily. He’s no longer on a ventilator, and they’ve managed to reduce the pain medications, though he still winces at the sharp pangs in his body when he moves. His face is pale, his body thin, but his eyes—they’re alive. They’re still the same Charles you love.

His hand rests weakly in yours as he shifts in the hospital bed, a small groan escaping his lips. You watch him carefully, knowing he’s still in pain but feeling so much relief that he’s here, breathing, talking, and slowly getting better. It’s surreal how much has changed in just a few days.

You gently press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering longer than you expect.

“Still hurts?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Everything hurts,” he replies, his voice hoarse from the tubes and the strain, but it’s unmistakably Charles—weak but teasing. “But I’ll live.”

You chuckle, even though your heart still feels heavy with all that’s happened. “You better. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His hand tightens around yours, and for a moment, there’s silence between you two, the hum of machines and the quiet shuffle of footsteps in the hall the only sounds filling the room.

The door opens softly, and Pascale enters, her eyes lighting up when she sees Charles awake.

“You’re really here,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it.”

“I told you,” he mutters, a weak but determined smile crossing his face. “I don’t give up that easily.”

She chuckles, her relief palpable. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

The doctor enters next, checking his vitals and making small talk about his progress. But after a few minutes, you sense that everyone is trying to give you two some space. You appreciate it more than you can say. You need a moment alone with him, just the two of you.

“Can we talk?” Charles asks suddenly, his voice quieter, the weight of everything pressing down on him. His gaze locks with yours, and you nod.

Once the room clears, you move closer to him, pulling a chair up beside his bed and sitting down, your hand never leaving his.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice soft but full of emotion. “More than I ever thought possible. I was… so afraid. I didn’t know if I’d get another chance.”

Your heart catches at his words, and you squeeze his hand tighter. “You’re here. That’s all that matters now.”

“I know I messed up, Y/n,” he says, his voice trembling slightly as he continues. “The arguments, the distance between us… I didn’t know how to fix it, but I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve done better for us.”

You shake your head, leaning closer to him. “We both messed up. I pushed you away. I let my own fears and doubts take over, and we let the distance grow between us. But we don’t need to dwell on that now. What matters is we have a chance to rebuild. We can start again.”

Charles’ eyes soften as he looks at you. He lifts his free hand and brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers are weak, but his touch is gentle, so tender it makes your heart swell.

“I don’t want to waste another moment,” he whispers. “I want to make it right. For us. I want to give you everything I have. I want us to be… forever.”

You feel a rush of warmth in your chest at his words, and you can’t hold back the tears that sting your eyes. “Charles… I love you. I always have. No matter what happened before, it’s in the past now. We’ll get through this together. We’ll be better.”

He nods, his smile growing as much as his weakened body allows. “Forever,” he repeats, his voice firm. “You and me.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his gently, the kiss soft and full of promise. You feel the heat of his lips against yours, the lingering taste of the past and the hope for the future mixing together. It’s everything you need. Everything you’ve always wanted.

After the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, the moment feeling peaceful, intimate, like the world has slowed down just for the two of you.

"I promise I’m never going to leave you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

“I know,” you whisper back. “And I won’t leave you either. We’re in this together. Forever.”

His breath catches, and you can see how tired he is. His eyes start to close, his body relaxing into the bed. You’re thankful for this moment—this quiet moment of peace between the chaos. It’s all you need for now. His grip tightens one last time around your hand before he drifts off, his breathing steady, but shallow.

As you watch him sleep, your heart swells. There’s so much to be thankful for now. He’s here. He’s alive. And even though he’s still in pain, the fact that he’s awake and breathing on his own, that he can talk and even smile, fills you with a sense of relief you can’t describe.

Time may not have stopped, but you feel like it’s been kind to you in the small ways. And in this moment, with Charles beside you, you’re ready to take on the future. The fights, the love, the challenges—they’re all worth it. Because at the end of the day, it’s you and him. Together.

---

As the days continue, Charles slowly gets stronger. The pain from the crash is still there, but it’s manageable. He’s talking more, eating small meals, and regaining some mobility. He even laughs now and then, the sound a balm to your weary soul.

It’s slow, but progress is progress, and with each passing day, your connection with him grows stronger. The weight of the past seems lighter, and you find yourselves rebuilding, piece by piece, finding new ways to love each other.

You’re not sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, you know you’ll face it together. Whatever happens, you’ve found something worth fighting for.

---

A few weeks later, Charles is finally cleared for a short walk around the hospital floor. It’s a small victory, but it feels huge to both of you. He’s still weak, but he’s standing, with you by his side, helping him steady himself.

“You’ve come so far,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Charles smiles at you, the kind of smile that makes you feel like you could conquer anything. “I’m not done yet. I still have a lot of living to do. And I want to do it with you.”

You nod, feeling your heart swell as you walk beside him, hand in hand. This journey isn’t over. It’s only just begun.

But for now, you’re both here. You’re together. And that’s enough.

Forever.

taglist: @emryb , @htpssgavi , @aleatorio1234 , @ayap4paya , @prttylight , @meadhbhcavanagh , @iluvnewtie , @hiireadstuff , @armystay89 , @anunstablefangirl , @waytoooobsessedwithlife , @larya810 , @laufeysvalentine (tags closed, story complete)

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[loves-alibi]

taking edibles with the 141 (ranked worst to best)

tw: drug use (weed, duh), mention of sex while high

John Price — EASILY the worst. Gets super weird about it. It doesn’t matter how much he takes. Without fail, he has a super emotional journey which is great for him but terrifying for everyone else. It always ends with him saying some shit like, “My father wasn’t perfect, but he tried.” And then he’ll pass the fuck out, snoring super loud and annoying everyone else.

Simon Riley — Not awful, but not great. Simon enjoys an edible every now and then. The problem is that he gets super quiet. Once that thing starts digesting, the THC hitting his blood stream, Simon is not speaking. Everyone around him has to constantly check in to see if he’s having a good time or if he’s silently spiraling, and Simon’s response is always, “I’m fine.” He actually is fine, but the way he says it is so super scary. After the fact he tells everyone how much of a fun time he had.

Johnny MacTavish — A lovely man, a truly lovely man. A nightmare once you give him some weed. Johnny starts off giggly, then about an hour and a half in he gets hungry. It’s not a big deal! Maybe a little frustrating on the occasions that your favorite foods fall victim to his munchies. But as long as you’re prepared, it’s chill. Once the munchies subside though, Johnny gets needy. And not the fun kind. If you’re in a relationship with him, he’ll start nuzzling up to you, placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin, and telling you how much he loves you. He tries to go further. Sometimes it works, and it’s great! High sex with Johnny is fun! But when you’re not in the mood, he pouts. The thing that makes it so bad is that he’s really not trying to make you feel bad, he just gets so sad not to be that close to you. So you both end up pouty because, come on, his pathetic little pout is positively infectious.

Kyle Garrick — PEAK! Unbelievable wonderful. If you take an edible with Kyle, you’re in for the best night of your life. Kyle comes prepared— stocked. This man has snacks, blankets, movies, video games all ready for the moment the edibles hit. And he gets funny. Not only does he become all giggly, but somehow the weed makes him a comedian. So not only are you cozy and well fed, but you’re having a BALL. Your sides will hurt from the giggles. If you’re in a relationship with him, you best bet that you’re also getting the most incredible cuddles. You end up falling asleep in his arms and waking up the next morning well-rested and with happy memories (and new inside jokes).

[himbodruid]

Silent Poem

Zayne returns home to find you fast asleep in his bed. You help each other…relax. 😏

An expansion of Zayne’s Silent Poem Secret Times (some lines removed because try as i might, i couldnt make them fit)

Zayne x Reader

-:- massage leads to other things -:- clothed sex lol -:- body worship Zayne -:- sweet talkin mofo -:-

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be a night filled with laughter over dinner, but dusk gave way to twilight in what felt like a handful of seconds. Doctor Zayne had called with his apologies, stating that an emergency surgery had come up and he would be home late. Dinner was packed away to be saved for another time, and you curled up on his sofa with the silly games you thoroughly enjoyed on your phone. You understood how it was. After all, you had to do the same to him several times as well. It didn’t bother you one bit- you would just wait until he got home, embrace him, and usher him off to bed for much-needed rest.

It wasn’t long before you started to nod off and you checked the time, noting that it was nearing midnight. There was no telling when Zayne would be home, but the two of you had shared a bed for some time now. You knew he wouldn’t mind if you slipped between the sheets to take a quick nap before he got home.

You changed into your long night shirt and were lost to the waking world when Zayne snuck into the room. He took light steps until he was at the bedside, peering down at you with softness in his gaze. The glass of water he held was placed quietly on the bedside table and he sat at the edge of the bed. He marveled at your beauty, wondering how he could have ever been so lucky to have someone like you in his life. Lost to these thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed you. Just a gentle brush of his lips against yours while you slept.

You inhaled sharply, startled awake by the unexpected contact. When you opened your eyes, you saw Zayne’s smiling face in the dimmed lamp light and relaxed back into the pillows.

“My apologies. Did I wake you up?”

You smiled lazily at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Are you just getting in? It’s so late!”

“Yes. It’s been hectic at the hospital as of late. Every night I had to return home in the middle of the night…you were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.”

He leaned over to kiss you softly again, and you chased his lips until you were sitting up in the bed. Worry raced through you when he pulled away and slumped against your shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh. You observed his face more closely and noticed exhaustion and tension bracketing his mouth and eyes. His arm lazily circled your waist, and your own came around him to embrace him back.

“Zayne?” You asked softly.

“Let me hold you for a bit. This helps me chase away my exhaustion.”

“You should relax more,” you murmured to him.

“Me?” He called you out with that one simple word and you huffed a laugh.

“Alright, we should relax more.”

“But how exactly…will you help me relax?” He lifted his head from your shoulder and stared at you intently with those eyes that held the depth of a forest. You watched as his gaze drifted to your lips and then back up, and you felt a blush spread across your face. What a strange time for shyness to strike, especially since intimacy was not new between you.

You push him away from you a moment so you could escape the covers. Kneeling over him, you started pushing his jacket off his shoulders and began working at his shirt, all while completely ignoring the intense way he watched your chest waving in front of his face.

Once his shirt was loosened enough, you dug your fingers into the muscle that made up the slope of his neck. You remember him telling you it was called the trapezius at some point, and how it was where he carried all of his stress. The moment your fingers dug into that brick wall of a muscle, he let loose a heavy sigh that was nearing a moan.

“Mmmh…massage. I see…” he grumbled with a smile.

“Yes, what else were you thinking?” You raised your brow, continuing to work at his neck and shoulders.

He cleared his throat a little bit and you took note of the blush that stained his ears. He blinked rapidly and looked away in that endearing way he did when embarrassed.

“Ahem. Never mind.”

His muscles finally started to give way to your ministrations, but your own tensed the more you worked at him. The sounds he made had your heart thundering, and you were acutely aware of how close your body was to his and how you still knelt over his lap- not quite straddling him.

He looked up at you, golden-green eyes hooded by barely concealed desire. “My eyes aren’t as tired as they were before. And my neck and shoulders feel so much better.”

“Good, I’m glad,” you said, smiling down at him. You knew your face and neck were red, and it took all of your effort not to run and hide. Your only saving grace was the blush that dusted his cheeks.

“Just sit on me,” he said, noticing how your legs began to shake from the unsustainable position you were in. “It’ll be easier for you.”

You began to decline, but his hands found your hips and suddenly you were straddling him in full. And you became very well aware of the hard length of him pressing against your core.

He moaned at the contact, a breathy sound that shot to your core. “I feel much better already.”

“Y-yeah?” You stammered. His hips rose to grind against yours.

“It’s more effective than the strongest, most soothing medicine in the world.” He kissed you then, an unhurried kind of probing kiss that drew you in the longer your lips held contact.

But then he pulled away, and you could feel the embarrassment at how easily you got lost in him flush through you again. Still, his arms caged you, keeping you close.

“Your lips are dry. Do you want some water?” He reached over and grabbed the glass from the table, presenting it to you.

“How did you know?” You realized you actually were parched. It was always a point of contention- you always seemed to forget to take care of yourself. “I keep forgetting.”

“You haven’t learned to drink it on your own yet?” You chose to ignore his chuckle by carelessly chugging the glass.

“Don’t rush, it’s spilling out,” he said, right as your overeagerness sent a trail down your neck, chest, and into your shirt between your breasts.

“Oh,” you said dumbly. He took the glass from you and put it back on the table.

“Zayne, help me clean it up, do you have a cloth?”

“All right,” he chuckled, pulling away the hand you were using to dab at it. “I’ll help you clean up.”

And then his mouth found where the water trailed at the hollow of your throat, a searing kiss that sent shivers through you. His mouth and tongue followed the water in a blazing trail on your skin, even tugging down the neck of your shirt to get at as much as he could.

“Z-Zayne,” you breathed, unable- or unwilling- to push him away.

“Is this what you wanted?” His question was murmured against your chest between kisses. You watched as his tongue slipped between your breasts with a hissed inhale, your hips grinding against him. His hands trailed up the backs of your thighs, teasing the hem of your shirt. There was nothing else there to halt his touch, save for your underwear, and he inhaled sharply at the realization.

“I knew it,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone. “You want to do this to me again.”

And then his lips found yours again, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His breath mingled with the soft sounds that escaped you. His hands skirted over your curves to lift your shirt over your head in a swift motion you didn’t even have time to react to. This bared you to him almost fully, the only thing covering you now was the soft cotton of the underwear you wore.

“Now you’re just taking advantage,” you chuckled, capturing his lips again. He smiled against your lips.

“What do you mean-” he began, interrupting his sentence with a kiss to your neck.

“I’m taking-“ another kiss, this one to your collarbone.

“Advantage-“ his mouth found your breast now.

“Of the situation?” His teasing words ended with an open mouth kiss to your other breast.

“Aren’t we just helping each other relax,” he questioned softly against your breast. His eyes locked onto yours as he continued kissing, licking, sucking your breasts. With a groan, he lifted you off of him for the length of time it took for the pair of you to fumble with his belt and pants.

When his cock was finally freed, you palmed and stroked him lazily while he gasped and groaned against your chest. But the control he struggled to maintain came close to snapping when you straddled him again, tugged your underwear aside, and slipped the tip of him just inside of you. His hips jerked involuntarily, slamming upwards into you and a whimpered gasp escaped you.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, unable to put into words that it was quite the opposite. He filled you so well, that you damn near came apart on him with that single thrust. Still, he waited for your body to adjust to him, trembling with the effort.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” he whispered in your ear. “I missed you.”

Your body shuddered, involuntarily clenching your walls around him. He gasped out a moan, dropping his forehead to your chest while his hips began a slow roll. Your hands gripped at his biceps, fingers digging into him with the same amount of force you used to massage his neck.

“Does this also need to relax?” He said with a sly smile. You couldn’t even muster a response to his teasing. “Of course, I understand you only want to help me feel less fatigued.”

You ended his teasing by lifting from him and easing back down slowly. His breathing came in panting bursts while you rocked your hips against his. You watched his body reacting to yours with pleasured delight, trailing your fingers down his firm chest and into the hills and valleys that made up his abdomen.

“Are you enjoying your massage, Doctor Zayne,” you breathed to him, feeling uncharacteristically bold at the sight of him coming undone beneath you.

“Different muscle groups call for specific massage techniques,” he murmured. “Sometimes…being skillful is what really makes a difference.”

You smiled and resisted rolling your eyes. Still a clinical mind, even while you were impaled on his cock. You set out to make him lose that rational thinking by increasing your pace, taking him deeper and faster. Breathy moans escaped from him and his arms circled your waist to give added leverage as he helped to piston in and out of you.

“I think it’s getting more tense, now,” he murmured, kissing your chest as he nuzzled into you. You knew he was no longer talking about muscles. The lewd sounds of your bodies colliding rose to join the panting moans that permeated the otherwise still air.

“Perhaps…you could add a little more pressure,” he whispered to you before his mouth fell upon your nipples once more. Per his request, you clenched your walls around him as you rode him. With a whining moan, he halted your movements so that he could take over and slam into you from below.

All rational thought was driven from both of you, only this primal need left in its place. You could feel pressure building inside of you as his cock plundered you at an almost punishing speed. Hips collided in a frenzied urge to chase the high of release, breathless moans responding to the pleasure, bodies tensing until finally the pair of you spilled over the edge with cries of ecstasy.

He buried his face against your neck, nuzzling as his body continued to jerk and plunge his cock so impossibly deep inside you. Your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for everything he had to give you. His large hands gripped your hips in a bruising grasp, pushing you so that he remained buried in you to the hilt.

“I wonder,” he panted once his body stopped trembling underneath you. He laid back fully, an arm tucked under his head to prop it up so he could take in the full image of you straddling him, of you impaled on him. “How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me?”

You trailed your hands from his lower abdomen to his chest, leaning your hips forward only so slightly and dropping back down on him. He was still hard inside you, clearly not fully finished with you. “What can I say? I missed you.”

He clenched his eyes closed when you shifted on him, another short moan rising from his chest. “Yes, of course.

“I missed you too.” He punctuated his words by lifting his hips to meet yours.

“Mmmh, how much?” You followed the rocking of his hips, allowing him to pull out slightly before chasing the descent of him to sheath him inside you fully once he settled back against the bed.

He took your hands in his, pulling you so that you laid flat atop him. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, placing his forehead against yours when he pulled away. His hands smoothed up your back, holding you to him.

“Rest in my embrace, just like this,” he murmured to you. His hips lifted again, sinking his cock deep into you again.

“Now-” He kissed your jaw.

“Let me tell you-“ He kissed your neck

“How much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” He wrapped his arms around you and began to move.

“Relax,” he murmured to you when you tensed in anticipation. He moved slower now, rolling the two of you so that you were beneath him now. During the transition, he went too deep and you couldn’t help the hiss of pain that you released.

He froze, searching your face for any hint that you wanted to stop. You caressed his flushed cheek, drawing him back down to kiss him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said against your lips. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but I'm okay,” you tell him. You move your legs to wrap them around his hips, but he leaves you so that he can quickly shed the rest of his clothing. He rejoined you after removing your underwear, prodding at your entrance but not pushing in. Instead he leaned down to kiss you softly, in hopes to distract you from any pain or discomfort you might still be feeling.

“What about this? Do you feel better now?” His cock breached your slit, but he still wouldn’t fill you in the way you craved and you could feel your patience slipping.

“Or…do you want to change positions?” He stopped the forward tilt of his hips and pulled away to wait for your answer. You grumbled out a sigh, circling your legs around his waist so he couldn’t remove himself.

“Just do it and stop asking questions!”

With that, he settled over you fully, and you reveled in the way the size and weight of him pressed you into the mattress. His mouth captured yours once more and he rolled his hips forward.

The languid pace at which he pressed his hips into yours was almost too much to bear. You wanted to be taken fast, but the feel of him dragging against your walls was only accentuated by how slow he thrust into you. He was all but worshipping your body with his mouth and hands while his hips pressed into yours with every forward lunge.

“So much time has passed now. Don't you want me to say something?” What you wanted was him. To be drowned in him, swept away by the pleasure he elicited with every stroke of his cock. It was almost too much to bear, the sensations surrounding you as he clung to you as fervently as you clung to him. You closed your eyes, listing your chin when his kisses trailed down your throat.

“Tired already? You want to sleep?” His voice was light and teasing but held the hint of a threat in the undertone. You didn’t get a chance to answer before he slammed his hips forward. A pleasured cry escaped you, fingers digging into his flesh.

“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do. The night is still young, we have plenty of time to learn from each other,” he grunted, his hips colliding with yours at a brisk pace now. You whimpered beneath him, allowing him to hook his arms under your knees and practically fold you in half. He slammed his cock into you over and over and you tilted your hips to meet his at every thrust.

“Let me hear your voice,” he sighed, and you obeyed him. Once more, the sounds of pleasure mixed with the sounds of your frenzied coupling. His mouth latched onto the slope of your neck and by the time he was done sucking almost violently at that spot, you knew it was going to leave a gnarly mark. The thought of carrying his mark for weeks drove you even closer to the edge.

“Say my name,” he murmured against your skin, hips snapping forward with forceful thrusts as his climax started to build.

“Z-Zayne,” you whimpered. Your nails dug into his back at the guttural moan he released against your neck.

“Again,” he growled.

“Zayne-” His name came out more like a breath, barely recognizable as a word as his pace turned punishing. He was so impossibly deep inside that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“Again,” he groaned, his body trembling with the beginnings of his orgasm. One final, hard, thrust and he was spilling into you with a guttural cry.

“Zayne!” You all but screamed his name as the pulsing twitch of his cock flooding you sent you over the edge with him. You threw your head back into his pillows, body arching into his as your release shot through you.

His hips jerked and shuddered, his whole body trembling like he wasn’t in control. His eyes were clenched closed, his brows drawn down to crease at the center, while he struggled to regain some form of composure. But the intensity of the pleasure didn’t grant him a single reprieve as his body continued to convulse with moaning cries falling from his lips. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and lock him to you while he rode out the high with you.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck when his body finally relented control back to his mind. He collapsed on you and the pair of you tried to calm your erratic breathing. Soft kisses rained on your skin and you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you when his lips brushed sensitive spots.

When you came down from the pleasured high, he carried you bridal style to the bathroom. He started a shower for the both of you, willingly stepping into the blazing hot water you preferred. He cleaned you with a delicate touch, eliciting shivers as his hands glided over your body. And when he knelt before you to lather your legs with soap, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint in them before his mouth latched onto your cunt. He proceeded to turn you into a babbling mess, bringing you to the brink and driving you over the edge with his skilled tongue.

You wiped the self-satisfied smirk off his face when you knelt in front of him to give him the same kind of attention. He stared at you wide-eyed, blushing profusely, as you palmed him and ran your tongue along the underside of his length. Soft moans and curses escaped him as you worked him with your mouth, until he couldn’t take anymore and spilled against your tongue.

Dawn came and went by the time the pair of you tumbled into bed. You were spooned in his embrace, and the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into sleep. You were grateful that it was your weekend, because you didn’t have the will to leave his bed for even one minute.

Not that he would allow it.

[chukys-mouthguard]

dumb & poetic

just cause you leave like one, doesn’t make you a man

853 words

featuring -> quinn hughes x female reader

genre -> angst

-> short n’ short masterlist

The space between the two of you felt miles wide as you and Quinn slept back to back. The bed cold as you stared out the window at the moon illuminating the night sky. Your eyes still puffy from crying, your pillow still damp from the tears.

No matter how many reassuring comments he’d tried to spew, you only felt more and more confident that your relationship with Quinn was slipping away.

Things had been rocky, sure, all relationships had that. But the man you’d grown to love was changing day by day, and you never knew who you were waking up to.

He’d used to be keen on communication, always offering insightful advice or deep conversation when you came to him with worries or issues. But that facade had begun to crack and disappear, now he’d become less and less empathetic.

You wondered if this side of him was always there and you’d painted him as this perfect person, or if it truly was an act he’d put on until he’d grown tired.

All you ever wanted was for him to be your rock, to be the person you could go to at the end of a long day at work. The man whose shoulder you could cry on just because. The man you could take your insecurities to and never be judged or ridiculed for them.

Now his shoulder was cold, his advice disingenuous; almost seeming copy and pasted from a self-help book. His once comforting spirit now seemed easily annoyed or impatient dealing with your issues on top of his.

Checking the time, you sighed seeing how late it was. Tossing back the covers you headed to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door leaving it barely ajar. Running some water you splashed it over your face to help the redness. Looking at yourself in the mirror and all you could notice was the sadness in your eyes.

You tried telling yourself one of Quinn’s go-to lines that he’d use to convince you things were fine, but deep down you knew it was bullshit. He was trying to put on an act because he didn’t have the words anymore, he’d run out of dumb cliches to hide the fact he was pulling away.

“Babe?”

Quinn appeared in the doorway, squinted eyes at the bright light of the bathroom as he slowly walked towards you. Sitting on the counter as he waited for your reply, but you had nothing to say. What were you to say when things felt far beyond fixing? Anything he said seemed insincere or something to buy him time to figure out what the fuck was happening with you two. Though deep down, he had to know where things were headed.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“Now you want to talk? Or are you just going to feed me more dumb poetic bullshit that is meant to sound thoughtful like you’re wanting us to make this work?”

Quinn sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly not wanting to have this conversation, especially not at three in the morning.

“That’s what I thought, save your breath.”

Pushing past him you left the bathroom, opting to sleep on the couch versus laying awake next to him all night.

“Y/n, what do you want me to say?”

“The truth! You don’t get that? I want you to be honest with me, have real fucking conversation with me about what is going on between us. Don’t feed me bullshit because you don’t want to hurt my feelings. If you don’t love me, if you don’t want to be with me, then fine! But don’t keep feeding me your insincere lines to buy time while you figure out how to either make this work or end it. If you’re thinking of walking away, I’d rather you be a man and just do it already.”

The room was silent as Quinn stared at you, simply nodding his head as he walked back to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Resuming your initial pathway, you headed downstairs, first to the kitchen for a much needed glass of water and some pain reliever for your ever growing headache. Thankfully you’d held back any tears that might’ve been threatening to fall during your outburst moments ago. Though you weren’t sure you’d had any tears left to cry after the night's earlier argument.

Quinn’s steps weren’t soft or sneaky as you heard him coming down the stairs. Taking a deep breath you prepared yourself for another fight, or perhaps an unexpected apology. But to your surprise he was dressed with a bag over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at you and sighed, his eyes flashing from you to the floor as he could barely keep eye contact. His hand gripping at the strap of his duffle as he was fidgeting, clearly nervous.

“You told me to be a man, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m sorry y/n, but you’re right. I can’t keep up the facade and the dumb insecure bullshit. I’m done. This…this is done.”

[anonity]

BETTER -- drabble

been gone for a min for a last min road trip w/ friends for new years :) happy 2025! had this in my drafts after watching the paige ep on flau’jaes podcast

WC: ~1200 summary: paige catches you and your saved basketball edits

the amount of paige edits that popped up on your for-you-page was diabolical. especially considering she was your roommate.

you were waiting for her to return from practice, feet kicked up on the coffee table of your apartment, when the first of the day came up.

originally, you’d justified your ever-growing collection of edits as hype-videos: something you could scroll through before paige’s games to get you in the right mood. for a while, that checked out – you only saved her highlights, quick moving graphics with smooth transitions.

but then it had quickly devolved into what can only be described as an obsessive fan folder, filled with edits so thirsty you think you would actually combust if anyone saw them, let alone paige.

it was bound to happen.

you continued watching edits when the door opened, kept scrolling when it closed, and carried on even as paige leaned curiously on the kitchen counter. its not like she would know who you were watching – hell, you had juju watkins videos coming up on your page every couple days, too. 

this arrangement had worked perfectly for you for months. you got to indulge in your quietest delusions, and your best-friend-turned-roommate could continue on none the wiser. 

until her voice rang out clearly from your phone. you would’ve played it off, really, said it was an interview clip or something, had her voice not immediately been followed by the “or nah” audio. 

mortified did not even begin to describe the feeling clawing into your throat.

you scrolled impossibly fast and began praying. maybe she hadn’t been paying attention. maybe she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. maybe you’d imagined the entire thing and paige wasn’t even real and this was all some kind of awful dream you’d wake up from in 3, 2, 1…

“whatcha watchin’?”

you think your soul has left your body. 

paige is sauntering over and looking very smug. you’re wondering how fast you can make it from the couch to the balcony. 

“an interview,” you try anyway, despite the fact that not a single interview in the history of basketball has ever included fucking ty dolla sign.

paige smirks, leaning over the back of the couch. her breath tickles the top of your head and you shiver despite yourself, eyes trained on the tiktok now repeating on your phone – one of those orange muppet videos (pepe? is he supposed to be a shrimp?) stuck on the first slide. really, if it weren’t for the horrors of your current situation, you would find the irony funny. if you survived this event, maybe you would make one. you can see it now. “i’m watching edits of my roommate – my roommate walks in – i have to defend myself to my roommate –” i have to defend myself to my roommate.

“which interview?”

“umm,” you say, eloquently. you can’t think past your orange muppet spiral. “overwatch?”

paige laughs, a noise that distracts you long enough for her to yank your phone away. “overtime?”

shit.

you can barely get out a disdained “paige!” before you hear the audio repeating again. would a fall from the third floor kill you? is it still considered a fall if you jump?

you stop lunging for your phone – maybe you can just play it cool. who cares if theres a paige edit on your FYP? it's only weird if you make it weird. “you act like those don’t pop up on your for you page too.” 

paige shushes you, biting her cheeks in mock-seriousness. she shushes you! the nerve! if you weren’t so mortified you would argue with her! 

but you are mortified, and so you stay quiet.  the silence stretches on and on until your phone also goes silent. the apartment's heating unit is suddenly very loud, and for once you aren’t irritated at the noise – instead, you just think of how much you will actually miss your loud heating unit once paige processes the situation and kicks you out of your apartment in the dead of winter. 

you think it can’t get any worse, until another audio starts playing and a self-satisfied grin stretches across paiges face. “you have like 70 videos in here.”

somebody kill me.

the original silence is filled with mr. lover lover, and there is absolutely no way you can “it’s for the hype” your way out of this. she continues scrolling. you stare helplessly at the floor. after what you can only guess is six or seven incriminating edits, she pauses, her jaw clenching inexplicably. here it comes. 'get out of my apartment' – 'i can’t look at you the same anymore'. you’re so cooked. fried, even.

“whatchu got caitlin saved in here for?”

what?

you must’ve voiced that thought out loud, because she responds. “you got a thing for iowa players too?”

your brows furrow. this was not the direction you thought this would be going in. instead, theres an edge cutting through paige’s words that you can’t quite place. is she still pissed? you let out a nervous laugh. “relax, paige, it’s not like i’m making wedding plans with her.”

paige stiffens. “it’s enough for a save-the-date.”

“paige, it’s like a 30 to 1 ratio.”

“yeah, our points ratio is 30:1 too.”

what the hell? first of all, you watch enough basketball to know that's not true. second of all, again, what the hell? 

“i mean, it’s fine, i get it.” paige shrugs, suddenly uninterested in your phone. she tosses it on the couch and you (slowly) slip it into your pocket before she can change her mind. “i just think it’s funny you watch her when you literally live with someone better.”

“better at what?” paige splutters. “basketball.” 

suddenly, it clicks. you sit, quiet, stunned for a second. “paige, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you sound jealous.”

“it’s not jealousy! it’s.. like, respect.” paige gestures wildly, and you’d almost believe her if there wasn’t a flush creeping up her neck.  you raise a brow. “respect?” “we share a netflix account! and you’re saving edits of my competition!” “you’re totally jealous.” 

paige looks cornered, backing towards the kitchen. her gaze falls to the floor. “i just think, like, i dunno – i just think i care about you and i’m right here and you’re saving edits of caitlin freakin’ clark.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes, the absurdity of this situation catching up to you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you see the orange muppet again. 

“what’s so funny?”

“you’re just –” you take a deep breath. “i can’t believe your jealous over a caitlin clark edit. you act like we’re together or something.”

“maybe i wanna be.”

paige freezes. you freeze. the heater kicks off. you're moving before you can think about it, standing in front of her. her eyes stay trained to the floor.

“i’m sorry. i just – you drive me crazy.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

she finally glances up, a smile cracking. “it’s not.”

“then what are you gonna do about it?”

her hand is on your jawline in an instant, and the nervousness bubbling in your chest is finally cut off with her lips on yours. when you pull away, she’s grinning.

“30:1 edit ratio, huh?”

your face heats, and you push your head against her chest. “not funny, paige.”

“i’ll make a new folder for you – poor decisions, filled with caitlin clark edits.”

"alright that's enough."

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Before, you always thought that you would resent him. Yet you sit here in his home, and you have come to realize that it has become yours, too.

Warnings: None.

Author's note: Felt down lately, so this is a little self indulgent. Inspired by the new 4* card Greedy Heart. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

This feels wrong— it should be. On forsty nights like these, you were supposed to be wrapped in the blankets of your own apartment. Watching TV, eating snacks, or even taking the time to indulge yourself in hobbies you have not had the time for recently. But instead of soft fabric, Sylus's arms envelop you, staving off the icy sting with his own skin. Your entertainment is the night sky and you are in a losing struggle against sleep.

Sylus notices, of course he does. He can't help but chuckle at your stubbornness to stay awake. And you, with your head pressed against his chest, only manage to feel disgruntled with the sudden rise and fall of movement. One of his hands begins carding through your hair slowly. You can't tell what he's thinking, and you don't want to. So you turn your head away as to not meet his eyes in favour of observing his home.

“If you're tired, you should just sleep, sweetie. I'll be here when you wake up.”

You wonder if he says that just to watch over you as you sleep. Even though the dulcet tone of his voice is tempting you to give in, your heart doesn't settle. What exactly were you doing? Simone. Tara. Captain Jenna. Xavier— what would your beloved association think if they saw you like this? Within the arms of someone with an outstanding bounty on his head; your natural enemy— feeling safe.

“If you want to get rid of me, just say so.”

Yet you make no move to leave. When Sylus himself offered to leave, you were the one who clung to him and never let him go. A simple bet that he had made led to spending the mundane moments of your life with him. It's too late to take back that decision now. Not like you wanted to anyway. From the moment you made that decision, your lives have been so intertwined that you can no longer tell when you end and he begins.

It's apparent if you would just drift your eyes over this space on the balcony and into his bedroom. Your gun next to his on the desk, you share bullets sometimes. A jacket— your favourite one, tossed carelessly over a chair. You're wearing one of his sweaters. There's a space for your belongings, storage built specifically for you. Before, Sylus slept upright. Now, there are never less than two pillows and at least three plushies on the bed.

Everywhere you look, there are traces of you. No doubt beyond this bedroom as well. The rest of the house. His armories, his safehouses. Businesses and dealings. Probably even on his private jet and yachts. You think that there may be traces of you on his person as well. Sylus's eyes follow yours, landing on each thing you stare at.

“Is there anything you want to change?” he asks, a subtle hint of mirth in his tone.

You nod: yes.

“Oh? Well then, go ahead and tell me what you want.”

Sylus stares into your eyes, waiting. The warmth in his gaze is almost unbearable, but you'll have to hold it when you demand things from him.

“I want you to never erase my traces from your life. I want you to never leave.”

“Where would I even go? Is that all? You could be a little greedier. Alright. I'll engrave you into my soul if I have to. Until you finally understand that you are my home. I promise.”

Sylus never breaks his promises, so you'll just have to believe him.

[oneforthemunny]

PLEASE ANYTHING WITH MAFIA EDDIE AND THE PUPPYS🥺

ogs will remember baby beelzebub (the fifth dog, a puppy mafia!edddie surprised reader with) and i'm just feeling like doing a fun, fluffy little work with them :)

"Beelzie!" Your voice carried through the hall, a shrill of a coo that teetered on a playful and exasperated. It had Eddie pausing, just for a moment, wondering if he should retreat back to his office or join you.

"No, no. You can't chew on that. That's not a toy."

The words piqued Eddie's curiosity enough to pull him into the living room, stopping at the bottom of the stairs when he saw you bent over, picking up the shredded remains of what looked like... socks.

"No," Eddie's voice boomed, echoing loud off the high ceilings of the house. Loud enough that the other four dogs sat, ears perked high on attention, while the puppy stilled for a moment, retreating close to you.

"Ed," Your frown was prominent in your words, scowling at him from over your shoulder. "Don't use your mean voice with him. He's just a baby."

Eddie scoffed, fighting back an eye roll. "A baby? He's a monster." Eddie gritted, reaching down to snatch the remnants of shredded socks- his shredded socks.

"Should've sent him to the training camp. 'S not too late to-"

"-Don't say that." You gasped, slapping his shin with a glare. "He's a puppy, Ed. He's just- He's doing puppy things!"

"He's a menace." Eddie muttered, watching the clumsy puppy trot up to Lucifer, jumping and mouthing at him to play. The older dog only gave a short growl, annoyed as he tried to sit at attention.

"It's ok, Lucy, you can play." You cooed lightly. "Tell them they can play with his baby brother. They're waiting on you, Ed."

"Why? So they can destroy the house some more? Chew on the rug again." Eddie grumbled, still, he clicked his tongue, giving a nod that they could play. Lucifer growling, pouncing on the puppy playfully as they ran around.

You collected the shreds of fabric, tossing them in the garbage, crossing the room to Eddie, your arms finding their way around his waist.

"He's just the sweetest little thing. You know he is," You gave Eddie a toothy grin, chin pressed to his chest. "Don't be mean to him. He's learning, and he's so sweet."

And he made you happy.

Really, that was the only thing that kept Eddie's sanity in line, with every chewed shoe and early morning, whining wake up call. The puppy, much like his brothers, made you happy, and therefore, it made Eddie happy.

"Gareth found trainers that can come in the day time to the warehouse and train him there." Eddie's hands slid down the back of yours arms, pulling you into him. "That way he doesn't have to be sent away."

That was the last thing he wanted, especially after the fit you threw when he suggested it. How you cried when he dropped him off, locked yourself in the guest room and refused to speak to Eddie. He'd drove two hours away that night and got the puppy back as soon as he'd arrived. He'd let Beelzebub tear the house apart before he did that again.

"Good." You hummed, your cheek pressed to his chest. You could hear his heart, the same steady thump you heard every night.

"I hope it doesn't dull his personality though." You mumbled, eyeing the puppy from across the room as he stumbled, growling and playing with his brothers. "I hope he still wants to cuddle."

Eddie bit his tongue from adding that he hoped he didn't. The newest addition was adamant on sleeping between the two of you, sprawled out and hogged you all to himself. It made Eddie a little jealous, though he'd never admit it.

"Tell them no to go too hard on him." You leaned back, lip jutted and brows pulled in a frown. The look made Eddie's heart soar.

His nose brushed yours, teeth nipping at your lip playfully, enough to get a squeal out of you. "I'm sure they won't. It's only two hours a day."

You grinned, pulling Eddie into a hot, sloppy kiss, walking him backwards to the couch. Eddie crashed under you, both your hands pulling feverishly at the other. Your legs straddling his hips, pushing him back, reaching for your own shirt until he hissed, sitting up quickly.

"Shit," Eddie muttered, brows pulled in annoyance, reaching under him and wiggling out a half chewed object. "Is that- Is that my belt buckle? A belt? What- What the fuck? Who chews up a belt?" Eyes wide in confused exasperation, sending you into a fit of giggles.

[microwavablefork]

Hi! 👋 I'm ovulating too and Nikto with a baby makes me squeal. Isn't nature a wonderful thing? 😌

He heard that skin to skin contact is important for bonding, so he takes naps with the little bean on his bare chest. The little one cooing and suckling softly in its sleep and his heart almost bursts in his chest. Large hand gently draped over the tiny back and the little breaths tickle his scarred skin.

He's a heavy smoker, but the moment the baby is there he becomes crazy aware. Not lighting a cigarette when the child is in sight, no smoking in the house anymore and he starts to try and smell less of cold tobacco.

Most times not one to push a pram, but he likes to have the baby in one of those carriers, his jacket zipped up over it so it stays warm and the little head peeking out looking up at papa.

When the baby can't sleep, he'll take it on endless walks through the night until the cold fresh air and the steady movement of his steps lull it to sleep. He'll make sure it's safe when they're out this late of course, but maby he has a gun with him just in case. One can't be too careful with a precious cargo like this.

And when he can't sleep (which happens often) he just sits in the nursery in the armchair where you feed usually and just watches the baby. Before he used to wander around the house or the streets aimlessly until dawn would break, but now he's content with sitting there and watching his kid breathe steadily. And he's already there when it wakes up and cries for milk or because it had a little bad dream. Papa to the rescue.

Have you seen when people draw eyebrows onto their babies? You do that one time to surprise him and give your little one a grumpy set of brows 🤨 and it results in one of those very rare fits of laughter from Nikto. He rasps and wails and holds his belly and then takes a million pictures.

That's what I could think of. Stay strong, the baby fever will subside until next month when it will inevitably come back. 😌

Oh my goodness me I need him desperately.

[kumabeom]

you’re losing me - beomgyu

summary : beomgyu lost the love of his life. because of his own actions

wc: 1.5k, beomgyu x reader, taehyun x reader, beomie isn’t a good person, cheating

you didn’t expect it at all. two days without your boyfriend. your clingy boyfriend, the same man who claimed he couldn’t go two hours without you. and it wasn’t like anything was holding you back. if you remembered correctly, you visited him in the morning just a day ago, knocking on the door and being met with no response. just a worrying silence befalling the atmosphere around you.

no messages. no calls. nothing.

and just now, he was returning to your home like nothing happened. a small greeting falling from his lips before deciding to wrap his arms around you and join you on the couch to watch some movie. he didn’t say anything, not even when you asked him about what happened. lies splurging from his mouth. something about work and needing to work overtime. not even bothering to explain why he hadn’t even picked up the phone. instead he just— laid there with you. and you accepted it. you accepted the way that he was being distant.

meaning that beomgyu wasn’t going to change his ways.

why would he? if he didn’t face any consequences, there was no reason to change his behavior.

so when you went 4 nights without hearing a single word from your lover. small lettering under your messages that read, “read”. you shrugged it off, knowing that he was at least a bit safe. and even though it seemed like you were keeping a strong and confident act, you felt your heart beginning to chip away. small empty holes with nothing to fill them up with. the joy that you once felt from seeing beomgyu started to dissipate.

but it was always okay in the end.

he eventually came around. whether it took a week or longer.

his absence became more.. consistent.

two days without beomgyu turned into five days. which eventually turned into weeks.

but as long as the warmth that emitted from his chest was against you at some point. you felt like you had no right to complain.

even if he was posting on instagram actively, reading your messages, but never giving a response.

sweet whispers of promises being softly spoken in your ear, promises that he’d make up all the time lost to you on some lavish date night. one where he promised to spend all night committing himself and his time to you.

but when that night came. ten minutes turned into twenty. which somehow became an hour. the waiter’s pity filled glare eventually brought you to your senses. leaving a bill at the table and packing your things up, leaving. exiting the stupidly luxurious restaurant. the ridiculously overpriced dress that you had on was ripped off and replaced with the comfortable pajamas that you found lying around your home.

when beomgyu showed up the next day, he didn’t even mention the date the two of you had set the day before. showing up like nothing had happened. the man who once cared so much about you, was now gone. the loving stares that you were used to being met with were replaced with cold shoulders.

small gestures that beomgyu used to show you as an act of love were all gone. he no longer took the time to spare time for your weekly movie night. he never offered to do you the small, yet irritable chores that you hated doing. he no longer let you wake up to the smell of a sweet breakfast. the small actions of affection were so rare to fall victim to.

the lack of small kisses splattered all over your body, no longer experiencing the slight electric sensation that caused you to become absolutely flustered. the two of you rarely ever went on a date, and when you did, it was after spending hours waiting for him to even remember to show up.

you couldn’t help but wonder if beomgyu had been cheating on you. the sudden excuses to leave after he took a singular look at his phone.

the weird messages that he would get that yelled out loud to you. flirty little pick up lines showing up on the screen of his phone. sudden “work meetings” coming up out of nowhere.

so when you asked beomgyu to meet you at his apartment, he didn’t really know what to expect. you had stuck by his side for months, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. he showed up hours later than you had asked him to, even though you expected it. that hadn’t meant that it didn’t hurt any less. tears dripping down your face. quivering bottom lip tucked by your upper teeth. the feeling of pain spreading through your body.

attempting to discard of your tears as beomgyu popped into your apartment. no words being exchanged to comfort you, he could tell you’d been crying, but usually when he saw you crying, you usually came around. because for some reason. you always came back to him. his lack of effort in the relationship, yet you always came back to him. to the cold atmosphere that he now set between the two of you.

“i think we should break up..” you muttered, glossy eyes looking down.

“why?” was all he could say. he never thought he’d feel it. he never thought he could feel the amount of anxiety that currently felt like it was piercing his heart. he was immune to it. at least that’s what he thought.

“this relationship is so one sided..” beomgyu immediately knew what you were talking about. the way you had spent restless nights wondering if he was ever going to make it home. the amount of times that your calls went straight to voicemail as you wondered if he was ever going to show up to what the two of you had planned.

“okay.” it angered you even more to see that beomgyu had no kind of argument against your decision. did he really want nothing to do with you. had he been cheating on you, and was he waiting for this opportunity to appear, so that he could leave a suffocating relationship.

he really didn’t love you. you believed it. you truly believed it. he silently walked off, leaving you alone in a weeping state. sobs falling from your mouth, translucent tears streaming down your face. soaking in sorrowful tears, basking in a weeping pity full mess.

it took you a while.

a while to stop mourning over the absence of someone so important to you. to realize that you had no reason to care for a relationship that was only ever one sided. but eventually, you were convinced. convinced that you were over beomgyu and his rather toxic habits.

beomgyu thought that it would’ve been easy. if he didn’t give any effort into a relationship, then surely it wouldn’t have bothered him to move on.

either way, beomgyu had been talking to someone. he wouldn’t consider it cheating. there were no romantic acts involved. except for the occasional kissing, sleepy nights spent together, cute small dates planned together. all while you were bawling your eyes out.

so why was it? why was it that beomgyu found himself thinking about you while still with his newfound lover. the person he claimed would save him from his horrible relationship. he often thought about the way that he was the reason for everything going wrong. you always tried. but he never did.

beomgyu still lurked around and would often times see what you posted on social media. small, indirect quotes targeted towards him. music lyrics indirectly describing your heartbroken state. but one day. he noticed that it all changed.

happy song lyrics.

cute emojis posted with outdoor pictures.

happy lyrics slowly turning into more loving, romantic wording.

posting pictures of two items. out getting coffee ? there were always two coffees. out getting ice cream? there were always two cones.

pictures of the largest and most beautiful bouquets being displayed.

a kiss mark on the back of someone’s hand.

two hands grasped together.

“happy one year anniversary my love <3.”

those words stuck out to beomgyu like a sore thumb. and when the story disappeared on his screen, he clicked on your profile once again. leading him to the screen he was just at. noticing that your lips were directly placed on taehyun’s cheek. his friend. his own friend.

two years after the two of you broke up. and now it was your one year anniversary with taehyun.

beomgyu could get mad as much as he wanted. but at the end of the day— it was his fault. it was always his fault.

it was his fault that he changed, that he started cheating. finding joy in such a forbidden way. leaving you stranded with no one to help you.

and when someone did help you.

he was angry. angry that taehyun did what he couldn’t. upset over the fact that taehyun had his hands on something that was once his.

taehyun had your love.

something that beomgyu had. until he selfishly threw away your relationship for his own pleasure.

©️kumabeom

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