#and giving explanation about the decision AFTER asking for said decision

[lyss-butterscotch]

Lyss be stressed over college because i over think things before even starting! Feat. College explaining important decision AFTER asking me to make said important decision

[spearxwind]

Idk if this counts as spoilers but if Adri is essentially like a computer virus where did he get a physical body from?? Did he steal it from someone or was it provided for him to he put into??? So much to think about........

GREAT QUESTION! He stole it :)

He stole the body and the body's name for himself, and then fabricated an appearance and personality and mannerisms.

His body is one of the previously many nanomachine systems set in place in the Old World to safeguard and maintain both people and machinery. They were known as Guardian Arrays, but now they are referred to as Angels. Only two are currently known to still be fully operational, Adri being one of them.

The Fall (Otherwise known as the literal end of the world) was an apocalypse event where a system bug caused every advanced enough AI to go rogue and turn on mankind. It started small, but spread far and wide exponentially and it irreparably changed whatever it infected. The Arrays, being as important as they were, had more safeguards in place against this stuff but it still didn't stop them from becoming infected. Especially ADRIEL. The corruption inside it became severe enough that it first became a virus, and then grew into a full fledged self compiled AI that was notorious enough to be given its own name "Usurper", though you know it as "The Hydra".

The only way to avoid being completely wiped out during this event was to mass purge absolutely EVERYTHING (so humanity lost basically 99% of their tech and their knowledge). Did this work? kiiiind of.

Because of it's self compiled nature, ADRIEL was never able to be properly purged, so instead it was (after a monumental, worldwide effort) put to sleep beneath the earth, never to be disturbed again.

Until....

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[girlgenius1111]

You Come Back With Gravity

alexia and r have an argument. r misunderstands, and when alexia leaves to calm down, she thinks she's going for good. angst + fluff :)

-----

Alexia was big on communication, and she didn't like to fight. Neither did you, although your track record in past relationships may argue otherwise. That was more on your former partners, though, than it was on you. Not fighting was new for you. Alexia never yelled, and she insisted that the two of you talk about any issues that were going on calmly, and like adults. A voice had never been raised between the two of you, arguments never escalating to full blown shouting matches, mostly because of Alexia's insistence that they didn't.

Something about this argument, though, felt different. Alexia had proposed a few weeks ago, and, after having a bit too much to drink, you'd brought up something that had been nagging at the back of your mind for a while. Alexia had brushed it aside that night, and again and again since, until you practically forced her to talk about it. Normally, when you presented Alexia with an issue you had, she was quick to try to fix it. Your teammates often joked about the complete 180 Alexia did when she was around you, melting and agreeing to anything you asked of her. You were the same way for her, but it was more surprising that their normally very willful captain so easily did as you said.

If Alexia wouldn't budge on an issue, she normally had a reason, and you didn't require her to explain herself to you. This was different, though. You needed an explanation, before your mind continued to take off in the worst directions.

"Alexia, do you not see that this is important to me?"

"I do, amor, but there is no room for discussion. We are not going public with our relationship. It has stayed low key for this long, and I intend to keep it that way." Alexia was quickly losing her patience with you, and you could tell. Still, you persisted. 

'You won't even give me a reason, Ale! Is this what our relationship is going to be like for the rest of our lives? You make a decision that affects both of us, and I just have to live with it?" Your voice was slightly raised and you could tell Alexia was upset. You were pacing around the room, and she was sitting, completely still, on the couch. Alexia was never still. A part of her was always moving.

"I am not changing my mind on this, mi amor." Alexia told you calmly, although her jaw clenched tight when she finished speaking.

"Okay, well that's it. You don't care what I think. Whatever you say goes, is that it?" You were using anger to hide how terrified you were. There was really only one reason that you could think of to explain Alexia's complete refusal to be transparent about your relationship.

"You know that it is not."

"This is absurd, Ale, we can't even have a conversation without you-"

"¡Basta! Stop yelling, I do not want to talk anymore about this," Alexia shouted finally, rising to her feet.

"I am yelling because you are not listening to me,"

"You are not listening to me. No more of this, we can discuss it when we are both calmer."

"I don't want to push this aside again, I would like to resolve it now." You tried to calm yourself down slightly despite your words, drawing in a few deep breaths as you waited for your fiancée to respond.

"It is resolved. There is no discussion to be had. There is no other option; we are not going public. No."

You let out a humorless laugh, and Alexia's eyebrows shot up. She did not like to be laughed at.

"You aren't being fair, Alexia. I deserve an explanation for why you are so very ashamed of me, to the point you don't want anyone to know we are together."

Alexia rolled her eyes, not taking your statement seriously. She thought you were just being dramatic, there was no way you really believed that. You did believe it, though and Alexia's complete dismissal in the face of your admitted vulnerability made you furious.

"Jesus, Alexia. Fine. You get your way. As usual. Captain Alexia always gets what she wants." You yelled, throwing yourself down on the couch dramatically and burying your head in your hands. You didn't want to cry while you were fighting with her, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You knew you weren't being fair, or particularly nice but Alexia had hurt your feelings and she didn't even seem to understand why.

It was dead silent for a full minute before Alexia let out a long, drawn out exhale, and spoke.

"You are being mean. I am going to go to Alba's."

Her words were stiff, clearly communicating how upset she was with you, and you whipped your head up to look at her, watching as she headed towards the door, grabbing her keys. She put her airpods in, but you didn't see her do so.

"Ale? Are you coming back?" You called, voice full of insecurity.

Alexia couldn't hear you, not with her music playing as loud as it was, and she walked out the door without acknowledging that you'd spoken.

You were frozen. This was what you always did; take a small fight and push it so far that the other person finally saw that you weren't worth the trouble. It hadn't happened with Alexia yet because you'd never fought with her. It wasn't enough that she didn't want anyone to know the two of you were together, you had to push her until she didn't want to be with you, period.

You were an over-thinker to your core, and you were convinced, absolutely, that you had just destroyed the most important relationship that you'd ever had. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, the suffocating weight of thinking that the woman you loved was not coming back taking over.

You weren't sure why you were surprised. People left, people always left. Why would this be any different? Alexia was the best person you'd ever known, and she deserved far better than what you could give her, even when you were at your best. Of course Alexia didn't want anyone to know that she was with you. Of course she didn't want you. You had only yourself to blame.

-----

While you sat alone in your apartment, spiraling, Alexia was driving not to her sisters, but to the beach. She needed some peace and quiet to think, which she surely would not find at Alba's.

She just needed to cool down. You were upset, she was upset, and continuing on like you had been would only lead you both to say things you didn't mean. She'd take an hour, calm down, and head home. Alexia had no idea that you had asked her a question before she'd left, had no idea that you were sitting at home, convinced she was done with you.

The longer she was gone, though, the more guilty she felt. She remembered the look on your face when you'd spoken:

"I deserve an explanation for why you are so very ashamed of me, to the point you don't want anyone to know we are together."

She thought you were just trying to make a point at the time, but as she got space from the fight, and from her own anger, she felt less sure about that judgment. You'd looked distraught when you said it. It would explain why you were so very upset with her reluctance to go public, why you were so very upset with her.

Alexia had watched many relationships fall apart once they hit the public eye; some of her own, and some of them, her friend's. She didn't want that. As long as you two kept this to yourselves, allowing your loved ones and teammates to know and no one else, the media couldn't destroy it. That was Alexia's biggest fear; losing you, and having no control over it.

Of course, you were sat at home, practically catatonic, at the thought that you had lost Alexia.

-----

Alexia didn't even make it an hour like she planned. She was parking in the driveway 44 minutes after she'd left, flowers next to her in the front seat, as she tried to figure out if she'd given you enough space to think. She determined that she had, mostly because she couldn't stand leaving things like this any longer, and she fixed her hair in the mirror, tucking the shorter pieces behind her ears in the way she knew you liked, before grabbing the flowers.

When she had left, it was still light out. It was dark, now, and Alexia was surprised when she opened the door and there was not a light on in the house. She panicked slightly, wondering if you'd left, before spotting your silhouette on the couch. Exactly where you'd been when she left. It looked like you hadn't moved, even an inch. The blonde slipped her shoes off, walking cautiously closer to you, flipping on the light.

You didn't make a move, giving her no indication that you knew she was there with you. Alexia could tell you were trembling, and every breath you drew in came with a small, pained whimper. Alexia was more than concerned, now. She dropped the flowers on the table, before crouching down in front of you.

"Mi amor?" She said softly, weary to touch you, not wanting to startle you.

"Hey, amor?" She spoke slightly louder this time. Still, you didn't even twitch. Tentatively, she reached her hand out, letting her hand wrap around your wrist. She was going to try to pull your hand away from your face, but you beat her to it, jumping a foot in the air at her touch, and scrambling backwards.

"It is me, amor, it is just me," Alexia reassured, throwing her hands up in the air, and not moving any closer.

"Ale?" You gasped, as if you couldn't believe that she was here in front of you. You were half convinced you were hallucinating. It felt like 2 minutes had passed, but also like it had been hours since she left.

"It is just me," Alexia repeated, taking a seat on the very edge of the couch. You were still shaking, and Alexia longed to bring you into her arms.

"What are you doing here?" You asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You came back. Why?"

"Why... why would I not come back? This is our home. Ours. Did you not want me here?" Alexia asked insecurely, entirely confused at your reaction. Your eyes were watery, and you bit your lip, shaking your head at her.

"No, I want you here, I... I asked if you were coming back. And you left without answering."

"Qué?" Alexia asked, looking genuinely confused. Alexia couldn't lie to you, and if she'd ignored something you'd said, she'd admit to it.

"Before you walked out the door, I asked if you were coming back." You explained further, although you were already relaxing slightly. Ale was here, she came back.

A look of realization dawned over your girlfriend's face. "I had my headphones in, amor, I did not hear you."

Now that Alexia could see where your mind had started to go, it wasn't hard to piece the rest of it together. It made sense, suddenly, why you were so upset. You'd thought Alexia had left you.

It was only seconds after that revelation that Alexia was reaching across the couch and pulling you into her arms; one wrapped tightly around your back, the other hand lacing through your hair and pushing your face into her neck. You clung tightly to her, melting into her touch.

"I would never leave you. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. I wanted to calm down, so we could have a conversation. I should have thought that through, bebé, I am so sorry."

You shook your head against her. "I shouldn't have overreacted, it was just that you were so upset, and we never fight. You're so good, Ale, it's like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always waiting for you to realize that you can do better. I thought you had, I thought that's why you didn't want anyone to know about us."

Alexia shut her eyes tightly. You'd meant what you'd said earlier, then, and she'd completely dismissed it. She guided you away from her, just a bit, cradling your face in her hands. She brushed your hair back out of your face, pursing her lips as she tried to figure out what to say.

"It was not an overreaction. You thought I ignored you, you thought I was leaving. I know how nervous these things make you, mi amor, I should have been clearer."

"Amor, do you think that I want to keep our relationship private because I am ashamed of you?" When Alexia said the words, it felt ridiculous. You knew it was irrational to feel the way you felt, but at the same time… your fear was all encompassing. You tried to lean away from her, preserve some of your dignity even as more tears slid down your face, but Alexia wouldn't let you. "Hey, no. Tell me, por favor.” 

“You’re you Ale. And I’m just me. I would understand if you didn’t want people to know you were with me, you should be with someone better, prettier,-” 

“Stop.” Alexia said, shaking her head frantically. She looked physically pained at your words. “Stop. You are not allowed to talk about yourself like that. You are mí niña, mí niña perfecta. I am proud that you are mine, everyday. You are the best, you are the prettiest. You are all I need, te prometo que.” The blondes eyes were wide with a desperate need for you to believe her. You wanted to. 

“Then why, Ale? Why don’t you want people to know you’re with me?” You chewed on your bottom lip when Alexia didn’t answer right away, and her thumb reached over to lightly tap it. You released your lip, tightening your grip on your girlfriend, only growing more terrified for her answer as time passed. 

“You are so perfect.” Alexia started, giving you a stern look when you shook your head on instinct. “It’s so easy with you. So easy to love you, so easy to be with you. The media complicates everything, the fans. They would say horrible things to you and about you. As long as no one knows, I can keep you safe. I can keep you mine. Just mine.” 

“Alexia, I’m not worried about that.” You assured her. 

“You should be, mi amor, I am worried about it.” Alexia emphasized, and you only really realized the stress this worry was causing her at that moment. “It would not be the first time the media has ruined a relationship, and I do not think I could survive it if I lost you.” The blonde’s voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and suddenly, she wasn’t holding you anymore, you were holding her. Cradling her face in your hands as you insistently tried to get her watery, hazel eyes to meet yours. 

“Even if the media goes crazy, even if people say mean stuff. I’ll still want you, Ale. It won’t be fun but it’s worth it. If it’s for you? It’s worth it, it’ll always be worth it.” 

Alexia let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a sigh of relief, burying her face in your neck. Her tears were wet against your skin, her breaths ragged and frantic. “Te amo,” she murmured. “You make me so happy, amor. If you are not worried about the media, then I will try not to be. If you want people to know, then we tell. Whatever you want, whatever you need. As long as you know that I love you, that you are perfect, that you are mine, forever. Para siempre.” 

Now you were crying, and she was still crying, as she gave you a very wet kiss, and it was entirely more emotional than either of you would have liked, but there was nothing to be done. The perfect relationship, you supposed, was one where you each thought the other to be perfect. Even if you didn’t see yourself that way, Alexia would always be there to convince you of your perfection, as you would for her.

-----

[vivwritesfics]

Fire Is The Devil's Only Friend

Chapter Two

There was no such thing as making it on your own with a high profile boyfriend. That was why she kept her relationship a secret. But then after a PR fuck up, her boyfriend is forced into PR relationship and she's left on the side lines, missing him

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"Have you saved your work yet?"

Carlos knew better than anyone how hard she was working. Between writing her next book, using social media to market, and answering emails from her editor, she as flat out. He was incredibly worried about her.

She looked up at him for just a second before saving her work. The moment she did, Carlos pushed the lid of her laptop closed. "Carlos!" She cried. She went to open the laptop again, but Carlos pulled it from the table.

"One hour, mi amor. Give me on hour, and then I've give you your laptop back."

She thought on it. "You promise just an hour?"

"I promise," he said as he stepped towards her, the laptop against his chest. "We can go and get coffee together." He leaned down and pecked her lips.

She pouted as he pulled away. "You're too good to me."

"Because I just love you so much," he said and kissed her again.

***

The story of Carlos Sainz's relationship with Rebecca Donaldson broke in the early hours of the next morning. Neither of them were aware.

Carlos didn't check his phone when he woke up. He went on a run in the early hours of the morning and spent a few hours working out, like he did every day, all while she slept.

When he got back, she was still sleeping. Carlos made two coffees and brought them to the bedroom. Placing them down onto their bedside tables, Carlos leaned over and kissed his head. "Wake up, mi corazón," he said softly.

She stirred awake and glared at her husband. "It's so early," she groaned, pressing her face further into the pillow.

His laugh echoed around their bedroom. "It's not that early, my love. I got you coffee, drink up."

They had just a few hours together before she was having an online meeting with her publishers in her office and Carlos was meeting with the team at Ferrari.

He opened his laptop and logged into the call. He was rarely in a bad mood these days, the team at Ferrari noted. It was a surprise to all of them, especially after the story they had sold to the media that morning. "Carlos, I'm sure you've heard the news."

The smile dropped from Carlos's face, replaced by a frown. "What news?" He asked. He hadn't yet been on any social media, had seen none of the news articles flash up on his phone.

"We made a decision here at Maranello, one we felt would benefit the entire team," somebody else said. "After some recent events, all of which were out of our control, we thought it best to give the media something more digestible. To do so, it was leaked to the press that you were potentially romantically linked to Rebecca Donaldson, the Scottish Model."

All expression dropped from Carlos's face. He turned on his phone and, for the first time, saw the news. The news about him.

The photo of himself with Rebecca Donaldson wasn't obviously photoshopped, but there was no other explanation. There he was, in a picture with a woman he had never met.

"See, the things is, Carlos, what else are we supposed to do? Do you want Ferrari to crumble?"

No, obviously he didn't want that. "But what about the relationships of mine this does affect?" He asked quickly, pulling open his desk drawer and pulling out the ring box. He didn't display it on camera, fiddled with it in his lap. "What if I was in a relationship and I hadn't yet told anyone?"

"You don't want to lose your seat, do you?" It was a dirty ploy, but the Ferrari team was desperate. "You're almost thirty, you have a limited number of wins under your belt and no championships. Will any other team want you?"

Carlos's heart pounded in his chest. "So, I have to go on with this fake relationship and I'll get to keep my seat?"

"Exactly."

He sucked in a deep breath. Just a wall separated him from the love of his life, but here he was, ready to betray her. All for his seat. "What will I have to do?"

The rest of the meeting was spent with the Ferrari team telling Carlos exactly what they wanted from him. Be seen with her at races, have her in the Ferrari garage, take her to dinner sometimes. It was easy enough.

But it wasn't. Because the woman he loved was going to be at the races too, just not with him, not in the way they wanted Rebecca to be with him.

It was too late for him to back out. The press had released several stories about Carlos and Rebecca already.

The call ended, but he just stayed there, sitting in his chair. He flipped open the ring box several times, playing with it in his hands. The ring was gorgeous, simple, elegant. But now, Carlos doubted he'd ever get to put it on her finger.

At the knock on his office door, Carlos shoved the ring back into his desk drawer. "Carlos?" She called as she entered his office. He looked to the door as she walked in. Her shoes clicked softly against the tiled floor as she walked to his desk and sat herself on his lap. "I've got news about the release. It's launching next week."

"I'll be the first to buy it," he said, his hands on her hips.

Just hours ago, this would have been welcome news. The release of her book meant they were one step closer with telling the world about their relationship. But all of that had been thrown out of the window now, and she had no idea.

"I can't wait to kiss you after a race," she said, her head against his shoulder. "I can't wait to be seen with you."

Carlos said nothing. He kissed her head and held her close, relishing in these moments they had together. There was no telling how many more there would be once she found out.

Maybe he could propose to her now. Drop down onto one knee, put the ring onto her finger and kiss her until she forgot how to breathe. But then it would hurt so much more when she found out.

And he couldn't do that to her.

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[cameronspecial]

Dad!drew and readers kid wants a sibling, so drew and reader have THE conversation

Can We Really Do It?

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex at The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Anything Megan wants, she gets. There are boundaries, of course; however, if it is within his power and she is being good, Drew makes it his mission to buy it for her. Today, the little girl comes home from daycare wanting something that her parents can’t just pick up on a run to the store. “Mommy, I want a baby brother,” Megan announces nonchalantly, focusing her attention on eating her snack. The hand drying off a glass freezes, “Why do you ask, Baby?” Megan shrugs and stares at the carrot in her hand. “Stephanie has one and she gets to play with him at home all the time, so I want one too. Can we go to the store tomorrow to get one? I have been a good girl,” she suggests. Y/N sighs and sets the glass on the drying rack, “Unfortunately, Baby, Mommy and Daddy can’t just go to the store and get one. I will have to talk about it with Daddy and if we decide to get one, then it could be a while until we get one.” When her daughter doesn’t reply right away, she knows that Megan has already moved on from the conversation. “Okay, can we play outside after snack?” Megan innocently asks, kicking her legs while she eats the vegetable. 

———

As Y/N returns to her bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, Drew starts taking off the decorative pillows his wife insists on keeping. She joins him at the head of the bed and fluffs their pillows. “So…” she begins, eyes remaining on her task. “Meg asked me about getting a baby brother.” He pauses his actions, getting into bed beside her. “And do we know why she is asking for one?” he pries. She snuggles into his side, “Because Stephanie has one and Meg wants someone to play with.” Drew nods along with her explanation. “I see. I mean… We always talked about wanting more kids. The question was always when,” he reminds her. She leans her head back to rest against the headboard, “We did, but is two years too early? I mean, we always said we would wait until she starts school to start trying.” “That is true. You and your sister have a two-year age gap and you guys turned out fine,” he says. 

“We aren’t my parents though, so it is more so what we are ready for. I love Megan. But sometimes she can be a lot and if we have another kid, we would need to deal with both.”

“Yeah, we would. I’ll be honest. I think that we can do it. We are great parents and we have so much love to give. Maybe another kid would be good for us. However, having a baby affects you physically, so if you aren’t ready to go through that again, then I am perfectly happy to wait.”

Her heart squeezes at his consideration of her needs. Being pregnant was hard, yet the reward of getting to be a parent made it worth it so the pregnancy wasn’t her issue. “I’m fine with the pregnancy. It’s just… Can we really do it?” she thinks out loud, tracing the skin on his forearm. His lips find her temple, “I mean… Can we physically have sex to have a baby? I’m going to say yes considering we did it last night without the baby-making part.” She gives him a shove at his joke. “Be serious. Do you think we can do it?” she chuckles. His smile turns to a straight line, “I do. And in the instant that we think that we can’t, we will have each other to rely on.” She takes a second to process what he is saying and makes her decision. “Okay, let’s do this.”

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[the-whispers-of-death]

When Grumpy!Reader postpones their lunch date with little to no explanation, John Price is confused. He at first thinks it's because your kid's sick, but then he glances out the window in his house which overlooks your backyard and he sees them playing in your backyard, looking as healthy as can be.

Momentarily, he thinks maybe you don't want to be with him anymore, but he dismisses the train of thought. You'd tell him if that was the case, he knows you would. No, something else is happening, and he doesn't know if he should intervene.

He eventually decides to just leave you alone, giving you some space. Until three hours later, when he hears a car pull up in your driveway next door and hears whoever gets out of the car slams the car door shut. He's still insistent on giving you your space, until he hears yelling.

John immediately heads for the front door and unlocks it, stepping outside and onto his porch to see the commotion. On your stoop is your ex whom John has been told all about, yelling at you for trying to replace their position as co-parent to your child with John.

As if they truly cared about your kid.

John knows well enough that just a week ago, your kid was very sad and disappointed when said ex had postponed the plans they made to see your kid in favor of going to a concert. John remembers going over to your house to help cheer your kid up, taking you both out for a day of fun.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees your ex get in your face, despite you being taller than them. He can't take anymore of them yelling at you, so he steps off his porch and heads over the boundary between your two houses.

"Oi, mate! Leave them alone," John calls out, his voice so gruff as he comes over. He walks onto your porch, pushing your ex back as he gets in front of you to be between you and your ex. "Back off, now."

Your ex sneers at him. "Oh, you must be their new partner, huh?" They get in John's face, sneering at you too over John's shoulder before looking back at John. "You can't replace me as a parent, you know that, don't you?"

John is calm and collected as he stares at your ex. "I'm not intending on replacing anyone, mate. But I sure as hell understand why they left you," he grumbles, so much larger than your ex.

"They didn't leave me!" Your ex shouts, offended by the assumption. They sputter, their face flushed with anger. "I left them, because they weren't enough for me."

John usually prides himself on remaining calm, not one to anger easily. But with you, he finds himself so protective. Even if he knows you can protect yourself. He just won't stand for you being disrespected.

"You listen here," he growls, his voice low and threatening as he steps towards your ex. One of his hands has found their way to the collar of your ex's shirt and he uses his grip to make them step away from you, practically pulling your ex to their car. "They are good enough, you just couldn't see it. Good riddance, I say. But you have no ground to stand on here. If their child sees me as more of a parental figure than they do you, it is no one's fault but yours. And I'll be damned if I let you take it out on my partner."

He gets them to their car and lets go of them, glaring at them to open their car door. "Now, it's not my place to tell you to never see your child again. It's up to my partner and their child to make that decision, but you will not be forcing your way into their lives if they don't want you here." He steps closer to your ex as they open their car door. "I better not see you yelling at my partner again, you understand me? Leave."

John waits a while after your ex is gone, ensuring that they have truly left the subdivision. When he's certain the danger is gone, he heads back to your porch and apologizes for stepping in unprompted. He makes it up to you and your child by coming inside (when you ask him to) and he makes your child's favorite meal for dinner, happy to be spending more time with you both.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[badwolfrose34]

Girl in the Fireplace Rant (cont.)

There was at least some engagement on my last post about this so I decided I will in fact post a follow up. GitF was 100% a bad faith episode. Moffat wrote it because he is classist and misogynistic and hates Rose. Unfortunately, part of his purpose for the episode was to show that the Doctor will always prefer a “classy” aristocrat over Rose and he wanted to have her treated as nothing. So, all of us Rose fans have to come up with a headcanon that undermines the writer’s intentions.

I think the most common one is to believe the episode was the Doctor’s attempts to push Rose away because of her mortality and how that scares him.

That never worked for me because a major part of the Doctor’s character is his protectiveness. He would never push her away to the point of danger or abandonment. For me, I feel that fictional or not, the actions of the Doctor in that episode would be entirely unforgivable if they did happen. So my headcanon is that this episode was a nightmare Rose had.

If you are like me are also one of the fans for whom the pushing her away theory doesn’t work, read on for my explanation of why I don’t think GitF could be an actual event within canon. Moffat may be a BBC writer but it doesn’t give him a right to completely undermine the show, it doesn’t actually belong to anyone outside of financial concerns. If you’re content with believing he needed to push Rose away and that the episode did happen, you can ignore this.

Why the events GitF did not happen within canon (but could’ve happened as a nightmare)

1. Doctor Who canon is very loose as it is. With multiple writers across multiple mediums, things do contradict each other and us as fans get to decide for ourselves what fits with canon and what does not.

2. The Doctor has been clearly shown to be in love with Rose. He is protective of her to the point that if a decision will kill everyone else but give her even a slight chance of survival, he can’t actually make that decision. He almost did in Dalek, but after she didn’t get through the barricade the first time he was incapable of significantly reducing her safety for the good of everyone else. He snapped awake from a regeneration coma just because Rose said “help me”. He freaked out when Cassandra had her body and again in Tooth and Claw when she was in trouble. If you count Stone Rose that almost certainly took place before GitF and he once again, lost his mind over Rose being a statue.

I do understand seeing Sarah Jane age freaked him out. And I could’ve understood him distancing himself from Rose a bit in some way. But his instinct to protect her is so strong he’d never sacrifice her safety to push her away. Leaving her alone with clockwork for an extended period of time while he partied and invented drinks is impossible enough. Let alone the way he believed he’d have no way back to the ship when he went through the time window for the last time. Not only had he just promised she could spend the rest of her life with him, but her and Mickey would’ve likely died alone on that abandoned spaceship.

Simply, it’s just too out of character to happen within the rest of the Ninth and Tenth Doctors’ canon.

3. The horse. I have been a big horse person my entire life. Horses have extremely strong flight instincts. Even the most trusting and well trained horse in the world is never going to jump through reinforced glass. I do realize as Sci Fi fans we have to suspend disbelief for a lot of things. But we are never given an explanation as to why this horse would behave so dramatically differently from another horse. Every bizarre thing we accept in the DW universe is explained to some extent. There is a book where the Doctor tames a horse with psychic paper. But that horse is never asked to violate its instincts. That horse behaves as any other tame horse behaves. That is an example of acceptable DW suspension of belief. There is still a sci fi/alien technical explanation and I can absorb it. I cannot absorb a horse jumping through a firm glass window unless they were running from something even scarier. No matter how well trained a horse is, it’s not jumping through glass just because a humanoid asked them to. Nothing was chasing Arthur and his body language did not suggest any kind of fear to indicate he was running from something even scarier. All the droids were already in the other side of the window as well. It’s simply bizarre and impossible, even in a sci fi snow. Within this very show the Doctor states you can’t hypnotize someone beyond their survival instincts. I believe this applies to horses and a horse’s instincts is to avoid jumping through or into a reinforced barrier.

Next, we are given no explanation as to how this horse jumped through glass unscathed. Glass that was said to be so strong only a truck could break through. Horses are also extremely delicate and many have fatally injured themselves just playing in the paddock. Even for injuries not that extreme, every horse person knows that even small things result in giant vet bills.

Finally, it is once again grossly out of character for the Doctor to take a living animal and make them do something he previously calculated would required a truck.

4. Things are back to normal as if the episode never happened by the Rise of the Cybermen. If the Doctor had really developed feelings for another woman so strong that he would leave Rose for dead, then lost her, would he just be back to being the same old Doctor the very next episode? I doubt it. The Doctor is also a character known for holding on to guilt. Even if Reinette was mechanism to push Rose away, the way he abandoned her would’ve caused enough guilt he wouldn’t just be normal the very next episode. The show carries on as if Reinette never happened because Reinette never happened.

The only reference to that GitF is some clockwork droids in John Smith’s journal. Which could be explained by another encounter with the droids or by the Doctor looking at Rose’s mind to see the nightmare. Which would be an intimate enough moment to imprint on John Smith’s subconscious. The words “a girl in every fireplace” can once again refer to the Doctor seeing Rose’s nightmare or another off screen adventure entirely. There is no reference strong enough to confirm the actual events of GitF ever happened. The show functions exactly the same way without it. Because, it never happened.

5. The events of the show make perfect sense as a nightmare in Rose’s head. Take it from someone with a degree in psychology. Rose has abandonment wounds from Jimmy Stone. She also has abandonment wounds from her father dying when she was too young to understand it. School Reunion, the episode right before GitF triggers her abandonment wounds by making her see the Doctor has previously left companions and did not come back for them. It also makes her wonder if she is special to the Doctor. These doubts combined with her past trauma are a perfect recipe for her to have a bizarre nightmare where she gets abandoned in the most horrific way after the events of School Reunion.

I will leave you all with my fic where this was all a nightmare. Or you can write your own if you prefer. My point is that for those who feel the way I do about this episode, we do not have to accept the events as canon. We do not have to believe the Doctor has ever treated Rose this way except in her worst nightmares.

Update to address Deep Breath:

1. Doctor mentioned seeing clockwork droids before, but we know that the Doctor has many off screen adventures. He could’ve encountered the droids at any other point in his entire life besides GitF.

2. As for that episode stating the SS Madame De Pompadour existed, that still doesn’t confirm anything. There was a real life ship called the USS Queen of France. This was named for Marie Antoinette. Jackie dated a sailor once and Rose had a friend named Keisha whose brother was a sailor. This means Rose could’ve heard one of them discussing historical naval ships. This how she would imagine a ship named after Madame de Pompadour in the first place. She and the people who built the SS Madame de Pompadour and SS Marie Antoinette would’ve simply drawn inspiration from the same place. Also, there’s the fact that someone named a fictional ship Titan many years before Titanic ever existed.

Update 2: Rose was going to get an A level in French if she hadn’t run off with Jimmy. So she could’ve reasonably been familiar with some aspects of French history and able to imagine all of these things in a dream, even if it wasn’t a historically accurate dream, everyone knows weird things happen in dreams.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hero x villaim but hit them with the "with everybody watching us, our every move, we each have reputation" (NOT A WRITING REQ UNLESS U WANNA DO IT !!!! just a silly thought I'd share bc . theyre so doomed) :3 -🐏

“You’re upset with me.” The villain chose their words carefully. In a situation like this, it wouldn’t be smart to let their emotional side win over.

“I am. I am very upset with you,” the hero said. They still looked terrible from the fight. Scratches and bruises covered their face as if the hero was the night sky and their wounds the stars. Even though the villain knew not to rush into things, they only wished to tend to the hero’s wounds.

“You know I couldn’t let you die.”

“I begged you to save those people instead of me,” the hero argued.

“It sounds horrible but I didn’t care about these people. My decision was made in an instant. I decided to save you, I decided to reach for you without even considering.” The villain wanted to explain it, wanted to make sure the hero understood. It had been an easy decision. It was cruel but it was the truth.

And now, the hero was starting to cry.

“I asked you to save these innocent people. These ten innocent people that had lives and families and jobs. These people who were important, who were someone’s entire world. Ten of them!” they choked out between sobs.

“You will save more people in the future than all of them would have combined,” the villain tried to argue but they knew, deep down they knew, how their weakness of logic and reason got in their way. They couldn’t help but see the world as patterns and effects. With explanations and conclusions weaving around them — a big terrible net of information.

They knew it wasn’t what the hero wanted nor what they needed to hear but the villain couldn’t give them what they deserved, they couldn’t find the comforting words.

They couldn’t even find a solution this time.

“That’s not the point. People aren’t numbers. People aren’t data,” the hero said. By now, tears streamed down their face and the villain wondered if they’d let them brush those tears away for them. Probably not. “I wanted you to save them. I wanted you to do the right thing.”

“The right thing was saving you. I’d do it all over again.”

“I thought you could change.”

“I thought you’d understand.” The hero shook their head and wiped their tears away with a bruised and swollen hand. A mission going south. Partly because the villain had been present. It wasn’t easy to take the blame but the villain supposed this was the least they could do if finding the right words was impossible already.

“People are chess pieces to you. You move them around how you want and you don’t care. You truly don’t care what happens to any of them,” the hero said. The villain could see their red ears and their shaking hands. And in this very moment, the villain saw themselves as the monster that they were, as the horrible human being the hero saw them as.

“I care about you, isn’t that clear enough?” they asked. The villain’s voice was shaking.

The hero took in a deep breath. The villain wanted to hug them. They wished their hero could understand. They wished they’d stop crying.

It hurt that the hero hated them in this moment.

“You’re supposed to care about others, too. You’re — you’re supposed to use your intelligence for the greater good. For other people, for humanity. I thought you understood me.”

“I do,” the villain said. “I do understand you. But in that moment, deciding between you and those people was easy. I’m sorry.”

The hero stared at them, speechless.

“You will always be my priority,” the villain said. “Even if you hate me. Even if you kill me eventually. I won’t put up a fight.”

“Do you like being hated?”

“I like you more than I care about being liked,” the villain said. They weren’t sure if they’d ever see the hero again after this.

“And I loathe you for that. I loathe you for the person that you are.”

They didn’t see each other for a long time after that conversation.

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (7)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Best Friend

Warnings: Mentions of depression, heartbreak, lying etc

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @caught-in-the-afterglow @ana-marais98 @rylea08 @astraystayastayastray @partyparty-yah @skzswife @sillyhal @feellikecinderella @asphalstead @minh0scat @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @gabriellamariee @hyun-hwanj @zerefdragn33l @stelle-aka-simp @chanbahng29 @blackbluerose666 @mmarusa

@glitter-z @seungminsapuppy

Previous Chapters

Minho sits in his room, the silence was deafening. He tried anything and everything to distract himself, but there was only one thing his mind kept wandering to, and it was the conversation he had with Jisung after you had gone upstairs,yesterday. His stomach twisted with anxiety as his mind raced, he knew he needed to make a decision that was best for him, but he knew, whatever decision he made was going to hurt someone he loved. He gets up, walking downstairs into the kitchen, where he sees you and Jisung, and his heart hurts instantly.

“Are you going out tonight?” Jisung asks you.

“I'm not sure. I don't have any plans yet, but I might see what Hyunjin is doing.” You say, glancing over to Minho. He completely avoids eye contact with you, making your heart sink. He hadn't said a word to you since the whole confrontation yesterday, and to be completely honest, you had thought that he would have been groveling and begging on his knees for you right now. But he wasn't. He looked stressed and sad. It made you want to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay, but you couldn't. You needed to remain strong and if he wanted you then he would show you.

At least you hoped he would.

Day after day after day you waited for Minho to say something to you, to acknowledge you but day after day he left a room if you walked in, with his head down. If you called out for him, he'd give you a sympathetic half smile before walking away from you. It left you feeling confused and hurt, wondering what the fuck was actually happening.

“I don't get it.” You sigh to Jisung. “He said he loved me.”

Jisung looks at you, trying to be sympathetic but you could tell he wasn't sincere and it made you wonder if he had done something. But you didn't ask, you left it alone. You wanted to talk to Minho, but Jisung didn't seem to think that was such a good idea.

“If he's avoiding you, it might just be for the best, yeah?” He says. “Obviously he doesn't want to talk to you, I don't think he's going to do what you expected him to do, Y/N.”

“It just doesn't make sense. Why say all those things if he knew he wasn't gonna try? Why would he get my hopes up? I really think I should talk to him.” You decide, standing up from the couch.

“No, Y/N. I'm telling you right now, leave it alone.” Jisung snaps.

You're taken aback, why was he snapping at you?

“I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt more than you already have.” He says, pulling out his wallet. “Here, take this, go out with Hyunjin, or better yet, go out with Chan. On me.” He smiles.

You hesitantly take the money, where was your actual brother, cause this guy was not it.

“Okay..” you murmur, grabbing your phone.

“That's good. Chan is the better option, I think.” He smiles, turning back towards the TV continuing to watch his show.

You walk up the stairs replaying what Jisung said to you. He wouldn't do anything to keep you apart, right?

That night, you're sitting with Chan, laughing and smiling at his stories, trying to be fully invested but you cannot stop thinking about Minho. You felt like he owed you at least a little bit of an explanation. If he didn't want to be with you, then tell you so you could move on but it felt like he had played nothing but games with you for months. And there was a partial love confession, until you finally told Jisung, and then there was a full on love confession. But since then it's been radio silence.

“You okay?” Chan asks. You look at him, slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up in my head.” You laughed.

“Everything okay?” He asks. You nod your, smiling at him as you finish your drink. Chan slides two shots towards you, wiggling his eyebrows as he glances from the shots to you, back and forth. You laugh, taking them both back to back. “Now get out of your head, and come back to me.” He smiles.

“I'm just gonna go to the bathroom quick.” You tell him, grabbing your purse, stumbling away. You can feel the drinks hit you like a ton of bricks. You sit down on the toilet, fully clothed and pull out your phone.

[11:57pm To: Minho] Why are you doing this to me?

[11:59pm From: Minho] I'm not doing anything. Please Y/N, stop.

[12:00am To Minho] Stop what? Stop loving you? I can't. I need closure. Please.

[12:02am From: Minho] Y/N. I can't love you. Leave me alone. Move on. Be happy. Just stay away from me. Don't talk to me, don't text me, don't think about me, and please stop loving me.

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you read his text again, over and over. Why was life so fucking cruel? All you ever wanted was to be happy, and it seemed like you weren't even allowed to have that. But fine, if he wanted you to move on then that's what you would do, after you confronted him in person. You had too. You needed to hear him say those words to your face, you needed to watch him tell you to stay away from him, even if it ended up breaking you.

That night, Chan dropped you off and you drunkenly rushed into the house. You stomped up the stairs and stood in front of the door of Minho's room. You stood with your fist raised to bang on the door for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath while also trying to muster up the courage to actually knock. Part of you didn't want to hear him say those words because you really didn't want them to be true, but the other part of you, well you knew that you needed to hear them or you just wouldn't fully believe him.

Knock

Knock

Knock

You press your ear to the door, there's no sound of movement. Maybe he was sleeping? You place your hand on the door, twisting the knob before pushing the door open, only to find an empty room. The drawers in the dresser were open and empty, the closet where his clothes hung was empty. There were no sheets, pillows or blankets on his bed, all of his things were gone.

You rush out of the room, down to Jisung's room. You busted in, scared the shit out of him.

“He's gone.” You whisper.

“I know.” Jisung says.

“Why?” You ask.

“I don't know.” Jisung sighs. “He said it was time. He felt guilty for everything he did to you I guess.”

“No, I need to talk to him. He can't just move out without a word.” You whimper, fumbling with your phone.

“What did I say about talking to him, Y/N.” Jisung yells. “Christ, you don't listen. Don't make me tell you what he told me. Just believe me when I say, leave him alone.”

“What do you mean what he told you? What did he tell you?” You ask.

“You don't want to know.” Jisung says, avoiding your eyes.

“Tell me. Or I'll track him the fuck down.” You snap.

“He said you were nothing but a game to him. Just another notch on his belt. That you were just my little sister and nothing more.” Jisung tells you. You swore, in that moment, you could actually feel your heart shattering into a million little pieces.

“Oh.” Jisung watched as your face sank, the color completely draining from it. You said nothing else, just shuffled out of his room and went into yours. You closed the door quietly behind you, crawling into bed without the will to even get changed. Maybe if you slept, you'd feel better in the morning.

You didn't.

Over the next few weeks, It was like depression had fully taken over you. You looked in the mirror and saw a shell of the person you used to be. The bags under your eyes were heavy, your face was pale, hair was matted. You looked sick, and honestly you felt sick. You still couldn't get over the fact that he had said that about you. You'd never hurt this much over some man before and you hated yourself for letting him have this kind of effect on you but at this point you didn't know how to get out of it. You had charged your phone in weeks, not that you'd answer if anyone called or texted anyways. Hyunjin and Jisoo tried to see you, but you wouldn't even roll over to say hi. Instead you hid under your covers and silently wept until they left.

And Jisung. He tried to get you to eat anything, drink anything but you wouldn't. You had no interest in fueling your body. Until it had been just over a month and Jisoo and Hyunjin had enough. They busted into your room as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“Shower time!” Jisoo yells. Hyunjin marches past you, turning on your shower before throwing you over his shoulder and sitting you in the tub fully clothed, despite your weak protests.

“Why!” You yell out as Jisoo takes your hair from its bun. She sits with you, washing your hair, rinsing it, conditioning it and rinsing it again. She helps you brush your teeth before helping you into clean, dry clothes. And then she sits with you, brushing out your hair as you listen to her talk. A lot of what she was saying were things you knew were true and things you had told yourself, but it was different hearing it from someone else. A few hours later, she had fully brushed out your hair, took your hand and took you downstairs to make you something to eat. Luckily Hyunjin was already finishing up making some of your favorite food. You hadn't realized how hungry you actually were until you smelt it. Your stomach growled as your mouth drooled. You sat down, eating, talking and finally smiling for the first time in a while.

Every day after that, Jisoo and Hyunjin were over, and every day, you were becoming yourself a little bit more and more. You were finally starting to move on and move forward. It felt good. You were feeling good. You still missed Minho, and you honestly weren't sure if you would ever stop.

A few weeks later, you decided to meet up with Chan for coffee. He had you laughing until your stomach hurt, and it felt so fucking good to be out again and feel like yourself again, especially with someone who was genuinely interested in you and being with you. He had asked you out again that night, wanting to take you for dinner and out of drinks after. You accepted, excited for the night. You walked down the street after your coffee, telling Chan you had wanted to do a little window shopping before going home. Of course he offered to go with you but you politely declined, wanting to be alone and take your time. As you're walking down the street, you're looking at a beautiful silver ring in the window. You sigh before you continue walking, accidentally bumping into someone. You look up and your breath hitches. It was the last person you had expected to see out.

“Minho.” You whisper. He was thin, thinner than usual. The bags under his eyes looked almost exactly how yours had, along with his sunken face.

“Y/N.” He responds, staring at you, looking you up and down. “You look good.” He half smiles.

“You should have seen me a few weeks ago. I was a mess after you left.. after you said that shit about me.” You half yell, remembering you were in public.

“What?” He asks. “What stuff did I say?”

“Don't play dumb, Minho. I was just another notch on your belt. Just Jisung’s little sister. A game.” You say.

“Who said I said that about you? I never fucking said that.”

“Jisung. He kept telling me to stop talking to you because you didn't want to talk to me.” You explain.

“That motherfucker.” Minho snaps. “Don't go home for a while, unless you wanna see your brother's ass beat.” He yells, storming off. You follow him, sliding into the passenger seat of his car.

“I deserve to know what's going on.” You deadpan, buckling your belt. Good thing you did, because you and Minho managed to get to your house in record time.

“HAN FUCKING JISUNG.” Minho screams, storming into the house.

Jisung jumps up off the couch, looking absolutely fucking terrified.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, looking between Minho and you.

“I happened to run into Y/N on the street, where she started screaming at me about why I would say such shitty things about her. She doesn't know, does she?” Minho yells, pointing to you. “She doesn't know you told me that I had to choose between staying friends with you, or being with the one that I fucking fell in love with.”

“You did what?” You whisper, staring at your brother.

Jisung stands there, his eyes darting between you and Minho, unable to utter a sentence, not even a word. Turns out Jisung would do whatever he could to keep you apart.

[imaginespazzi]

You Weren't Mine To Lose

They think they're so good at pretending when all they're really good at is pining.

(In which a masochistic writer puts her beloved ship through hell until giving them their much deserved happy ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff

Words: 8.2K (idk how this happened but oops? 🙈)

TW: Implied sexual content, mentions of panic attacks, small mention of blood, alcohol, and lots of swearing

“I think that maybe we should end this.”

Azzi Fudd had been on the receiving end of plenty of harsh sentences. And she’d been certain that there wasn’t a sentence left on this planet that could hurt her more than the one the doctor had used to tell her about her torn acl. Until now, until Paige Bueckers, eyes drifting everywhere but towards the girl in front of her, had said those eight words. 

“I just,” Paige pauses, rubbing her face, “I think I need something else.”

The words hit Azzi like acid rain, burning into her skin and infiltrating something she can’t quite explain in words. This wasn’t what she’d planned when she’d come searching for her best friend. No, she’d had an entirely different conversation in mind. She swallows the I love you, let’s be more, that had been on the tip of her tongue and chases it down with the carefully constructed speech of wanting forever and happily every after she’d written in her mind. The voice in her head shouts I fucking told you so, she was never yours and Azzi wants to scream. 

But what comes out is a quiet, feeble, “okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?” 

“Okay,” Azzi repeats, clearing her throat, trying to make her voice sound cavalier, “we said no strings and that means you can end it whenever you want. You don’t owe me any explanation and I won’t ask anything.”

“Right. No strings.” 

It had been Azzi’s idea really, her stupid dumb self-preservationist idea that had led her to this moment. They’d been drunk the first time it had happened but she remembers it clearly. 

Remembers the way an inebriated Paige had clung to her, eyes shining with lust. 

Remembers the way Paige had whispered her name, desire clinging to each syllable.

Remembers the shivers that had crept up her spine as Paige’s hands had gone on a journey starting at her shoulders, and then down her arms, before finally rubbing circles around her waist. 

Remembers the moment she decided fuck it. 

But most of all she remembers the morning after, remembers the questions written all over Paige’s face, remembers making another decision. Just best friends who occasionally fuck, no strings, just fun. She’d been stupid to think that if she ignored them, the strings just wouldn’t exist. That if she pretended it was just sex, that she wasn’t so completely in love with her best friend, she would get over it. Newsflash: she hadn’t gotten over it. 

“Well that’s that then,” Azzi says with a brightness she doesn’t feel, as she heads towards the door, desperate to get away, “I forgot Carol needed help with something so.”

“Azzi.”

She hates the hope that rises in her at the sound of her name. Tell me to stay. Tell me you didn’t mean it. Tell me you love me too. 

“We’re still us right?” Paige asks quietly, her voice filled with uncharacteristic vulnerability. 

“Of course Paige,” Azzi says, her back still turned towards Paige, knowing if she turns, if she lets Paige see her face, her best friend will see her words for the lies they are, “we’ll always be us.”

***

Azzi doesn’t know how she manages to get to Caroline’s room without falling to pieces. Her legs feel like they’re a second away from giving out and her arms shake uncontrollably. The dull beat of stress headache pounds in her skull. 

“Ah Mrs. Bueckers,” Caroline smiles jubilantly as Azzi lets herself in, “did you guys finally figure it out?”

It takes her a second to catch her breath and to understand the meaning of Mrs. Bueckers. And then, Azzi breaks. Laughter erupts from her body and suddenly she’s cackling like a woman possessed. It sounds like shattering glass to her own ears and this is it, she thinks, I’ve officially reached peak madness. But she can’t stop, her body doubling over as she clutches at her stomach, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. 

Caroline’s eyes widen, her smile slowly slipping off as the realisation that something has gone very wrong settles in. 

“Azzi, fuck, what happened,” she asks, unsure of wether to approach the distressed girl, who, instead of answering, starts laughing harder, “shit, should I get Paige.” 

Something shift’s at the mention of Paige’s name. The laughter dies away and instead, an unsettling panic takes birth in Azzi’s stomach at the idea of Paige seeing her like this.

“No,” she chokes out frantically, “don’t get Paige.” 

Caroline’s concern grows at that. It had become a rule of sorts, if one of Paige or Azzi seemed to be going through it, then the best thing to do was to go find the other. They knew each other’s wants and needs better than anyone else could ever hope to. And what they wanted, was usually the other to hold them through the pain. So this, Azzi not asking for Paige, Azzi actively denying her need for Paige, this was bad, very bad. 

“What happened Az?”

“She ended it,” the words leave Azzi’s mouth in tandem with the air leaving her lungs, “oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. She ended it. Fuck. She wants something else, something more and that’s not– I’m not– oh my god.”

“Az-”

“I knew this was a bad idea but- oh my god. She ended it,” tears wrack through her body as reality crashes and burns around Azzi, “I was so stupid, so, so stupid. I told you this would happen Caroline. I told you she didn’t feel the same. Oh my god, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.”

“Azzi,” Caroline grabs at the brown-skinned girl, spotting the tell-tale signs of panic attack, “breathe with me Az, come on, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Azzi manages to get out, gasping for air, her body vibrating with sobs, “it’s not going to be okay because she doesn’t love me. She doesn’t love me and I don’t know how to live with that because all I know is how to love her.” 

Azzi feels the energy leave her body as she goes limp in Caroline’s arms, letting the taller girl anchor her. She’s not ready yet, not ready for tomorrow when she’ll inevitably have to play pretend. She’ll have to stand in the same room as her best friend and put on a smile and pretend that she wouldn’t rather be anywhere but there. She’ll have to bicker and tease and laugh with the girl who broke her heart and pretend that she’d never given her the power to break it in the first place. And Azzi would do it all, because that’s what she’d promised Paige. She’d looked in the blonde girl’s eyes at the age of fifteen and swore to her that no matter what happened, the two of them would always be them. They would always be okay. And Azzi was going to do everything in her power to keep that promise

***

The first few days are fine and Azzi almost deludes herself into believing that she's okay. They fall into their old rhythm of being just best friends almost seamlessly, at least they do when they’re with their teammates. She’s not ready to confront the fact that they haven’t been by themselves, just the two of them, since that night. And if Paige notices the way Azzi avoids being alone with her, she keeps it to herself. 

The same way they didn’t tell anyone they were more, they don’t tell anyone they’re less. They don’t need to; the team just knows. Even the coaches, who knew but never said a word, can tell something’s off. It’s in the little hesitations before the smiles, the moments of pause before saying something. But most of all it’s in the way Paige and Azzi don’t touch at all anymore. There’s no more Paige making it a mission to find ways to let her hands linger just a little longer on Azzi’s body when she’s in defending her, no more not-so-subtle brushes and linking pinkies as they walk past each other in the hallways, no more “just another one” pecks in the training rooms as everyone else waits for them. 

Nothing changes on the court. Paige passes the ball, a pass only she could see, and Azzi shoots it, a shot only she could get off. They play in tandem, their backcourt chemistry still perfect. But the slap of their hands after the ball goes through the hoop, is half-hearted and formal, like teammates. Less. So, maybe Azzi’s wrong. Maybe they haven’t really fallen back into their old patterns and maybe everybody knows it. But in the bright lights of the gym, as she and Paige argue over a defensive play, and the game of basketball keeps them tethered to each other, she thinks that this will have to be enough. 

***

And then, things go from okay to very much not okay. It’s after practice and they’ve chosen Paige’s apartment as their relaxation spot, except Paige isn’t there. She’d snuck away after practice and Azzi had pretended, it’s all she seems to do these days, not to notice. She’s not used to not knowing where Paige is but she’d quenched the overwhelming need to ask the blonde girl where she was going while completely ignoring the part of her that wanted to ask if she could come along. 

“And that’s how your brain eats itself,” Amari finishes a long winded explanation with a triumphant smile. There’s dead silence as the rest of the team looks at each other before they all burst into laughter. 

“How the hell do you even know that?” Aaliyah manages to get out through peals of laughter. 

“Y’all don’t google?” Amari asks incredulously, and the way her face scrunches up causes a brand new wave of giggles to flood the room. 

“We google,” Azzi says and she hasn’t smiled like this in days, “we just don’t google things like that.”

Amari lets out an indignant squawk at that and Azzi feels a sense of calm that she hasn’t in a while. It lasts about a minute until two voices, one unfamiliar, one too familiar, begin to invade the room. Paige stumbles in a second later and fuck. Azzi’s breath catches in her throat as she desperately tries to look away from where Paige’s hand is firmly intertwined with someone else’s. It’s a mistake because her eyes land on Paige's face instead and that might be worse. She’s met with a glowing smile and bright eyes, none of which are directed towards Azzi. Instead, all of Paige’s happiness is for another girl.

“Layla,” she hears Aubrey say and oh. Because Azzi knows exactly who Layla is, or at least who she was. There had been a freshman Paige that Azzi had never really known beyond the phone calls and facetimes with her Paige. But she’d known that Paige had gotten around and she’d heard of Layla. They told each other everything and hookups fell right into the scheme of things. Layla had been Paige’s go-to on nights she’d been too tired to go looking for someone else. She’d been such a constant, that she’d slowly become a friend. Things had changed gradually from the moment Azzi stepped on campus. Even before they’d brought sex into it, all of Paige’s time had been Azzi’s, well, until now. 

“Hey guys,” Layla smiles and is greeted back with a chorus of not so enthusiastic “hello’s” 

“Lay, let’s go,” Paige whines impatiently. 

“Give me a second Bueckers, I’m trying to be polite,” Layla rolls her eyes but Azzi doesn’t miss the fondness in them and everything burns again. 

“Be polite later,” Paige tugs on Layla’s hand. In turn, Layla gives the team a slightly apologetic smile before letting the blonde girl pull her away. The bang of Paige’s door closing behind the two of them reverberates around the pin drop silence of the living room, that had been filled with laughter only mere seconds ago. 

Azzi finds herself suffocating under the sympathetic glances her teammates send her way. She digs her fingernails deep into the palm of her hand, forming dents she knows will bleed. If it hurts, she doesn’t feel it over the reckless thumping in her chest. One, two, three, breathe, she counts to herself, refusing to break down in front of her teammates. 

“It’s called phagocytosis,” Amari says after a second, trying to fill the silence, “and I mean it’s not really the brain eating itself but it feels like it.” 

“So you just technically lied then.”

“I did no such thing. It was a slight exaggeration maybe.”

“Phagocytosis sounds like a really weird disease.”

“Yeah, maybe Amari has it.”

The team dissolves back into giggles, not quite as rambunctious as before but it’s enough. Enough for them to be distracted. Enough for Azzi to escape. Not enough for Caroline to not notice but Azzi knows her friend will give her a moment. She takes the stairs almost three at a time, flinging the door to her apartment and then to her room. The force of it creates a circle of wind around her and for a second, to her dizzy brain, it feels like Azzi’s floating. She doesn’t bother with the lights, flinging herself onto her bed. Pressing her hands to her forehead, she desperately tries to block the constant stream of thoughts in her head about Paige and Layla. It doesn’t help. And in the familiar comfort of her bedroom,  Azzi curls into herself, and lets herself fall apart.

***

The ball passes right through Azzi’s hand and rolls out of bounds. Azzi curses to herself as she hears Coach yell her name. It’s almost the end of practice, and she can hear the disappointment in his voice as he subs her out of their scrimmage.  She’d been distracted the whole time, a step too slow on both sides of the ball. It was a novel thing. Azzi had bad games sometimes but she rarely had bad practices. As she walks off to the side, she can feel Paige’s eyes glaring at her. It had been her assist after all that Azzi hadn’t converted. She shrinks into herself, disappointment and shame colliding into one, because they’d done such a good job at not letting their personal havoc impact their game. And she’d blown it. 

“What the hell was that,” true to what she’d expected, Paige turns on her the minute they enter the locker room after practice. They’ve barely spoken in the last couple of days and Azzi closes her eyes, letting herself revel just for a second in the feeling of having Paige so close. 

“It was an accident,” she replies, turning her body so she’s face to face with her best friend. 

Paige scoffs, “which one?”

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Which one was the accident? That perfect pass you just let go to waste? Was it that wide open three you missed? Or the blind drive to the basket into three defenders for no reason? Oh wait, maybe it was when you completely lost yourself on defence?” Paige rants, anger coating every word. It’s not new for Paige to hold Azzi accountable and god, maybe Azzi’s even missed it a little bit but she can’t help feeling annoyed that this this is what had triggered the old Paige. 

“I had a bad day. It happens,” Azzi’s voice is colder than she means for it to come out but all the emotions she’s been suppressing are bubbling at the top of her throat. 

“Well it can’t happen. You do that in a game and we’re fucked,” Paige retorts. The rest of the team continues to do what they’ve been doing, occasionally glancing at the two arguing girls. It’s another of those unspoken rules, don’t interfere when Paige and Azzi are fighting. 

“I didn’t do it in a game.”

“But you could. And if you keep practising like that you’re going to end up embarrassing yourself in a game.”

“Again, it was one bad day Paige, I’ll keep it in mind and I’ll be better tomorrow,” frustration seeps into her tone and Azzi hopes that her words are enough for Paige. 

“You better because that can’t happen again Azzi,” Paige says. 

“I just said it wouldn’t,” Azzi’s voice rises, throwing her hands up in irritation. 

“Don’t yell at me, I’m-” 

“Paige?” a new voice cuts in and both girls reluctantly look away from each other to see Layla, “hey, you okay? You wanna get out of here.”

“I-” Paige lets out a breath, looking back and forth between Azzi and Layla. And Azzi waits, waits for Paige to tell the new girl not to get in between Paige and Azzi, like she always had when anyone else had tried to step into their fights. She waits for Paige to tell Laya that she’s fine, and that she and Azzi just need to talk it out. She waits, and it never comes. 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” the blonde girl says instead, giving Layla a small smile. She looks over at Azzi, something unreadable in her eyes, before grabbing her stuff and walking out. 

“Shit,” Caroline whispers under her breath, a sentiment clearly echoed in the rest of the team’s faces. Paige and Azzi didn’t leave arguments unfinished. They'd been in uncharted waters with the two girls for a while now, and this feels like yet another turning point. 

Anger and frustration course through Azzi’s veins. She just left her brain sneers at her. The hurt and pain fade to the back of her mind, as Azzi lets these new emotions settle all over her. She’s cried more in the last couple of weeks than she ever has in her life and she realises slowly, letting this new volatility swarm her, that she has no more tears left to give. She left. And then a new voice enters her brain, and you let her go. 

***

A knock on the door shakes Azzi away from her thoughts. The book on her lap that she’d been pretending to read, falls unmajestically to the floor. Through bleary eyes, she sees the 10 o’clock on her watch and confusion settles into her. She’d been clear before leaving the locker room that she wanted to be alone tonight and while her teammates had protested a little, they’d eventually agreed to give her space, although Caroline had been adamant on coming to wish her a good night. It was far too early for that. She sighs, ready to huff at whichever of her teammates had ignored her pleas. Instead she’s met with the sight of a sheepish looking Paige. 

“Hey,” the blonde girl smiles and it’s small and slightly cautious but it’s so genuine.

“Hi,” Azzi says softly. 

“I think I owe you a little bit of an apology,” Paige says. 

Azzi’s eyebrows furrow at that, “since when do you apologise for holding me accountable?”

“I- well,” Paige stutters, “Layla said I should.”

“That’s what Layla says is it?” Azzi can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. They’d never apologised for critiquing each other’s games or practise before and suddenly Layla had said Paige should and Paige had listened. Azzi hates everything about that. 

“Is me apologizing a bad thing? What’s with the attitude?”

“No,” Azzi sighs, not having the mental stamina to deal with right now, “I’m just tired. I appreciate the apology and I’m sorry too.”

It sounds so formal to her own ears, like two acquaintances writing emails to each other. As they stand face to face, separated by mere inches, Azzi realises the depth of the chiasm between them. And she doesn’t know if she has the strength to build a bridge to go over it. 

“Do you want to watch a movie,” Paige asks finally, her voice tinged with hope. 

“I don’t know Paige. I’m tired and-”

“Please,” there’s desperation in Paige's voice now, “we haven’t done anything just you and me in a while and,” she stops, her eyes wet as they come up to meet Azzi’s, “I miss you.”

I miss you too, Azzi wants to stay. She wants to throw herself at Paige and wrap herself in the comfort of her arms. She wants to massage away the stress lines on her forehead and kiss away the tears threatening to fall from her blue eyes. Instead, Azzi simply manages to nod and steps away so Paige can come in. She’s rewarded with a smile so bright, it makes her heart ache.

As Paige enters the room, Azzi’s reminded of the last time the two of them had been there together and she can’t help the faint blush that rises up her neck into her cheeks. That night had been different, Paige had been softer, slower. She’d taken her time with every touch, every kiss; her every move had been sinfully deliberate. Through all of it, she’d kept her eyes locked with Azzi’s, making sure she could see how desperately Paige needed her in that moment. And Azzi, hands fisting sheets, had let her take whatever she wanted. She wonders if Paige knew that would be their last time, if she’d already decided to end things. I’d have held on longer if I knew. 

Paige’s eyes linger on the bed for a second, before she decides to sit on the couch and Azzi follows her lead. They both curl up as close to the arm rests on their side as they can, leaving an unfathomably large amount of space between themselves for two basketball players who had been attached at the hip since they were fifteen. The awkwardness is palpable as Azzi picks a random comedy movie, the two of them making a subconscious decision to not revert to their normal routine of arguing about what to watch. 

It takes a quarter or so of the movie before they find some semblance of normalcy. Paige finally lets out a laugh, after having reined it in during previous funny scenes and it sets Azzi off. And then they’re both giggling messes, feeding off of each other’s infectious laughter. The tension eases and they both unconsciously let their bodies uncurl, letting their legs tangle with each other. It comes so naturally, they don’t even really notice that they’re touching for the first time in weeks. They’re too busy laughing, and when they’re not, there’s a comfortable silence and it’s just, it’s them. Azzi doesn’t know when she falls asleep, she just knows it’s the best sleep she’s had in a while.

***

Azzi stirs awake to cold hands caressing her face, Paige’s touch ever so familiar. She keeps her eyes closed, scared it’s a dream. She’s had a lot of those lately.

“I wish you felt the same,” Paige whispers, pressing her lips to Azzi’s forehead and Azzi swears she feels a teardrop fall on her face. But before she can react, before she can reach out for the figure she can feel hovering above her, she feels it retreat away from her. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she’s all alone.

***

Azzi’s on edge. The team had chosen a bar in a random town in Connecticut tonight, instead of going to Ted’s as usual. It was meant to be a change of scenery and they were unlikely to be as recognized in such a random area. In theory, it sounded like a good idea, but the combination of a brand new place with people she’d never seen in her life, made Azzi far more tense than she had thought it would. On top of that, she hadn’t wanted to go out tonight in the first place. It had been two days since Paige had left her cryptically, and with the way the blond was vehemently avoiding her, Azzi was partially convinced, maybe she had dreamt the whole thing. The exhaustion of it all had desperately made her want to simply lie in bed and do nothing for hours. But if she’d stayed, one of her teammates would stay behind for her and if there was one thing Azzi didn’t want, it was to be an inconvenience. 

And then there was the Layla of it all. Because apparently Paige didn’t go anywhere without Layla anymore. Remember when it was you, Azzi’s brain reminds her scathingly. From where she sits at a table with the rest of the team, she has a torturously close view of the two of them dancing together. It’s nothing scandalous, in fact to anybody else it’s probably the definition of friendly, but Azzi’s head is clouded with jealousy, and the three shots of vodka she’d already downed to ignore it.

“I think I need another round of shots,” she announces, noticing Paige and Layla start to make their way back to the table, “one of you come with me.”

“Is that a good idea?” Caroline asks tensely. 

“Of course it is. Shots are good. Shots are fun,” Azzi wraps an arm around Caroline’s shoulder, her words coming out slightly slurred, “come with me pretty please.”

“Come where?” Paige’s voice interrupts. 

“Nowhere you need to be,” Azzi retorts harshly and a flicker of hurt passes across Paige’s face. Azzi almost apologises, hating seeing Paige sad, but then her eyes focus in on where Layla’s hand is carefully placed on Paige’s bicep, and the sorry dies on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she roughly grabs Caroline and pulls her to the bar. She doesn’t get drunk often, hadn’t planned on doing it tonight but she’s so tired of feeling. 

“Maybe we should cut you off,” Caroline says softly and Azzi pouts, “c’mon Azzi drinking so you don’t have to deal with your feelings is never a good idea you know that. You know I’m right.”

“I’m really tired of doing what’s right,” Azzi says despondently, waving the bartender over, “a shot of tequila please.”

Caroline sighs but seems to think better of trying again, shaking her head no when the bartender asks if she wants a drink of her own. She watches silently as Azzi downs the shot, concern and sympathy for her friend keeping her from snatching the shot away from Azzi. 

“On me,” a deep voice echoes in Azzi’s ear as she pulls out her card to pay for the shot. She loses balance trying to turn around, but a pair of unfamiliar hands grab at her waist to keep her steady. Through the fuzziness in her brain, Azzi finds herself staring into green eyes; green eyes that belong to a pretty girl with blond hair and strong arms. And she’s tall,  a voice in her brain says appreciatively. She looks just like Paige, well except the eyes, another less-amused voice points out. But she’s not Paige is she, the other voice reminds her snarkily. 

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Azzi hears Caroline say from behind, her voice weirdly pitched. 

“I want to,” the pretty girl says, eyes never leaving Azzi, as she hands her card over to the bartender “I’m Stephanie.”

“Azzi.”

“And is the girl behind you, your girlfriend Azzi?” Stephanie asks, but her tone suggests she already knows. 

“Who? Caroline. Oh absolutely not. Just a friend.” 

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I don’t dance with pretty girls with girlfriends,” Stephanie says, emphasising the word pretty. 

“We’re not dancing,” Azzi replies dumbly. 

“Well let’s fix that,” Stephanie whispers and oh, she’s flirting, Azzi realises. It’s not that Azzi’s never had anyone hit on her. No, there’d been plenty of men but there hadn’t been a girl before, well never a girl that wasn’t Paige, “dance with me Azzi.”

Behind Azzi, Caroline chokes on air. 

“Azzi,” she hisses, her eyes flickering over to where Paige is sitting, back turned to the bar. The point guard hasn’t seen what’s happening yet but Caroline knows the moment she catches wind of it, things would go up in quite literal flames. 

Azzi stares up at Stephanie’s expectant eyes, before letting her gaze move to Paige, Paige who’s engrossed in a conversation with Layla, who’s laughing at something Layla said. She turns back to Stephanie, a shy smile playing on her lips. 

“I’d love to dance,” she says softly, ignoring the groan Caroline lets out behind her and letting Stephanie pull her to the dance floor. Two can play the move on game. 

Dancing with Stephanie is different. Her hands feel different against Azzi’s skin, a little too rough and yet still too soft. Her smile is different, sexy and sultry but missing an innocent frivolity that Azzi had become used to. But most of all it’s the eyes. The mysterious green, a sharp contrast from the calm, familiar blue. She pushes the comparisons to the back of her mind, determined to enjoy the way Stephanie twirls her around then pulls her in. And then they’re suddenly so close, noses almost touching. Azzi knows what’s going to happen and she can’t shake the feeling that it’s not right.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Stephanie whispers and the voices in Azzi’s head battle, her heart beating to a chorus of she’s not Paige. But the final nail in the coffin is an image of Paige and Layla that her brain conjures up and in an envious drunken haze, Azzi makes another of her not so great decisions. She nods her head yes. 

It takes a second of Stephanie’s lips pressing against hers for Azzi to know it’s all wrong. As she starts pulling away, the sound of shattering glass wreaks havoc in ears. Eyes blinking rapidly, she follows the path of familiar voices shouting to locate the noise. Paige stands, a little distance away from the dance floor, face fuming red. A litany of broken glass shards surround her feet and a gush of red flows from the patch of skin where her left thumb meets her left palm. 

“Paige, fuck,” concerns flows through Azzi but before she can make her way to the bleeding girl, Stephanie pulls her back in. 

“Meet me outside in a bit yeah,” she says with a devilish smirk. She doesn’t give Azzi a chance to respond, before disappearing out of sight. Azzi blinks dumbfoundedly at the spot where the girl had previously been, the alcohol catching up to her brain. 

“Paige oh my god you’re bleeding,” Nika’s voice shakes Azzi out of her trance, “can someone get a band-aid please.”

The crowd parts seamlessly as Azzi rushes towards her best friend, grabbing for her injured left hand. 

“What the hell Paige?” she’s incredibly sober now, as she inspects Paige’s hand before it’s yanked out of her grip. 

“I should ask you that. What. The. Hell. Azzi?” fury laces every word as Paige stares her down. 

“I– what?” Azzi asks quizzically, still focused on trying to grab Paige’s hand again but the blonde girl is determined, despite wincing, to keep it out of her reach. 

“Tell me, was she a good kisser?” Paige asks, eyes narrowing dangerously, “did you enjoy the kiss?”

“That’s–I–it–that’s not important,” Azzi stutters, “you’re bleeding Paige.”

“And I’ll keep bleeding till you answer the damn question,” the blonde girl says, unveiling a side of herself Azzi's never seen, “so tell me Azzi, was it a good kiss?”

“Paige,” Caroline says firmly, noticing the crowds that are building up around them, “I don’t think now’s the time.”

“No, I think it’s the perfect time actually. If she can kiss a stranger now, she can answer a question about this kiss now too,” Paige sneers.

“You’re making a scene,” Azzi whispers. 

“I’m making a scene?” the laugh Paige lets out is borderline manic, “I’m making a scene? You’re the one borderline dry-humping a stranger in the middle of a random bar and I’m making a scene?”

“Excuse me?” Azzi recoils. 

“Just telling the truth. Where’d she go then? Is she waiting for you outside?” when Azzi doesn’t reply, Paige find her answer in the silence and let’s out another laugh, “she is, isn’t she? Well then what the fuck are you doing here Azzi?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, eyes brimming with tears now, “you’re bleeding. Let me help you.”

“No, I don’t need your help Azzi.”

“Paige,” she tries again. 

“No Azzi. I don’t need you. Go get fucking laid,” the words snap something in Azzi that has been on the edge of breaking since Paige had told her she wanted something else. She steps back from the blonde girl, blood boiling. 

“You know what Paige,” her voice is far stronger than she feels, “maybe I fucking will.”

***

“Fuck,” Paige curses, fisting her palms and then hissing when her left hand aches. Regret pulsates through her head. She hadn’t meant it, any of it but especially not the last part. The last thing she wanted was Azzi to go after that girl. 

Watching Azzi kiss someone else had been enough torture, the idea of her doing anything more would be the end of Paige’s sanity. It was ingrained in her brain now. She’d been laughing with Layla, hands encased around a beer bottle and then her teammates had gone oddly quiet, their eyes focused on something behind her. Confused, Paige had turned and immediately wished she hadn’t. 

Standing in the middle of the dance floor was her Azzi, in somebody else’s arms. Layla, the saviour she’d been the last couple days, had immediately tried to distract her but Paige’s gaze was transfixed on Azzi. Her best friend twirled on the dance floor and a dagger twisted in Paige’s heart. And then, time seemed to slow down as the other girl brough Azzi impossibly close to her. Don’t you fucking dare Paige had thought, squeezing the glass bottle like a stress toy. On the dance floor, someone else, someone who wasn’t Paige, pressed their lips to Azzi’s and on the other side, Paige’s hands crushed the glass bottle into a thousand pieces. 

When Azzi looked over, her lipstick slightly smudged, her eyes glassy, Paige had wanted to die. And when the girl had the audacity to pull Azzi back into her, Paige had wanted to commit murder. Misery and fury raged a battle in her head and when Azzi had rushed over, the gentle touch of her hand had been too much. And then Paige had taken it too far. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she repeats, ignoring her teammates as she fights through the crowd to chase after Azzi. Some people move easily, others glare and some flat out yell at her but Paige doesn’t care; she focuses solely on getting to the girl she’d just let go. 

“Azzi?” she calls out, stepping out of the bar into the cold breeze, “please, please, please don’t go. Azzi?”

She scans the parking lot for the brunette, frantically pacing around the entrance but there’s no sign of Azzi. Paige hasn’t cried since the night she’d ended it, throwing herself in work and basketball and Layla but as the realisation that Azzi left, that maybe it’s too late, hits her, the tears she’d so carefully kept at bay, traipse down her cheeks like a never ending waterfall. 

***

The whole team is silent in the living room as Nika bandages Paige’s left hand. The tension in the air is palpable as Amari paces the room, the sounds of her feet moving matching the rhythm of Aubrey nervously snacking on a packet of chips. 

“Are you going to explain yourself,” Aaliyah breaks through the quiet, her question directed at Paige. 

“It was an accident,” Paige doesn’t mean to get defensive. She’s aware she fucked up tonight but there’s too much going on and her head is still stuck at Azzi. Azzi, who had left with a random girl and only texted Caroline the words I’m fine after Caroline had blown up her phone with concerned texts. Paige’s I’m sorry, hadn’t gotten any reply. 

“An accident,” Aaliayh says slowly, raising an eyebrow, “that’s what you’re going with?”

“I didn’t purposely break a glass bottle and fuck up my thumb Aaliyah.”

“Coach is going to kill you,” Aubrey says nervously, “this is not good Paige.”

“Did I miss the gang up on Paige memo? Because why am I the one being yelled at right now?” 

“Who’s yelling?” Amari supplies unhelpfully. 

“That’s not the point,” Paige glares at the taller girl who puts her hands up in defeat, “Why am I the one getting this responsibility lecture? I’m not the one who just made out with a random stranger in a bar and then just fucking left with them. We don’t even know where the hell she is.”

She knows she sounds bitter but the hurt of the night still stings and she doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with her teammates being mad at her rightnow. Tomorrow, she’d apologise and own up but she’s feeling reckless tonight. Her teammates are silent and Paige thinks, maybe they’re going to drop it too. And then Caroline speaks, her voice steely in a way that doesn’t match her normally soft sweet self. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” she meets Paige’s eyes with an unexpected fierceness, “she’s single. Stephanie as far as I know is single. Azzi’s a grown adult who can hook up with whoever the hell she feels like. It’s not just something you can do.”

“That’s not the point,” Paige growls, “”you guys always know where I-”

“I know exactly where Azzi is actually,” Caroline rebuts , “so what exactly is the problem here?”

“She– I– It’s,” Paige bumbles on, not having an actual answer. 

“You’re the one who ended it,” Caroline says, her voice accusatory, and the whole room seems to hold their breath at that, “you ended it and you don’t get to question what she does now. It’s over Paige and that was your decision.”

Paige gapes at Caroline, “how can you, of all people, say that to me?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the only one who knows Carol,” Paige says slowly and it’s Carol’s turn to be confused now. The rest of the team shoots each other questioning glances, things suddenly seeming even more puzzling than before. 

“I heard you that night,” the blonde girl says, her voice breaking a little, “I heard you and Azzi.”

“Paige,” Caroline says, always quick to catch things, “what exactly did you hear?”

“I heard enough,” Paige says, closing her eyes because she can still hear that conversation in her head, “I heard her telling you she was going to end it, that she was tired of our arrangement. That she wanted– she needed– something else.”

“Oh Paige,” Nika says softly, putting an arm around Paige’s shoulders and her twin practically melts into the comforting touch. 

“But I know her. She’s not good at that stuff. Always such a people pleaser. It was gonna be too hard for her to say it to me, so I said it for her. I broke my own heart, so she didn’t have to.”

A heavy silence follows Paige’s words as the blonde girl lets the tears fall for the second time that night. Her teammates are lost for words, the gravity of the situation, of Paige’s feelings, too much for all of them. A myriad of emotions flitter across Caroline’s face before finally settling on a saddened sympathy. 

“Paige,” she says softly, coming to sit in front of the sobbing point guard, “you didn’t hear the whole conversation. God you’re such an idiot, the both of you are honestly.”

“Talk about kicking me when I’m down Carol,” Paige jokes. 

“That’s not– Paige I can’t tell you the whole conversation because you deserve to hear it from her and she deserves the chance to say it to you. But Paige, Azzi wasn’t going to end it because she wanted less, she was going to end it because she wanted more. From you, for both of you,” Caroline says, hoping against hope that Paige understands what she means. 

The realisation hits Paige in waves. She wants more. The words echo through her head and carve out a place in her heart. She wants more. Azzi had wanted more and Paige had wanted more and oh, they’d been so fucking stupid. 

“I pushed her too far though,” Paige says as another realisation, the fact that Azzi isn’t here hits her, “she’s gone. Fuck, I need to be alone.”

“No Paige wai-” Caroline begins but Paige is gone out the door before she can tell the girl where Azzi is. She considers going after Paige but decides that maybe she’s revealed enough today. Maybe they could figure out the rest of it by themselves. 

***

She’d meant to go to her own apartment, to her own room but her feet had a mind of their own, bringing her to Azzi’s instead. It was muscle memory really, her finding Azzi when she needed to be held. Except, there would be no Azzi to hold her tonight. Still, being in her room, where it smelt like her, Paige could pretend. She’d gotten pretty good at that. 

The door opens smoothly as Paige slides into the room. And she almost gasps. 

In the dim light of the night lamp, Azzi lies curled up in bed. She’s cuddling a pillow to her chest, her blanket pulled up to her neck with one hand slightly out of it. And she’s wearing one of Paige’s shirts, 

She’s the most beautiful girl Paige has ever seen. 

Carefully, trying to make as little sound as possible, Paige creeps closer to the sleeping girls. She can vaguely make out the tear tracks running down Azzi’s face and the guilt of it runs through Paige. A part of her thinks, maybe she should leave, wait til tomorrow. But she can’t. Instead she grabs one of Azzi’s shirts that lay scattered on the bean bag chair placed at the end of the bed. Quietly, she changes into it, breathing in the scent of all things Azzi. 

“Paige.” Azzi whispers groggily as Paige slips underneath the covers, lying down facing the sleeping girl. 

“Yeah,” Paige replies softly, caressing Azzi’s cheeks, “it’s me.”

“It’s not,” Azzi says wistfully, eyes still closed, as she wraps an arm around Paige’s torso, “it’s just me dreaming again.”

“You dream about me?” Paige asks, hating the hurt she can hear in Azzi’s voice. 

“Mmm,” comes Azzi’s answer as she snuggles further into Paige, “all the time. I’ll take you however I can get you Paige. Even if it's a dream. Even if you’re not here in the morning.”

“I will be tomorrow. I promise,” Paige presses a kiss to the top of Azzi’s head and the darker skinned girl lets out a content sigh but Paige can tell she still thinks she’s dreaming, that she still thinks she’ll wake up alone tomorrow. 

But Paige Bueckers doesn’t break promises. She’d be right there with Azzi tomorrow morning and if things went the way she wanted them to, then she’d be there for every morning after.

***

It’s the best sleep she’s gotten in weeks and Paige wakes up in a complete state of serenity. It doesn’t last long when she blindly feels around the bed for Azzi’s warm body, only to find the cool of empty sheets under her head instead. She jolts up frantically, mind going million miles an hour thinking up the worst possibilities. Her heartbeat begins to calm down as she finally finds the brunette curled up on the bean bag chair with her knees pulled to her chest. 

“Hey,” Paige breathes out, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face. Azzi doesn’t smile back

“What are you doing here Paige?” Azzi asks warily and Paige is instantly defensive. 

“What are you doing here Azzi? Didn’t you say you were going to get laid?” 

“And what if I did?” 

“Well it must not have been very good if you came home that early and put on another girl’s shirt,” Paige says pointedly, amused by the pink that appears on Azzi’s cheeks. She knows the other girl’s lying, it’s just a matter of how long she’ll keep up the ruse. 

“I grabbed whatever was closest.”

“Is that so?” Paige quirks an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t stand for it, letting the girl I’d just fucked wear someone else’s clothes. You know that.”

Azzi’s blush intensifies and she’s quick to change topics, “does your girlfriend know you snuck into another girl’s room last night?”

“I wasn’t aware I had a girlfriend,” Paige says, confused by the question. 

“So what exactly is Layla then?”

“She’s a friend.”

“Yeah right,” Azzi scoffs, rolling her eyes. Paige stares at her best friend, wondering if she’s gone insane. Her and Layla? Even thinking about it felt a little insane. Sure, she’d slept with the girl a couple of times her freshmen year but even that had felt insanely platonic.

“Az,” she says softly when the realisation sinks in, “Layla is not my girlfriend. She’s– well, I guess she’s my escape? I just– I needed a friend who wasn’t also your friend and she was there and it was easy. You really thought she was my girlfriend?”

“What was I supposed to think Paige?” Azzi says miserably, voice rising with each word, “you said you needed something else and Layla’s something else so I put two and two together and apparently came up with five.”

“I didn’t–,” Paige takes in a deep breath, it was now or never, “I thought you were gonna break my heart.”

“What?”

Paige sighs at the incredulity in Azzi’s voice, “I overheard you telling Carol that you were gonna end it with me, that you needed something else.”

“Oh,” she can see the clogs in Azzi’s brain turning, remembering exactly which conversation Paige is talking about. 

“Yeah. So I ended it before you could. I couldn’t let you– I didn’t want you to break my heart,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s eyes. 

“So you broke mine instead?” Azzi whispers and Paige doesn’t have to see the girl to know there are tears in her eyes. 

“I didn’t realise it was mine to break,” Paige shrugs brokenly, eyes finally looking at Azzi through wet eyelashes. 

They stare at each other in silence, hearts beating erratically, both of them waiting to see who’ll make the first move. Finally, Azzi stands up, and for once second, the fear that she’s about to walk away, that it really was too late, fogs Paige’s mind. But she doesn’t and instead Paige watches mesmerised, as Azzi slowly climbs onto the bed and then onto Paige’s lap. She arranges her legs so she’s straddling Paige’s thighs and her arms fall naturally around Paige’s neck. Immediately, Paige’s hands move to grip Azzi’s waist. They stay there like that for a while, foreheads resting against each other, basking in the warmth of finally being so close. 

“I haven’t been with anyone since you,” Azzi confesses finally and Paige lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, “I thought about it but then I was in her car and all I could think about was you. I think you might have ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good. Because this is it okay? You and me forever,” Paige juts out a pinky and Azzi immediately links it with her own. 

“Forever,” Azzi whispers back and it’s not clear who surges forward first but then they’re kissing and it feels like a brand new adventure and coming home all at once. They melt into each other, gripping each other as close as possible, the overwhelming need to be touching everywhere taking over their senses. 

“Azzi,” Paige pulls away and almost laughs at the way Azzi pouts, “I need you to say it.”

Azzi’s eyes twinkle with happiness, a spark only Paige can bring out in them. She leans in, the feel of her breath sending shivers of anticipation up Paige’s spine.

“Wanna play ball?” she whispers sensually. Paige lets out an irritated whine and Azzi bursts out laughing, hiding her face in the crook of Paige’s neck. 

“Seriously,” Paige groans, pinching Azzi’s waist, but she’s unable to keep the amusement out of her own voice. She hasn’t seen Azzi this happy in so long and if Azzi’s happy, well then everything in Paige’s world is going right. The younger girl’s giggles slowly subside, as her face takes on a more serious expression. 

“Paige Madison Bueckers,” she says, cupping Paige’s face, “you’re my best friend, my soulmate and I’m pretty sure you’re the love of my life. And I’m about to be real cliché here so don’t laugh but baby, I want your face to be the first thing I see every morning and the last thing I see every night. I want you at your best but even more at your worst. I want everything as long as it’s with you. Because I am so completely, and utterly and ridiculously in love with you.”

“When did you become such a poet Azzi Fudd,” Paige says, her smile widening when Azzi laughs again, “I’m so completely and utterly and ridiculously in love with you.”

Paige recaptures Azzi’s lips with her own, pulling her girl as close to her as she can. The kiss is sweet and a little salty from the happy tears running down both their faces. It’s innocent and lazy, and still sloppy and passionate. It’s everything.

“If you ever break up with me again, I’ll kill you,” Azzi says, only half joking. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Paige promises, “you’re stuck with me for life.”

***

A/N: Congratulations on making it to the end of that! I'm ngl, I love the concept but I don't think I wrote it out particularly well but I had fun writing it so hopefully y'all enjoyed reading it. I promise the next one will be more happy. But for now, I hope this was worth it <3.

[transmascissues]

my mom is so damn lucky i have a job in town that pays well and that i want to go back to once i’m done recovering because if i didn’t, i would be on a train to go live with my sibling as soon as humanly possible.

a few days ago, she started once again telling me about how much she hates my decision to get top surgery and saying i should “really think about that”. when i asked her what she thought that would accomplish, given that i’ve already had the surgery and no amount of thinking can change that, she admitted that she didn’t know. so the only explanation i can think of is that she literally just wants me to feel pointlessly bad about it like she does because she thinks that’s the right way to feel.

there was also an incident this morning where she walked into my room while i was changing shirts (and no, she didn’t knock first, so that should tell you something about how she feels about the idea of boundaries) and for a second, she saw me shirtless. she immediately gasped, said “oh my god!” in a horrified voice, slammed the door closed again, and started saying “i’m not ready” over and over. when i asked her to bring me a clean shirt, she literally faced away from the door and just blindly stuck her hand in to give it to me so she wouldn’t even have to see a tiny bit of me through the crack. if there was any question about my post-op body being her literal worst nightmare, there sure as hell isn’t anymore.

then later today, i asked for her computer password. both of the passwords she told me to try had my deadname in them, and one of them specifically listed my sibling’s name and my deadname as “her girls” (neither of us are girls, my sibling is also trans). this is bad enough on its own, but even worse when you consider that she definitely got this computer after i came out and changed my name, so it’s not just an outdated password. and apparently, the password that didn’t work is the password for her other account (which i’m pretty sure was also set after i came out), so she decided to do that not once but twice.

every day of recovery that i spend in this house with her really just makes me more and more impatient to leave the second i have enough saved up to get the fuck out.

[levisjinchuriki]

forever yours - chapter 3

summary: seeing gojo show his true feelings only makes your decision harder

warning: so much angst, bring a tissue

word count: 3.7k

it had taken you a few weeks to speak to gojo again. he’d still pick up haru on the weekends and call him before bed, but you couldn't help but feel the tension between you. although he didn’t pressure you to say anything until you were ready, you could feel his expectant gaze on you every time he came to get your son.

gojo understood the weight of your decision and just how hard it would be for you either way you decided. he was true to his word, not bringing up the topic until you were ready. 

you had stayed up most nights after the talk— thinking about what to say to him and contemplating on if it can actually work. you went back and forth in your head, driving yourself crazy and wondering if you really were for considering getting back together. 

and a part of you- most of you- was truly scared. you were scared about the unknown, what would happen if you’d fail at trying to mend your relationship and for another heartbreaking experience. you’ve barely been surviving the first one. you’re scared how your relationship will change as parents if it doesn’t work out. you don’t want haru in the middle of something like that. 

you made a decision to play it safe- to decline gojo’s offer out of the overwhelming fear in your heart and protection of haru’s childhood. it was more important to you that he be raised with two loving parents that can be civil to each other. 

when gojo knocks on your door to drop off haru, you hold your breath. your son greets you happily and gojo gives him a big hug and a kiss goodbye before telling him to go play in his room. 

you hold onto the door handle tightly, as if it’s your lifeline protecting you from your emotions. it was a hard decision to come to– one you’ve cried over for the last few nights– but the right one. at least, you hoped so. 

“i’ve thought about what you’ve said”. your voice is tense as you fight through the pain. before you can inform him of your decision he interrupts you. 

“i know you still have doubts about us– and that’s fair– but hopefully-” he reaches into his back pocket and places a stack of folded papers in your hand before continuing, “this will explain everything”. 

you look down, confusion and nervousness swirling in your chest. for a moment, you think he’s signed the divorce papers and is returning back to you, and your heart sinks at the thought that he has given up on his promise before he has begun to fulfill it. 

“what is this?” you ask, your voice wavering as you try to make sense of what you’re holding. 

gojo doesn’t tell you directly, but you can see the intensity in his gaze, the silent plea for you to understand. 

“just… read it when you’re ready,” he replies, his tone uncharacteristically serious. there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, and it unnerves you.

you want to press for more, to demand an explanation right then and there, but something in his expression tells you to wait. with a nod, you accept the papers, holding them close as if they carry the weight of the decision you’ve been grappling with.

“okay,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“okay” he says softly. he gives you a small, almost hesitant smile. “i’ll see you soon”.

before you can respond, he’s already turning to leave. the encounter is so unexpected you don’t have time to react as you watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within you—fear and uncertainty being at the head of it. when the door clicks shut, you stand there for a moment, clutching the papers in your hand, your mind racing.

with curiosity tugging at you, you move towards the couch, sitting down as you carefully unfold the stack. your hands trembling slightly, the papers feeling heavy in your grasp.

your eyes widen at the sight as you flip through the pages. the familiar scrawl is unmistakably satoru’s. hundreds and hundreds of handwritten words cover the front and back of each sheet of paper. 

there are a million things i want to say to you, but i’ll start with the most important: i’m sorry. i’m sorry for the pain i’ve caused you, for the times i wasn’t there when you needed me, and for all the ways i let you down. i’ve replayed those moments over and over in my mind, and the regret i feel is overwhelming.

somehow, in just a few sentences, gojo has managed to strike a nerve. you close your eyes, hands trembling as you place the note beside you. you can’t break down now—not with haru nearby. you still have to make him dinner and give him a bath, and those responsibilities demand your full attention.

you take a deep breath to steady yourself. the letter isn’t going anywhere. later, you tell yourself. when the house is quiet and you can afford to let your guard down, you’ll try again. you’ll let yourself feel everything that satoru’s words will bring to the surface. 

for the rest of the evening, you focus intently on your son, letting his presence be a distraction from the anxiety you feel every time you think about the letter. you let his infectious laugh and sweet voice comfort you as he happily chatters about his weekend. and when you tuck him into bed and watch him fall asleep holding his stuffed animal, you can’t help but linger by his bed and brush the soft white hairs back from his forehead. 

—

the morning goes by fast as you get haru ready for school. he excitedly tells you about his field trip to the aquarium today, his innocent enthusiasm a bittersweet reminder of the simplicity you’re trying to preserve. you smile and engage in conversation, encouraging him to name as many fish as he can think of during the drive. when he runs out of new ones, he starts to repeat ones he’s already said, making you laugh.

as you walk him to the entrance to greet his teachers you squeeze his hand before kneeling down to his level. 

“have fun on your trip, baby. be good today, okay?”. you know he will be, he’s never given you trouble before. he smiles and nods at you. 

“okay, mommy”. he wraps his arms around your neck and gives you a tight hug. you hum at the affection and squeeze him back before letting go. you quickly remind him that you put some money in his lunch box so he can get something at the gift shop later. you also make sure to inform his teacher of it before she takes him inside. 

it’s not long before a knot of anxiety tightens in your gut. you know what awaits you at home. the drive back is a blur, your mind too consumed with your own thoughts to process the commute.

once you enter your home you wrap a blanket around your legs as you nestle on the couch. you’re sure to bring a box of tissues over, too, fully knowing that this will likely be an emotional experience. with a final moment of hesitation you slowly open the letter again.

i don’t know if you’ll ever understand how sorry i am or how much you mean to me. nothing i write could ever truly capture the depth of my feelings for you. i’ve spent countless nights lying awake, thinking about all the ways i failed you, and how i let us slip away. i’ve made so many mistakes, and i carry the weight of them every day. but more than anything, i carry the weight of losing you. i miss us—the way we used to be, the way we could have been if only i’d done things differently. i know i wasn’t the husband you deserved, and for that, i am deeply sorry.

you were—and still are—the most important person in my life. i took for granted the love we shared, and i let my own shortcomings drive a wedge between us. losing you has been the hardest thing i’ve ever had to face and i hate myself everyday for it. i know i have no right to ask this of you, but please… read these words knowing they come from the deepest part of my heart. i love you, and i’ll never stop loving you. 

as you read, a profound sadness envelops you. you’re overwhelmed by the depth of his words as he continues in great detail of his mistakes and broken promises, owning up to each one. the realization of how far you both have fallen from the love you once shared hits hard. his words are a painful reminder of why you separated. 

your breath hitches, tears welling up in your eyes. the realization that you still hold such a significant place in his heart, despite everything, makes your chest tighten. his confession, so raw and unfiltered, breaks through the walls you've tried so hard to build and you can't help but feel a sense of longing.

i wasn’t there when you needed me most—when you were struggling, when you were hurting, when all you needed was for me to be by your side. instead, i buried myself in work and held secrets from you. i kept my fears, my worries, and my vulnerabilities locked away, thinking i was protecting you from the dangers of my world. in hindsight, i can see how wrong i was. i should have trusted you, should have let you in, instead of shutting you out. i let my fear of losing you drive a wedge between us. you reached out to me so many times, and i pushed you away without realizing it. you deserve someone who will be there for you, who will share their heart with you completely, and i failed to be that person. 

his words are everything you've ever wanted to hear —acknowledgment and ownership of his actions. as you read through each sentence, a part of you feels a long-held weight beginning to lift. this is what you had needed all along: for him to truly see where he went wrong, to recognize the pain he caused not just in passing, but in full. his understanding, his willingness to admit his faults, and the depth of his remorse touch you in a way you hadn't anticipated. 

i know that words alone cannot undo the pain i’ve caused or the mistakes i’ve made. I understand if you can’t forgive me. i don’t blame you if you decide not to take me back, it’s more than i deserve. you have every right to move on and find the happiness you deserve. but know this: every word on these pages comes from a place of deep regret and genuine love. i’m willing to wait, to prove myself to you, and to work through the challenges that lie ahead, no matter how long it takes. i promise to work tirelessly to prove to you how much i’ve changed. take your time, and when you’re ready, i’ll be here. know that no matter what, i will always cherish and love you.  with all my heart,  satoru.

over half a dozen pages long, his letter is filled with different sections, titles, and even little scribbles that show his struggle to find the right words. each sentence reveals his heart—his regrets, his apologies, his promises. it’s clear he poured every ounce of his remorse into this letter. there are areas where the ink has bled, likely from the tears he shed as he wrote, and fresh stains from your own. 

after folding the sheets of paper back together, you sit in silence, the weight of satoru's words settling heavily in your chest. the room around you feels quiet and distant, as if the only thing that matters right now is the jumble of emotions swirling within you. despite the turmoil, you feel touched by the effort he put into this letter. 

he isn’t begging you to take him back. the letter is simply a way to get his feelings, thoughts and apologies out– things he’s struggled with saying since your separation. he realizes there may be a reality where you don't forgive him and he has to learn to live with that.

you hold the pages to your chest, feeling the weight of them against your heart. the tears fall, warm  and heavy, but you don’t try to stop them. each drop is a release of the pent-up emotions you've been carrying; sadness, relief, and a deep, profound sense of gratitude.

gojo's words have reached you in a way nothing else has. the raw emotion and vulnerability he’s shared almost feels like he’s connecting you to the person you once knew so intimately. as you cry, you can’t help but feel touched by the depth of his feelings. it’s not just an apology; it’s a testament to the love he still holds for you. the gesture is so thoughtful and has made you feel seen and valued in a way you had almost given up on. 

—

the few moments it takes for gojo to answer the front door feel like an eternity, making it seem as though your heart is lodged in your throat. it had been a few days since you read the letter- you read it multiple times, actually. a thousand thoughts race in your head at once as you anticipate the conversation you're about to have with him. you’re not sure how the interaction will go, but it will offer one thing- closure.

when he finally opens it, his expression shifts from surprise to cautious. the late hour makes your presence worrisome and he can see the subtle signs of distress on your face. 

“what’s wrong? is it haru?”. his voice is immediately laced with concern. it’s past his bedtime by now, and his mind races for a moment with all the possibilities of what could have happened at this time of night. 

you shake your head. “he’s fine. he’s with my parents”, he takes a breath in relief as you ease his worries for a moment. gojo looks into your eyes, quiet as he waits for you to speak. 

“i read your letter”. your voice breaks at the end of your sentence. 

“oh” gojo definitely wasn’t expecting this, not at this hour. the simple word carries vulnerability, as if he’s bracing himself for bad news. 

he steps aside to let you in before disappearing into the kitchen for a moment to get you a glass of water. as eager as he is to hear what you have to say, he also wants to give you the freedom to start the conversation.

upon entering his apartment, you’re enveloped by the overwhelming existence of gojo. the familiar presence of him transports you to the mornings you once shared. the warmth of the space, the soft lighting, the throw blankets on the couch—all evoke memories of the comfort and safety you felt when he was around. you notice the subtle, everyday items that you’ve walked by a thousand times over–- his favorite books stacked on the coffee table, the cozy slippers by the door, and the meticulously arranged pillows on top of the cushions that reflect his attention to detail. each element of the apartment seems to whisper echoes of the past. and it's those little details that end up breaking you. 

the tears flow hot and heavy down your cheeks, pooling on the inside of your palms as you cover your face. your breaths come in uneven gasps, hitching with every cry as your sobs come in shuddering waves, each one breaking through the fragile barrier you had tried to maintain. 

it’s overwhelming, this flood of emotions that you’ve tried so hard to keep at bay. the vulnerability of the moment is too great, and the rawness of your feelings too profound to mask. you let yourself be consumed by it, giving in to the torrent of sorrow that has been building inside you for so long. 

gojo stands frozen for a moment as he emerges from the kitchen, his heart aching at the sight of you. he’s always hated seeing you cry. it hurts even worse to know it’s because of him. all of the pain you’ve both endured is because of him. 

“hey” he coos. he wants to reach out and touch you so badly, to console you how he usually would, but he knows there’s a certain boundary he shouldn’t cross without your permission. it’s hard, though, to watch you struggle with your emotions so intensely. 

tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder, as if he’s giving you space to decide if you’re ready for his touch. the familiar warmth is something you’ve longed for and you find yourself leaning into that comfort, for the connection that once defined your relationship.

when you take a small step toward him, the silent gesture of vulnerability is all the encouragement he needs before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle, yet firm embrace. he has to hold back a sigh of contentment at the feeling of you in his arms for the first time in months. 

in his arms, you let yourself surrender to the grief and relief as you continue to sob into your hands. you can feel the familiar warmth of his body, a sensation that both comforts and stings. 

gojo is grateful that you allow him to hold you. his hand finds its way into your hair, fingers gently threading through the strands as he cradles your head. 

“i got you” he whispers. gojo keeps his movements small, but reassuring as he allows you to  feel everything. he feels the tension gradually leave your body as you manage to calm down enough to halt your crying. your chest still feels heavy, but the overwhelming flood of emotion has subsided into a quiet ache. when he thinks you’re ready, gojo tries to coax you into sharing your thoughts. 

"talk to me," he encourages gently, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. "what's going on?". 

you pull back a bit to wipe your eyes. gojo lets his arms drop, but remains close as guides you to the couch. he offers the glass of water he put aside and you drink it before speaking. 

“your letter means more to me than i can put into words”. your voice is hoarse from crying. gojo’s features soften. “it was overwhelming, but it was everything i’ve been wanting from you for so long—acknowledgment, honesty, and the understanding of how deeply your actions affected us”. 

you nervously play with your fingers as you continue. “but… i’m scared. what if we try again and end up hurting each other more? if things don’t work out and it affects us as parents? i don’t want haru to get caught in the middle of that”. 

he understands where you’re coming from. your son is the most important thing to both of you and he doesn’t deserve to be robbed of his innocence. 

“when we were together i convinced myself time and time again that you’d change and was always disappointed when you proved otherwise. i’m scared to go back into a relationship that’s already failed”. your voice breaks again. 

gojo’s eyes study you. it’s clear you’ve thought a lot about his letter. he can see how every word he wrote affects you in a different way. he’s grateful that he’s at least getting the opportunity to sit down and talk to you about it. it’s a closure you’ve both needed for a long time.

“i’m scared too”, he admits. he had the same fears as you did. there’s no way for him to know that another chance will prove anything. “but i’m more scared of losing you for good”. gojo truly can’t imagine his life without you in it. you’ve been together for so long that you’ve left a permanent mark on his heart. 

his words cut through you, making your heart race with conflicting emotions. you still love him—there was no denying that. but love had never been the issue. it was everything else—the dangers he faced, the secrets he kept, the life he lived that always seemed to pull him away from you.

“i don’t want to go back, either,” he continues. “i want to try something new, to build something better and be the husband i should’ve been, to take things one step at a time and see if we can find our way back to each other”. 

the offer is terrifying. it opens up too many possibilities for things to go completely wrong, leaving you to grapple with the fear of falling back into old patterns and the uncertainty of whether things can truly change. there’s nothing holding gojo to his promise other than the hope that things will be different this time. it’s far too risky of an idea to agree to, with so many variables that could lead to more heartbreak and disappointment.

but as you look into his eyes, you see the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago—the man who had been your partner, your confidant and the father of your child. his eyes, though shadowed with regret, are still beautiful and hold the warmth and sincerity you’ve always cherished. the depth of his gaze brings back memories of the laughter and love you once shared and you realize that this is not just about risking another heartbreak; it’s about giving yourself a chance to rebuild, to rediscover what once brought you joy. 

“okay,” your voice is barely above a whisper. gojo’s eyes search yours. 

“okay?” he repeats, his voice tinged with uncertainty, not entirely sure what the small statement means. you nod, your gaze steady.

“one step at a time” you echo his earlier words. the phrase is more than just a reassurance—it's a declaration of your willingness to approach the future with caution and deliberate care. 

a slow smile spread across his face, filled with a hope you haven’t seen in a long time. 

it isn’t going to be easy, but this could be the start of something new—a chance to rebuild what had been broken, and to create a future where your family could be happy.

---

ch 4>

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

(tagging some people who liked the previous chapter. plz lmk if you want to be removed <3)

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[spiceofvy]

Can I pls request a BTS headcanons? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

BTS - Thinking reader betrayed them

cws: gender neutral reader, sfw, angst with no happy ending

Seokjin: He goes for the confrontation. Inviting you out to a cafe, to talk to you. He asks you for your reasoning for hurting him like that. But he is not truly alone, he has some trusted staff members a couple of feet away from the two of you in the cafe some tables away. So he doesn‘t feel alone in this situation. He breaks up with you on the spot. You don‘t get any chances to wash your name clean, he made his decision when he heard the news, and as the oldest, it is his job to make sure that he protects the other members, even if it means kicking you out of his life. But then he learns the truth? He regrets everything he ever said to you. Being so quick to judge you. He asks you to come to the cafe again, so you can talk it out. You don‘t show up. You don‘t answer his calls. Neither do your friends. So he stays behind, feeling like he lost the light in his life. And the worst part is that it's all his fault.

Yoongi: Also chooses confrontation. The moment he hears from a trusted source what you did, he is standing on your doorstep. He just wants to know why. Why would you hurt him like that? Why did you choose betrayal? Why him? Hasn‘t he been through enough? Can‘t he have a single nice thing? Why? Why would you do that? And he says so many things he didn‘t think through. So many hurtful words he could never take back. So many things he never wants to take back after what you put him through. You deserve to feel just as terrible as he does after you broke his trust, broke him and his idea of love. The moment he learns the truth his world breaks apart. He isn‘t gonna be seen for days. No one gets to talk to him. He will never forgive himself for what he put you through. Not that he could ever deserve forgiveness.

Hoseok: Has a hard time believing what he hears. There is no reason for you to hurt him like that. You love him. You would never use him just to get information you could sell. All those times you told him that you love him weren‘t all lies. You wouldn‘t do that. But he lays awake at night trying to find an explanation but all his thoughts lead to only one solution. He cries that night. When he forces himself to come to terms with the bitter truth that is that there is no other explanation but you betraying him. He gives you a chance, just one to apologize. To tell him the truth and maybe he could forgive you and you could stay friends. But you don‘t, you swear that your story is true and he just isn't able to believe you. When everything turns out to be a lie and he tries to talk to you, he realizes that his keys no longer fit into the door of your apartment. And maybe, he thinks, he deserved that.

Namjoon: He is beyond distraught. He is heartbroken. In his mind you broke his trust, you threatened him and his band, his family. He could never forgive you for that, no matter how much he loves you. No one is allowed to betray him and his boys like that. But what hurt even more was him finding out that he was wrong. That you never betrayed him like that, that this whole time you were honest to him. This is what truly breaks his heart. He hurt you, he lashed out at you, he made you cry. And he can never forgive himself for that. He is too scared to reach out to you. How could he apologize to you after that? So when he finally brings up the confidence. It‘s way too late. And honestly? He can‘t find himself to judge you for that.

Jimin: No. He doesn‘t believe it. Why would you betray him? You have no reason to. You love him, just like he loves you. You love each other, and anyone who says anything different is wrong and a liar. Those are all lies. It takes a huge intervention from the rest of his members for him to ever question you. But then, what they say makes so much sense. And they wouldn't lie to him either. Or say something they are not 100% sure that would be the truth right? So as much as it pains him, he calls you and confronts you with what they said. You swear you‘re telling the truth but the fear stays and so he leaves. When the truth comes out he runs to you, banging on your door, begging, pleading for you to hear him out. But now the fear is within you, and so you decide to not let him come back.

Taehyung: He knows what betrayal feels like. Too often people hurt him and used his belief for the good of the people for their use. So when the people he trusts the most, his brothers and his bandmates tell them what you supposedly did. He is done with you. No second-guessing, the pain he collected over the years immediately resurfaced and now he is lost without knowing who he can truly trust. But then when he does learn the truth he turns all his anger to the rest of the world, to everyone who lied to him about you. He wishes he could go to you and just take everything back he said. But he is scared and so he just turns away, staying along with his pain.

Jungkook: Not quick to judge but also not stupid. He trusts his team and the other members so when they tell him the „truth“ about you he doesn‘t even want to confront you about it. He is in pain and just accepts their words. He only meets you to give you back your stuff and then moves on. Or at least he tries to, but in reality, he is still in pain. Cuts everyone off for some time. But when he hears the truth he needs to see you. He needs to talk to you and apologize for not believing you. And when you don‘t hear him, telling him that he had his chance to believe you and now it‘s too late, he lashes out, not to you but to everyone that told him those lies about you. He didn‘t fight for you back then but he will at least make sure that everyone knows what truly happened.

[clerc16]

gorgeous lies

summary: is it a gorgeous lie, or is it just a dreadful truth?

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: a little angst, open ending i guess? cursing, mentions of a rocky relationship

Normally, you didn’t think about the concept of soulmates. It didn’t cross your mind. Until you met Charles; and that changed your whole perspective.

He was always there with you, for you; and you were always there for him. That’s just the way it was.

Relaxing days off were a necessity in your relationship. Calm days spent tangled between white, crisp bedsheets while small, sweet nothings were whispered and short stories were shared. Both of your lives seemed to stop once these days occurred - you were only thinking about each other while the world went on with their lives.

Honesty was very important, too. Both of your promises and words were always fulfilled. It was like an unspeakable vow; it was never really officiated but it was known.

Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

That’s what you thought, until the day you mistook Charles’ phone for yours. You tried unlocking it, but you realised that the Face ID didn’t recognise your face until it was too late.

“mate just tell her u should take a break. it’s better than to lead her on when u don’t even portray ur real feelings” read the text message. You didn’t even know who it was from - maybe Pierre, maybe Joris, maybe Arthur or Lorenzo - and frankly, you didn’t care.

You left as soon as you could. No explanation, no reasoning.

“my love, is everything ok? i’m here if u need me” Charles’ text said. You read it over so many times you memorised it. The fact he easily called you my love when he was unsure of his feelings. The way he easily made you believe him even when he didn’t believe himself.

The way you were so unbelievably attracted to him, like two opposite ends of a magnet, and all that just shattered.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days. And Charles’ phone never got a notification that you responded.

Naturally, he came over to your house after two very long days. When you saw him on your doorstep, you wanted to slam the door in his face. But you didn’t. Instead, you ‘invite’ him in.

“Are you here to lie to me again?” You stammer. His eyebrows furrow as his eyes look deep into yours.

“What?”

“Or are you here to tell me we should take a break?” You continue. His face contorts as he finally understands what you’re referring to.

“My love, it wasn’t what it looked like-” he begins, but you cut him off as you laugh.

“Don’t my love me right now. I’m not stupid. I’m not a child. Just... get it over with, Charles. Please, just go.” You respond, your voice cracking.

Hearing the evident pain in your voice as it cracked caused his heart to crack, too.

And without another word, he was gone. Forever? Possibly.

Days dragged on like years. Days were spent crying; out of sadness, out of guilt, out of regret. They blended into one another but each one of them stuck out, sharp as a pin.

The one day that stood out the most, though, was the final day of a devastating week. Friday.

A knock on your door caused you to groan as you forced yourself off the couch.

“Is this Ms... L/N?” The man at the door asked. You hummed shortly.

“I have a delivery for you,” he says with a small smile as he places a huge bouquet of your favourite flower on your front door. You thank him as you drag it inside.

You weren’t stupid. You knew it was Charles.

Attached to the flowers was a note. You sighed as you opened it and began reading.

“Y/N,

I promise, none of this was a lie. Well, maybe some of it. But none of it was negative, I swear. It may seem like it was all a lie, but it wasn’t. Everytime I called you my love or told you I love you wasn’t a lie. None of it was. Please give me a chance to explain. I owe you an explanation, please let me do it.

I love you, I swear.

- Charles.”

You sigh once more as you fold up the note, the decision already clear in your mind.

thank you for reading! i hope this was worth it, please don’t be a ghost reader :)

[lilgarbitch]

Running in Circles- Seven

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: angst, drinking, Y/N being a cute little dumbass

Word Count: 9.5k

Author’s Note: as quoted from a recent post: i fear my desire to make men miserable is playing a large role in my work and i do apologize for that. Also…I promise Will and Y/N are just friends…👀

(Author’s Note Pt. 2: Taking a break from posting for a minute so I can revise the old chapters as I’ve been getting some input that some things aren’t that great🖤 Will update soon)

Part Six

Noah

“YOU WHAT?” Ruffilo shouted from across the room at me as he stood up in disbelief. I sat on the couch with my head in my hands, pulling at my roots. 

“I don’t know why I did it.. I just. I had to do something to make myself feel better about the situation,” I said, shaking my head, my voice strained with stress. 

“When I said to find your own way to get back at her, I didn’t fucking mean that, you dumbass!” He was now pacing, like he was the one who fucked up. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to him about this.

“I know. I just..,” I let out a deep sigh, falling back on the couch, “Maybe I did it to hurt her, or maybe I did it to hurt myself. I don’t know. I just couldn’t take this shit anymore.”

“Dude! You spent YEARS talking about this girl. You’ve written fucking songs about her. You get into one fight, and do this?” He finally stopped and stared at me, waiting for me to come up with a better explanation, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t have one. 

Footsteps creep into the living room, so I look up and see Jolly looking at us, confused. 

“What’s all the yelling about?” he asked, looking between the two of us. I just anxiously chewed on my lip, so Ruffilo answered for me. 

“This jackass decided to hook up with someone at his fucking birthday party.” He put a hand on his hip like a disappointed parent, waiting for Jolly to give any reaction. I turn to Jolly and he’s giving me a look, a mix of shock, confusion, and disappointment. I let out a groan, getting up and walking to my room. I don’t need this. I had hoped Ruffilo could give me any advice for this absolute fuck-up I made, but I should’ve known I would just get scolded. 

I fall onto my bed and shove my face into my pillow, letting out a groan. I don’t fucking know why I did it. I was pissed off at how close she’s gotten with Matt. And when random friend of one of the guys was chatting with me and I looked over and saw that fucking Ghost Face grinding against Davis, I just lost it. I don’t know why sleeping with a random girl was my decision, especially when it won’t even affect Y/N if she never finds out, it was just the only thing my irrational brain could think of. Maybe I did it hoping it would help me get over her, but it just made me feel so much worse. I know we’ve been ignoring each other, but she’s acting like she doesn’t even fucking care about me anymore. So, I thought that maybe I shouldn’t care either, but obviously, everyone thought that was the stupidest thing I could do. 

I hear the rest of the guys get back from the store, hearing cheers as they probably showed everyone the food and alcohol they got, and all I could do was groan. This break was supposed to be fun. The party was supposed to be fun. I was hoping to take Y/N on a date or two, showing her my favorite places in the city. But no. She showed up for the party, ignored me the whole time, and was nowhere to be found when I came back..after making that terrible decision. Fuck. Why the fuck did it have to work out this way? Why’d I yell at her at the bar? If we could just sit down and talk, maybe we could at least be friends. I can’t stand finally having her in my life yet she just fucking ignores me. Fuck, I need a fucking distraction.

I stood up from my bed and headed downstairs, trying my best to sneak by so no one would notice me. I reach the kitchen and grab a random bottle we had on top of the fridge, before sneaking back to my room. Locking the door behind me, I go to sit on my bed and grab my phone, connecting it to my speakers before opening Spotify and clicking a random playlist. 

Turning the volume up full blast, I twist off the cap of what I now see is a bottle of fucking vodka. Grimacing, I lift it to my lips and take a large swig before setting it down on my nightstand, making a disgusted face at the taste and burn. 

My thoughts were brought back to the first night of tour, drinking with the group and watching her from across the bus. She took a shot of vodka and made the same face before catching me watching her and giving me the most beautiful smile. 

A growl erupts in my throat. I need to get her out of my fucking head. How am I even going to look at her when tour starts again if I can’t even handle thinking of her?

I grab the bottle again and take an even larger drink, leaning against the wall behind my bed as I felt the liquid fire fill my gut. Distraction. I need another fucking distraction. Because this isn’t hitting me fast enough and the music isn’t overpowering my thoughts. 

I open my phone and pull up Instagram, hoping to find absolutely fucking anything that pulls me from these thoughts. I scroll and scroll, every meme trying to be funny, and every picture of someone looking happy just pissing me off. 

I keep scrolling before my eyes land on tattoos. Her’s. I pause and see that State of the Scene had posted a photo of her in a sound booth. My eyes trail down to the caption. “Lorna Shore’s Will Ramos posts Praising Deities’ Y/N Y/L/N, calling her the ‘next deathcore vocalist’ and that he ‘can’t wait for y’all to hear what she can do.’ Let’s hope she releases something new soon, as fans have been enjoying her covers of ‘To the Hellfire’ and ‘Sun//Eater,’ sung on her current tour with the band Bad Omens.”

All it took was one comment. A single fucking comment to push me over the edge.

“Are those hickeys on her neck?” 

Before I could even think, a yell came spewing out as I threw my phone across the room, creating a loud band and a small crack as it shattered against the wall.

Tears came pouring down my face, now being unable to hold back every emotion that I’ve felt the past few weeks. I took one last swig of the vodka before setting it on my nightstand and lying down, pulling my covers over me. ‘Love Me to Death’ by Suicide Silence blasted through my speakers, proving that my phone wasn’t completely destroyed, but now I couldn’t fucking change it.

She has every fucking right to move on. I fucking did, too. But to get that confirmation that after barely a month of finally having her in my life, she’s fucking gone. I just couldn’t take it anymore. My chest ached and burned. All I wanted to do was scream until the pain was gone. I wanted her. I needed her. How did my life turn into such a fucking train-wreck so fast?

Suddenly, someone knocks on my door. They try to say something, but between my sobs and the music, I don’t know what. 

“FUCK OFF,” was all I said before shoving my head under my pillow, ignoring the rest of the world as I prayed for the alcohol to hit more and clear my mind.

Y/N

The other guys left after listening to my isolated screams, commenting on a few, and giving me a few ‘good lucks’ before going about their day. I made sure to thank Dave for letting me use his studio, and he said that it was here for me anytime. I doubt I’ll ever take him up on that offer, as I was still extremely intimidated by him, but I really appreciated it. 

Will and I were now just messing around in the studio. We already spent a good hour or so working on how I could get certain screams and growls to sound better and how I could enunciate words differently if that’s what I enjoyed. Now, we were just playing music and singing along as we occasionally went back and forth in the sound booth, wanting to see if we could hit notes right. Every recording we took was just full of giggles, so thankfully we were already planning to delete them right after listening.

He even taught me a few controls, mainly how to set songs up for him, make them only play for the person in the booth, and which button let me talk to him. We learned more about each other’s music tastes and where it came from, even who we took inspiration from for our own music. I learned more about his love for Sleep Token, which went a lot deeper than I thought. He went on a few rambles just talking about his appreciation for how they write the music and even played songs, pointing out specific things Vessel did in his vocals. 

He kept playing ‘Chokehold’ over and over, to the point that I practically learned the whole song. After about the tenth full run-through, not counting the amount of times he went back and repeatedly played specific parts because he just couldn’t get over the sound, I stood up and walked to the sound booth. 

I was getting more used to being in here now and definitely more used to singing in front of Will. We’d been in this studio for hours at this point, just singing to each other, so all my nerves were gone. 

He watched me as I walked and immediately sat up and leaned over the controls, a little confused. 

“Play it again, I wanna try,” I told him through the mic as I put the headphones on. 

“Chokehold? You wanna sing Chokehold? You literally just fucking heard it,” He said, laughing. 

“I heard it like 30 times and you even gave me a rundown of every single quirk in his vocals, now run it,” I teased. He playfully lifted his hands in defense before getting everything set up. 

The intro started playing so I held the headphones close to my ears and counted the beats in my head, not wanting to miss the cues.

When we were made

I did my best to make it airy and hold the same enunciation as Vessel did. 

It was no accident 

It was honestly so entertaining to practice Sleep Token songs. Vessel put so much character into every single note and to reenact it was so fun. Especially switching between chest voice and head voice or adding the little ‘t’ at the end of a line.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Over-exaggerating certain parts was new to me unless I was singing along to a more pop punk song, where everyone had a specific accent they used. 

I come as a blade

I did my best to flow into a high note, and I did surprisingly well, so I turned to Will with a proud look on my face before continuing.

A sacred guardian 

Will was watching me in awe, and I so badly wanted to laugh at the face he made, but I had to keep my composure to continue. 

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

It looked like Will was slowly falling into deep thought, but I knew it was still recording, so I just ignored him and continued. 

You’ve got me in a chokehold

I did my best to remember how Vessel did the audible breaths and tried to recreate them. 

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a-

I look back over to see if Will was doing his famous dance to this part like he had every other replay of this song, but instead, he stood up and paused the music, and started messing around with more controls. 

“Will? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, and he just shook his head as he did whatever the hell he was trying to do. 

Finally, he stopped touching buttons, and the music started again, and he was rushing into the sound booth with me. He hurriedly came over and grabbed the other set of headphones lying in here, putting them on and turning to me with a child-like smile. 

“Roll with it,” He said, so I nodded and began to sing. 

When we were made

Woah, he finally turned on the control so I could hear myself.

It was no accident 

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Then, Will joined in with me.

I come as a blade

I looked at him, shocked. We sounded so fucking good. He went lower as I took the high note at the end, nailing it once again.

A sacred guardian 

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

He looked at me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I took that as a signal for me to let him sing the following lines.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder, and I assumed that as him saying to join him.

You’ve got me in a-

He started headbanging to the music and I looked at him like we just did the craziest thing, because, to me, we fucking did. I had to hold back my giggles as he jammed out next to me. The next lines were about to come up, so he composed himself and put a hand on my shoulder, this now being our signal for him to sing.

Beneath the stormy seas

Above the mountain peaks

It’s all the same to me

It makes no difference 

He patted my shoulder, so I joined in.

I’ve seen my days unfold

Done the impossible 

I’d turn my walls to gold

To bring you home again

He stepped back from the mic, so it was just me singing the next few lines.

So show me that which I cannot see

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Oh, and though we

Act out of our holy

Duty to be constantly awake

I did my best to hit the last notes, and then felt a tap on my shoulder.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He started doing a fry scream and it sounded so good.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder once again, and I had to quickly think of the best route of action to make our vocals sound good together, but just landed on continuing to do clean, alto vocals.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He switched back to his clean vocals for the ending.

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Show me the way

We held out the last note together, him not trying to create harmony, just matching our vocals so they meshed together. 

We looked at each other in shock as the song ended before rushing out of the sound booth and over to the control board. We listened back to our isolated vocals in disbelief. The fact that we just threw this together last second was unbelievable. 

We listened to it a few times, talking about what could be fixed or edited, both of us individually running to the sound booth multiple times to sing our parts so we could edit them together. We even did some lines differently, seeing if more harmony or if me doing harsh vocals would sound better. 

After recording probably too many pieces, he switched over all the vocals to his laptop, and we started working them together. Finally, we added the instrumental over top, spending a few minutes lining everything up perfectly, giving it one last listen, and then just staring at each other, shocked.

“We just fucking made that!” I said, pointing to his laptop. He nodded with a wide smile. 

“Yes, the fuck we did,” he said, holding his hand up. I gave him a high-five, laughing at the insanity that was the piece of art we just made. 

“What now? Show the boys?” I asked, hooking a finger over my shoulder at the door behind me. 

“Dude, we have to fucking show everyone. Are you kidding me?” 

“Now? You’re gonna post it now?” I asked, both shocked and amused. 

“Y/N. We just spent over two hours editing this together. Plus, it’s just a cover. Yes, now.” He laughed out. I looked over at the clock and realized that we had indeed been doing this for a while. 

“Okay, okay. Ahh, I’m scared. No. I’m excited,” I rushed out, kicking my feet. He just laughed at me before turning to his laptop. I watched as he downloaded the file before uploading it on his personal Spotify with my name featured on it. I just stared at the screen in shock. I just did a cover song. It was now up for everyone to see. And I did it with Will Ramos. Oh my fucking god. 

I quickly pull my phone out, ignoring every notification, and open Spotify. I copy the link to the song and head over to Instagram. I screen-recorded the story Will made earlier, and cropped it as I made a post of the video, and added the link to the song played over the post. 

“Chokehold- Sleep Token. A cover by Will Ramos and Y/N Y/L/N 🖤🤘🏻,” I wrote in the caption. I tagged Will and hit post.

I looked over at Will and grinned. He looked back at me, smiling twice as big. I was so full of excitement and energy, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just flung myself on him, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Will, you’ve made these last two days more fun than I’ve had this past month. Thank you so much.” He held me closer, laughing with me.

“Anything for you, my little petal.” I giggled at my nickname again before pulling away. 

“I’m serious, though. These last few weeks- Hell! These last few years had been fucking crazy for me, and I feel like by simply meeting you, shit’s finally starting to fall into place. I’m doing new things. More people are listening to me. I just learned controls, for fucks sake,” I laughed, making him chuckle down at me, “So thank you. I’m so unbelievably fucking happy to have finally met you.” 

He looks at me with a warm smile, my words soaking in. I was still hugging him, so we were still super close, and I don’t know what came over me, but I pulled him down and brought his lips to mine. 

He tensed for a moment but instantly kissed me back. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, sliding my fingers into his pink locs as I held him close. His hands slid up to my sides, pulling my body towards him more. The kiss was about to deepen, when I got pulled back to reality by my phone ringing. I immediately pulled away and looked at him, shocked, before fumbling to grab my phone. I answered it without even looking at who was calling. 

“Hello?” I greeted, having to clear my throat as it cracked a bit out of shock. 

“YOU RELEASED A SONG WITHOUT TELLING YOUR OWN BAND? YOUR OWN BROTHERS?” Tommy shouted into the phone, making me chuckle and pull my phone from my ear. 

“Shit. Yeah, sorry about that. Will and I were messing around in the studio,” I had to clear my throat again after saying ‘messing around’ before continuing, “ and we were listening to Sleep Token and decided to try out doing a cover, and it came out surprisingly well.”

“When the fuck did you meet Will? I thought he was in New Jersey," he asked.

“Funny story, actually. Him and the band are staying here with a friend, and we ran into each other at the club,” I sheepishly replied. There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, and I almost thought we lost connection before he finally replied.

“Oh, we’re having a long chat the next time I see you, missy. Which better be soon, might I add. I’ve seen you maybe once in the last four days,” he finally said, with a tone mixed with suspicion and deviousness. 

“Yes, Sir. Now, did you only call to yell at me?” I teased.

“Well, I did want to tell you that you two sounded fucking fantastic and that maybe you could invite Will over to the boys’ house, but I can sense you’re having more fun there,” He teased back. 

“Shut it. I appreciate the compliment and will pass it on, but I’m ignoring everything you said after that for multiple reasons.”

“Oh… shit, you’re right. That might be a bad idea…Anyway, have fun with your little date. Love you!” He said, making me roll my eyes. 

“Love you, too.” And then I hung up. I chewed on my lip nervously before finally turning around to look at Will. He was staring at me with a humorous expression. 

“I hope you know that I could hear that entire conversation,” He chuckled out, making me facepalm, “And tell him that I said thank you for the compliment. Now…what was that?” 

I groaned and walked past him, sitting down and throwing my head down in my hands. 

“Will. I’m so sorry,” was all I could get out. I hear his footsteps come towards me, and I looked up to see him crouching down in front of me. 

“For what? I mean, we’ve done more than that, so don’t think I’m bothered.”

“No. I mean, I am sorry for kissing you. I said we were gonna leave it all behind and pretend like nothing happened, and I still want to. But I’m mainly sorry that I may be pulling you into a very awkward situation.” He gave me a confused look. I let out a deep sigh. Should I even explain or just leave him out of this?

“So… Something may or may not have happened with…someone …I’m touring with…and shit has been weird. Fuck. It’s a long ass story,” I finished with a groan. He chuckled softly and rested his hands on my knees before sitting down in front of me with his legs crossed. 

“I have time, my petal. Tell me what’s bothering you.” I let out another deep sigh. I might as well tell someone else the bullshit that’s been happening since everyone else seems to know.

And so I did. I told him everything. From the festival to the song lyrics. The ‘talk.’ The night at the bar. The Halloween/ birthday party. The depression. Me getting back into smoking. How reckless I was being last night because I wasn’t in the right mind. Everything. And he sat there, staring at me and listening intently, occasionally giving my knees a squeeze if I got a little too emotional. He let me tell him everything. Once I finally finished, he stood up, pulling me up with him and giving me a big hug. 

“Everything will work out, my little petal. You two will eventually make up because you have to, or else tour will be really weird. I’m perfectly fine being that rebound that kind of gets in the way because I know you didn’t do it to hurt anyone. And because I really enjoy spending time with you and being your friend,” He pulled away and looked me deep in my eyes, “And just your friend. We can leave everything in the past. We randomly ran into each other at a club, went home separately, and the next day, I gave you vocal lessons and we recorded a song together. That’s all that happened. Okay?” 

Tears were now welling up in my eyes as I nodded before pulling him back into a hug. 

“Thank you.” I managed to get out. He rubbed my back as he held me close. 

“Anything for a friend.” 

After a minute or two of just taking in the comfort and reassurance, I finally pulled away and sat back down, him following and sitting back in his chair. He turned back to his laptop, typing away at something for a few minutes as I sat in my thoughts. 

“Will?” I asked after a few moments. He turned to me with a ‘hm?’

“What’s with the ‘my little petal’?” I finally asked. He chucked and sat back in his chair with a small shy grin. 

“Uh..well, first off, you’re pretty like a flower. You’re soft, delicate, and, you know, are able to either attract or repel others with your looks…I guess? Plus, you can be a little sharp, but only if you have to…And I like flowers. I don’t know. It was something that came to mind last night and I guess it just stuck,” He answers, a little embarrassed, making me giggle. 

“God, you’re such a sap. If I didn’t have a goddamn soul tie to someone, that would work on me,” I teased, making him laugh loudly. 

“Good to know,” he teased back with a smirk, “But, on a different note, I do have an idea for you.” 

I look at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue. He returned to doing something on the laptop before moving him and the computer to the control board. I watched him curiously as he started messing with things again. He couldn’t possibly want to change anything about the cover we did. It was already posted.

After messing around with a few things, he turned to me.

“Two questions. One- How badly do you want to at least try and make things better between you two? Like, I know it’s still super rocky, and it’s gonna take time, but do you want to at least reach out?” He asked. I was confused, but still thought about it for a moment, weighing my decisions.

“Badly. I know we’re gonna have to start over completely. We’ve both done some weird shit in the past few weeks, but I need us to reach a point where we can at least look at and speak to each other again.” I finally answered. He nodded before continuing.

“Second question, are you okay with being recorded today?” I looked at him, extra confused, and saw that he was pointing towards a camera that has apparently been in the sound booth this whole time. What did this man have planned?

I pulled out my phone and opened the camera, looking over my appearance. My makeup was mostly intact after redoing it in the morning, even after tearing up a little, and I didn’t do anything with my hair today, but I ran my fingers through it so it was semi-presentable. Then my eyes landed on my neck, and I made a slight hiss at the marks. 

“Let me borrow a hoodie, and I’ll be fine,” I answered, and he immediately started taking off the one he threw on earlier and handed it to me before getting up and walking to the sound booth to start messing with the camera in there. 

“Will, what am I about to do? Why am I being recorded?” I asked, more confused than ever. He just shot me a smirk as he finished messing with the camera and came back out. 

“Just get in there.” He said, pointing at the sound booth.

“You have to tell me what song I’m covering. Do I even know it?” I said as I threw on his hoodie and walked into the sound booth. I pulled the hood up so it was shielding my neck from the camera and then tried my best to pretend a camera wasn’t flashing, indicating that it was already recording me.

“Y/N, I promise you that if you don’t know this song, it’s not meant to be.” He spoke into my headphones. I continued staring at him, confused as ever. And then I watched as he hit a few buttons, setting the track back and hitting record, before finally hitting play. I got myself ready to sing whatever song I apparently should know. 

And then ‘Just Pretend’ started playing.

Will and I were working on putting the video together. He made me do multiple takes, the first one showing that I was a little spooked at the song choice. We edited the audio, taking out as many voice cracks as possible since singing this song over and over again did eventually make me emotional. 

Now he was, in his words, “working his magic,” and, “putting the best video over the audio.” And I just sat back and let him work, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodies as I listened to him type away at his laptop.

Would this even work? He kept choosing audio clips that captured more emotion, even if I was literally crying as I sang. I told him that it was going to sound weird, but he kept shutting me up, saying that he knew what he was doing. I was so drained from everything we did today, and good god, I’ve listened to myself sing so much today, I think I’m going to lose my mind. I leaned my head back against the chair and let out a deep sigh. Today has been a lot. Not in a bad way, just…a lot.

He swiveled his chair around and turned to me, making me look up at him. He held the computer out to me, so I took it, eying him.

“My work here is done,” he said with a proud smile. He was a little too excited about this, even after watching me cry for over an hour to a song. My eyes flickered between him and the laptop, debating if I even wanted to see this, but I still hit play.

The music started, and my voice rang through the laptop speakers. It was a little too full of emotion for my standards, but I’m going to trust Will on this. Then, I realized he had chosen one of the last recordings, where I had already cried, so my eyes were a little red. 

I continued watching, seeing that he still kept some of the audio clips where my voice cracked, but just in the right spots, like the parts where I held out notes. 

Weigh down on me, stay til morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

A tear fell down my eye in the video. I don’t cry in front of people. And he wants me to post this?

Weigh down on me, stay til morning 

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

I had glanced into the camera at that point. I didn’t even know I did that, but you could see the emotion in my red, puffy eyes. My makeup was even starting to run a little.

I can wait for you at the bottom 

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain’t gettin over you

My voice cracked at almost every high note, but it didn’t sound bad. It was just…emotional.

We’ll try again

When we’re not so different 

We will make amends

Til then, I’ll just pretend

I had stepped away from the mic at that point, unable to finish from the exhaustion of having to repeatedly sing a song that held every emotion I felt, but Will layered vocals from another clip over the video, just sounding a little more distant. I looked over at Will with a look of disbelief as the video faded out.

“Well?” He asked, still holding a proud, smug grin on his face. 

“Wh- How- Will!” I stuttered, in complete shock, “I-what do I even do with this?” 

“Well, I’m glad you asked. I reached out to Mr. Nicholas Ruffilo, asking for permission to even do this. He said to send him the video as soon as it’s finished, and then we could figure out where to go from there,” he answered. I looked between him and the laptop again before handing the computer back to him.

“I don’t know how this is gonna work out, but since you did all the work, you get all the blame,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. I can either see this fucking things up more, or actually working out, but either way, fans are going to freak the fuck out if this gets posted online. God, am I really communicating with a man through music again? 

Will types away at the computer, probably saving the file and sending it to Ruffilo, before looking at me.

“I’m starving. Wanna go get dinner?” He asked, as if nothing happened. I give him an exhausted yet humored side-eye before nodding and standing up with him.

Noah

I awoke to someone rummaging next to me. With a groan, I rolled over and looked to see Ruffilo screwing the lid back onto the bottle of vodka next to my bed, Nick turning my speakers off, and Jolly picking up my smashed phone and a picture that I guess had also fallen when I threw the phone. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” I groaned, before bringing my arm over my eyes, the hangover instantly kicking in. I still felt tipsy, probably not having slept for a long time, but that didn’t change the fact that I hadn’t had a single sip of water today. 

“Take this,” Ruffilo said. I peek out from under my arm and see him handing me a glass of water like he read my fucking mind, which I instantly took. I sat up and chugged the whole glass. It felt like I hadn’t had water in days. I set the cup beside me before dropping my head in my hands with a loud groan.

“Do we..?” I heard Jolly ask, not knowing what the hell he meant. I then heard someone, probably Ruffilo, crouch down beside my bed. I glance over and see him giving me a pitying look, making me roll my eyes. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I have something to show you downstairs. I can make the other guys leave for a little if you don’t want to deal with company, but it’s something that you need to see,” he said in a hushed tone, like I was a dog he would scare away if he spoke too loud. 

I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my eyes before swinging my feet over the bed. There’s nothing they could show me that would make me feel worse than I do now, so why the fuck not? They all backed up as I sat up from my bed, swaying a little as the alcohol hadn’t yet left my system. They all file out of my room, and I follow.

“Did you guys seriously pick my lock?” I grumbled out, remembering that I had locked the door before passing out. Nick glanced over at me, looking a little guilty, causing a huff of a laugh to escape my lips. 

They led me to the living room, which was thankfully empty. Who knows where everyone else was. Jolly reached over and grabbed a laptop, sitting down on the couch and opening it. I plopped down next to him, sinking into the back of the couch, not really wanting to be here. After a few moments of him typing away at it, pulling something up, he sat the laptop on the table in front of me. 

I glanced at the laptop and then at the rest of them, confused. What the fuck were they about to show me? Ruffilo motioned his head towards it, signaling to me that I had to press play, so I did. 

Instantly, the beginning of ‘Just Pretend’ played through the speakers of the laptop, making me groan. What the fuck was this? But then, her face came up as the vocals started.

I just sat there, staring at her in shock as she sang. She had a hoodie pulled over her so only her face showed. I leaned in closer, noticing something. She was crying. Every time she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot, and her makeup had been running.

Her voice cracked with emotion every high note, like she had been holding back a sob. I never wanted to see her cry. Especially not like this…

The bridge hit, and my eyes widened as she looked at the camera. Her eyes were full of what I could only describe as despair. They were dull and glazed over, barely even processing where she was looking, just staring off as she let the emotion flow through her singing. Her voice was harsh, like she had either been using it a lot or smoking. But it was still beautiful.

She stepped away from the mic after the heart wrenching post-chorus, almost like her body was about to cave in on itself. But her voice still rang through. Her face scrunched up as she looked down, and you could almost see a sob shake her body. The sight of her at a breaking point as her beautiful voice still sang, just in the distance, was more heartbreaking than anything I’ve ever seen.

The video finally ended and I just stared at the black screen, catching my reflection in it and saw that I was crying as well. I don’t even know what to do now. Emotion poured through me and my head fell into my hands as broken sobs left my lips. What the fuck was that? What the fuck do I do now?

I made a terrible fucking mistake, and she had obviously went to Will to make her feel better, but then she makes this? What the fuck does any of this even mean? What the fuck do I do? I want to see her. To hold her. But that’s not my place. It never was. She learned that going to people like Matt or Tommy or Will was much less heartbreaking than coming to me. But I just need to talk to her. To start over.

Why did I start ignoring her? Why did I get so upset at the bar? She had every single right to feel that way, I just became attached too quickly and couldn’t let her leave. But she still did. She left, and she probably already moved on to Will. I mean, that was the same sound booth that I saw in that picture earlier, so she’s obviously been spending the break with him. She was barely here at the party. God, that fucking party. The first time I got a chance to be close to her in two weeks and I spent it ruining everything. I got jealous at her being a friendly person and went and fucking slept with someone. She had every single right to fucking move on. I mean, I tried to as well.

But what the fuck was this then? Why did she cover my fucking song, looking ever so heartbroken? Where the fuck did this even come from? Why were the guys showing me this? I finally look up at the three boys in front of me, all of them staring down at me in pity.

“What the fuck is this?” I finally managed to get out between sobs.

“All I was told was that she wanted to make this and that Will wanted me to show it to you. You’re gonna have to talk to her to figure out the rest.” Ruffilo responded, not helping me at all.

“I just don’t understand! I see a post of her hanging out with Will, covered in hickeys, and then she fucking does this?” I ask, still overwhelmed with everything. Ruffilo sighs.

“Noah. You do realize that you’re doing the exact same thing, right? You slept with someone and then proceeded to break down in guilt. She’s just the one to throw in the towel first. She’s trying to make up.” I groan between sobs and fall back into the couch, bringing an arm up to cover my face.

“What do I do, then? It’s not like I can text her. My phones broken and it’s just gonna be awkward.”

“Just think about it. Plan out your best choice of action and work from there. This is something that can only be fixed by the two of you,” he answered. Fuck.

“Also, I’ll head out tomorrow to get you a new phone. It’s too late to go now,” Jolly chimed. After thinking about it for another minute, I let out a deep sigh and sat back up.

“Okay. I’ll figure this out.” The boys watched me for a second, trying to get a good sense of if I was being serious, before coming over and patting me on the back before heading into the house, probably to hang out with the rest of the guys, leaving me in my thoughts.

Y/N

I anxiously chew on my lip as Will and I walk down the streets of L.A. Neither of us heard anything back from Ruffilo or any of the guys, yet. Will said that he didn’t want the night to end just yet, since I wasn’t in the best headspace, and he did his best to keep me from my thoughts as we went on our little adventure, which I really appreciated. But, to be honest, neither of us know where the hell we were going.

After we ate, he thought it’d be a good idea to just explore the city since neither of us really knew anything about it, but nothing caught our eye as we walked. It was nice to stretch our legs after sitting in a studio for a good eight hours, though.

We walked through the city, pointing out random things we saw, occasionally bumping into each other, either on purpose or because we weren’t paying attention, and just chatting about whatever came to our minds. 

“What are your thoughts on adding a rhythm guitarist to Praising Deities?” I asked. He chucked, but gave it some thought. 

“I mean, I have a feeling you’re gonna want to change up your style a little, now that you’re more comfortable with broadening your vocal range, but it is a lot of work splitting the guitar into two parts,” he answered. 

“Yeah. We’ve changed things up a few times, but adding harsher vocals like yours would be a huge step. I do some already, but nothing more than a simple growl. So, if we really want to take that step, a lot of work is gonna have to go into this.” 

“Do you have someone in mind? Or do you just want to add the more concentrated sound of a melodic guitar?” I thought about it for a minute.

“No, and I highly doubt Tommy would want to learn to switch to pure rhythm. Not that he’s bad at it, but he really enjoys what he plays now,” I look over at him with a smirk, “I mean, would you be mad if I stole Andrew? He might even like my vocals more than you.”

He let out a loud laugh and swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in to his side. I giggled and looked up at him as we paused on our walk. He looked down at me with a smirk.

“You wish,” was all he said before he let go and continued walking, picking up speed to make me catch up to him. But that’s when something caught our eye. A flash. Fuck. 

We both pause and glance towards the direction it came from, seeing a man holding a camera in our direction. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled. He let out a sigh.

“Let’s just head back to Dave’s. There’s nothing out here for us to do anyway.” And with that, we turned around and retraced our steps, making our way back.

“You’re back again? Don’t you have a band to be spending time with?” Austin teased with a fale scowl as we walked into the house.

“Of course I do. It’s your band!” I joked back. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“What? Will didn’t tell you guys? You’re getting a second, better vocalist!” I continued, putting my hands on my hips to look confident. Will softly pushed me while laughing, making me stumble and giggle as I walked over to the couch and sat down with everyone. 

Will walked past us into the kitchen, and I started chatting with everyone there. I’ve gotten surprisingly comfortable with them after they helped me with my vocals earlier, so I wasn’t as nervous to be around them anymore. 

Will came back out and handed me a drink. I didn’t know what it was, so I gave him a slightly suspicious look as I took a sip. I made a face, not expecting it to be a vodka cranberry, but it was still really good. He chuckled at my face before sitting down next to me. 

“Oh so first she steals clothes, and now she’s taking our drinks?” Micco joked. Ever since this morning, they’ve been messing with me all day, but I loved it. It was like I was back with my own boys again.

I looked at him confused, before remembering that I was still wearing Will’s hoodie, so I set down my drink and took it off, handing it back to him. 

“No, you didn’t have to. I’m fine,” he said, trying to push it back to me. 

“Well, I don’t really need it anymore, and I don’t wanna accidentally wear it home,” I persisted, trying to give it back. He grabbed it and sat it between us.

“I’ll keep it here if you need it,” He spoke softly as he leaned back and turned his attention towards the guys. 

I just shook my head with a small laugh before grabbing my drink, taking a sip, and doing the same. 

The guys and I all chatted for a few hours, the alcohol making Will and I a little more loose-lipped as the night went on, him even making us more drinks. They asked me questions about my band and how the tour was going. I may have been a little too honest, but it didn’t affect them. I even asked them for advice on the best course of action on drastically changing the sound of our music, now that I was getting more comfortable with the thought of it. They gave really good advice, but a lot of it was that I had to talk to my own bandmates about it, which made sense. 

After we were a few drinks in, Will leaned his head on my shoulder as we all talked. He was still fully awake, the alcohol just making him want to get comfier, and if I learned anything the past two days, it was that Will was a cuddler. He loved physical touch, and the closer to you, the better, so I wasn’t shocked when he eventually sank into the couch, cuddling into my side as we all chatted. And I knew it was normal when the rest of the guys didn’t even blink an eye at it.

Though, after some time, he became dead weight against me, and when I looked over, I saw that he was out like a light. I did my best to keep the conversation going, but between the warmth of his body heat and the alcohol, I felt my eyes getting heavier. 

The rest of the guys started to notice, so they eventually excused themselves to either head to bed or hang out somewhere else, saying they didn’t want to wake him. 

With that, I leaned my head on Will’s and eventually slipped into a deep sleep.

I woke up to the feeling of someone looming over me, so with a scrunched face, I opened my eyes and saw Moke and Austin looking at Austin’s phone, giggling about something. I tried to raise an arm to rub my eyes, but realized they were stuck. Looking down, I saw that at some point in the night, Will and I had laid down, and now he was sprawled out on top of me, practically pinning me to the couch. He was still completely out, just pure dead weight on top of me. 

A yawn escaped my lips, making the two goofballs aware that I was now awake, and they giggled down at me. 

“What are you two idiots up to?” I softly asked, my voice coming out harsh and raspy, either from the alcohol or the fact that I don’t think I shut up for a single second yesterday. 

Austin turned his phone around with a mischievous grin on his face, showing me that he had taken a picture of Will and me and posted it to his story, captioning it, “These two don’t know how to party.” 

I finally managed to slide a hand out from between Will and I and reached for his phone, wanting a closer look. I couldn’t tell from my angle, but Will was completely intertwined with my body. Our legs looped around each other and I was using one of his arms as a pillow as his other arm draped across my chest. He was using one of my tits as a pillow, which made me giggle. We were both out cold, Will’s mouth slightly agape as if he was snoring. I gave the phone back to Austin after rolling my eyes. 

“So, am I just stuck like this now?” I ask the two, making them chuckle. 

“Yep. He can sleep for a whole day if he’s comfortable enough, so good luck!” Moke responded. I almost let out a groan, but didn’t because I would feel bad if I woke him. 

“So I’m trapped under a dead body and you two are just taking pictures? What the fuck?” I teasingly whisper yelled. They both walked away with suppressed giggles, leaving me to wait for Will to wake up. 

With my now free arm, I searched around me, trying to feel if there was anything for me to entertain myself with. My body was hanging ever so slightly off the edge of the couch, so I had a feeling my phone slipped out of my pocket at some point in the night. I couldn’t move my head, or any other of my body for that matter, but thankfully my hand finally touched the cold screen and I did my best to grab it with a contorted arm. 

I turn it on after finally picking it up, and saw that it was already noon. The guys and I were up for a while last night, so I’m not too shocked that we slept this late, but it felt weird that I had spent more time with Will than anyone else this whole break. But at the same time, I didn’t care. I literally live with three of them and I’m going to be spending the next almost three months with the other five, and this will be the only time I’ll get to spend with Will for who knows how long. 

Maybe I could see if my boys wanted to hang out with the Lorna Shore boys. I would invite everyone else, but with everything happening, I haven’t been too close with any of them lately. I’ll mention it to Will later.

I finally open my phone and click on the messages I saw that I had. There were a few from my boys, telling me that they missed me and they wished I was partying with them and everyone else. I wish I was too, but with the state that my life was in right now, I’d much rather spend my time with the person who was most unrelated to the tour and everyone in it. I couldn’t be more thankful to have run into Will. He was everything I needed at this time. Someone who brought excitement into my life, distracting me from everything else. Someone who, even though it was a terrible mistake, managed to heal a small part of me the other night. A healing intimate encounter, proving that not every man I got this close with in my 20s was going to hurt me in some way. Purely a quick rebound that we both agreed wouldn’t affect anything, followed by getting an insane amount of support in both my music and with the stress that this whole fiasco has caused. And a new friend. An amazing friend. He was so different from anyone else I had in my life at the moment that it just felt so good to be around him, especially because he came with a completely different friend circle, so I could have peace from everything while still being social. 

I did my best to text them back, having to type with one hand that was hovering unsupported over my face and still deep in thought over how insane my life has been recently. But the movement from the heavy weight on my body almost made me drop my phone on my face. 

Will shifted in his sleep, turning slightly and pulling himself closer to me. He dug his face between my shoulder and neck, probably shielding his eyes from the light that shone through the living room windows. I close my phone and set it on my chest, not wanting to drop it and scare him. He let out a tired groan as he stretched and pulled closer to me, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the tickle of his face and breath on my neck. 

He paused for a second once he heard it, finally realizing the position he was in, before giggling with me. 

“Good morning,” his groggy voice spoke into my neck, tickling me even more, making me squirm and try to pull away at the feeling. 

“Good morning, dead weight.” I exaggeratedly huffed out. He lifted his face and looked at me with half lidded, tired eyes and a cheeky grin before trying to push himself off of me without hurting me. 

I took an exaggerated deep breath as I sat up, teasing him. He shook his head with a smile and yawned. 

“By the way, I think Austin might be worse than paparazzi,” I said as I stretched, needing to loosen my cramped muscles from not being able to move them all night.

He gave me a confused look, so I told him to check Austin’s story. He took a minute to search for his phone. Finally finding it between the couch cushions, he typed in Austin’s username and checked, immediately laughing. 

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re dating,” he chuckled, rubbing his face. 

“I’ve never cared about fan speculation since they’ll grasp onto anything these days, but this is probably gonna cause some issues for my situation if I don’t clear the air.” 

“Yeah..” he dragged out, “I mean, it’s no problem for me. If anything, this will definitely help keep the fan’s eyes off of you and Noah until you get everything situated.” 

I thought about it for a moment, and he was right. Fans love digging into our personal lives, so if there wasn’t a distraction, I know rumors and stories would spread over how they see Noah and I interact. Hell, there's fans who think I’m with all of them, even my bandmates, so if they just focused on my so-called ‘relationship’ with Will, I won’t have to worry about them constantly talking about Noah and me.

“Honestly, this may help a lot of issues. As long as I inform mine and his band what’s actually happening, this will save us from a lot of heat on the internet.” I said after a few moments, “Oh! Speaking of, are you busy today?”

He thought for a moment, trying to get his tired brain to run its gears. 

“Not that I know of, but I can also ask the guys,” he finally answered, suppressing a yawn. 

“Would you be down to meet my boys? I just feel bad that I’m gonna be spending more of our break with you and not with them.” He let out a sleepy giggle after thinking about it for a second.

“Or, you can always just hang out with them? Without me?” he teased. I felt a blush creepy up to my cheeks, but not before playing it off and faking a gasp.

“You don’t want to hang out with me anymore?” I pulled an exaggerated pout. His eyes immediately widened.

“Wait! No! That’s not what I meant!” He rushed out, making me laugh.

“I’m kidding! I just figured that I’d hang out with you until you kicked me out since I probably won’t see you for a while after this, and the boys would love to meet you and possibly the rest of the band if they’re down.” A frown creeped up on his face as I spoke.

“Wait..You’re right. I won’t see you after this,” he whined, “Yeah, I’ll ask the guys if they wanna join, but I’m not letting you leave until you’re getting on that damn tour bus.” 

“Does that mean you’re joining me when I go back to the hotel to change?” I asked, laughing.

“Yes.” he stated, bluntly, making me laugh more. 

“Okay, let me text the boys, and then we can head over,” I chuckled out. He nodded and stood to go talk to his bandmates as I grabbed my phone and texted Tommy.

Y/N- On a scale from 1 to 10, how excited would you and the boys be to hang out with Lorna Shore today?

Tominic- ASKING THEM NOW OMGOMGOMG

I shook my head and laughed at his text. Tommy wasn’t as big of a fan of them as I was, but when I played their music enough, you can’t not enjoy it a little. But then, I realized I may have to clarify something.

Y/N- I feel like this may be obvious, but this invitation is for you three only. I’m not in the mood for awkward conversations right now❤️ 

Tominic- 🫡 Yes, maam

Y/N- …maybe Matt can come, too

Tominic- He’s not at the house right now, so you should text him

Y/N- will do. I’ll let you know where we’re meeting up. Give me like 2 hours to head back to my hotel and change

Tominic- 👀 so you spent the night?

Y/N- IN A HOUSE FULL OF 5 OTHER GUYS SO SHUT IT

I laughed as I closed out of our chat and opened Matt’s. I sent him a text, but he didn’t immediately respond, so I just closed my phone and got all my things together and waited for Will so we could head back to my hotel.