#AND IT'S NOT FORCED OR ANYTHING LIKE THIS CHAPTER WAS SO GOOD

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 12 - flagrant foul]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: When a photo of Paige and Azzi appears online, the threat of exposure forces Azzi to confront what she’s tried to avoid: her feelings, the risks, and the terms she set to stay in control.

Despite Paige’s heartfelt confession and willingness to fight for their relationship, Azzi chooses the other way.

The fallout leaves both women reeling. Paige in silence, Azzi through conversations that slowly challenge her decision.

Word count: 6,591

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. September 2025.  

Azzi’s office held the pause that settled just after noon. Morning meetings had tapered off, her inbox thinned out, and her calendar was plotted in precise increments for the next several weeks.  

Yet she remained at her desk, posture composed, one elbow resting near her tablet while her fingers traced the metal edge without purpose. Her gaze hovered somewhere past the screen, thoughts already detached from the tasks in front of her. 

The buzz of her phone was soft against the wood. She glanced down, expecting a calendar alert or a board ping. 

James 

Azzi paused. He almost never texted. He was the type to call without warning, with his voice already halfway into a story before she even answered. A message from him was rare. Curiosity tugged her out of her concentration. 

She unlocked the screen and opened it. 

The image loaded slowly. A grainy shot, taken without care for angles or lighting. The alley outside the used bookstore on Valencia. Familiar to her now. She saw two figures, side by side, caught in soft motion.  

One was unmistakably Paige. The frame caught her half smiling, hair pulled low, a beanie slouched over her head.  

The other figure—blurred, hood drawn up, her face obscured by the tilt of her chin and the poor lighting—stood closer than expected.  

Their shoulders brushed. The intimacy of it read more clearly than any facial recognition algorithm could produce. 

It was them. 

James: u look good in sweats, lil sis. didn’t know they were in ur rotation. 

Azzi stared at the message, then at the photo again. Her fingers stayed on the edge of her screen, unmoving. She let the image linger for another breath before finally exhaling and pressing the phone icon. Her thumb hovered for half a second, just long enough to recompose the calm she wore like a uniform, then tapped the call. 

It rang twice. 

“You calling to confirm or deny?” James answered, voice already edged with amusement. 

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Where did you get that photo?” 

“Everywhere,” he said. “Instagram, Twitter, one of those thirsty fan accounts. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re just seeing it. Thought you’d have an alert set for anything involving your number one draft pick.” 

Azzi pushed her chair back, the leather catching softly beneath her. She stood and paced toward the windows, phone still at her ear. The sunlight hit her desk at an angle, gold streaks warming the otherwise cold lines of glass and steel. 

“I’ve been working,” she said, carefully. “Deadlines. The arena renovation proposal just got out of committee.” 

“Ah,” James replied. “So too busy to check if you’re going viral for soft-launching your personal life?” 

Azzi sighed as her eyes followed the skyline just beyond the glass. Her reflection hovered faintly in the window, a muted echo of composure she wasn’t entirely feeling. 

“You can barely see me,” she said. “The photo isn’t clear.” 

James let out a low chuckle. “I’m your big brother. You really think a grainy 160p photo is gonna fool me into thinking that’s not my little sister looking real damn comfortable next to Golden State’s Golden Girl?” 

Azzi drew her free hand across her brow, thumb and forefinger pressing briefly at her temples.  

She could still hear Paige’s laugh from that moment. The way their shoulders brushed, how easy it had felt to exist like that for once, just one of two women ducking into an alley after dinner. 

“Has anyone else sent it to you?” she asked, quieter this time. 

“You mean Mom?” James said. “She’s too busy posting about her herb garden.” 

Azzi breathed in through her nose, let it settle in her chest. “It’s not what it looks like.” 

James gave a short laugh. “Then tell me, what does it look like? Because all I see is my little sister stepping out of her glass tower for once. Hanging around an alleyway, at midnight, with someone who makes her laugh. I’ve never seen you do that before. Kinda looks like living to me.” 

The warmth in his voice softened something in her chest, even as her grip on the phone stayed firm. James had always known when to mock and when to mean it. Sometimes, like now, he managed both in the same sentence. 

Azzi sat back in her chair, posture precise but strained. The screen in front of her had long gone dark, her reflection barely visible in the glass. She stared down at her phone, James’s name still at the top of the screen, his words echoing louder than they should have. 

Her voice, when it came, was measured. “The public cannot find out about this. Whatever Paige and I are... it stays where it started. Away from cameras. Away from stories.” 

There was a pause on the line, the weight of familiarity and older-brother instinct building into something firmer. 

“You think I’d send that photo if anyone could tell it was you?” James said. “They don’t know. The internet’s busy guessing, but your name hasn’t come up. Just some mystery woman next to the WNBA’s golden girl. That’s all they’ve got.” 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, gaze fixed on the grain of her desk. “Let’s hope that’s all of it. I’ve allowed this to go further than it should have. It was supposed to be temporary. I can’t afford this kind of distraction, and neither can she.” 

“You’re not describing a distraction,” James said. “You’re describing something real and trying to make it sound disposable.” 

Azzi pressed her fingertips together. Her pulse thudded against her ribs. “It’s immature. All of it. Meeting in alleys, letting myself fall into something undefined with someone I’m supposed to be leading. I need to stop acting like—like this.” 

James’s voice shifted, less teasing now. “You built a life on precision, and it’s served you well. But somewhere along the line, you started thinking control meant cutting yourself off from feeling anything at all.” 

Azzi didn’t interrupt, but her expression hardened faintly. 

“I’ve seen you chase impossible deals. Risk ten times more on things you believed in,” James went on. “So don’t stand there pretending you don’t have the nerve to fall in love just because it came dressed like a headline. You’re allowed to live, Az. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s with the league’s favorite daughter.” 

His voice softened. “Especially if she looks at you like you’re hers.” 

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment. Her hand stayed on her desk, palm flat against the surface like it could anchor her. Nothing in her face gave it away, but in her chest, something had started to shift. 

Azzi rubbed a thumb along the edge of her desk, the tension beginning to loosen beneath her ribs.  

“You and Nika should start an alliance,” she said dryly, lifting her phone off speaker and bringing it to her ear. “You’d be unstoppable. Half interventions, half judgmental commentary.” 

James’s laughter rumbled through the line. “What can I say? You’re fun to gang up on. It’s rare we get a reaction out of you.” 

Her lips curved, just slightly. “Maybe you’re both too predictable.” 

“Maybe. But predictable is what makes us reliable. Unlike someone who skipped out on Mom and Dad’s anniversary dinner without so much as a voicemail.” 

Azzi winced, but she didn’t argue. She leaned back into her chair, letting her head rest against the leather with a sigh. “I was caught up in a project.” 

“Whatever that project is,” James said, voice softening just enough to be felt, “it better not be the reason you miss your niece’s birthday next month.” 

At that, Azzi smiled. It started small but lifted into something real. Her niece had a way of doing that, pulling warmth from her without trying. 

“She still wants that telescope?” Azzi asked. 

“She wants a galaxy projector, a telescope, and a trip to Saturn,” James said. “But more than that, she wants you there.” 

Azzi’s smile lingered. 

“I swear,” he added, mock dramatic now, “she looks up to you like you invented the moon. I asked if she wanted McDonald’s and she said, ‘Aunt Azzi never eats fast food.’ You’ve ruined my daughter’s life.” 

A soft, smug sound escaped Azzi. “She has taste. And standards. I take full credit.” 

“You would,” James muttered. “Anyway, expect an invite. And clear your damn schedule.” 

Azzi reached for her tablet, thumb swiping through her calendar. “Send it over. I’ll move some things.” 

“Good. Because we’re all expecting a plus one this year.” James paused. “Preferably tall, blonde, six-foot with a mean mid-range jumper.” 

- 

Azzi’s condo, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The knock arrived faint and uneven, like hesitation disguised as courage. Azzi stood in the kitchen, her hand curved loosely around the base of a glass.  

The stemless bowl of it held more than wine. It held the weight of restraint. Her tablet sat dim beside her, notifications untouched.  

Azzi set the glass down. Her movements were deliberate, the kind born from years of managing fire with poise. She walked toward the door, pressed her fingers against the handle, and opened it. 

Paige stood beneath the dim lighting of the hallway, posture hunched beneath the hood of her sweatshirt. Her eyes struggled to meet Azzi’s. She didn’t speak. 

Azzi didn’t invite her in with words. She stepped back, leaving just enough space for a decision to be made. 

Paige entered with her hands tucked deep into her pockets. She looked around the condo as though she was trying to remember what calm felt like. The scent of rosemary and warm stone hovered in the air. The room was clean, minimal, the kind of place that had been curated for control. 

“I know you’re pissed,” Paige said, her voice low and edged with exhaustion. “I would be too.” 

Azzi returned to the kitchen and picked up her glass. Her thumb traced the rim instead. 

“I didn’t know anyone was watching,” Paige added. “I swear.” 

Azzi’s gaze stayed fixed. “They always are. Whether you know it or not.” 

Paige dropped her hood. Her hair was still damp at the ends. She looked like she had changed three times before showing up. “It’s just a photo. We weren’t doing anything.” 

Azzi held Paige’s gaze, steady and unyielding. Her voice carried the weight of everything unsaid. “We agreed on boundaries for a reason. These terms protect more than just our reputations. They protect us.”  

The concern beneath her firmness was unmistakable, a careful guard around something fragile. 

Paige’s hands tightened around the edge of her hoodie as if anchoring herself. “I understand that. But this photo—it’s just a shadow, blurred and distant. No one knows who I was with. No one will connect the dots.”  

She tried to infuse confidence into her words, but the edge of worry still lingered in her tone. 

“What if someone takes another picture? One where my face is unmistakable? What then?” Azzi’s question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Her eyes narrowed slightly, piercing through the attempt. 

Paige met her eyes with a quiet resolve. “It won’t happen again. We’ll be more careful. I promise. We’ll keep everything away from prying eyes.” 

A shadow passed over Azzi’s expression. Her disappointment was palpable, slipping through the cracks of her composed facade.  

“This situation could have been avoided if you had stuck to our terms from the beginning. Staying inside was not a suggestion. It was essential.” 

Paige lowered her gaze, the weight of responsibility pressing down. The defensiveness she had held faltered, leaving a raw honesty exposed. “I hear you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

“It will not happen again because we need to stop seeing each other. That is the only way to protect what’s left.” Azzi’s eyes softened briefly before hardening with a resolve that tightened the space between them. Her voice was steady but carried the weight of finality. 

Paige’s heart pounded as panic surged through her veins. The thought of losing Azzi felt like a sudden emptiness clawing at her chest.  

“That’s not the answer,” she said, voice trembling with urgency. “Walking away won’t fix anything. We can be careful. We can make this work.” 

“Careful has already failed us. Every time we try, it pulls us closer to exposure. We cannot afford mistakes, not with everything on the line.” 

“What happens to us then? Is letting it go the only way? I’m ready to fight for this. For us.” The vulnerability beneath Paige's words pulled at everything inside her. 

Azzi looked away for a moment, the tension in her jaw betraying the struggle inside. “I want that too, more than you know. But desire does not erase reality. The risks are too great. Our worlds are too different. I cannot let either of us fall because of this.” 

“These terms are bullshit. They’re just a way for you to keep me at a distance. You’re scared. Afraid of what this could become.” Paige’s eyes burned with anger and frustration, refusing to back down. “You hide behind these rules because letting me in means losing control. But I’m not here to be locked away or silenced. I’m here because I want this, all of it” 

Azzi’s eyes narrowed as she held Paige’s gaze with steady intensity. “These were the terms you agreed to from the start. This is on you as much as it is on me. Since they’ve been broken, there is no reason to keep going.” 

Paige’s breath hitched, but she refused to retreat. 

“I agreed because it was the only way to have you. The only way I could hold you, kiss you, treat you like you deserve—to make you feel special.” Her voice softened, trembling with something raw and true.  “You’re worlds above me in every way, but I’d give everything just for a moment to be with you.” 

“Paige —” 

“No Azzi,” Paige shook her head, voice steady but charged with everything she had held back. “I love the moments we steal inside these walls, when it’s just us and the world feels smaller. Those times make me feel like I’m exactly where I belong. But there’s a part of me that aches for more. To take you out on dates where the whole world knows who you are to me. To hold your hand in public without glances or whispered questions. To shout from the rooftops how proud I am of the woman you are—not just the CEO, not just the rich woman everyone sees, but you. Azzi, the woman who laughs at my terrible jokes. The one who steals the blanket and denies it with a straight face. The one who hums under her breath when she thinks I’m asleep. The one who sends me reminders to drink water like I’m the one who needs taking care of, even though your entire world runs on your shoulders.” 

Her breath caught on the weight of it all, vulnerability spilling out in every word. “I see beyond the power suits and the empire you’ve built. I see the woman who hides her fears behind a steel mask, the woman I’ve fallen for completely.” 

The word landed harder than Azzi expected.  

Fallen. 

It struck something deep and unguarded, something she had spent years building layers around. Her breath stalled, caught somewhere between disbelief and a sudden, visceral ache that curled low in her stomach.  

She had been prepared for resistance, even for anger. But not this. Not Paige handing her something so raw, so real, like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing between them. 

She held herself still. Her spine locked into place, but her hands betrayed her, curling slightly at her sides. She felt the room shift around her, like the air had grown heavier, more difficult to stand beneath.  

That word echoed in her chest, threatening to unseat all the careful control she’d spent a lifetime mastering. 

She wanted to speak. To cut through the tension with something definitive, something clean. Instead, she found herself staring at Paige, heart thudding behind her ribs with a rhythm she could not slow. 

She saw it in her mind with sharp clarity—Paige, standing there with her whole heart exposed, offering something Azzi had convinced herself she never needed.  

A future.  

A risk.  

A possibility she hadn’t allowed herself to want. The part of her that spent years making brutal decisions, negotiating mergers, cutting losses and letting go, screamed to end this now before it grew into something irreversible. 

But beneath that instinct was another feeling. Softer, older, more honest.  

She wanted to be chosen like that. She wanted someone to look at her and still want her for who she was. The version stripped of position and power. 

Her voice, when it finally came, was low. “You shouldn’t have said that.” 

It was all she could manage. Anything else would have unraveled her. 

Paige stepped in, slow and certain, until barely a breath sat between them. Her hands stayed at her sides, but her eyes never left Azzi’s face. She could see the tension drawn tight across her expression, the effort it took to stay composed. Azzi looked like she was trying to hold up a wall with trembling arms. 

“I said it because it’s true,” Paige answered, voice low but steady. “And because you needed to hear it, whether you want to or not.” 

A slow tension climbed through Azzi’s chest, as if the truth in Paige’s words had pressed against a part of her she wasn’t ready to name. 

 

“You can try to scare it away. You can stand there and pretend it didn’t crack something open in you. But I’m not sorry I said it. I meant every word.” Paige whispered. 

Azzi’s shoulders sagged slightly as the weight pressed down on her. Her voice came out tight, fragile. “I can’t do this. You’re—” 

“I’m willing to risk everything for this because it’s not just about a secret kept behind closed doors. It’s about us—something real, something worth fighting for. Even if the world tries to keep us apart, I’ll stand by you. I already have.”  

Paige’s eyes locked onto Azzi’s with fierce determination, refusing to let her look away. 

“I love you.” 

“What?”

Paige reached out with deliberate care, her fingers brushing softly against Azzi’s cheek. The warmth of her touch seemed to steady the turmoil beneath Azzi’s composed exterior. For a moment, the world around them slipped away, leaving only the shared weight of their breath and the steady pulse of something fragile and real between them.  

Azzi’s eyes softened as she leaned into the contact, the tension loosening just enough to reveal the vulnerability she usually kept hidden.  

The unspoken promises hung heavy in the space they held together, a tether stronger than any words. Then the moment shifted, the reality of their situation pressing back in like a tide reclaiming the shore. 

“You don’t have to say anything back. I just want you to know how I feel and where I stand.” Paige’s eyes held steady, vulnerable yet unwavering. “That’s all.” 

Azzi’s breath caught as Paige’s words settled in a place she tried to keep locked away. She turned her gaze downward, feeling the weight of everything pressing against her chest. 

“I can’t say the same. I can’t. Sometimes feelings don’t matter when everything else is at stake.” 

When Azzi looked back, she let her fingers brushed a loose strand of Paige’s hair with a hesitant tenderness, a small touch that spoke more than her words.  

“I want this to mean something, but I’m scared it won’t keep us safe. I’m sorry, Paige.” 

- 

Nika’s condo, Oakland. September 2025.  

Azzi’s knock was hesitant, but firm enough to echo softly against the cool walls of Nika’s apartment. The door swung open before she could repeat the sound, revealing Nika standing framed by the warm glow of the living room. Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line of curiosity mixed with something sharper—an intuition that unsettled Azzi more than she expected. 

“You,” Nika said with a half-smile, stepping aside without waiting for an invitation. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” 

Azzi stepped in, the faint scent of rain still clinging to her coat. The apartment felt both lived-in and calm, a refuge from the chaos she carried inside. She paused by the doorway, collecting the heaviness that weighed down her shoulders.  

“There’s been a photo,” she said, her voice low and brittle. 

Nika’s expression softened, the sharp edges fading into something warmer but no less serious. “I saw it online this morning. You don’t exactly live in the shadows, but I guess some things find a way to catch up no matter what.” 

Azzi eased down onto the worn leather sofa, the familiar texture grounding her amid the restless swirl of thoughts. She let out a slow breath, her fingers tracing the grain of the armrest as if searching for solid footing. 

“I tried to calculate everything, every risk, every move. I never thought being careful would not be enough.” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the strain beneath the surface. “I thought if we stuck to the terms, if Paige and I stayed grounded, we could keep it all hidden.” 

She looked up, eyes searching Nika’s face for judgment or disappointment but finding only steady understanding. “But the photo, someone saw us. And now everything feels unraveling. I feel like I am losing control and I do not know how to fix it.” 

Nika moved closer and settled beside Azzi on the sofa, her hand reaching out to pull her into a gentle hug. The warmth of the embrace was steady, a soft anchor in the storm of Azzi’s unraveling thoughts. 

“I could say I told you so, but that wouldn’t help right now.” Her smile was fleeting, fading as her eyes settled on Azzi with steady care. “It’s alright to fall apart. You don’t have to hold everything inside. You’re allowed to crash, to feel broken sometimes. That doesn’t make you any less strong.” 

Azzi’s breath caught, the carefully guarded walls around her emotions beginning to crumble in that moment. 

“You have me,” Nika continued, her eyes locking with Azzi’s. “And you have more people in your corner than you realize.” 

“You don’t have to be nice to me for a raise.” Azzi tried to joke.  

Nika let out a soft snort, shaking her head as she leaned back just enough to see Azzi’s face.  

“Please. I’m getting a raise whether I’m nice to you or not.” Her grin was crooked, but her tone was clear and even. “But I’m not saying this because I want something from you. I’m saying it because it’s true.” 

Azzi’s eyes lowered, jaw tight, as if accepting kindness demanded more strength than holding the world on her shoulders. 

“You’re so locked in—work, Paige, keeping everything airtight—that you miss what’s right in front of you. You’re not alone in this. You never were.” Nika kept her voice even, but her gaze pressed in, steady and sure.  

“Ines has been holding that schedule of yours like it's classified military intel. She’s been screening calls and dodging press better than most publicists I’ve met. That’s loyalty. She’s not there because it’s a paycheck. She’s there because she believes in you.” 

Something in Azzi shifted in the lines of her expression.  

Nika went on, calm and certain. “Your team at Fudd Holdings? The people in that company would walk through fire if you asked them. Half of them already have. They don’t speak to you like a boss because they’re afraid. They do it because they respect you. Deeply.” 

Nika paused, her voice dropping into something quieter, more certain. “And the Valkyries… you think they’re waiting for a reason to question you, but they’re not. Some of them put the pieces together, I’m sure. But they kept it to themselves. Because they know who you are. You didn’t build that team on ego or impulse. You drafted Paige because she’s the best guard available, because you want banners on the wall, not headlines in the tabloids. They respect that. They respect you.” 

Azzi’s shoulders slumped. The weight hadn’t lifted, but Nika’s words carved out enough space to breathe. The kind of space she hadn’t allowed herself in weeks. 

Nika held her close, arms wrapped around Azzi with the kind of steadiness that never asked for permission. She stayed, anchoring Azzi in a moment that allowed her to let go just enough. 

Azzi leaned into it, her cheek brushing Nika’s shoulder as her voice came in a low, strained breath. “She said she loves me.” 

The words sat between them, fragile but heavy. Nika tightened her hold slightly. 

“We talked earlier,” Azzi continued, the edges of her composure softening. “It caught me off guard. I’ve spent so much time trying to keep this under control, trying to keep her from getting too close. But then she says that, and suddenly everything I’ve been holding back crashes in.” 

Her throat worked around the next part. “I didn’t know how to stay. I’ve never known what to do with something that feels that real. So I did the only thing I could. I told her we had to stop.” 

She pulled back just enough to see Nika’s face, her own expression unguarded. “I thought it would protect us. That if I ended it, I could keep us safe from the fallout. But all it did was leave me standing there, feeling like I just stepped out of something I might never find again.” 

Nika studied her, the way only someone who had seen Azzi in every version of herself could. 

"Az, you’re not bulletproof. You never were. You just got real good at pretending to be.” 

She reached for Azzi’s hand and held it between both of hers. 

“You didn’t lose your grip. You let yourself feel something, and now it scares the hell out of you. That’s not failure. That’s human. And you’re allowed to be that. Even if you don’t know what to do next. Even if you think you messed it up.” 

Azzi’s breath caught, her shoulders lifting in a futile attempt to keep it together, but the weight had been pressing in too long. Her face folded as the first tear broke past her defenses, then another. She leaned forward, eyes glassed and unfocused, like the ground had been slipping beneath her for weeks and only now had she looked down. 

Her voice cracked, raw and barely audible. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“Just cry and let it all out, babe.”  

- 

Chase Center Arena, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The room hummed with anticipation, reporters pressing forward beneath the harsh glare of cameras and bright lights. Paige sat at the head of the table. Questions about the game came swiftly, voices overlapping with excitement and urgency. 

Then a sharp voice cut through the noise.  

“Paige, there’s been a photo circulating online that has caught everyone’s attention. Can you tell us who the other person is?” 

Paige’s breath faltered for a moment, but her expression stayed composed.  

She met the questioner’s gaze directly, voice steady and calm. “I appreciate the interest, but I’m here to talk about the team’s success and the hard work behind it. My focus remains on the game and the players who made this win possible.” 

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd as cameras clicked rapidly.

Another reporter pressed, “Is it someone we know? Or someone connected to the team?” 

Paige’s lips curved into a polite, guarded smile. “I’m not at liberty to discuss personal matters. Right now, the priority is celebrating what we’ve achieved together.” 

She took a breath, then added with genuine warmth, “But let me have this opportunity to say that she’s an amazing person. The world is lucky to have her grace us with her presence. So I hope the media and everyone can respect her privacy. She deserves that much—just to be seen as a person, not a headline.” Her voice carried a quiet but firm resolve, grounding her words in both care and conviction. 

- 

Golden State Valkyries Charity Gala, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The convention center buzzed with muted excitement, a flowing crowd of elegant guests beneath crystal chandeliers. Azzi moved through the room with deliberate grace, her luxurious black dress sculpting her figure with quiet power. Every step felt like a careful performance, one she could not afford to falter in. 

Across the room, Paige stood among the Valkyries, her tailored suit sharp against the sea of gowns and tuxedos. She laughed with her teammates, but her eyes betrayed a restless focus, drifting toward the entrance, searching for Azzi. 

When Azzi caught sight of Paige, the familiar pull inside her tightened, a mixture of longing and hesitation she kept carefully locked away.  

The press swarmed around them, filling the space with flashing cameras and intrusive questions, but neither could look away. 

Azzi answered inquiries about her business ventures with measured calm, though each word felt distant. Her thoughts kept returning to Paige’s poised figure, the way she carried herself with an ease that both unsettled and captivated her. 

Paige kept her attention on her team, though the tension coiled beneath her skin. Every time her eyes met Azzi’s across the crowded room, a silent conversation passed between them. 

- 

Paige’s apartment, Oakland. September 2025. 

The television screen glowed blue across the walls, a paused replay of their last home game frozen in place. Paige lay across the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, the other bent at the knee. Her socks were mismatched. 

Her phone rested on her chest. Every few minutes, she picked it up and stared at the same screen.  

Azzi’s contact hovered near the top of her recents, untouched since the night they ended things. 

Paige tapped the message box. Her thumbs hesitated. 

I miss you. 

She stared at it. Too simple. Too soft.  

She deleted it. 

Typed again. 

I still wear your stupid expensive hoodie. I don’t know why. It smells like you, and I think that makes me feel worse. 

Delete. 

She tried something else. 

You made me feel seen, even when you were pushing me away. I know you think you’re protecting me. But you’re not. You’re just protecting the version of yourself that never learned how to stay. 

Her hand dropped to her stomach. She exhaled slowly, eyes stinging. The message sat there, waiting for her to commit. She didn’t move. 

Her thumb hovered, trembling slightly. Then she erased the entire thing. 

She set the phone face down on the couch beside her and stared at the ceiling. Her hand rested over her ribs, right where the ache sat thickest. The city outside kept moving, streetlights flaring against the walls, cars groaning past. But inside, everything stilled into something tight and quiet and sore. 

After a while, she reached for the phone again.  

No new messages.  

She opened their thread. It looked untouched, but the weight behind each message pressed back at her like pressure behind glass. 

She started typing again. 

I wish you’d let me fight for you. 

She let the cursor blink. 

And then she deleted it too. 

- 

Fudd Private Estate, Northern California. September 2025.  

The gates of the Fudd estate closed behind her with a low hum, but Azzi remained still in the back seat, her eyes fixed on the gravel drive ahead.  

The car rolled forward slowly, trees arching overhead, their summer leaves shifting in a breeze that made her eyelids heavier. Sleep tugged at her like a weight around her ribs. She had not given into it all week. 

The house stood as it always had—elegant, composed, unchanging. But as she stepped out of the car, her reflection in the side mirror gave her pause. She adjusted the collar of her coat, though it had already fallen into place. The gesture was less about neatness than control. 

Inside, the scent of roasted garlic and fresh herbs greeted her. Her mother always cooked on Sundays. Even when she didn’t expect guests. The dining room doors were open, letting in the early afternoon light that spilled in sharp angles across the table. 

Her mother looked up from where she was placing a serving dish down. Surprise flickered across her features, then gave way to concern as she looked Azzi over. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” she said, taking in her daughter’s drawn face, the shadows beneath her eyes. “Or maybe ten.” 

Azzi kissed her cheek lightly before sitting at the far end of the table. “I’ve been working,” she said. She unfolded her napkin with slow precision, focusing on the motion instead of her mother’s expression. 

“I can see that.” Her mother sat across from her, one brow arched. “The work must be tremendous to strip you down like this.” 

Azzi gave a small shrug and reached for the water. “Tremendous is one word for it.” 

They ate for a few minutes in the kind of calm that came with practiced familiarity. Forks against porcelain. The soft clink of glass. Her mother watched her with the kind of attention that made evasion impossible. 

“You used to come here to rest,” she said, her voice low but certain. “But you look more tired than when you left the city. This kind of pace only serves the fire until it burns you with it.” 

Azzi chewed, swallowed, and reached for a piece of bread she wasn’t sure she wanted. “It’s just work.” 

Her mother gave her a look that said she knew better but would wait for the truth to come on its own. “Then let work stay outside these walls. You came home for a reason. Even if you don’t want to say it yet.” 

Azzi toyed with the edge of her napkin, folding it once, then again, pressing the seam with a steady hand that felt anything but steady. Across from her, her mother waited. Her silence held no pressure, only the kind of calm that invited honesty without demanding it. 

Azzi stared down at her plate, then pushed it slightly away. Her appetite had vanished, if it had ever been there at all. She drew a slow breath and spoke, her voice level but threaded with something fragile. 

“I met someone.” 

Her mother stayed still, but Azzi caught the way her gaze sharpened with focus, a quiet shift that said she was listening more closely now. 

“She’s loud. She talks with her whole body and never waits to be invited into a room. She eats like she’s got three games a day, leaves her shoes wherever she kicks them off, and has an opinion about everything, even the things that don’t concern her.” 

A pause. 

“She is everything I am not.” 

Azzi’s mouth twisted slightly, but there was a softness behind it. The memory of something recent. 

“I tried to keep my distance. I thought she’d eventually get bored, that she’d lose interest in someone who reads the market before breakfast and keeps her life on a spreadsheet. But she didn’t leave. She kept showing up. In her own way. Loud, stubborn, and always smiling like she knew some secret I hadn’t figured out yet.” 

Her hand dropped to the table. 

“She’s the chaos in my structure. And somehow, instead of pushing me over the edge, she makes the fall feel manageable.” 

Her eyes lifted to her mother’s, quieter now, not with defeat but with truth. 

“She pulls me into this world I’ve never had room for. I keep resisting it, stepping back when it feels too far from what I know. But then she says something or laughs or looks at me like I matter more than all of it, and I feel still. I feel calm in a way that terrifies me, because it doesn’t make sense. Nothing about her should feel safe, but she does.” 

Her mother leaned back in her chair, watching her with the same patience she used to show when Azzi was a girl unraveling her shoelaces in frustration. Her voice came steady and warm. 

“What’s wrong with meeting someone like that?” she asked, chin tilted slightly, eyes knowing. 

Azzi’s jaw tensed. She looked down at her hands, fingers laced too tightly together. “She plays for my team. That alone is a big complication.” 

Her mother’s brow lifted, a slow grin creeping across her face. “The LGBTQ team?” 

Azzi huffed, the sound sharp but laced with something unwillingly amused. She dragged a hand down her face, not hiding the eye-roll that followed. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m hilarious,” her mother replied, reaching for her tea with the poise of someone deeply pleased with herself. “And I just want to see my daughter laugh. You don’t do that enough these days.” 

Azzi pressed her thumb to the edge of her plate. She looked up slowly, the hint of a smile forming, not quite reaching full strength but trying. “It’s not that simple.” 

“I didn’t say it was. But love never is. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the mess.” 

“You do realize how inappropriate it is to suggest having myself involved with someone under contract with my organization?” 

“Darling, she’s an athlete. You own the team. You’re not exactly her shift supervisor.” 

“I drafted her. I fund her salary. My signature is on half her contracts. And my last name is printed on everything the team wears. That counts.” 

Her mother sipped her tea with maddening calm. “You’re saying you’re afraid people will think she’s only playing for you because you like the way she looks in shorts.” 

Azzi’s sigh was audible. “I’m saying the optics are complicated.” 

“That’s not what you’re saying.” Her mother’s lips curled. “You’re saying you care about her, and that scares the hell out of you. So you’re clinging to technicalities like they’re policy manuals.” 

Azzi glanced away, jaw tightening. “My position requires everything to be responsible, professional, and calculated.” 

Her mother leaned forward slightly, tone gentler now. “Let me ask you something, my darling. When you look at this girl, when you see her name in your emails or schedule, or walk into a room and find her already there… do you feel steadier, or more lost?” 

Azzi's throat constricted. Her breath stuck somewhere in the middle.  

She hadn’t expected the question to land where it did. It wasn’t about rules or reputations, contracts or careers.  

It was personal. Painfully so. 

Her mother smiled, the kind of smile that came from watching your child fight the same wars you once did. “Sometimes the point isn’t to feel in control. Sometimes it’s to feel seen. You have every tool in the world to build distance, but what happens when someone finally closes it, and you don’t hate how it feels?” 

Azzi’s posture faltered, her shoulders curving inward like the words had taken the wind out of her spine. Her voice came out thinner than she liked. “It feels like a risk I don’t know how to take.” 

Her mother set her cup down with careful precision, then met Azzi’s eyes with quiet certainty. “You’ve mastered everything except letting yourself be known. At some point, you have to ask if protecting the life you’ve built is worth missing out on the one that could make you feel alive.” 

[bucketbueckers]

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER SIX

content: the rare dallas wings w (i was supposed to write the game in this but this chapter was already long as shit), in which there is only one bed and cam and paige get parent trapped in a hotel room in uncasville, ct., the inherent homoeroticism of sharing a bed with someone you want but won't let yourself have and talking to her for hours about what makes you you and then waking up with your hand under her shirt, kk arnold (affectionate), azzi fudd went to the dijonai carrington school of standing on business, ending is rushed af 💔

wc: 10.1k

notes: me 🤝 long as fuck chapter 6's but uh... yeah! trying out alternating povs after a few anon requests so let me know if you guys like it 😛 this chapter was so challenging to write and had me in hell for a good few hours tbh. don't have too much to say besides i hate the fuck ass wings but as always i hope y'all enjoy and lmk what you think 🫶

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog @sillystarv @middyprincess @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers @user1269 @fivest4rbuecks @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @lilpaigeyherbo @simp4panos @perksofbeingatrex

CAM

The Lynx game should have been an indicator for how their next few games were going to go.

After a second half collapse that led to the Lynx taking an almost 15 point win, the Wings were hosting the Storm at home three days later. They were neck and neck in the first quarter, even with Arike picking up a technical foul about six minutes into the game. The Wings collapsed late in the second quarter, heading into halftime down by 15 despite Paige and Cam’s greater efforts to keep them in the game.

They made a push in the third quarter to come back and cut the lead down to 5, but they just couldn’t close the game out. They got sloppy in the fourth, taking terrible shots, forcing bad passes, and overall just playing too frantically. There was plenty of time to slow it down, make better reads, but too many people were playing hero ball, and Chris just wasn’t doing anything about it in the huddle. He’d stand on the sidelines with his arms crossed and face pinched, as if he was waiting for someone to step in and coach this team to a victory.

The Storm game was hard fought and incredibly frustrating. Paige, like the freak she is, had 19 points, 8 assists, 5 rebounds, and 3 stocks, and Cam nearly matched that with 15 points, 7 rebounds, 2 assists, and 2 blocks. Despite the both of them having great games, they were unable to stop the bleeding.

The Lynx were their first road game that season, two days after their loss to the Storm. They lost 85-81 and win differentials like that are so frustrating because it’s so easy to get caught up in the constant thoughts of, “If I’d made that shot,” or “If I didn’t foul them here.”

They’d played a decent first half, keeping the score within a few possessions. Paige’s shot wasn’t falling, but she was affecting the game in other ways. She notched her first career double double that night with 12 points and 10 assists. Cam was consistent with another 15 point game, 5 rebounds, and a few notable blocks.

The collapse was inevitable. They sent the Lynx to the line during the fourth quarter too many times. Whether or not it was sloppy playmaking, an unfair whistle, or the fact that the Wings just got out coached at every turn, they needed to be better. Between the Storm game and the road game against the Lynx, Cam and Paige had spent a few hours in the weight room together or on the court.

Paige’s name is first in every team’s scouting report. Cam knows that much for sure. If she’s not scoring effectively, then she’s going to find a teammate who can score or she’s going to find a way to get herself to the free throw line. At risk of sounding like a broken record, that’s probably one of Cam’s favorite things about Paige as a teammate. It doesn’t matter how down they are or how tense a game is, Paige doesn’t give up until the final buzzer rings.

But because Paige tends to be the central focus of the report, she gets doubled or tripled constantly. The pressure in the league is different than it is in college. Defenders are stronger, faster, smarter, so Cam and Paige tend to find themselves in the gym long after the end of practices with Cam simulating the best defense of her life and Paige either trying to make a shot for herself or get away from the pressure.

It’s helping – Cam can see the improvements in Paige’s confidence and the swiftness in her decision making. She would say it as often as she needed to: once Paige gets comfortable, like really comfortable, she would be one of the league’s biggest problems.

Three days after their second loss to the Lynx, they were hosting the Dream at home. Paige had another off shooting night, but Cam, selfishly, is incredibly proud of the fact that the idea of Paige’s “off nights” are anyone else’s “good nights.” She had 11 points with 5 assists and 4 boards, with Cam securing 14 points, 6 rebounds and a handful of stocks.

After the loss to Atlanta, they spent a little more time in the gym together. Paige was frustrated – she felt that her numbers should have been better, that she needed to do more and work harder. It took a miracle from God and for Cam to remind Paige that she doesn’t have to keep up appearances with her for Paige to even admit that she wasn’t happy with their recent showings.

Losing was hard. It’s hard when you’re a national champion, the first pick, when losing is the last thing you should be doing. It’s hard because even though Paige has had a rough few games, she’s leading both the Wings and the rookies in several main statistical categories as well as ranking in the top 5 of many league categories. It’s frustrating because Paige is doing everything on the court just short of sitting on the sidelines with a clipboard and the playbook.

And Cam gets it – she really, really does. She’s frustrated, too. The Wings don’t have a roster full of Olympians by any means, but they had so much talent that was being wasted. They’re only four games in and Cam is trying her best to be kind – to herself, to the coaching staff, to her teammates. There’s only so much she can handle when several of their teammates shoot up prayers in close games with a century left on the shot clock, when their coach keeps trying to force out-of-position changes that make no sense, when she’s having her best season yet and she’s in conversations for DPOY but all of that will be for nothing because, at this point, they couldn’t beat an elementary school rec league if they tried.

Either way, they were playing the Sun in Connecticut three days after the Atlanta loss, so Cam didn’t really have a whole lot of time to lose her mind over shit that already happened. She needed to focus her energy on losing her mind over much more important things, such as the fact that no matter how hard she beats her feelings down with a broom, they always spring right back up like a very determined fungus.

Any other day she would allow herself enough time to spiral over that, but this week is already shaping up to be the most emotionally challenging week of her life, and it’s only Monday. On Sunday, her usual cat sitter and elderly neighbor Mrs. Patrice informed her that she would be out of town with her husband for the week, which meant Cam had to scramble to find an alternative, trustworthy person to watch her sons while she was in Connecticut.

Fortunately, Coley’s volleyball season finished on May 11th (after claiming the Pro Volleyball Federation title, which Cam flew out to watch after their last preseason game), so she was kind enough to fly out to Dallas to watch her nephews.

Things didn’t get better after that slight crashout. She started her period on Monday morning, which was just fucking peachy, especially considering that Cam had enough personal awareness to know that her period made her moody and irritable but not enough personal awareness to not accidentally be a jerk about it. She tried her best not to, she really did; she just didn’t have any patience, and that was a recipe for disaster.

Between waking up entirely too early, saying goodbye to Bobby and Gatsby like she was heading off to war, and having to drive to the Wings facility to take the team bus to the airport, she was already having a terrible morning. It only worsened because her teammates seemed to have endless energy and laughed right up until they had to go through TSA. It took everything in her to choose peace and ignore them.

As if her morning couldn’t get any worse, all Cam wanted to do when she got on the plane was fall into the seat next to Paige, knowing that she was usually low energy on their early morning flights and would be quiet enough to let Cam nap on her shoulder. But when she boarded, Paige was already sitting next to Nola, their iPads open with film and notes. Cam briefly considered getting off the plane and letting it run her over before takeoff, but she reminded herself that she was 26 and this kind of behavior just wasn’t cute after elementary school.

Cam took the loss in stride, but dragged herself to the back of the plane where she promptly plugged her airpods into her ears, tugged her hoodie over her head, and sent out a prayer that no one would bother her for the entire flight.

Said prayer was answered, and she’s left in peace for the entire flight. She’s sure that her being unable to nap (Paige’s fault, she’s also sure) will lead to her being irritable once they land, but she was going to do her best to be kind.

They touch down in Connecticut with little issue and make their way through security once more. There’s a charter bus waiting for them outside, where Cam, again, drags herself to the back and settles in with her hoodie up. Her cramps had mostly calmed during the flight, but her body seems to recognize that they’re back on solid ground and is deciding to punish her – for what reason, she doesn’t know. Cam plans to get her moping in now while she can, not really wanting to deal with the media freaking out because she frowned on court or something.

She feels someone settle into the seat next to her. She bites back a sigh at first, but when a familiar cologne draws her attention, she lifts her head off the bus window to make eye contact with Paige, who smiles softly at her, seeming to pick up on her mood. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You good?”

Cam hums, nodding her head. She tries really hard to not feel betrayed by her body and how it relaxes just from Paige sitting next to her. “Just bleeding and moody,” she says.

“So…the world’s ending?” Paige jokes tentatively.

Cam is unable to hold back her laugh. “Just about,” she agrees, a smile quirking on her lips for the first time that morning. The bus starts moving, and Cam isn’t really thinking about much besides the way her body aches when she leans her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t need to, but she presses her cheek to the top of Cam’s head. “What about you? You excited to be back in Connecticut?”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her tone a little breathless. Cam can almost imagine the smile on her face. “It’s always gonna be home, you know? My UConn teammates are gonna be there, too. Gotta give them something good to watch.”

“You miss them?” Cam asks.

Paige is a little quieter when she responds. “Everyday,” she admits. “They’re my sisters.” She doesn’t say anything for a couple of heartbeats before shifting slightly. “We’re going to dinner after the game. You should come with us.”

Cam’s brows furrow at that, her pulse thrumming at the implication. “You’d want me there?” she asks, genuinely touched by the request. In a way, it feels like Paige letting her into a different part of her life. One that’s evidently incredibly important to her. That means more to Cam than she thinks Paige is even aware of.

Paige clears her throat, trying for a casual tone. “I mean, like, if you’re not too tired,” she clarifies quickly. Her sudden chalant-ness makes Cam smile. “It ain’t gonna be nothin’ crazy, but you don’t gotta go if you don’t–”

“Paige,” she laughs, which makes the blonde laugh too, her nerves fizzling out. “I’d love to meet your team.”

“Yeah?” she murmurs, a little bashfully.

Cam pokes her thigh, making Paige twitch and move away, evidently ticklish. The force of her smile almost makes her face hurt. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Hopefully they’ll have some funny, college P stories for me. Of the embarrassing kind, I mean.”

Paige sighs. “So, you’re not invited anymore,” she declares.

“Too late,” Cam chirps. “You’re stuck with me. You’re just gonna have to eat your chicken tenders and accept it.”

Paige’s tone is incredulous as she echoes, “Chicken tenders? Why do you assume I’m gonna order chicken tenders?” Cam can almost see the indignant wrinkle in her nose.

She giggles, suppressing an eyeroll. “Well, for starters, you don’t eat vegetables,” she states. “Or seafood. That’s like, picky eater 101.”

Paige huffs. “Potatoes are vegetables,” she says.

“Yeah, in the same way tomatoes are fruits.”

“Tomato, potato.”

“That’s not–”

Paige presses a finger to Cam’s lips, shushing her, and neither of them can suppress their giggles. A beat passes, then: “I’d probably get a burger,” Paige admits, and Cam beams with pride because that’s essentially the same thing. “Better macros.”

“I’m sure,” she says, amused. Cam can feel the smile Paige presses to the crown of her head.

“You feelin’ better?” she asks softly.

Cam nods, smiling gently, because she really does. Paige just has the innate ability to calm her down when everything’s too loud or distracting her with the dumb things she says. She’s appreciative of it, of how Paige just…completes her. She challenges her, annoys the ever loving shit out of her most of the time, but it all balances out when she does thoughtful things like letting Cam rest her head on her shoulder and invite her out for dinner with her family.

Her nod is enough for Paige. The both of them settle in for the remainder of the bus ride to the hotel, not needing to say anything else to each other.

Except Cam’s okay-ness only lasts a short amount of time. They make it to the hotel, where Kiara, their operations coordinator (a fancy way of saying “the really qualified woman who keeps their team running by booking hotel rooms, flights, and everything in between”) passes out keycards.

Everyone loads into the elevators in groups, squeezing in with their suitcases and carry-ons, going up to the fourth floor in batches. They split off. Cam slides her card against the sensor on her door and pushes it open, more than ready for a hot shower and a quick nap before someone inevitably texts the team group chat with requests of a team dinner.

But when she steps inside her hotel room, her slide squishes uncomfortably against the carpet. Already preparing for the worst, she flicks on the light by the door, and then she thinks about why she hadn’t let the plane run her over before takeoff.

The carpet is soaked. Like, rip it out of the floor, replace it, and try again soaked. She glances to her right, where the bathroom door is ajar, and the light in the main hallway is just enough to illuminate the water covering the bathroom floor and the way the toilet is overflowing.

Cam just sighs. She cuts off the light, closes the door, and presses her forehead against the cool wood to emotionally regulate herself before she does something embarrassing like cry in the middle of the hallway. Then, she pulls out her phone and dials Kiara’s number. She picks up almost immediately, and all Cam can muster is a, “Please come to my room.”

Kiara is there in record time. Cam hands her the keycard and the advice to turn on the light and not go inside. Kiara does just that, flicking on the light with hesitation, and taking in the soaked carpet and the evident pipe explosion in the bathroom with disbelief. At this point, a few of her nosy ass teammates have surrounded her – Paige, Maddy, Arike, and DiJonai, and they all peer over Kiara’s shoulder to get a closer look, too.

“This hotel sucks,” Arike says plainly, breaking everyone’s stupefied silence. “They ain’t even got a waffle maker.”

“Or a plumber,” Cam says flatly.

“We’ll just get a different room,” Kiara says placatingly. She turns the light off and closes the door, but she looks disgusted. “I swear they better discount me or God help them.”

With nothing better to do, Cam follows Kiara down to the main lobby, and clearly Paige, Arike, Maddy, and DiJonai have nothing better to do either, as they fall in line behind them. Cam feels strangely like a child at a restaurant whose mother is telling the waitstaff that “My daughter asked for no pickles” as Kiara kindly and politely informs the receptionist that Cam’s room is beyond saving and that they need a replacement.

And, well.

“Everything is booked for the entire night,” the receptionist tells Kiara. She looks genuinely remorseful, which is nice and all, but Cam still wants to walk into oncoming traffic. She just wants a shower. Who did she wrong in a past life to make her not deserve one? She’s sure that she sounds a little pathetic right now, but catastrophizing is the only thing keeping her from losing her mind completely. “I can process a refund for you immediately.”

Kiara sighs, but nods at the receptionist, who gets to work and prints a refund receipt for her. She apologizes again. “Maybe you could room with someone?” Kiara suggests. “Or I could get you a room at the Hyatt down the road?”

“I’d offer to share, but I snore really bad,” Maddy says quickly. Like, concerningly quickly. Everyone turns their eyes on her and she nods. “My fiance had to buy earplugs. I couldn’t do that to Cam.”

Maddy looks at Arike meaningfully, who blinks once at her before getting the memo. “I, uh, sorry, Cam. Lala says I move around too much in my sleep. I kicked her once. Not tryna break your knee before the game.” She frowns apologetically, but Cam rolls her eyes, knowing it’s complete bullshit.

They turn their gaze on DiJonai and Paige, and DiJonai looks at Paige. With the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, DiJonai aggressively elbows Paige, who yelps and clutches her side. “You can room with me if you want,” Paige says sheepishly. “No kicking or snoring here. I think.”

“You most definitely snore,” Cam gripes. Kiara’s look of pure confusion and Paige’s blush makes her backtrack immediately. “I mean, like – loud people always snore.”

Kiara doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t look like she cares, either. She just turns with a sigh and requests another room key for Cam, and the receptionist hands it over without issue. Kiara passes it off to Cam. “Y’all know the drill. Don’t lose these. Team breakfast at 8, then film.”

“Thanks, Kiara,” Cam says. Kiara squeezes her shoulder and walks away with Maddy, Arike, and DiJonai in tow – although DiJonai winks at the both of them from over her shoulder. Cam just sighs.

She would be fine.

PAIGE

Paige is not fine at all.

Yes, she tore her ACL and came back from it. She broke her foot and jammed her thumb and got surgery on it. She won a national championship after five years and got drafted and is currently living out her professional dreams.

All of that is to say that having to share a bed with the woman she’s hopelessly into is probably one of the hardest things she’s done in recent history.

Not hard in that predator way where she won’t be able to keep her hands to herself. Hard as in she wants Camille Roman so bad that it makes her feel stupid sometimes, and sharing a bed with her means that she’s going to by lying inches away from the very person she’s been thinking about nonstop since draft night.

It wasn’t necessarily infatuation at first sight. Paige knew of Cam the same way Cam knew of Paige. They’d crossed paths during the 2021 Final Four, where UConn unfortunately lost to Arizona. They were there until Sunday, though, so the Huskies watched as Stanford just barely edged out a win over Arizona.

Paige remembers Cam going to the locker room just before halftime and returning in the middle of the third. She had played like she had something to prove or like the national championship was her last opportunity at ever playing basketball. Knowing what she knows now about her injury makes Paige ache a little.

She remembers her getting drafted first overall, even if she didn’t really pay much attention to the WNBA season that year, although it didn’t shock her when Cam was named Rookie of the Year. Now, it’s still a little surreal to be on the same team as her.

It’s even more surreal when she thinks about the fact that she’s on the same team as someone she slept with the first night they’d been officially introduced to each other as teammates. The same team as someone who’d gone to the draft with the intention of meeting her and welcoming her to the Wings. The same team as someone who’d gone far and beyond to make sure that Paige was happy in Dallas, that she was adjusting, that she was taking care of her mind and body because Cam knew first hand what not doing that meant.

Paige didn’t mean for it to go this far. When she hugged Cam backstage at the draft, the last thing on her mind was getting drunk and taking her back to her hotel room, but she truthfully doesn’t regret it, either. She thought that any lingering feelings would remain physical – she and Cam were both responsible, mature players, so she was certain that it wouldn’t be awkward at all.

Except the fact that Paige did have lingering feelings and they most definitely weren’t only physical. She drove her to and from practices and team dinners despite Cam having a functioning car and the independence – Paige just really liked spending time with Cam and the way she looked in her passenger seat. She liked how easy it was to annoy her and how Cam would argue right back, anyways. She liked how Cam genuinely cared and how she protected her, which was a new feeling – being taken care of. Paige had only been on the receiving end of that a handful of times.

Cam made things quieter, manageable. She made it feel like the world wasn’t so overwhelming. She made Paige feel as though she didn’t need to keep everything to herself and that she could let people in. It wasn’t instant – Cam, honestly, still has to force her to open up, but Paige is making progress. Being vulnerable is terrifying. It’s not as daunting when it’s Cam on the other side asking how she’s doing.

Paige wasn’t the kind of person who was good at turning off how she felt, which is why this whole “keeping things clean” agreement was probably her personal hell. She knew that it was for the best, she’s been in the public eye for long enough. If any news outlet got ahold of the story that she, a Dallas Wings rookie, slept with Cam, her Dallas Wings veteran, on draft night, she’d never hear the end of it. People would smear both of their names. The media she could handle keeping things clean with.

But with Cam? She couldn’t do clean. Not a fucking chance in the world.

She couldn’t do clean when Cam was baking her congratulatory desserts to celebrate her first game in the W. She couldn’t do clean when Cam was wrapping her knee with compression tape and kissing her skin like it didn’t make her want to trash their entire agreement. She couldn’t do clean when all she wanted was to be needed by Cam.

Paige knows what she agreed to. She knows that Cam has agreed to it, too. But recently it feels more like the both of them are gradually pushing the line further and further back and claiming that they haven’t crossed it. She wants Cam, and maybe she’s hopeful or delusional or foolish enough to think that Cam wants her just as badly. 

They’re both just stuck. They have responsibilities. They’re celebrities who know well enough by now that they will never be afforded any sort of peace or privacy to try to figure out who they are without a microphone in their face asking how is this going to affect the team?

Cam has been through more with the media than she has. Cam has dealt with the league journalists and the press for a lot longer than she has. She is more aware of the stakes and the ramifications, so maybe it’s Paige’s own ignorance at play when she thinks about how little she cares about what anyone has to say about her and Cam. She just wants her, maybe desperately so, but Paige just doesn’t know how anyone can be near Cam Roman and not need her.

The need is beyond physical at this point. Paige wants to keep driving her around, making jokes about her playlist even though she gets home and adds Cam’s songs to a private one in hopes that she can get to know her a little better through the music she loves. Paige wants to keep surprising her with iced chais before shootaround, even if it becomes routine enough that it’s not a surprise because she really likes the way Cam smiles at her. Paige wants to keep showing up for her, wants to be someone that Cam can let her guard down with.

And maybe this is one of the reasons why they can’t let their relationship burn out of control. Cam is careful in many aspects of her life. Her career has made her that way. Usually Paige is, too, but there’s something about Cam that makes her a little reckless. Something about her that makes Paige want more. Never more than Cam can give, but enough to prove that whatever’s going on between the two of them isn’t a figment of her imagination.

Paige has always been good about keeping the main thing the main thing – basketball. That’s been her goal ever since she signed the offer papers to UConn. But with Cam? Her sole focus isn’t only on basketball, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It’s just dangerous. She and Cam are moving at incredible speeds and Paige isn’t always thinking about what’s in front of her when she knows who’s beside her. The thing about Paige is that she’s prideful enough to think that she can balance both.

Maybe she could. Cam would have to give her the chance to prove that, but at the rate she’s genuinely trying to keep their relationship friendly and professional, any hopes of them being anything more are dwindling fast.

Paige is stubborn to a fault. Loyal. And, foolishly, she’d wait around for Cam as long as she needed her to.

So, no. She’s not fine. Not when the only thing between her and the one thing she wants the most but can’t have is a cheap hotel blanket and five inches of restraint.

In the room, Cam didn’t bother unpacking, leaving her suitcase and duffle bag by the desk in the room. She’d asked if Paige needed to use the bathroom before she went for a shower. Paige had declined. She listened to the sound of water hitting tile, the hum of the AC, and briefly considered what happened the last time she and Cam were left alone in a hotel room that belonged to Paige.

That thought had made her swallow, mostly because it had flustered her. She determinedly kept the rest of her thoughts PG while Cam showered.

When she emerged wearing sweatpants and a Wings hoodie, her hair loose and damp, Paige tried really hard not to stare. She’s not sure how effective she was, but she gathered her clothes and made her way into the shower, too.

The hot water helped her gather her thoughts. Clean was the one word that was running through her mind on repeat. No matter how badly she wanted Cam, or how badly she wanted Cam to admit that she wanted Paige, too, she would have to keep things cordial. She was always respectful, but she was going to have to lie inches away from her and try her best to not think about how close she actually wanted to be with her.

Paige got out of the shower. Dried off. Dressed in a pair of low-hanging sweatpants that shamelessly showed off the waistband of her boxers and a loose college t-shirt. She stepped back into her – or rather, their shared room to find that the team group chat was already alive with various requests and restaurant ideas for dinner because there wasn’t a day that went by without her teammates thinking about food.

They went to dinner – a place that Paige has been to more times than she could count. Cam smiled at her over the menu as she listened to Paige order a burger, just as they’d talked about on the bus. Cam ordered some salmon dish that Paige wasn’t fully listening to because she was more invested in the way Cam’s necklace sparkled in the restaurant’s lighting and how bright her laughter was when DiJonai made a joke that wasn’t funny at all. Or maybe it was – Paige hadn’t heard it.

Here it’s like she’s seeing Cam in a different light. She’s always like this with the team. Comfortable, open, always smiling, even though she’d been moody and irritable earlier in the morning. Paige is pretty sure that it was just hanger mixing with the hormones since Cam tends to skip breakfast like the freak she is, but that’s neither here nor there. Listening to Cam retell a story from camp and how Coach literally made them circle up and say one nice thing about each other makes her feel like she’s in high school staring at her crush. Half of that is true and it’s pretty obvious that she’s not in high school.

She likes Cam. She really, really does. And maybe in the middle of a restaurant surrounded by her teammates is a terrible venue to think about that fact, but she can’t help it. She’d acknowledged that she wanted Cam bad enough that it made her stupid. As long as Cam stuck around, she’d probably be content with being stupid for the rest of her life.

They split the bill three ways to make it easier on the waitress and they take separate Ubers back to the hotel. Paige ends up in the backseat of one with Cam and neither of them say anything. Cam’s leaning against the window, staring out at the streetlights as they pass by, the stars in the sky, and Paige thinks that Cam Roman might be the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on. Scratch that – Cam definitely is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen in her life.

Cam reminds her of nighttime. Of that brief period of time before the sun has fully set and the moon has risen where the last bits of pink and orange have bled from the sky. It’s when the sky has turned a muted blue, almost grey if not slightly dark lavender in color, where the earth is still, as though it’s accepting nature’s surrender – the sun giving up its throne for the moon to rule, if only for a few short hours. Cam reminds her of summertime, where the breeze is cool and the air is warm and the crickets sing a symphony that she doesn’t ever get tired of.

Cam reminds her of a lot of her favorite things. Peace. Basketball. Of never giving up, even when it feels easier to do so. She exists in that kind of way where not falling for her feels more impossible than never getting to have her at all.

And, well, after thinking that…Paige isn’t sure if she’s ever supposed to move on from Cam Roman. She doesn’t know if she even wants to.

They make it back to their hotel room, where they take turns brushing their teeth in the small bathroom. For the sake of being polite, Paige asks if Cam wants her to take the floor and Cam shoots her a look so dirty that she doesn’t even have to verbally reply. The bed itself is centered in the room, with two nightstands on either side, and Paige plugs in her phone charger on the side closest to the door. The other side is closer to the AC – Cam once complained that being hot was literally the worst thing in the world because it was easier to get warm than it was to be cool, so Paige figures she’d accept overheating for the night if it meant Cam would be more comfortable.

She slides onto the bed, not pulling the duvet over as she’s still a little warm from her sweatpants. She scrolls mindlessly through TikTok for a few minutes while Cam crawls in next to her, having changed into a loose pair of shorts and a tank top for bed. The dim light of her phone illuminates her face and Paige tries really hard to not let her gaze linger, but Cam is just one of those people that you can’t look away from.

Having grown tired of scrolling but not really watching any of the videos, Paige clicks the button on the side of her phone to turn it off. She presses the screen to her stomach, staring up at the ceiling, and before she can lose her nerve, she whispers, “Cam?”

The girl in question hums, turning off her phone, too. She places it on the nightstand and Paige watches her move from the corner of her eye. There’s the barest sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blinds, one that ghosts across Cam’s skin in a way that makes Paige’s throat dry. “What’s up?”

Paige swallows. She drops her phone carelessly onto the nightstand before shifting onto her side, coming eye to eye with Cam. “I know we said we were keeping things clean,” she begins, studying Cam’s features for any signs of discomfort. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Cam’s lips part ever so slightly, and whether it’s in disbelief or relief, Paige doesn’t know. But she continues anyway. “I think about how you looked at me on draft night, like I wasn’t Paige Bueckers and you weren’t Cam Roman, and we were free to do something that the media wouldn’t crucify us for. I think about how you put my tape on during camp, told me I was your priority, and kissed my knee.” Her throat bobs again, but she can’t look away. “I thought about kissing you then. I thought about kissing you when I drove you home, after you told me I’d be okay. Thought about kissin’ you after the Minnesota game, but I could tell you weren’t ready.”

“I thought about it,” Cam confesses, her brows furrowing like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She closes her eyes, sighs, and then tries again. “I wanted to. But I…”

Paige is moving before her brain can catch up with her. She’s shifting towards her, almost as though it’s instinct, and her knees brush against Cam’s over the comforter. Cam blinks like she hadn’t expected Paige to come so close, she unconsciously leans into the contact like she’d been restraining herself from wanting to be next to her.

They’re inches apart. Paige can smell the mint of Cam’s toothpaste, a scent that shouldn’t be heady or addicting but is because it’s Cam. “You what?” Paige asks, a little breathlessly, hating how weak her voice sounds. She hates the way it sounds like a plea and a question all at once. 

“I can’t,” Cam says. Paige exhales raggedly, something like dejection marring her features, and one of Cam’s hands rises to twist itself in the fabric of her UConn tee. “I can’t. But I want to. So fucking bad, Paige, you have no idea.”

“Why?” she murmurs, her eyes searching Cam’s. Her heart is all but pounding out of her chest. She swallows again, trying to keep her voice even. “Why don’t you want me, Camille?”

A laugh rips out of Cam’s throat at that question, disbelieving and wounded all at once. Her eyes dart across Paige’s features as if she’s scanning for truth, but Paige is being dead serious.

Maybe they’d miscommunicated. Maybe Paige truly got her hopes up too much and Cam’s feelings were purely physical. Maybe she’d read too far into how different Cam was when she was with her. Maybe Cam only kept her close because she truly felt as though she was responsible for Paige – for her rookie – and that was all they’d ever be.

Then Cam is speaking, and Paige feels her brain go quiet. “How can you ask me that?” she whimpers, her voice breaking, and the amount of pain in her voice makes Paige feel like such an asshole. “I want you, Paige. Probably more than I should. More than I’m allowed to. And that scares me because this –” Cam gestures to the space between the two of them, “is the only thing in my life that’s ever been mine. Not my name or my family’s stupid fucking legacy. Not even myself. And I know that as soon as we make this real, I’ll lose the one thing that makes me feel like me. That’s how it always works.”

Paige just shakes her head, feeling something like desperation bubble in her chest. She presses her forehead against Cam’s, listening to her sharp gasp as though the touch is electrifying, and she cups her face with her left hand, her thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “Cam,” she murmurs, “this is already real. We both know that.”

Cam doesn’t respond to that, her eyes slipping shut, so Paige tries again, not even ashamed of how it feels like she’s begging. “I’on care how hard we gotta fight. This is always going to be ours, Cam, you know that? You’re not gonna lose me. We can protect this – we can protect us. Lemme prove that to you. Please.”

The brunette is quiet for an agonizing few moments, and her voice is pained as she whispers, “We can’t.” Paige heaves a shuddering sigh, but she doesn’t pull away from Cam, and Cam doesn’t exactly push her away either. The hand bunched in Paige’s shirt rises to tangle in the loose hair at the back of her head, holding her firm against her.

It feels like an apology and an explanation all at once. Cam wants her – God, that had been so relieving to hear, but she was just scared. Paige is beginning to understand why. No matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn’t magically take that fear away from Cam. She’d just have to prove to her that it would be worth it, or that they could make it work, because fuck, Paige knows that they could, she just needs Cam to give her that chance.

Paige doesn’t care if it makes her look like a fool. She would wait for as long as Cam needed her to.

“Okay,” she says softly, relenting. Cam’s eyes blink open and she looks at her with something like disbelief, like Paige’s patience isn’t something that she thinks she deserves or has even earned. Paige shifts again, her nose brushing against Cam’s, and she can feel her shaky exhale. “I’ll be here. However long it takes, Cam, I swear I will be.”

“Paige,” Cam whispers, but she shakes her head again.

“I mean it,” Paige vows. “We ain’t gotta overcomplicate this. You want me. I want you. And we…” she swallows, trailing off a bit. “We just need time. I know it ain’t easy for you and I’m not gonna make this harder on you.”

Cam manages a wet laugh, an amused sound despite how her voice cracks. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna make it easy for me,” she teases.

Paige can’t help but smile. “I wanna annoy you,” she corrects softly. “Not ask for more than you’re willing to give me right now. But…knowing that you want me just as bad as I want you…that’s enough for me. Until you’re ready for anything else, I’ll be here. I’ll show you that I got us.” Paige runs the pad of her thumb across Cam’s tanned cheek, meeting her eyes, and the sheer amount of trust reflected in her brown eyes makes Paige ache. “That I got you.”

Cam presses her forehead firmer against Paige’s. It makes Paige tremble with want, but she doesn’t dare move. Not until Cam says gently, “Tell me about UConn.”

That gives her pause. Paige swallows. “What?” she croaks.

Cam huffs a little, amused. “Tell me about UConn,” she repeats. “Or your family. Or literally anything else so I don’t have to lay next to you and think about kissing you.”

Paige manages a wry smile. “I mean,” she begins, her tone a little too flippant given their prior conversation, “I think I’ve made it very clear that you don’t gotta think about it.”

Cam rolls her eyes, but a grin tugs at the edges of her lips. “Stop,” she deadpans. It lacks any sort of conviction.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, adding nonchalantly, “My chapstick is cherry flavored. Or if you’re not into that I’ve got a green apple one in my bag.” Cam gives her a look, her brow raising, and Paige sighs.

With great difficulty, she extracts herself from Cam, sprawling out on her side of the bed and leaving an inch of space in between them. If Cam is thinking about kissing her, and Paige is already fighting demons just by sharing a bed with her, then they’re both screwed. “What do you wanna know?” she asks, the heat of the moment prior long gone.

Cam shifts, getting comfortable, and she’s quiet long enough to decide her question. “Why UConn?” she asks simply. “You had to have gotten offers from literally everywhere else.”

Paige sighs, but the sound is more contemplative than anything else. “Why not UConn?” she says. “I loved the culture. I wanted the pressure of protecting a legacy. And…” Paige shrugs a little. “It was my dream school. I wanted to be great. I wanted to do great things.” She has a wistful smile on her face. “What about you? Why Stanford?”

Cam is quiet for a long moment, and Paige tilts her head to look at her. Her expression is pensive, something unreadable in her gaze, but Paige gives her the space to think. “It was home,” she says eventually. “I grew up in the Bay and Stanford was less than an hour away. My parents – well, my dad wanted me to go somewhere that would get me drafted.” She turns to Paige with a hint of a smile on her face. “He actually wanted me to go to UConn, but Phee was the last person I wanted to fight for minutes with.” Paige laughs a little at that.

“We settled on Stanford,” Cam continues, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “I think I would have liked to have gone to UCLA or Tennessee, but I wanted to make my dad proud of me more than anything else.” She clears her throat, her gaze landing on the ceiling. “I don’t regret Stanford, though. It’s where I met Nai, Cameron, and Haley.”

“Are your parents… hard on you?” Paige asks tentatively. “It sounds like your dad made your commitment decision for you.”

Cam doesn’t immediately respond to that, and Paige worries if she’d accidentally crossed a boundary. “My dad expects a lot from me,” she says eventually, but it feels like she’s still trying to convince herself of that. “Coley, too. Our mom is more lenient and chiller than he is, but she still, you know…wants what’s best for us. She wants us to succeed.”

Cam laughs a little, but it lacks any real humor. “You know they’d actually met at the 1984 Olympics? My dad was a fencer for France and my mom did a bunch of track events for the US. I think it’s funny ‘cause my dad always says shit like ‘Romans display their gold, anything else is as good as a coaster’ but I’m pretty sure my mom has more medals than he does.”

It’s in that moment that Paige is acutely aware of what Cam meant by her name not being her own – about her legacy. She’d always been in her parents’ shadow, maybe her father’s more than her mother’s, but it was a shadow nonetheless, the exacting pressure to be great. She understands why Cam is so media adverse. She’d grown up with the spotlight on her and the unfair expectations to be the same athlete that her parents were, if not better.

She understands why one of Cam’s biggest worries was how this would affect the team, because if the team did poorly, then that translated into Cam doing poorly. She wanted to keep it clean not only because she was worried about doing wrong by Paige, because she was worried about losing something that she wanted to keep close to her, but also because keeping it anything but clean probably went against some decades long, unspoken condition between her and her father and her family’s drive to be nothing less than great.

Letting herself be herself probably meant letting herself fail. It meant throwing away years of work – not just the work to get to where she is, but the years of work it took to make someone – her father – see who she was when he should have understood her from the beginning. Cam has been fighting for so long to be loved and accepted that losing that feels like losing everything.

The sudden realization makes Paige ache. It makes bile pool at the back of her throat, makes guilt wrap around the beating organ in her chest because she’d been so concerned with why Cam didn’t want her that she never considered what could make Cam so fearful of letting go.

Paige softens. Cam seems to pick up on her silence. She shifts to look at Paige, something gentle and loose in her gaze. “Where’d you go?” she asks, poking Paige’s temple. Paige swats her hand away with a tender smile. “You’re never this quiet. It’s kinda scary.”

“Just thinkin’,” she says.

Cam huffs. “That never ends well,” she teases, and Paige hates how warm that makes her chest feel.

Paige tilts her head until she’s face to face with Cam, whose brows raise at the change. “Do you remember when you were telling me about your rookie year and you said something about feeling like no matter what you were doing, it wasn’t enough?” Cam’s expression relaxes, although she’s still a little confused when she nods. Despite the blush undoubtedly creeping up her neck, the sudden vulnerability she feels, Paige says softly, “For what it’s worth, I think you are. Enough, I mean.”

Neither of them say anything for an agonizing few moments. Then, Cam shifts, ignoring every effort Paige had made to maintain the distance between them, and she rests her head on Paige’s chest. Paige freezes under her, her breath catching, but she melts into it almost instantly as Cam cautiously wraps an arm around her waist.

Paige’s right arm wraps around Cam’s shoulders, pulling her closer while Cam pulls the comforter over their bodies. “You saying things like that makes it really hard to keep things clean,” Cam admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

That makes Paige laugh a little, her heart all but beating out of her chest. “You laying on me like this makes it hard to keep things clean,” she retorts.

“Do you want me to stop?” Cam murmurs.

Paige doesn’t hesitate. “No.” Cam’s fingers brush against Paige’s skin where her shirt has ridden up, causing her to shiver. “Do you want me to?”

Cam shakes her head. “Please don’t.”

Paige just nods, something like a tentative peace blooming in her chest, and she sinks a little further into the bed – into the woman laying half on top of her, their legs intertwining under the blanket, and she lets herself drift off.

CAM

Cam wakes up on gameday with her hand under Paige’s shirt and the unwelcome feeling of deja vu permeating her entire being. Streaks of the early morning sun peek through the hotel curtains, highlighting each and every contour of Paige’s face, the peace she feels even in sleep. The blonde is snoring quietly – as loud people do, Cam is sure – and she still has her arm wrapped around Cam’s shoulders.

Cam remembers their conversation from last night. It almost makes her want to throw herself from their hotel room window. Paige had been so patient, so understanding of the fact that no matter how badly Cam wanted her, she couldn’t give into it. The fear of losing her had been greater than the desire to have her, but Paige vowed to give her time.

She didn’t deserve her. That much she knew to be true. But she’d work to be the version of herself that did deserve her.

Tentatively, Cam slides her hand out from under Paige’s shirt, using it to gently slide Paige’s arm off of her back. With all of the grace she could muster, she crawls out of bed and makes her way into the bathroom where she quickly goes through her morning routine. The cool water she splashes against her face makes her feel more awake, and when she returns to their room to grab her phone, she finds Paige wide awake and sitting against the headboard.

Paige doesn’t offer a smile. Or a good morning like a normal person. Instead, with faux-indignance, she says, “What’s up with you sneaking out of bed at ungodly hours? I’m startin’ to take it a little personally.”

“Paige,” Cam deadpans. “It is 7:30 in the morning. Do you not have a snooze button or something?”

“I mean,” she says, shrugging. “You’re welcome to come find it.”

If Cam throws her slide at her, then that’s no one’s business but her own.

They eventually make it downstairs for team breakfast, where DiJonai, with no subtlety at all, points to the two chairs she’d seemingly saved for her and Paige. Maddy, Arike, and NaLyssa are sat around the table with her, looking way too pleased with themselves, and Cam has to hold back an eye roll as she slides into the chair next to DiJonai with her plate modestly piled with toaster waffles (because, as Arike said, the hotel did not have a waffle maker), sausage patties, and a few pieces of fruit.

Paige joins them, her plate consisting of waffles, a questionable heap of scrambled eggs, and a few pieces of bacon. Cam bites back a sigh as she deposits a handful of grapes on Paige’s plate. The blonde huffs but doesn’t argue, much to the clear amusement of the four instigators at the table.

“So,” Maddy chirps, pushing her plastic spoon through her bowl of soggy cereal. “How’d you guys sleep last night?” Arike snickers and DiJonai and NaLyssa share a knowing look.

“Like a baby,” Cam retorts. “I’m just so incredibly fortunate that I roomed with someone who doesn’t snore like a steam engine. Or someone who quote-unquote ‘kicks the shit out of people in her sleep.’”

“Sorry for tryna look out for you, Camille,” Arike says indignantly, spearing a lumpy piece of egg that immediately falls off her fork. Arike glances down. “I hate this fuckin’ hotel.”

The table dissolves into lighthearted laughter, and thankfully, they don’t press Cam and Paige for any more details.

Breakfast goes by quickly. Film does too. Paige, ever the stickler for tradition, brings Cam an iced chai before shootaround. The energy leading up to the Sun game is amazing. Everyone hits their passes in stride, they’re making the right reads during scrimmages, and their shots are falling. Paige is a vocal leader on the court, which makes Cam incredibly hopeful for the game tonight.

They needed this win badly. But more than anything else, Paige needed this win badly. She was playing in an arena she was undefeated in. She was playing in front of her teammates from college – her family. Cam knew that she would do anything in her power to make sure that she and the Wings came home with the win tonight.

And if anything meant 23 points, 11 rebounds, and 4 blocks, then she likes to think she did a pretty good job of contributing to the win. The game was all but a blur – Cam doesn’t think she’s ever been more locked in before, but the beaming smile on Paige’s face is what makes it so worth it.

She showers and redresses quickly. Amicably sits through the press conference, where she calls their win a team effort and jokes that “Well, Paige is undefeated in Mohegan. We wouldn’t be very good teammates if we didn’t help her keep that streak.” Then, she finds herself in the backseat of an Uber with Paige, who’s leg is bouncing in excitement as the driver takes them to the restaurant that her UConn teammates had settled on.

Introductions are swift, if a little unneeded – Cam had watched the national championship just like any other basketball fan worth their salt. She gives all of Paige’s teammates friendly hugs and watches with a fond smile as KK Arnold latches onto Paige with a cry of, “P Boogers!” as they make their way into the restaurant.

Cam can tell how badly Paige has needed this. Her smile is wide, relaxed, and the way her eyes shine as Jana makes a joke about something or the other makes Cam feel just a little more unhinged. She doesn’t mean to stare – she really doesn’t, but she can’t help herself. Not when Paige looks the happiest she’s been in a while and her laughter is impossibly bright.

Paige reminds her of a lot of her favorite things, like early mornings where the world is still, the air is heavy with something like peace and the promise of beginning, and birds are beginning to announce the dawn. Paige reminds her of an unconditional affection, where people love you just because they can and they don’t need anything else in return for it. Paige reminds her of the kind of acceptance that comes with knowing you’re scared but the determination to chase after what you want, anyways.

That makes her think about their conversation from last night. How Paige was so open, so vulnerable, so trusting when she’d whispered that she couldn’t stop thinking about Cam. When she said that they both knew this was real. When she vowed to wait, even though she didn’t know how long Cam would keep her waiting for.

It makes her think that, with just a little more time, she would be there. She would be able to give herself to Paige fully, in the way she deserved without Cam constantly being worried about when the other shoe would drop. They just needed to do this the right way.

But then KK is leaning across the table, making mischievous eye contact with Cam, and it pulls her out of her thoughts immediately. Paige, who’s sitting next to her, rolls her eyes and mutters here we go under her breath like she already knows what kind of bullshit that KK’s on. “So, Camille,” she begins ominously. “What are your intentions with P Boogs?”

Cam bursts out into laughter while Paige buries her head in her hands, embarrassment clear in her actions. “My intentions?” she repeats, trying to bite back her smile. Paige has a flush from her neck to the tips of her ears, which makes it more difficult for Cam to keep a straight face.

KK nods solemnly. Ice takes a sip from her water and looks at Caroline through her lashes like she knows something the rest of them don’t. “We just wanna make sure you’re good for her,” KK states, steepling her fingers seriously. “We can’t keep her in check no more, so that means it’s your job.”

“My job,” Cam echoes, amused. She glances over at Paige, who’s still extremely red.

“As her vet, yes,” KK continues. Paige avoids eye contact this time, and Cam gets the impression that Paige had talked about her to her friends, and she allows herself to smile. “So. Intentions?”

“Well,” Cam says plainly, straightening her posture and playing into the bit. “We’re working very hard on that Rookie of the Year agenda.” KK nods, satisfied. “I’m also trying to get her to eat more vegetables, but that one’s taking some time.”

“Bless you,” Azzi says. “If it’s green, she won’t touch it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s nasty!” Paige cries in defense. She turns to Cam, vehemently announcing, “She puts nasty stuff in her omelets.” Paige emphasizes it in a way that makes Cam think they’ve had this conversation a few times.

“Yeah, peppers and onions and spinach!” Azzi retorts.

“Nasty stuff!”

Cam and KK exchange a long look, one of fond exasperation. “It’s a work in progress,” she amends, which makes KK laugh.

The conversation gets back on track as they begin discussing the season, how practices are, and the very important question of whether or not Paige misses them – the blonde’s response is a very deadpan no that nobody believes at all.

At the end of dinner, Cam picks up the check for everyone after an unnecessary argument about it. Half of their group splits to use the bathroom while the other half goes outside to their cars. Paige, who’d already called their Uber, leaves with Azzi while Cam quickly uses the restroom, not wanting to keep Paige waiting.

But maybe she should have.

When she steps back outside, scanning the street for Paige, she sees her locked in a conversation with Azzi. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, she really doesn’t, but she hears her name and she can’t help it.

“–and Cam thinks you’re going to wait around for her?” Azzi asks, which makes Cam’s blood run cold.

“Az, it’s not like that,” Paige says defensively, her tone a little desperate. “She’s been through a lot, okay? She just needs some time.”

“And that’s fine!” Azzi responds. “She deserves the chance to figure out her mental or work on herself or whatever she needs to do. But it can’t be at your expense, you know? That’s not healthy.”

“I know,” Paige says quietly. “I just…I’m choosing that. I know where we stand. She just needs time.”

“How much?” Azzi asks softly. Paige doesn’t have a response to that, and Azzi sighs. “Look, I don’t know it all. I know that you’re protecting her privacy – and yours – by not telling me certain things. I get that. I really do. And I also know that you’re loyal to a fault and you’d wait around forever regardless of if she asked because you like her that much. But this whole ‘keeping it clean but flirting with and wanting each other’ thing without commitment is gonna kill the both of you if you don’t let go or get it under control.”

Cam swallows thickly, guilt hitting her like a sack of bricks. Paige doesn’t say anything, but she’s saved by Caroline calling Azzi’s name. Azzi’s features soften, wrapping up their conversation. “I just want you to be careful, Paige. But right now? This is reckless. If the both of you are stringing each other along and continuing to be close and push those boundaries despite agreeing on clean, then the both of you are just going to get hurt. You both deserve better than that.”

Caroline calls for her again. Azzi looks at Paige, who relents, wrapping her in a brief hug. “I’ll be okay,” she says, pulling away, and Azzi looks like she’s hoping that much is true. Then, Azzi is gone, and Paige buries her hands in her pockets, sighing so heavily that Cam can see the sag in her shoulders.

Cam exhales, too, mostly to calm herself, and she figures now is a good time as any to walk over. Paige glances up when she comes into view, offering a meager smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “How much longer on the Uber?” Cam asks, hoping her voice doesn’t betray her.

Paige pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the app. “About five minutes,” she responds, her voice a little tight. Cam just nods, standing silently next to Paige and really wishing that she spent just a minute more in the bathroom.

She doesn’t feel like she’d just got run over by a truck because she overheard Paige and Azzi talking about her – it feels that way because she knows Azzi is right. Their entire situation was reckless. Cam knew that much from the beginning, but she just couldn’t stay away, and now?

This mess feels like it’s entirely her fault.

[ktownshizzle]

Magic & Mayhem | 001

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader, Kim Namjoon x Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: So your relationship with Namjoon has gone to shit. Your solution? Hit up a sex shop and try to salvage things in the bedroom instead of dealing with the real issues. (Solid plan, right?) What you didn’t expect is to walk out with a blind box and pull a toy called SUGA—magical, stupidly hot, and guarantees to fix your 99 problems, but he actually becomes one. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternately: Yoongi is a Labubu / Sonny Angel (Kind of.) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Crackfic galore, Magical realism slash wifi, Non-idol ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: Again, Yoongi is a toy (but he grows life-size. Read and find out how…), nudity off the bat, implied big dick!yoongi lol <3 ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1.8k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: The response to the intro has been lovely. Thank you. Well, I've finally done it. I have started writing the most unhinged fic of my life. But honey, you’re here, so welcome to the insanity. Thanks to all my lovely moots who endured my spiral for this fic, but special shout to Tea and Aqua for encouraging/enabling me so, so much. And Mittens, for writing fruit bat!Yoongi, which somehow inspired his transfiguration here. Now on to the show~

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You always thought relationships ended dramatically—with screaming matches and shattered plates, and doors slamming hard enough to shake termites off the walls. But you learned the painful truth with your first love Kim Namjoon: relationships often crumble quietly, fading so gradually, so infinitesimally, you barely notice until the warmth has completely vanished, hearts once filled with everything is completely weightless.

Like now, seated across from him at your favorite café, sunlight streaming through tall windows, you sip your coffee and glance at him over the rim. Namjoon is buried in his phone, thumb scrolling endlessly. A small sigh escapes your lips, but he doesn’t notice. Hasn't noticed, actually, in a very long time.

"Did you hear what I said?" you ask softly.

"Hmm?" He lifts his eyes, distracted. "Sorry, work shit. Sup?"

"Never mind," you say with forced brightness, waving away your disappointment. But the heaviness in your chest stays, quietly and gradually expanding.

You’d planned this coffee date to rekindle something—anything—but now it feels like a futile effort. The silence stretches until your coffee turns cold. Just like your 10-year relationship.

Maybe love wasn’t supposed to feel thrilling forever, but it shouldn’t feel this empty either. Maybe it’s because you fell in love too early, too soon. But you miss the laughter, the passion, the nights tangled together in bed until dawn. Lately, all you've shared are polite good mornings and goodnights, passing like polite strangers under the same roof.

Desperate situations call for desperate measures, you suppose. Which is exactly how you find yourself standing in front of "The Magic Shop", the quirkiest little sex shop tucked in an alleyway of boutiques you've always avoided entering. A glowing neon sign flickers playfully above the door:

Cum Inside. Happy Endings Guaranteed

Wow. How subtle.

Inside, you're met by walls of purple velvet, shelves crowded with vibrant boxes and toys in every conceivable shape and size. It's whimsical and overwhelming, scented faintly of vanilla and spice. You're about to lose your nerve when a warm, amused voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

"First time in the Magic Shop?"

You whip around to meet a pair of moon-like eyes and a mischievous smile, belonging to a man behind the counter whose nametag reads: Jimin.

"That obvious, huh?" you mumble, cheeks heating.

Jimin laughs lightly, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't worry, everyone walks in like Bambi their first time. Now, what magic are you hoping for today?"

You hesitate, tugging at your sleeve nervously. "Ah, no. I just...I’m just looking around…”

Jimin’s smile spreads even wider, pearly whites glinting. He’s not buying it, but he gives you space. “You know where to find me if you need help with anything.”

You nod, jaw set, before spinning on your heels to walk deeper in the store. God, how many dildos are in here? Literally every shape, length, and girth, apparently. One of the endcaps had a display that was actually this beautiful, sparkly thing like it was Edward Cullens’ dick and you can’t help yourself, you reach out to touch it… when it immediately starts vibrating.

“Shit!”

You hear Jimin giggling. “Sorry, it’s bluetooth activated. Couldn’t help it.” He taps the screen on his phone, effectively stopping the buzzing vampire peen.

Miffed, but only slightly, you breathe out a heavy puff of air, clearing your lungs, bringing with it the shame you’re feeling of being here in this place like an aimless person.

“Okay, fine. I need something to save my love life."

“Ah,” Jimin nods knowingly, eyes gentle but playful. He pauses for dramatic effect before saying, "Then, my dear, follow me." He walks you towards the back of the shop, and you should really question why you’re heading to the freaking back of the shop like some drug mule, but unfortunately your self-preservation skills are not fully developed.

Inside, you smell incense, paper, and something familiar, like a certain flower. It reminds you of your childhood home and you feel an immediate rush of relief. It was strange, but you don’t really question it.

Jimin gestures grandly toward an ornate shelf labeled "MAGICAL MYSTERY BLIND BOXES—Change Your Life!"

You arch a skeptical brow. "Blind boxes? Really?"

"Absolutely. They're all the rage, and trust me—they're magical in ways you'd never imagine." His smile deepens with an intriguing secret. “Have you never bought one?”

“I have.”

“Then you know how this goes. Let fate decide.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you've selected a mysterious, pastel-colored box alongside an impulsively chosen bottle of strawberry-scented lube and paid the man.

Back home, you unwrap the box slowly, pulling the perforated tab open. A purple plastic packaging sits inside and when you rip the top, nestled is a meticulously crafted figurine: light tousled hair, porcelain-pale skin, and an expression of exquisite… neutrality. Boredom, even. The tiny little white outfit feels almost too realistic under your fingertips. Attached is a flyer reading simply:

"SUGA: Activate in warm water. Satisfaction guaranteed."

You scoff softly at the absurdity. But meh you bought it and it's here. So might as well.

Minutes later, you're submerged in the warmth of your tub, needing a bath badly to melt the day away. For whatever reason (aka because ktownshizzle wrote so) you decide to bring toy SUGA with you, its tiny form sinking slowly beneath rippling water beside you. Eyes fluttering shut, skepticism fading into relaxation…

Suddenly, there's a splash, a tidal wave that drenches your bathroom floor and your peaceful soak becomes… not.

But the gag is that right there in front of you, where your bubbles used to be, sits a fully grown, entirely naked man—perfectly human and devastatingly handsome, blinking like he's just woken from the best nap of his life.

You bolt upright, scrambling backward so frantically you nearly flip out of the tub, "Oh my god!"

As you fold your knees towards your chest, your elbow knocks half your bath products sending them crashing to the tiles.

The man—the intruder!—glances down, unfazed by the chaos, looking casually at his own arms, legs, chest, and then downward, parting some of the suds. "Mm," he says calmly, "thank fuck everything grew properly."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it," he says, waving a dismissive hand. His voice is honeyed gravel, unbothered yet impossibly attractive. He leans back comfortably, stretching his arms along the sides of your tub.

You're gaping now, clutching bubbles to your chest for dear life. And as you sputter "Who—what—are you? How did you—?" You realize the stranger looks just like…

He smirks lazily, tilting his head to regard you with amused, hooded eyes. "You get it now? Name is Yoongi. Also known as SUGA. Pleasure coach, extraordinaire." He tilts his chin at you, mildly curious. "And you must be the one who activated me. Lucky you."

"Lucky? Activated you?" you gasp, suddenly angry and embarrassed, cheeks blazing hot. "How?! You were a toy!"

Yoongi shrugs, completely at ease despite being naked in your bathtub, running a hand through his wet hair. "It happens. Listen," he says, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "are you gonna stare at me all night or what? I'm flattered, truly, but maybe get me a towel?"

You glare incredulously. "I’ve seen bigger." It’s a lie.

He arches a skeptical eyebrow, lips twitching. "Babygirl, your eyes haven't moved since I appeared."

"Don't flatter yourself," you mutter defensively, though you're painfully aware that you’re about to burst, and it's definitely not from fear.

Yoongi leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze locked onto yours, voice dropping an octave. "I'm just saying. Look all you want, but I'm better at this if we're both comfortable."

“Better at what?” You choke out, simultaneously terrified and intrigued.

He smiles wickedly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “At fixing your obviously disastrous sex life, of course. Isn’t that why you brought me home?”

Your mouth opens and closes wordlessly, stunned into silence. He’s blunt, yes, but there’s a softness in his cat-like eyes, a playful charm that’s entirely disarming.

He sighs patiently, tipping his head to the side. “Let me guess. Relationship rut? Vanilla boyfriend? You don’t know how to blow? You’re desperate and bought some weird blind box from Jimin’s shop. Am I close?”

You feel your cheeks burn hotter. “I—I mean—yeah, sort of. But I know how to… (you squeak) give a blowjob.”

“I believe you,” Yoongi nods with a smile, splashing water idly. "That guy always pawns me off on the cute, hopeless ones."

You splutter, partly offended, partly flattered, mostly just confused. “Hopeless?”

“I also said cute,” he chuckles lowly, and damn if the sound doesn't shoot straight down your spine. “Relax, babygirl. By the time I'm done, you'll forget hopeless was even in your vocabulary.”

His dark eyes hold yours, confidence radiating from every inch of his wet, annoyingly perfect form. You swallow hard, fingers trembling slightly, completely aware you’re losing any upper hand you ever had.

Yoongi notices your discomfort and finally relents, shrugging carelessly. "Alright, fine. I'll close my eyes. Modesty and all."

"This is absurd," you mutter under your breath, scrambling out hastily and wrapping yourself in your robe.

"Absurd or exciting? Thin line," he muses playfully, eyes still politely shut.

“You know, you’re pretty cocky for someone who was literally a doll five minutes ago.”

He grins, “you said cock.”

You groan, quickly tossing a towel in his general direction without looking. "Oh my… Just cover up."

“Yes, boss.” He catches it easily, as if he was looking. Then voice teasing, delightfully provocative, he says: “Whenever you're ready, we can start your lesson. Trust me, you'll thank me later.”

:)

002

A/N: There goes the first chapter! How you like it?

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! xo

Taglist is still open. Drop a note or an ask! A reblog also works if you feel like it. 😘

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[athenasdaydreams]

Bucky requesttt (if you have time!)

I'm a huge sucker for coffee shop stories 😭 what about a coffee shop AU where he slowly falls for a waitress there (and vice versa ofc!)?

Thank you for your consideration!!

pairing: bucky barnes x reader (coffee shop au)

summary: coastal cafes (and the people inside them) attract a certain super soldier

chapter warnings: food (it's a coffee shop au)

A/N: man i just submitted my analysis and discussion of findings... born to write fics all day forced to be an academic weapon... anyway, hope you enjoy!! i made this very beachy coastal vibes bcs i felt like it fit the vibe... hope youre not mad :)

The first time Bucky Barnes walks into Coastal Grounds, it’s just past sunrise. The sea mist curls along the glass, and the bell above the door gives a quiet chime. He’s damp from the walk, hoodie clinging to his back, hair curling slightly from the fog. There’s something wistful in the way he stands there—like he’s stepped into a memory.

You glance up from the espresso machine, hair pinned up in a soft twist, sleeves of your oatmeal sweater tugged past your palms.

“Morning,” you say, your voice still warm from sleep. “You’re new.”

He nods, a little cautious but not unfriendly. “Just moved in. Needed coffee.”

You gesture toward the corner table with the best view of the sea. “That one’s my favorite. You can watch the waves roll in.”

He hesitates for a moment before making his way over. You follow soon after, placing a mug of black coffee and a cinnamon scone in front of him.

“I didn’t order.”

You smile, soft and sure. “I know. First one’s on the house.”

He lifts a brow. “Why?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you could use something warm.”

He huffs a small laugh, and when he takes a sip, his shoulders ease just slightly.

Bucky hadn’t planned on staying long. This town was meant to be a quiet layover. Steve had once mentioned it—something about the sea air being good for the soul.

He came because he needed the silence. Not conversation. Not comfort. Just space to breathe.

His little cottage on the hill creaks when the wind picks up, but the kettle works and the view is enough to stop him from bolting. Most nights, the quiet creeps in too deep. But then he finds himself at your café.

First once. Then again. Then every morning.

You start greeting him before he says a word, already sliding his coffee across the counter.

“Rough night?” you’ll ask gently. He never answers directly. But you never ask again.

Until one morning, he surprises you.

“You always start baking this early?” he asks, nodding at the flour dusting your cheek.

You blink, caught off guard. “Scones don’t bake themselves.” You pause. “I hum when I work. You can probably hear it.”

“I can.”

You brace yourself, but then—

“It’s nice.”

Your smile catches him off guard. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes.”

He doesn’t correct you.

You learn his rhythms.

He always sits facing the door. Keeps his gloves on. Tips with bills folded too tightly. Flinches when the wind makes the bell clang.

So you adjust. Quietly. You oil the bell hinge. Lower the music when he usually comes in. Keep a scone aside just in case he’s late.

One Thursday, he doesn’t show.

You fold napkins until your fingers ache. Burn the second tray of muffins. When the door finally opens near noon, he’s soaked to the bone.

“Hey,” you say, drying your hands. “You okay?”

“Didn’t want to miss the cinnamon scones.”

You pass him one, still warm. “I saved it for you.”

He frowns. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

He eats in silence, slower than usual. The storm doesn’t let up. And when the last customer leaves, he’s still at his table, watching the rain blur the glass.

You sit across from him, not too close. “You don’t have to talk. I just… Are you okay?”

He exhales, like the breath’s been stuck in his chest for days. “I lost a lot. Before this.”

You don’t rush him.

“I didn’t come here to find anything,” he says. “Just needed quiet. Safe.”

You reach over and place your hand atop his, glove and all. “You’ve got that now.”

His eyes meet yours. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think I do.”

Spring arrives in cautious stretches. You open earlier. He starts coming earlier too. One day he brings a toolbox and fixes the shelf that’s been threatening to collapse since January.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, halfway through pouring a latte.

“Better than staring at the kettle.”

The next day, he replaces the kitchen bulb.

“You’ve been squinting every time you walk back here,” he says simply.

You catch yourself smiling. Fold it away like a secret.

A week later, you find a note beneath the register. Scribbled on a napkin:

Your smile’s better than the sunrise.

Just signed: B.

You tuck it into your apron pocket. You don’t stop smiling all day.

The first time he offers you his jacket, it’s instinct. You’ve forgotten yours, and the wind’s sharp. He just shrugs out of his and holds it out.

“Take it,” he says, gentle but firm.

“You’re too good,” you mutter as you slip it on.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

The café glows behind you. The ocean murmurs in the distance.

“I didn’t think I’d stay,” he says.

“What changed?”

His eyes linger on yours. “You did.”

You don’t have the words, so you nudge him with your shoulder. “Good thing you like cinnamon scones, then.”

He laughs, low and warm. “Yeah. Good thing.”

Now he brings you wildflowers. Little ones from the cliffs. You keep them in a mug near the register, right next to his napkin note.

When you burn a batch, he just grins. “Guess that means more for me.”

Locals start teasing you both gently. You brush it off. Bucky doesn’t. He wraps an arm around your waist in broad daylight like he’s always done it.

He’s quiet, steady. Reliable in the way few people are.

Sometimes, when the café is empty, you sit across from each other in silence. Not awkward. Just… full. The hum of the sea. The soft clink of mugs.

You hum when you knead dough.

Now he hums with you.

Love, you think, might just sound like that.

-

Summer softens the edges of the town. The fog rolls in later, burns off quicker. The streets fill with tourists who don’t understand the rhythm of the place, who tap their fingers impatiently on the counter and complain about the sea air curling their hair.

Bucky never complains.

He just shows up earlier. Sometimes even before you flip the sign.

You find him one morning sitting on the front steps with two paper cups of coffee—his usual, and something close to yours.

“Thought I’d try bringing it to you for once,” he says, cheeks pink from the early chill. “Hope I got it right.”

You take a sip. It’s perfect. Too perfect.

“You remembered the cinnamon?”

His grin is soft. “I remember everything.”

He starts helping you open.

Carries the chairs from their stacks. Refills the sugar jars without being asked. Sweeps the back patio. Doesn’t say much while he does it, but hums sometimes—those soft 40s ballads he plays on his scratched old record player at home.

You start keeping non-fat milk in the fridge at the café for him. Full cream feels like too much. He starts bringing you honey from the Saturday market.

People begin to notice. Not in the teasing way anymore. But in that warm, knowing way that small towns specialise in.

You don’t say anything out loud. Neither does he.

But one morning, you catch him fixing the curtain rod in the storeroom, sleeves pushed up, forehead smudged with dust—and it hits you so hard your knees nearly give.

This is a man who knows how to stay.

One night, there’s a blackout.

The storm knocks out the power line, and you’re stuck at the café, candles flickering, emergency battery lights casting golden halos against the walls.

Bucky’s already there. He’d shown up early to help you close.

You sit across from each other at a booth, hands warmed by mugs of tea boiled on the gas stove.

“This reminds me of a blackout in Brooklyn once,” he says. “I was a kid. Ma pulled out every candle in the house. Steve and I made shadow puppets.”

He pauses, eyes searching the flame. “We didn’t have much. But it always felt like enough.”

You don’t speak—just nudge your socked foot against his beneath the table.

Eventually, he shifts closer. His hand finds yours, fingers worn but gentle. Your hands slot together easily, like they’ve done it a hundred times before.

“Do you miss it?” you whisper.

“Brooklyn?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No. The people, maybe. But not the noise. Not the way things rush past you.”

He looks at you.

“This place… it slows things down.”

You smile. “You’re allowed to stay, you know. Even if you didn’t plan to.”

“I know.”

Another beat of silence.

“I think I want to,” he says softly.

The first time he kisses you, it’s unplanned.

You’ve fallen asleep on the couch in the staffroom, apron still dusted with flour, hair slipping from its clip.

He’d stopped by with dinner. Knocked. No answer.

So he let himself in, placed the takeout on the counter, and found you curled up, arms tucked under your cheek.

He crouches beside you, brushing a curl from your temple.

You stir. Eyes flutter open.

“Buck?”

“Shh. It’s okay. Brought you food.”

You blink sleepily at him, lips parting in a soft smile.

And something in his chest cracks wide open.

He leans in and kisses you—slow, reverent, like you’re something precious.

You kiss him back without hesitation.

Later, you’ll tease him about it. About kissing you when you were half-asleep.

He’ll just grin, lean against the counter, and say, “I didn’t think I’d get another chance to kiss you when you looked that peaceful.”

“You could’ve just waited.”

“I already waited seventy years, sweetheart.”

By autumn, he keeps a toothbrush at your place.

Leaves his flannel jacket on the hook by the door. Buys groceries like it’s second nature. Kisses you in the middle of sentences.

You bake with his arm slung low around your waist. He reads the paper aloud to you, voice warm with humor. He lets you fall asleep on his chest while the rain beats the windows.

You trace the lines on his hands. He runs his fingers through your hair like he’s memorizing it.

You never talk about the word love.

But it lives in the quiet.

In the way he reaches for your hand without looking. In the way you save the last slice of pie for him, even when you want it.

In the way the lights of the café always seem a little brighter when he’s in the room.

-

wc: 1.7k

[rafeslvbug]

CHAPTER 14 - maybank blues series

it’s stuck.

you keep replaying it over, and over in your head.

rafe kissing you. jj throwing the first punch. cameras recording.

you hadn’t checked your phone, although it had blown up since. messages from friends, random girls, from rafe.

rafe. the way jj had yelled at him for kissing you, and he’d yelled back “what? i can’t kiss my girlfriend now?”.

the shock. the gasps. jj’s evident horror. betrayal etched into his features. you couldn’t say anything.

sarah had dragged you out the moment the fight got worse, she’d pulled you when you were frozen to the ground and now you were curled in bed. small.

it hadn’t been anything– being friends with rafe. you hoped dating him would be okay, almost brushed over. forgiven. now you knew it wouldn’t be. it’d be the gossip plastered on preppy blogs for months, or the whispers when you served people at the country club. it’d be everywhere. and jj? your brother? might never speak to you the same again.

a knock at the door. “y/n, you okay?” sarah’s voice is soft, in a way she feels it’s her fault. she pushed you to befriend rafe, and now you were tangled in this mess. you nod, stuff yourself further into the blankets. “jj’s nearly home..” she says. you force your face into the pillow. “it’s okay..i’ll tell him to not to bother you.” then the door creaks shut. she’s gone, and you’re alone again.

the bed dips, and your eyes shoot open after taking hours to finally shut. you turn, blinking repeatedly. “hello?” your voice rasps, weak from the silent tears.

“hey y/n,” jj sighs, staring up at the cieling.

“jj..?” you squint. “why’re you here?” sarah must not have been very good at deterring jj, if he was here now.

“i beat rafe’s ass,” he says simply, then turns his head to the side. to you. “is he really your boyfriend?”

“does it matter?” your voice is broken because you know, after tonight, he’s not. even if he wants to be, the chaos, the lies, the way no one would support you. you can’t do it.

“yeah.”

“no..he’s not.”

“but he was?”

“yeah,” your voice cracks, filling with new tears. jj silently opens his arms, draws you into his chest. “it’ll be okay,” he tells you, no anger or annoyance.

“you’re not mad?” you sniffle, burying deeper into his chest. you had anticipated yelling. anger. rants of how hurt he was that you lied. again. and again. but nothing?

“nah..i punched him badly,” he chuckles. “got all my anger out.”

“is he okay?” you ask, and you’re sure you can hear jj mumble a “seriously?” but he doesn’t repeat it louder.

“all that money? he’ll be fine..it’s you i’m worried about. always getting in trouble with the wrong kinds of boys.”

“i’m sure that’s what moms tells their daughters about you,” you mumble, and jj holds you tighter.

“shh, you were just crying. where’d that go? why the attack?” you hiccough between a small giggle, brush a tear away though it comes right back. you settle your head back down on his chest, and jj lets out a soft sigh. he hates rafe, he really does. and if it were anyone else, jj would have told them to quit whining about him as their ex. but it was you, his little sister. he had never before sympathised with someone who liked rafe, now he did. only for you.

rapping at your window. insistent. annoying.

you groan, jj’s out like a lamp. sprawled over your bed, but one arm still hugged around you. you blink, adjust to the morning light.

tap tap!

tap tap!

you slip out of bed, stumble to the window and pull up the shutters. rafe. bruise on his jaw, cut on his upper cheek, hair ruffled like he came straight from the fight, but he hasn’t. it’s been hours. he signals for you to pull the window up, and you do so, hesitantly. “you shouldn’t be here..” is the first thing you say, quietly. trying not to wake up jj.

“i needed to see you, tell you i’m sorry, i–“

“it doesn’t matter, rafe.”

“what? of course it does, i was drunk! i made a mistake.”

“and the whole of kildare saw it! rafe i can’t do this.”

“what do you mean?” realisation dawns on him steadily and he he straightens. eyes widening, staggering away from the window, shaking his head. “you’re not doing this.”

“i am, rafe..”

“why– why?” you can see him breaking, you are too. “everyone knows now! we can be us, me and you, without the secrets or the lies, we can–“

“we can’t! i don’t..i don’t think i can do it. alright? i don’t need to be the talk of kildare, i’ve already seen the messages, the posts..”

“why do you care?”

jj groans in the background, your head snaps to him. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, shutting the window before rafe can beg you not to. he looks devastated, scoffing as it closes on him. then turning, walking to his car.

“why’re you at the window?” jj grumbles.

“fresh air i guess..” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat and sinking back into the bed. where you figure you might stay forever if it means avoiding rafe. because in truth, you don’t know why. why do you care so much?

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[vcluvleyx]

when feet meet fate (sae itoshi x fem. reader)

reader is a professional dancer! (yes, what a queen!)

summary: your dance team had just finished a show in spain. your bus has gotten delayed by rain, and your team was forced to shelter at a nearby hotel. what happens when a specific soccer team ends up with the same situation?

soccer x dance

chapter 1: stuck in paradise

you were in spain, and you were having the best time of your life. it felt good to be free from the studio, but unfortunately, your vacation revolved around dance. it was a nice break from america too. a show had been scheduled, with you as the star. you’re currently backstage, taking off your costume and removing your makeup. there was a portable rack with everybody’s costumes. they were all wrapped in a thin sheet of plastic, so you put yours next to the rest of them. 

strutting out of the building, your teacher and a few other students wait outside the performing hall to collect all the dancers.

“we totally nailed that performance,” you giggle, throwing your arms around your best friends. your dance bag, slung over your left shoulder, rams into takamine. she yelps in response, and you give her an unserious apology. 

“right?! that was the best we’d ever done it.” kanzaki gasps.

“i think i stained my tutu with ketchup,” takamine says, and you all laugh. 

the rest of the dancers come out and you all get on your way. your team is currently walking to the bus, with the performing hall no where in sight anymore. why was the bus so damn far? a raindrop falls on your shoulder. then another one. and then a light drizzle pours over your heads. 

“quick!” ms. endo says. “the bus is too far. we can’t let the costumes get wet!” the rack that’s being rolled on the concrete is starting to dampen.

kanzaki types in her search engine. she then looks up from her phone. “there’s a hotel…0.7 miles from here!”

“perfect,” ms. endo claps. “let’s go.”

the walk takes around twenty minutes, while all of you are drenched in water. your hair was dripping at the sides of your face while the color of your matching sweats darken. the costumes, are barely wet. thankfully, ms. endo doesn’t fuss much about it. when you guys reach the hotel, you all stop in the lobby to sort things out. you then see a group of men, and your trio immediately breaks into gossip. 

“woah. those guys are fine!” takamine gasps. 

“what are they…soccer players?” kanzaki squints her eyes at them. they’re wearing the japan team’s jerseys. when a couple of them notice you three staring, they walk over to your team. 

“hey, ladies,” a man with blue and green eyes runs a hand through his matching hair. “what are y’all doin’ here?” he looks like a blueberry. you snort.

“we had to take cover from the rain after a performance,” takamine responds immediately. 

a guy with light, reddish-pink hair chuckles. “ah. dancers i see.” 

all of a sudden, a guy with sharp teal eyes and pink hair puts a hand on the blueberry man’s shoulder. “stop. nobody finds that attractive.” his eyes scan your trio, but they linger on you.

“the name’s aiku. oliver aiku,” the blueberry guy ignores him and holds his hand out. “pleasure’s mine,” aiku winks. unfortunately, you can’t take anything seriously so you turn your head and put your opposite elbow on kanzaki’s shoulder. you try to drown out your laugh. these guys are ridiculous! takamine shakes his hand as soon as he puts it out. kanzaki shakes you off, and then hesitates before giving his hand a light shake. when he puts his hand in front of you, you refuse. 

“sorry, but no thanks,” you snicker, and walk away.

you walk past them and ms. endo who’s talking to the (clearly) underpaid employee and head to the hallway. in all honesty, you have no idea where you’re going. so you stop, and head back to grab a complimentary soda before returning to the hallway. you lean against the wall with your soda can in one hand, playing with the tab in the other.

“hey.”

you look up to see the guy with teal eyes. “hello? can i help you?”

“thought i’d join you. aiku’s a lot,” he sighs, leaning against the wall next to you. 

“…what about the other one?” you ask, swishing around your drink. 

“sendou? yeah. him too.”

“that’s like takamine,” you hum. “the girl that was kissing up to aiku. anyway,” you look up at him. “what’s your name?”

“sae. sae itoshi.”

“oh. i’m (y/n) (l/n).”

“i know who you are,” he deadpans. “i’ve heard of you since i’ve gotten here. plenty of ads i’ve seen.”

“sorry, can’t say the same,” you scrunch your nose.

“are you like, okay? my face is basically everywhere,” he says. 

“i’m perfectly fine, excuse you,” you roll your eyes. “but i’m dead serious. anyway, what’s your team doing here?”

“we just came from a match and it rained. the parking lot was too far.” as he says this, the “rain”turned into a very heavy storm. 

you hum. “okay.” silence. the two of you are just staring at each other. “goodbye.” you turn away and chug the rest of your coke as you start walking.

“wait.”

your head cocks to the side and you turn on your heels to face him once again. “yes?”

he steps closer to you. “i’m free this weekend.” you raise an eyebrow. “you should come with me.”

you snort. “i’ve been asked out by tons of guys. but this by far, has been the lamest attempt.”

it’s sae’s turn to roll his eyes. “just say yes. i don’t do this often.”

“hmm…okay then,” you say simply. “i’ll go.”

“alright,” he says. “what’s your number?” he asks, grabbing his phone from his back pocket.

when he unlocks it, you snatch it from him and type in your number. when you hand it to him, he grabs it with one hand. when this opportunity arises, you shove your coke can in his chest and he catches it with his free hand. his eyes widen in disbelief as he looks up at you, but you’re already walking away. 

“bye sae! cya saturday!” you don’t face him, but wave one arm in the air as you leave.

chapter 2: someone’s bold

it’s friday morning, and you had just left your hotel room. your tangled hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and your t shirt and sweats hang loosely on your body. you were hoping nobody was there to see you walk down the hall to your nearest friend’s room. the shower in your hotel room was clogged, and kanzaki’s room was the closest nearby. sadly, her room was the room furthest down the hall. as you’re walking, a door clicks open behind you and out walks sae itoshi. he’s perfectly put together, fixing his shirt as he looks up to see you. his eyes scan your outfit, looking like you just got ran over by an eighteen-wheeler. you pause mid-step, and your head turns very slowly to see who could’ve caught you in the worst possible state. he maintains a straight face, though if you looked closer, you would see mirth in his irises. 

“uh…” your voice cracks. “good morning…?”

“wow. you look…great,” he deadpans.

you roll your eyes. “my bathroom’s clogged. i was going to my friends’ to use her shower.”

“…you can use mine.”

your eyes widen. you pause for a second. “okay. thanks.”

he unlocks his room and you walk in to see how neat his room is (and room service hasn’t even come in yet!) he waits for you on a small couch, away from his bedroom while you head into the bathroom. after you shower, you’re about to step out when…

“SAE ITOSHI.” 

“what?” he calls. you can hear footsteps before you try to hide yourself.

“DO NOT COME IN. WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU HAVE TOWELS?”

he pauses. “um…they’re all in the laundry.”

“OH MY GOSH.”

you can hear it in his voice that he’s starting to panic. “don’t-don’t worry. uhh… here.”

he cracks open the door and covers his eyes with his hands before handing you one of his t shirts and sweatpants. you snatch them from him and tell him to leave, which he obediently does so. you dry yourself with your own t shirt, before pulling on a sports bra and his t shirt. when you realize you don’t have underwear your head peaks out of the door. sae is in a different room, and you sigh of relief. you take this chance to dig through his drawers. you find a pair of clean boxers and socks, and slip them on before his sweatpants. perfect.

“i’m done!” you call, grabbing your clothes. and waiting for him behind the door.

he sighs and opens the door for the two of you to leave. you drop your clothes off at your room and head down to the hotel’s breakfast area. you and sae split off to your teams.

“guys!” ms. endo calls, snapping her fingers as all the dancers gather around her. “our bus has gotten delayed. we’ll stay in spain for another week before we return. and thankfully, the breakfast here is complimentary. enjoy yourself while we’re here!”

you and kanzaki walk to the buffet line as takamine sticks around aiku.

“she totally likes him, doesn’t she?” kanzaki asks you, scooping spoonfuls of scrambled eggs in her plate. 

“for sure. he kinda gives off player vibes though,” you pick at least seven pieces of bacon into your plate. 

she scoffs. “chill on the bacon. and by the way, what are you wearing?”

your breath hitches in your throat. “um..they’re sae’s.”

her jaw drops open. “did you sleep with him or something?!”

“chill!” you shush her. “my shower’s still clogged. i was gonna go to yours but his room was closer.”

you guys finish your breakfast before aiku and takamine invite you guys over to their table. 

“let’s go. takamine’s waving us over,” kanzaki says. 

“ugh. i hate that aiku guy,” you grunt, and slowly walk over to them. 

kanzaki sits down next to aiku as you sit across from her. she gives you a look when you almost drop your plate on the table and plop down in your seat. 

“you two have gotten closer,” kanzaki says with an interested tone, glancing at takamine as she cuts her breakfast sausage. 

“yeah. a lot closer,” takamine giggles as she eyes aiku and holds his hand across the table. 

you grimace, scrunching your face. right when you thought this day couldn’t get any worse, sae pulls up a seat and sits down next to you. 

“whaddup sae?” aiku smiles, and stretches his arm across the table. you have to lean back for that…thing not to touch you.

“no thanks,” sae deadpans, pushing it away. he glances at you. “what’s wrong with you?”

you sigh. “i hate this. food’s good tho.”

he chuckles dryly before continuing to eat. takamine and aiku talk while kanzaki comments in on some sentences. you and sae are dead silent the entire meal, until you say something that catches his attention.

“can we please sit somewhere else?”

he nods, and picks up his plate. you guys silently slip away as the group sitting doesn’t even bother to look up. he picks a table located far from everyone else, but close enough to see them through your peripheral vision. 

“so, why’d you want to leave?”

“i can’t stand aiku. takamine’s fine, but she hasn’t left his side since we got here.”

“so i’ve heard.”

sae wasn’t the most cheerful person on earth, but he was a pretty good conversationist. his energy wasn’t over the top, unlike takamine, but he wasn’t as closed off either.

“when do you leave?” you ask, sipping your orange juice.

“next week.”

“oh. same.”

you guys finish eating and get up to return your dishes. after you hand them over, you stretch your arms up to feel the relief in your shoulders. your shirt lifts up ever so slightly, and sae can notice the waistband of his boxers peaking out of your sweatpants. 

“are you…wearing my boxers?” sae glances at you. you can see heat rise to his cheeks, and you’re cocky enough to get an actual reaction out of him. 

“maybe,” you shrug. “are ya blushing?” you tease, grinning at him. “i can see it on your face.”

you reach up to poke his cheeks, but he swats your hand away. “shut up.”

“real mature.”

he hums. “you better not have forgotten about our plans for tomorrow.”

“well,” your voice trails and he whips his head around. “chill. i’m just kidding. i didn’t forget.”

he rolls his eyes. “did you know that both of our teams are heading to the beach tomorrow?”

your jaw drops. “what?! ms. endo never told us!”

“she probably will then,” sae shrugs. “our coach talked to us about it. see you tomorrow, cariño,” he winks and walks off.

chapter 3: jealousy, jealousy

you slip on your favorite blue bikini along with a seashell belly chain. in a small tote bag, you pack sunscreen, sunglasses, and a towel. you put on a white skirt on top of your bottoms, and head to the lobby.

“i’m like, excited,” kanzaki tells you. “oh my gosh. do you think the u-20 guys are all jacked?”

“i know aiku is,” takamine sighs dreamily.

“shut up,” you and kanzaki say in unison. sae catches your eye, before you wave goodbye to your friends and walk up to him. his shirt is unbuttoned, and you try to maintain your sanity by keeping your eyes on his face. sunglasses are sitting on top of his ruffled hair, and his beach shorts are plain and simple.

you reach an arm around his shoulders. “whaddup?”

“ew. don’t say that,” he grumbles. 

you chuckle before releasing him. “are you excited?”

“not really.”

when sae notices sendou staring at your revealing swimsuit top, he takes off his shirt and gives it to you.

“here.”

“…what?!” 

he basically shoves it to you while looking at sendou, straight in the eyes. “put it on. sendou’s staring.”

“okay?” you grumble, pulling your arms through the sleeves. “there. ya happy?”

he eyes you, then sighs. he reaches down to button it, but you pull away. “dude. what’s going on?”

“he’s a pervert. not any better than aiku.”

you pout. “if you button it, i’ll look like a box.”

“don’t care.” he holds you in place as he buttons the oversized shirt. your eyes can’t help but scan the muscles around his shoulders, all the way down to his waist. you lick your lips, but don’t notice it until sae points it out.

“enjoying the view?” he chuckles dryly. 

“hmm…i’ve seen better.”

“yeah, yeah.” sae wouldn’t admit it, but while he was buttoning your (his) shirt, his cheeks began to heat up. he was trying to be respectful and avoid looking, but that’s all the reason he offered to do it.

ms. endo and the coach of the u-20 team were chatting away while leading the two groups to the beach. you and sae stuck near the back.

“so…what’s it like being known for kicking a ball around?” you think. in your head, it wasn’t supposed to sound rude but a genuine question. 

“not too bad,” sae sighs. “what about frolicking on a stage?”

“i actually do a lot more than that,” you roll your eyes. “it’s probably a lot harder.”

“probably not. in soccer, you have to make analyzed plays and be prepared for the worst.”

“bro. you’re joking,” you deadpan. 

the two of you go on a back-and-forth argument. it felt like a short minute before you finally reach the beach. 

“race you!” you exclaim, dropping your bag immediately. 

he grabs your arm and pulls you back. you almost fall on your butt before he turns you around and holds you into his chest. his arm is resting on the back on your waist and he’s looking down on you.

“calm down, cariño,” he chuckles. the nickname just made all the gears in your head stop turning.

“i- uh-,” you stutter. after regaining consciousness, you speak. “how many girls have you said that to?” you try to incorporate a joke, but most of you truly wants to know.

“just one.”

you swear you just saw stars. “uh- let’s go find a spot!” you say, quickly changing the subject. you pick up your bag and walk with him to find a good spot. the two of you choose one pretty close to shore, but not long before aiku and takamine settle down next to you. 

“yikes,” sae gulps. “not good.”

“ugh,” you sigh. “can we please go in the water?” you unbutton your shirt and pull off your skirt. “look, our friends are there.”

“they’re not my friends, but sure. in five,” sae grumbles. 

as soon as sae says this, you turn to lay down on your back. when you see aiku and takamine in your peripheral vision, you turn your head to look at them. oh my gosh. you catch sae’s attention, and gesture at aiku and takamine. he grimaces and gets up.

you run into the waves, and sae follows right behind. you guys jump over waves, and you were surprised at how carefree he could actually be. that was, until you meet up with a big group of you guys’ teammates.

when sae splits off to talk to one of them, you hang out with kanzaki. that is, until she gets swooped off her feet by chou kento. now, you’re by yourself.

“hey, pretty lady,” sendou treads out to you. “name’s sendou.”

“(y/n),” you say dryly. “do you need something?”

“just tryna talk,” he smirks. “i love that swimsuit.”

you roll your eyes. “trust me. i know.”

“anyway, are you free after this?”

“no. sorry.”

“aww. whatcha doin’?”

“i have plans with sae.”

he laughs. “itoshi? seriously?”

sae comes out of nowhere. “yeah, seriously.”

“dude. you’re like, no fun.”

“don’t care. leave.”

he smirks and rolls his eyes. “see you later, (y/n).”

you ignore him and turn to face sae. he rests his hands on your waist. he fidgets with the seashell chain between his fingers. 

“i could’ve handled myself,” you scoff, crossing your arms.

“i know, cariño,” he smirks.

there’s a pause of silence, before you reach down and splash him with water. you laugh when his body jerks back. he grins before splashing you, and the feud goes on. 

chapter 4: “emotionless”

after you finish getting ready in your hotel bathroom, you throw on a white sundress and spray your favorite cherry body mist. sae waits for you outside, in a breezy button up and some brown shorts. “hey.”

“hey sae,” you smirk and lean against him. “you look good for once.”

he rolls his eyes. “you’re not too bad yourself.”

you laugh at his halfhearted answer.

“my car is parked outside.”

the two of you chat along the way to his car. when you see it, your jaw drops. “why the hell do you own a convertible?”

he shrugs. “it’s nice, isn’t it?” 

well, he wasn’t wrong. the white convertible was clean. it smelled faintly like him, and the seats were very comfortable. as he began to drive, you found your hair sticking to your face. 

“sae. close the top.”

“why?” he’s leaning back with one hand on the steering wheel, cruising the roads easily. when he looks at you, he almost loses control of the car. “that’s hilarious.”

“it’s not fucking funny.” you roll your eyes. you try to push the hair out of your face, just to have it end up there again. “you don’t even show actual emotion. how are you gonna say it’s hilarious?”

“just because of that, i’m leaving it open.”

“WHAT? I TAKE IT BACK!”

“nope.”

“COME ON! FINE, IT’S FUNNY!”

“what about the emotion part?”

“YOU SHOW EMOTION! THERE!”

“okay.” sae pulls over, and closes the roof. you can finally relax, but with the consequence of tangled hair. 

“i’ve seen what you looked like when i wore your boxers,” you giggle, putting a hand on his shoulder. “that’s emotion for ya.” you start poking his arm.

“quit it.”

you continue to do it, so he holds his wrist and looks you in the eye. your mouth falls open and his eyes widen. “uh- sorry,” you say.

he drops it. “it’s alright.”

it’s silent until the two of you arrive at the shopping center. it’s an outdoor mall, and it’s quite big. you see your favorite stores and beam when you drag sae inside them. you surprisingly don’t end up with many bags. when you reach american eagle, you urge him to go in. 

“do you like this?” sae asks as he holds up a patterned button-up. 

“hmm.. it’s not bad. you should try it on,” you shrug as you look through the women’s section. after a couple minutes of browsing, you head to the changing rooms. you both put on your first choice. you come out with a pink dress and sae’s wearing his patterned button-up with casual shorts. 

“definitely not.” you tell him, scanning his outfit. 

“yours is good,” he says. you nod, and head back to change. 

in the end, sae decides on the shirt and you end up with a pair of jean shorts. he pays, you thank him, and move on to the next store. 

when you spot victoria’s secret, his face goes red.

“i’m not going in there.” he mumbles.

“fine. i won’t be long.”

when you get there, you choose some nice lingerie sets. you know how much sae liked your blue swimsuit, so you find some blue pieces along with red. in the changing room, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. you can’t decide which one you like, so you decide to take a huge risk.

which one do u like?

1x photo

1x photo

the second one

sae’s waiting on a bench outside the store, and his face immediately heats up. he hates how he can’t stop staring at his screen, and how (good) you look. you pay for the blue set, and head out to see him.

“hey,” you smirk at him.

“hi,” he exhales. “let’s go?”

“yep.”

chapter 5: the girl next to me

on friday, you receive a text from kanzaki.

hey (y/n)!

wanna hang? takamine’s busy rn with aiku

sure

cya at the beach?

yup!

as soon as you turn off your phone, it lights up again. you get a notification from sae.

hello

hey

are you busy?

a red alarm goes off in your head. as much as you liked sae, a reminder set in your head that you guys probably won’t see each other ever again after this week. you’ve been pushing him away all week, hoping that your feelings would just float away. but they didn’t. ignoring him included meals, beach trips, and shopping. you tried to avoid getting attached, but it made your stomach churn.

yeah

you’re disappointed. in yourself. and in sae. surely, he knew that fate would pull you two apart. right? he continues to type. you turn on do not disturb, in all hopes that he’d understand.

you get dressed, this time wearing a red bikini and the pair of jean shorts you bought. relaxed sunglasses sit on top of your head as you apply sunscreen on your face. when you head to the beach, kanzaki waves you over. 

“hey kanzaki,” you say, putting your bag next to hers. 

“hey. how are you?”

“i’m pretty good,” you lie. “what about you?”

“if i’m gonna be honest…i think sae’s kind of cute,” she chuckles. 

your heart stops beating. “…oh. he’s…a character!”

“is something wrong?” she asks, looking at you. 

ugh. kanzaki is too good of a person. she deserves happiness more than i do. “nope. i can see you two together though,” you giggle, throwing in the act.

she gasps. “oh my gosh, really?”

“yeah..for sure!” 

the two of you go on a bit more before jumping in the waves. you knew sae was just a short summer fling. you even told him that guys would line up to be with you. and you weren’t even lying. so why is it such a big deal?

when you leave, it’s already sunset. the walk to the hotel is a calm one, but you can’t stop yourself from repeating the conversation with kanzaki in your head. you end up making a wrong turn, but thankfully an ice cream shop was close by. you stop there and reminisce. in all honesty, you do think sae and kanzaki would make a cute couple. that hurt more than anything. it takes you about twenty minutes to finish it. you can’t stop thinking.

when you get to your room, you pull out your keycard before you notice a shadow behind you. you yelp in surprise, then slowly turn around to reveal…

“sae..?”

“have you been ignoring me?” he whispers, taking a step toward you. 

“uh- no. sorry. i’ve…been busy,” you say, backing up. he continues to walk towards you until your back is on the door. 

“don’t fuck around. not now,” his voice is low and raspy. his eyes look angry, but with a hint of sadness. did he really miss your presence that much?

“well…” your voice trails and your eyes avert his. 

he clicks his tongue. “look at me.”

when you don’t, he uses his index finger and thumb on your chin to turn your head. your eyes light up in surprise, and words spill out of your mouth.

“i…i didn’t want to hurt either of us. i thought this would be just a summer fling and nothing more.”

he scoffs. “really? that’s what you think?”

“yeah- i mean…the week’s almost over. we’ve only gotten to hangout for two days.”

“are you saying you don’t like me?”

this makes you silent.

“no! no, i’ve never said that. but…”

he waits for a response.

“okay, listen. there’s someone much better suited for you. i’m not-“

“you’re avoiding the question. and who are you to decide who’s good for me?” 

your jaw drops. just slightly. his concentration is deadly. you’re about flee, but his hands grip your waist. 

“don’t run. not again,” his voice cracks slightly. 

just then, kanzaki flings her room door open and heads down the hall to your room. her eyes are looking down on her phone, and when she looks up, her eyes widen. 

“(y/n)..?”

oh shit. you look at sae, and back at kanzaki. “wait. i can explai-“

“i thought it was just takamine. but maybe it’s you too.” her glazed eyes are peering straight at you. 

sae looks confused, but you know exactly what she’s talking about. “hold on!-“

“no,” she says, shakily. “goodbye.”

you’re about to chase her, but sae doesn’t loosen his grip. kanzaki runs into her room, and shuts the door. you could hear the echo from down the hall. 

“let go! are you crazy?!” you exclaim, trying to pull his hands off of you.

“what was that about?” he asks calmly.

“she’s the one who’s better suited for you. now let go!”

he lets go. “what…?”

you sigh. “she told me her feelings of you today. i didn’t tell her what was going on.”

“why?”

“like i said, i thought it would be over as soon as we left.”

“are you saying that…me and her would be better together than you and me?”

you scoff and roll your eyes. “you know what, sae? maybe. but i don’t want to find out now.”

you immediately pull out your keycard and scan it on the door lock. you walk in and slam the door right behind you. unbelievable. for someone so nonchalant, sae looks like a sad puppy. he drags his feet as he walks back to his room. what the hell was happening to him? he’s never felt this sort of way for a girl. he’s not used to genuine affection.

chapter 6: bittersweet

the next morning, you wake up to feel your heart drop into your throat as you recall the events from yesterday. it’s 5 in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. you step outside, onto the balcony to feel the chilly air. it’s windy and you can feel chills arising from your body. you put a blue hoodie on over a sports bra, and some grey sweatpants. you walk to the beach. as you walk, the sun begins to rise. by the time you get there, the sun still hasn’t fully risen. your airpods are tucked into your ears and your hands are in your pockets. the hood of your hoodie envelops the sides of your head, and your hair is messily tucked inside. you walk close to the shore. the breeze blows your clothes to the side and your eyes lock onto the horizon. how long has it been since you’ve experienced this? 

“hi.”

you turn around and frown. “sae? what are you doing here?”

“just…wanted to see you,” he walks over to the spot next to you. 

“how’d you know i’d be here?”

“i had a hunch.” he looks at you. his sharp teal eyes. the first thing you’ve ever noticed about him.

“quite a hunch you’ve got there,” you say. when you look away, his gaze traces yours and into the distance. “i’m…i’m sorry. i shouldn’t tell you who’s best suited for you. that’s your decision to make.” you chew on your bottom lip when you can tell. he’s looking back at you.

“it’s alright. after all, i knew you were lying.”

your eyes widen. “what?”

“i could tell you were trying to be a good friend. but you can’t hide your feelings as strong as they are.”

you sigh. “so…what does this mean? we both leave today.”

“i’ll…i’ll text you,” his eyes lock with yours. “i mean it.” 

he embraces you in a short, but sweet kiss. it was long enough to taste the beauty and sadness of it all. and that was enough for you. you pull sae into a hug. your arms wrap around his back and you can’t help the tears running down your face. 

“(y/n)?”

“yeah?” you ask, pulling away from him and wiping your tears. oh. he’s crying too.

“will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes.” he pulls you back into the hug, and you embrace him. you sob into his chest as he smooths your hair down your back. “i’ll miss you. so so much.”

“i’ll miss you too, cariño.”

[definitelynotshouting]

Love your recs forever and ever <3 For the ask game, how about a 12 and/or 13?

fic rec ask game

KAYA MY BELOVEDDDDD always so happy to give a good rec :]]] LESSEEEEE.....

12.) Recommend a fic that formed or changed your opinion on something (characterization, backstory, relationship, etc.)

Cause Baby I'm Your David, And You're My Goliath

Author: Anonymous

Summary:

"You're rutting?"

Dumb question. Obvious answer. Grian asks anyway, and Scar's mouth becomes all teeth, blunt, but shining in the dim light. His effort to keep his tone light is waning, but valiant.

"Not yet. Great time for you to walk that lovely everything-you've-got-going-on right back up those stairs before I do something regrettable."

Rut's rougher than heat. Scar, to make matters worse, is red. He's definitely got something right prefacing anything smelling like that, especially at the start, with a warning. Here's the thing, though. Scar's helped Grian with his heat, and named a llama Pizza, and has dark brown hair falling into his face and is chiseled like a greek statue and smells like heaven in hell, looking worried out of his mind beneath the pretty red dusting his cheeks. Grian steps down the stairs and approaches Scar, making to grab his shoulders as if to drag Scar with him.

"Come on, we're not doing this down in the mines."

Wordcount: 5k+ | Chapters: 2/2 | NSFW

My personal notes: this is one of the first ever fics i read for scarian, and is the fic that fully informed how i understand their relationship. theyre crazy, theyre in love, they'll never fully admit it, literally everything going on with them feels like a livewire pumping 120000 Watts directly into your veins. This fic reads like a chemical explosion that just keeps going, its that potent. And like, im not generally an a/b/o enjoyer, okay-- i dabble occasionally, and i have a tiny handful of fics that i do enjoy-- but i'll say this for the trope, MY GODS when that shit hits it hits, and this fic in particular punches with about the same force as a top speed train to the face.

I think it says a lot that this fic is the first fic i ever favorited in my archive, and the second one i added to it altogether. The dynamics are presented in such an interesting way-- Grian's possessiveness forms such a beautiful counterpoint to Scar's desire, and the flipping of typical a/b/o expectations serves as a powerful tool in studying both their characters and their entire relationship. Also the fic is just written hotter than hell; its worth a read for that alone.

Its so good that im basically on a forever-quest to find this author and digitally shake their hand for so heavily influencing how i write scarian. Please give this fic a chance it deserves the entire world, its so so good!!! also author IF YOURE OUT THERE...... PLEASE. MY DMS ARE OPEN U CAN STEP CLOSER TO THE BARS OF MY CAGE...... U WILL SURELY NOT REGRET IT!!!!!!!!!

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Part 7) (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you this final chapter <3.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, very light degrading (slut, dirty girl), P in V, intimacy between the boys <3, mentions of over stimulation, I think that's it. FLUFF, story starts angsty but ends fluffy <3.

ANGST, Chapter starts where the last one left off, Martin's dad drunkenly corner's Y/N and gets spicy. (Unlike what happened with his son, weight isn't mentioned. He's salty about Eddie and Steve), the boys come to the rescue.

Word Count: 6938

Series Masterlist/Donate to Me

“Fucking asshole.”, the dean murmurs under his breath as you all take a seat. “I’m sorry for that, Y/N. No matter what, Jared has no reason to speak to you or anyone like that. I was hoping when his son was expelled, I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore but—”

His voice trailed off as he finally glanced up and noticed you were crying while Eddie tried to comfort you. 

“Yes…well, Steven, your father had a busy weekend. I guess you three were at his house and he called Mr. Click who in turn sent someone to follow Miss Y/L/N. They got some snapshots of her leaving your home…”

The coach growled as his fists clenched. 

“I shouldn’t have gone over there. I’m so stupid.”

“Are they in trouble?”, you ask in a small voice that has Steve sighing as your professor reached out to pet your head. “Please, they didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me and—”

“Technically they did do something wrong.”, he cut you off, exhaling heavily as he leaned back in his chair. “You know, the quake happened while I was a professor myself. I taught history of all things.”, the dean chuckles. “Before that though, the professors were put on notice about a murderer running around Hawkins and to be on alert…Just in case Edward Munson showed up on campus.”

The metalhead’s eyes fell and you felt Steve’s arm reach across your back to rub his shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you but I knew a Wayne Munson. He was a freshman when I was a senior in high school…Forgive me for showing my age… Wayne had this hard exterior but I remember he was always a good kid. Some of the teachers would treat him like shit because of your grandfather and father. Little Allen Munson seemed to be following in his father footsteps even though your uncle did what he could detour that. 

That was the first thought I had when news came out about you, Eddie. I truly believed you were innocent…and I still do. That’s why I hired you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Bill, I’ve known since about that time to and he hasn’t changed.”, Dean Gilman sighs in annoyance. “Still a little boy who needs all the attention he can get. You were headed down that path for a while, son.”

“Yeah…I decided I didn’t want to be an asshole.”

“Hm. Good choice.” He pauses and you feel his eyes scan you over before he continues. “Were you both planning on going with her to New York?”

“Yes.”, they both responded in unison before the coach followed with, “We were going to give you our resignation letters on the last day of the semester.”

“Found a job yet?”

They shake their heads. 

“There’s a football team at one of the universities looking for a coach…” Steve’s head shot up as the dean wrote something down and handed him the paper. “It’s not at NYU but I assumed you wouldn’t want to coach at the school she’s at. I already called and he’s anxious to meet you.”

“I-I-I…thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Munson, I’m afraid I don’t know of any colleges hiring professors but I can keep looking and I recommend you look to. I’d be more than happy to write a recommendation.”

“Wait…are—are we in trouble?”, you ask, completely thrown off guard by his kindness.

“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t see the point. I mean, is it consensual? They aren’t hurting you or forcing you into this right?”

“No, sir. I love them.”

“Good…good. If you weren’t leaving, I would HAVE to do something but…fuck them. You three have been through enough and you’re almost out of here. That doesn’t mean I want to see open PDA on campus or anything—”

“Oh, no, sir. We would never…”

“Ok good. Now get out of my office.”, he chides lightly before being thrown off guard when you run around the desk to give him a hug. 

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie and Steve beam your way, holding the door open for you as you happily bounce out into the lobby. “Oh my God. Is this really happening? Is everything really ok?”

“Yeah, baby, it is and even better…”, your professor pauses as he yanks on his partners hand to bring his lips to his own. “…I can do that. I can’t wait to do it with you, sweetheart.”

***

Steve grins as he watched his partner carefully packing his books nestled in his office shelf into the box at his feet. 

“Baby, they aren’t glass. They won’t break.”

“Says you, Mr. Harrington, but a lot of these are first or collector’s editions so you’re lucky I’m even putting them in a box and not like a protective dome that costs more than the book itself.”

Biting his bottom lip, the coach leans forward to grab Eddie’s waist and pull him onto his lap. 

“I love you, freak.”

“I love you to, asshole.”, the professor laughs, kissing his lips. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me.” When the man only hugs him tighter, the metalhead wraps his arm around the back of his neck and brings his head to his chest. “We still have to be careful, sweetheart. We aren’t out of here just yet.”

“I know but…”, Steve sighs as he presses his face into his boyfriend’s soft, cigarette smelling shirt. “10 years, Eddie. I spent 10 years hiding how much I care about you…Now that people know…now that my FATHER knows…it’s hard to reign it in.”

The long-haired man smiles softly as he tilts down to kiss his fluffy head of hair. 

“Have you heard from him?”

“No and I most likely won’t. It’s good for him because I want to fucking kill him for talking to Jared.”

“You know where my dad is?!”

At the sound of Martin’s exasperated shout both men hastily rose to their feet with Steve pushing Eddie behind him. 

“What are you doing here, Mr. Click? You’re not allowed on campus.”

“You mentioned my dad’s name. Do you know where he went?”

“What are you talking about—”

“Fuck! I came here to warn you because Y/N wasn’t in her dorm—”

“You’re not allowed anywhere near her.”, the professor growled, moving to position himself at his partner’s side. 

“I fucking know that but my dad’s been out of control since the dean kicked him out of his office and he found out you three aren’t in trouble. He tried to talk to her mom but she just slammed the door in his face…” 

Both men exchanged a worried look; you hadn’t told them that. 

“He’s been drinking non-stop and even missed work today—”

“What’s your point, Martin?!”, Steve shouted, his fear beginning to take over. 

“Fuck! I’m trying to tell you…I think he’s going to do something stupid! I told him to let it go especially since I heard you guys were leaving but he kept mumbling about how it’s not fair and Y/N should be reprimanded even if he has to do it himself.”

The boy barely got his last sentence out as they collected their jackets and pushed him aside to hurry towards the parking lot. 

“Where is she?”, Steve asked firmly.

“Diner with Theo.”, Eddie answered, climbing into the passenger side of the BMW before his boyfriend revved the engine and sped out away from the school. 

***

How were you back here?

How were back outside this stupid diner with a Click cornering you?

Thankfully you weren’t alone but you were also aware that with Martin’s father you were in a bit more danger than with the boy himself. 

“Go away, Mr. Click. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking straight…”, Theo pleaded with an authoritative edge as he kept you safely behind him. 

“No, I’m thinking clearer than I ever have. Jason Carver had the right idea 10 years ago. You have to fight back to get what you want especially in Hawkins. Unfortunately, he died and his killer is walking free. It’s not right…just like it’s not right that my son is expelled!”

“Me being with Eddie has nothing to do with what your son did.”

Jared’s eyes widen as he staggers forwards while Theo guides you backward away from him. 

“Of course, it does, honey. It’s all connected in a town this small and it always starts with a flaw…flaws like the Munson’s. Allen stole from everyone, conned everyone here scaring people into locking their doors and windows till he ended up in jail. Everything was fine till kids started getting murdered…till HE murdered them… He gets off and is set free…Pulls in a high member of societies son, one of his students…gets my son expelled…”

“What about Will Byers? What about the Hawkins Lab? What about the earthquake?!”, you shout, trying to step towards him but your protector won’t allow it. “You’re right, Jared. This town has flaws but it’s not people like Eddie. You can change the narrative to fit all you want but the flaw is people like you and Steve’s father. People who chased him down and tried to hurt him. People who can’t accept anyone that’s different!”

Martin’s father shook his head as he chuckled. 

“He’s got you brainwashed, little girl. Now, you are going to tell Hopper and the dean that you lied—”

“No.”

Jared took confident steps towards you, grabbing Theo and hitting him hard as the boy shouts for you to run. 

You don’t get very far as arms circle around you and lift you off the ground before you feel yourself suddenly falling sideways. 

You hear a grunt of pain before someone gets up to sprint away but a fast breeze whooshes past you as sneakers loudly hit the pavement. 

“Hey, look at me. Are you ok?”, Steve inquired as his palm ran down your hair and his eyes scanned your face. Your panicked irises flick towards Theo who begrudgingly took Martin’s extended hand to help him to his feet. “Y/N! Are you ok??”

“Yeah…yeah I’m…Where’s…?”

You both turned at the sounds coming from down the alley way and watch as Eddie delivers repeated blows to the man’s face. You quickly stand and wobble that way, catching your professor’s wrist as he raised his arm to hit him again. 

“Stop…Stop, Eddie, please…don’t…don’t let them win. We’re finally going to get out of here…and be happy…please.”

The metalhead grit his teeth as his shoulder’s deflated and you helped him up off the person beneath him just as Chief Hopper’s cruiser rounded the corner into the diner parking lot. 

***

Your mom exhales as she strides into the living room and tosses all the first aid supplies onto the coffee table. 

“Benefit of being married to a first responder. He always insisted we had stuff like this on standby. ‘You never know.’”, she mimed in a deep voice that had you smiling. 

Theo was the first to lean forward, grabbing the icepack and placing it on his cheek. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Theo, I’ve met you numerous times. You don’t have to be so formal.”, she sarcastically scolded as her eyes met yours before taking in both men on her couch. “Jesus Christ.”

Throwing her body down beside Steve, she grabbed the antiseptic and he winced as she began cleaning the cut on his face. 

“You have a lot of little scars, Mr. Harrington. How many times has someone hit you in the face?” His amber irises instantly snap her way. “Told you…married to a first responder…you pick up some things.”

“More than a few times…”

“Not by your asshole father right? Because I can talk to him if you—”

“No, no.”, he breathily laughs. “No. He would have had to have been there to interact with me at all, let alone…”

While they talked, you had begun to clean Eddie’s fingers and carefully wrap gauze around his knuckles. 

“You both saved my daughter again. Well three…I didn’t forget about you, Theodore.”, she praises and he scrunches his nose with a smile her way. “Thank you.”

Silently Eddie stood up and climbed the stairs turning into the first room he found with you following close behind. Steve closed the door behind you before flicking on a switch that illuminated the string of lights along the walls. 

“Is this your room?”

As soon as you nod, the coach starts exploring beaming at your posters of 90s celebrities along your wall and cassettes piled high with bands his partner had introduced him to. The desk by your window had a couple of scripts he assumed was from your high school days and notes on paper that had him craning his neck to read. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“What is that?”, he asks with a small smile as you yank the paper away. 

Rolling your eyes, you smack it into his chest before kneeling to grab something and taking a seat beside Eddie on your bed. 

“Colleges? But I thought…”

“They’re colleges I thought Eddie would like to work at.”, you mumble with a shrug, your words causing him to finally meet your gaze. “I wanted to help. I found a few that have a really good English program that you’d love and they aren’t too far from Steve or myself.”

The corner of his lips twitch slightly as if he’s about to smile so you take the opportunity to open the album you were holding in your hands and positioning it between you both. 

The metalhead’s chocolate irises take in the different photographs of you in high school with Steve at his side. The coach grinned when he saw you on the track outside the gym and pointed at an image of you with castmates dressed for the play you had just finished. 

Flipping to the next page, both men held their breath as your prom photo appeared with you in a gorgeous dress hugging your dates side. 

“Jesus Christ…you’re so beautiful.”, Steve murmurs.

“Thank you.”

A tear falls down Eddie’s cheek that he quickly wipes away but you see it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to kiss where it had been. 

“I almost killed him, Y/N.”, he whispers. “If you hadn’t been there to remind me that we’re almost out… it took all my energy… if he had hurt you…Hmm.” His lips form into a thin line as he hums, stopping himself from finishing his thought. 

“You protected me, Eddie. You and Steve.”

“But I almost became what they believe I am—”

“But you didn’t. Jared Click is the monster, Edward Munson, not you. I…” You pause to swallow the lump in your throat and he notices, craning his neck to face you. “I was scared of him…I’ve never once been afraid of you. You would never do what he just did.”

“Never, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait for us to get out of here.”

As he starts to sob, you pull him down onto your bed and hug his head to your chest while Steve curls up behind him, pressing his back to his chest. 

####################

One Year Later

“Alright, guys, good job!”, Steve claps, cheering on his team before checking his watch. “Ok, great practice. I want you guys to shower and head home. Enjoy Friday night and tomorrow we head for the semifinals.”

His team whoops excitedly and the man smiles as he starts to jog towards the university campus to get to his office. 

“Good work, Harrington.”, his assistant coach beamed as he tried to keep up. “Want to get a drink tonight to celebrate?”

“I wish I could, Mac, but I have a to go pick up Eddie for our date night tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Dinner and a movie?”

The man grins, swinging open his office door and taking the suit he brought with him off the hanger on his coat rack. 

“We’re actually seeing a play at NYU.”

“Yeah? That campus has some amazing productions and those actors are amazing. I’m never surprised when I hear some award winner got their degree there.” 

Steve’s smile widens as his eyes take in the photo on his desk of you, him, and Eddie making faces at the camera while you hold up the key to your new apartment in the city. 

“They’re doing something called Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf which I had never heard of till our…our girlfriend showed us the movie they made.” The coach blushes at his wording, loving the still foreign feeling of saying that word so freely. “She’s playing one of the leads.”

“Oh…Oh yeah? That’s phenomenal.”, the assistant coach stutters through, not wanting his technical boss and friend to feel uncomfortable. He knew Steve came from a small town and wanted him to know he was safe even though a relationship like his was a bit unorthodox. 

“Well, have fun and we’ll see you tomorrow!”

***

Eddie beams when Steve’s BMW skids into the faculty parking area as he shoves the papers he had been grading into the bag at his side.

“Baby, calm down. We still have an hour.”, the metalhead teases as his boyfriend greets him with a soft kiss before opening his passenger door for him. 

“I know but…”, he pauses as he jogs back around and climbs in. “With traffic and everything, I don’t want us to be late. Y/N’s been working extremely hard on this and—”

The professor’s lips on his cut him off and Steve’s shoulders visibly deflated as Eddie caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. 

“You’re doing that thing again.”, the long-haired man lightly scolds. “We’re fiiiiiiine, sweetheart.”

“I know. She’s just been working so hard on this and I know she’s nervous because this agent guy is going to be there. I want her to know we support her especially after everything she’s done for us.”

The metalhead nods, kissing him again as he intertwines his fingers with his own while the coach begins his short drive to your university.

“How was class today?”

“Oh my God, Steve, you have no idea how wonderful it is to be around students who are actually fucking interested in what I’m teaching and not my fucking background.”, he sighs happily. “Some of the kids noticed my D & D books in my office and asked me to host or sponsor or whatever a club for the school.”

“What? Honey, that’s fantastic! You have people you can be nerdy with.”

“Mhmm.”, Eddie chuckles, glancing out the window as the buildings slowly pass by. “I’m glad we came with her, Steve. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy… If we had let her go… God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Then don’t.”, the man murmurs softly as he raises his partner’s hand to his lips so he could kiss the back. “I’m glad we came with her to. I love being able to tell people you both are mine.”

Eddie leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and in return the coach kisses the top of his curls. 

“Yeah, me to.”

***

“Knock ‘em dead tonight, Janet. Can’t wait to see it for myself when I come visit you guys. Don’t be nervous! You’re an amazing actress. 

Your Rocky, 

Theo.

P.S. Ciara says break a leg!”

You smile at the letter attached to the flowers that were sent to your little dressing area after your play had concluded from your friend and his girlfriend back in Hawkins. 

You were thankful when he told you about her, not wanting to leave him in that small town by himself. 

“Hey, Y/N, you were excellent as always.”, your theater teacher praised as she came up behind you to give you a hug. “You should go see your boys. They won’t stop bragging about you to people they hear talking about your performance.”

You giggle as you grab your (Eddie’s) jacket and sling your duffle bag with your clothes from that day over your shoulder. As you sneak out the side exit, you’re immediately met with the sound of the metalhead’s voice. 

“Yeah, she was running her lines over and over for the past few months. I have no idea how she memorizes all that but, God, she’s brilliant.”

“And beautiful to. Y/N just shines out on that stage.”, Steve adds with a tooth filled smile. 

“Absolutely. I apologize but how do you know her again?”, the man they were speaking to asks and you smile as you scurry up to their little circle.

“They’re my boyfriends. This is Eddie Munson who teaches a literature class over at the community college down the street and Steve Harrington is the head football coach at the college near Columbia.” Both men nod and extend their hands as you introduce them. “And I’m, um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Guys, this is the…agent…I was telling you about.”

“Oh, please, I know exactly who you are and you can call me Arthur especially after the performance you just put on.”

“Thank you.”, you continue to grin as your nervous eyes flick their way. 

“We’re sorry for talking your ear off. We just…we’re very proud of her.”, Steve praises, pressing his fingers into his eyes however when Eddie quickly follows up with, “So, you’re going to sign her to your agency, right?”

The man in front of you laughs as the coach smacks his arm and reaches into his pocket to pull out a card. 

“Come to my office Monday morning and we’ll sort out some logistics. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I may actually have a roll you’d be perfect for. After I sign you to my agency that is.”

“Oh my god…Mr. Wilson…I mean Arthur…I…Thank you! Thank you so much!”, you exclaim as you take the card and jump into his arms. 

“Whoa! Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your weekend. You deserve it.”

The moment he walks away, you turn to meet their ecstatic faces as Eddie wraps his limbs around your waist and hugs you tightly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s fucking amazing. We’re so proud of you.”

“Very proud.”, Steve grins, pulling you into his embrace as soon as his partner lets you go. “You did so well up there tonight, honey.”

“I heard you both clapping for me.”

“Yeah because you were fucking awesome.”, the metalhead swoons, taking your hand in his. “Come on, baby. We’ve got a whole celebratory thing planned.”

#################

While you were staring out into the New York skyline from your spot at the table on the balcony of the top floor restaurant they had brought you to, Eddie and Steve were staring at you. 

The wind blew your hair in just the right way and even with the metalhead’s jacket keeping you warm, it didn’t hide the gorgeous spaghetti strap, olive green dress that accentuated all your gorgeous curves. 

“It’s so beautiful tonight.”, you happily sigh, turning to grab your champagne glass and realizing what they were focusing on. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”, Eddie compliments. “We were watching you up there on that stage and I thought… ‘Damn. That beautiful, talented, sexy, adorable woman…is ours.’”

Heat rises to your cheeks and both men chuckle lightly. 

“That right there has been my favorite part about being able to take you out on dates.”, Steve teases, pointing your way. “Seeing you get all shy and nervous like that.”

“Oh really, Harrington? Because you didn’t get all blushy on our first date or any dates after?”, the metalhead jokes, coming to your defense. 

“What was your first date?”

“Eddie was still kind of healing from being in the hospital and going through all the chaos with the legal system so I wanted to take him somewhere calming.”

“He took me to the observatory just outside of town.”

“Not because I was embarrassed or anything.”, the coach adds quickly. “It’s just cause Hawkins doesn’t have much to do and I didn’t want to do the normal ‘dinner and movie’”.

“We laid under the projection and just talked.”

“Did he make a move that night?”

“It’s Steve Harrington, baby, of course he made a move.”, Eddie laughed making his boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Look, we almost died!”, the man defends before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing his glass. “I didn’t want to waste any more time not being with you.”

The metalhead smiles as he takes his partners hand and yanks him closer to softly kiss his lips. 

“Oh. I got you guys something. Well…it’s for all of us but…” Your words stumble out as you reach for your bag and dig inside, pausing to face them before hugging it to your chest. “So…I, um, ever since you guys told me about…you know…Vecna and everything…I’ve always thought about how much you two have been there for me…like truly been there…even before I met you.”

Their irises soften as they listen to you continue and the metalhead reaches out under the table to place his hand on your knee hoping to calm your nerves as you try to get your words out. 

“You two spent 10 years standing watch over an entire town to keep those assholes safe, you protected me from Martin and his father, and even here in New York I know you’re always watching out for me. I, um, I know you two knew each other before you met me and were together for much longer, but, um…”

“Honey, what are you trying to say?”, Steve asks, his own nerves starting to bubble in his stomach. 

“You know even though we were together before we met you, it doesn’t change how much we love you, right?”

“I know, Eddie, baby. I know. I just…” Reaching inside your purse, you produce a little rectangular box and place it on the table in front of them. “I know that if you two could have gotten married long ago you would have. Now if three people could get married, you’d do that to…I just…we’ve been here for a year and together for almost two and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

At your last sentence, the coach leaned across the table to take the box in his hand and slowly open it to show his partner the three black rings with gold lining the inside. A little smirk flickers on the long-haired man’s face as he pulls the one that’s nestled in the middle out of its place. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you asking us to marry you?” You cover your face in embarrassment as they try to contain their laughter at your cuteness. “No, no, baby. Come on. Continue.”

“I’m trying to say…! That if I could marry you…I would…and I wanted to show you guys that while saying thank you…for keeping me safe for all those years.”

Eddie grins as he nods, suddenly sliding down on one knee and taking your hand in his. 

“I’d die for you, princess, if it meant protecting you.”, he murmured, pushing the ring on to your finger and kissing the back of your hand before removing one of his to replace it with the one you got him. When he tries to guide his skeleton ring on your thumb, it easily slides off being too big for your hand.

Steve pats his shoulder, replacing his partners spot on his knee in front of you, and invades your space to unclasp the necklace around you, tenderly kissing your cheek as he does so. You and Eddie watch as he slides his boyfriend’s ring onto the chain before removing his college class ring to add to it.

Once the metalhead has it firmly attached to you once more, your palm touches the warm jewelry pressing it to your chest.

“You don’t know how much this means to us.”, he whispers, pushing his new ring onto his finger and taking your free hand in his. “You always talk about us saving you but, baby, you saved us. Thank you.”

You tilt towards him to kiss his lips and he lifts you out of your chair to hug you tightly. 

“I’d marry you both in a heartbeat.”

As soon as he sets you down, Eddie takes you into his arms and threads his fingers through your hair. 

“I’d marry you both to.”, he confesses, kissing the top of your head. “Then we could fly somewhere awesome for a honeymoon.”

Both men smile when you laugh. 

“Who says we need to fly anywhere for a honeymoon?”

***

Steve’s breaths heat your lips as he pants heavily above you pushed up on his palms as he steadily but firmly thrusts his hips, his eyes never straying from yours as he continues to build you towards another orgasm. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck. You look so sexy like this.”, Eddie whispered in your ear from his place on the living room floor beside you, his arm laying loosely across your sweaty chest as his thumb caressed your temple. “You said this was our honeymoon so you have to give us another one, sweetheart.”

Your eyes close as your head turns allowing you to be nose to nose with him and he hungerly kisses your lips. 

“If you cum again, we’ll let you take a break and you can watch Mr. Harrington fuck me.” At his murmured words, you loudly moaned as Steve’s head hung and he picked up his rhythm, slamming his cock roughly into your cunt. “Yeah? You’d like that? Fuck such a dirty girl. Still that little slut we met, right?”

“Ohma…God…”

“Still our slut.” Your eyebrows furrowed as Eddie’s fingers curled in your hair, holding your forehead to his as he watched you come undone. Your body shook as you whimpered, your pussy quivering around the man inside you who continued to fuck you through it. “Good girl. Very good. You’re alright, baby. Take a little break. Do you need water?”

“No…no, Sir. I’m…M’ok.”

Steve practically growled as he pulled out of you to climb on top of his partner, grabbing his hips and lifting him up onto his knees. Rolling onto your side, you smile with half lidded eyes as you watch the metalhead groan loudly as the coach shoves his tongue into his entrance. Eddie’s forehead presses to the floor as one of his arms reach between his legs to lazily stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuck, I love your mouth, pretty boy.”

It surprised even you how fast Steve hovers over him, his chest pressed to his back as he grabs his hair and yanks it back. 

“Who am I?”, he grunts, the long-haired boy smiling defiantly as his boyfriend grinds his dick along his behind. “Who am I in here?”

“Mr. Harrington…fuck, baby…”

With his free hand, Steve grasped his cock and they both mewled as he carefully guided himself into the man beneath him. 

“That’s right.”, he breathed, his palm wrapping around his throat as he placed a kiss on his shoulder. “That’s fucking right. Open your eyes, little boy and k-keep them on her.”

When he does what he’s told, your lips meet his as the coach pushes himself up fully onto his knees and sets a rough pace while pounding his cock deep into the man he loves. 

“Shit…you’re just as much of a slut as she is…aren’t you?” When all Eddie does is nod, Steve spanks him hard. “Answer me.”

“I’m just as much—mmm—of a slut as she is.”

“As who?”

“Our girl.”

At his words, Steve grunted with approval as he chased his high desperate for a release after feeling you cum around him. Your hand slid under your former professor and wrapped around his length to stroke him. 

His eyes that had been glued to you, abruptly darkened.

“After he fills me up, Y/N, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore tomorrow. Everyone at his game w-will be looking at you and they’ll know…They’ll know you’re taken care of.” 

While Eddie spoke Steve’s pace had quickened to the point that the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the apartment. A strangled moan left his lips as he fell flat against his partner pushing him fully against the ground and rolled his hips as he came; his fingers intertwining with Eddie’s as he panted into his tussled head of hair. 

You delicately patted his sweaty shoulder and without you saying a word, he fell to the side of the metalhead who didn’t waste a moment, scaling your body and lifting your legs around his waist before guiding himself into your sore and swollen heat. 

True to his word, he set an aggressive rhythm causing both of you to emit repeated ahs while his lips attached to your neck. You clung to his back as he sucked a mark into your skin, soothing it with his tongue while your pussy clenched tightly around him. 

“Please…please, Mr. Munson…I wanna…”

“Tell me.”

“I want to…feel you…cum.”

“I’ll—fuck—I’ll cum when you do.” You shake your head and he grumbles roughly, gripping your throat as his angry eyes meet yours. “I wasn’t asking, Y/N. I’ll give you my cum when your pussy is fucking begging me for it.”

Your legs started to fall as your back arched but his other palm hastily grabbed one of your thighs to keep at least one in place as your body began to tremble. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, g-give it to me.”

Collapsing on top of you, Eddie fully incased you in his warmth as your nails ran up his back to cling to his shoulders. Your orgasm washed over you like a freight train while you continuously garbled his name into the nook of his neck. As your core continued to quiver around him, you felt his momentum stutter before his release painted your walls. 

“Ow, ow…”, you whimper as he tries to delicately pull out of you. 

“I know, I know, baby. There we go…Good girl. Come on, let’s go take a bath.”

“I got her, honey. You go on ahead; the water’s already running.”, Steve coos in a soft voice as he helps the man he loves to his feet.

“Hey, maybe I need to be coddled to, mister.”

You smile as the coach smirks, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and following his boyfriend into the bathroom. After you kiss his cheek, he places you on the edge of the tub and lifts Eddie bridal style eliciting a small, surprised squeak from the professor.

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“Mhmm. Do you need anything, my love? Water or some ice before we clean you both?”

Eddie theatrically sighs, throwing his head back as he whines, “Noooo, sire. I think I shall be ok but the princess and I will require a kiss or two.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve kisses his lips and lowers him carefully down in the warm, steamy water in front of where you had placed yourself before moving over to kiss you as well. Reaching behind him on the banister, the metalhead grabbed his pack of cigarettes and flashed them towards you, silently asking you if it was alright which you nod. 

“Fuck, man. It’s going to be snowing within a month or so I bet.”, Eddie relays after opening the nearby window and lighting the stick between his fingers. 

Hearing you hiss, his head immediately turns your way to see you grabbing the other man’s wrist as he cleaned between your legs. 

“Sorry. Hurts.”

Steve nods, kissing your temple as he murmurs into your ear, continuing to clean you as you hold his forearm to ground you. 

After blowing smoke out the window, the metalhead lightly grips your chin and tilts forward to softly kiss your lips. 

“I remember that first night, you winced like that and grabbed my wrist. You looked so small… I knew then I wanted to take care of you.”

“Oh? Is that why you two talked about being afraid to be with me?”, you tease causing both men to exchange a look. “I was drifting in and out so I only heard parts of it. Something about cake and me not wanting to be seen with ‘old men’.”

Eddie narrows his eyes your way but Steve’s palm tenderly reaching to clean him blindsides him slightly as he turns to face him and is met with his lips. 

“Some of the wording is mushed together but…”, he chuckles, their foreheads leaning against each other. “Eddie was afraid of the career aspect as well as our stupid little town. I thought maybe you’d wake up and realize you wanted more than a small-town life hidden away with bitter coach and professor.”

“I don’t get a negative adjective to?”, the metalhead jokes. “Former fugitive, pariah, trailer trash demon worshipper?”

“Stop.”, she growled a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “I never saw you that way.”

“And I never saw you as bitter.”

“Me neither. I never saw you both as ‘old men’ either. I just saw you as…mine.”, you shrug as your tone drops a bit. “That’s why what you said to me hurt so much but I never wanted to make things complicated.”

“Can’t really do that in our relationship can we, baby?”, Steve coos softly, standing to his feet so he can carefully lift you out of the tub and dry you off. “Alright, wait here while I go get the other baby.”

You giggle as you watch him from your bed swivel around to hurry towards Eddie who had already begun getting out of the water before the coach quickly wraps a towel around him and picks him up in his strong arms. 

“We saw you that way to.”, the metalhead adds as he pulls you to his side. “Ours.”

“I know. I heard you one day after rehearsal talking about how you wanted to spank me because of Theo even though YOU pushed me away—”

“Jesus, just a little eavesdropper, huh, Munson. Sounds like there’s a few punishments that need to be doled out.”

You smirk as he tugs one of his track shirts over your head and slides Eddie’s boxers up your legs. 

“Did you just interrupt me?”

Steve beams wide showing off all his teeth as he places his arms around your hips. 

“What are you going to do about it?” You bite your bottom lip before tilting to kiss his. “Did you need ice or anything?”

“Not right now, Mr. Harrington, thank you.”

Turning to focus on Eddie, he can’t help but roll his eyes as his partner bats his lashes his way. 

“Do you need ice or some water, honey?”

“No, Mr. Harrington, I’m all set.”, he teases in a high pitch voice, lightly mocking you while Steve pulls another pair of boxers up his legs. 

Just as he did with you, the coach circled his arms around the long-haired boy’s hips but leaned towards his tummy to place a soft kiss along his scars that has his features faltering slightly. 

“Thank you for always being there, Eddie. I love that now I can show you both off and I don’t have to hide how much I love you.”

Smiling, the man circles his limbs around his neck and kisses his cheek. 

“I love you to…but God why are you so obsessed with me.” After pushing his partner away, the metalhead focuses on you while Steve goes on the hunt for some shorts. “I love you to, baby. I agree with him. I’m glad we can show you off and take you on dates like tonight. Tomorrow you’re going to sit right next to me and I’m going to hold your hand all night. Or get handsy if you wear one of those sexy skirts. I’m only human.”

You laugh at his joke as you fall back against the pillows and pull him on top of you. Your fingers trace his cheek to his lips and he softly grins before laying down to rest his head below your chin. 

Steve comes out of the bathroom, pausing when he notices you both laying this way with your hand tenderly petting his partner’s curls. After turning off the lights, he climbs in beside you and brings the covers up over you three. 

“I’ve always loved how soft you are with him. Not that I’m not but…”, he whispers, kissing your shoulder as he pulls you both closer to his chest. “Thank you, Y/N, for being you.”

You smile at his groggy tone as your eyes watch him fall asleep. Eddie had already beat him to it, his steady breathing signally to you he was out. Since moving out of Hawkins, they both seemed at peace, not just out in the world but as they slept. 

Those first couple of months they did struggle; Eddie waking up screaming about someone taking you and Steve bolting upright to glare out the window to make sure “the sky isn’t red”. Slowly, the tossing and turning stopped followed by the nightmares. The first night they both slept peacefully, they woke up with bright eyes and a jovial energy, throwing some clothes on you so you three could get out to explore the city. 

They ate more, smiled more, and even opened up more than they thought possible. You were so thankful that you could experience this with them and see them grow after being stifled by a town that didn’t appreciate them. 

After a year so much had changed for the better and you couldn’t imagine what your future held. All you knew was as long as you with them, you were safe and happy.  

###############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @myherometalhead  @debkk16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover @strangerthingsfangirling

@1deverland @checosbluespring @twirls827

[thatguywrites]

Caffeine Dates

Idk why but this picture of Shen does it for me

So here we go

John Shen x Tea Lover!Male!Reader

As you sat down in your usual seat in your usual Cafe, with your cup of tea, book, and headphones, it seemed like it was any normal day. A day that would see you stopping by the Cafe to get your daily caffeine and get through another chapter in your book.

However, this was interrupted when someone came into the Cafe and loudly asked for the most sugar filled coffee you'd ever heard of. Trying to hold your judgement to yourself as syrup after syrup was added to his order, you fought the urge to look at the sugary offender, widening your eyes at your book, and keeping your head down, but this facade was interrupted by him collapsing down into the seat next to you.

Now that he was so close, you allowed yourself a peak at him. His coffee was nearly white, as he mixed in the added sugar he grabbed as well. The man himself was quite handsome. He had a jacket on over black scrubs, where a small nametag stuck out. John Shen - Doctor.

For a moment you got lost in looking at his photo on his ID. Despite the fact that in every professional photo you'd ever been in, you'd looked like some kind of wet rat, he looked incredible. You got so lost in checking out a picture of him, that you didn't notice him turn to look at you staring at him.

"Find something interesting?"

Startled, your eyes snapped up to meet his. The picture didn't really do him justice. His face seemed to have some natural charm that lured you in, although he did have an infuriating smirk on his face. Maybe you weren't exactly subtle.

"No."

You forced yourself to look back at your book and take a drink of your tea, but you could still feel his eyes on the side of your head.

He chuckled and quickly finished off his coffee. "Well, I'll leave you to it then," as he stood up, you unconsciously relaxed your shoulders. You hadn't even noticed how tense you were. "But if you ever need anything, just give me a call, pretty boy." His arm reached over your shoulder to drop a card onto your book.

He gave you his fucking number. Good God this man was insane.

You hadn't planned on texting Dr. Shen that day, as you trudged through work and got home as usual. But when your nightly cup of tea slid out of your hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces and cutting up your calves as it went, you didn't really know what else to do.

You managed to press your jacket into the largest cut to try and slow down the blood loss, but you couldn't do much else. You wouldn't be able to walk or drive to the hospital in this much pain, and lord knows the thousand plus ambulance fee would bleed you dry (haha). He was really was your only choice. Really.

When you called him a bored voice answered you, "Dr. John Shen, how may I help you?"

"Hey, um I'm the guy you gave your number too this morning? At the Cafe?"

"Oh! Hey, glad you called! How are you doing pretty boy?" His voice was much happier, and he seemed to actually be paying attention to you now.

"Well, not very good. A cup broke and cut up my legs and I was wondering if you could help cause I know-"

"Holy shit are you ok?" You could hear him grabbing things on the other end, keys and jacket and such, "No, that doesn't matter, what's your address?"

As you told him your address over the phone, you started getting really anxious about the bloor you were losing. You managed to put John on speaker phone to put pressure on another cut, but you were still losing blood from the smaller cuts. Less than ten minutes later, John was sprinting up the stairs to your apartment and plugging in the code you relayed to him over the phone.

"Hey, hey, hey, I've got you, it's ok," He began to work fast, picking you up out of the mess that made up your kitchen, and pulling out a first aid kit to begin patching up the biggest cuts. As he sewed, he kept repeating for you to take deep breaths and that you would be ok.

Once he had sewn up and bandaged your legs he managed to get you situated on your couch with pillow supports for you legs. Sitting on the floor next to you, a small, pitiful smile came across his face "How'd this happen exactly? You must have some fancy cups for them to shatter that much."

As you went through explaining your nightly routine, and it's disturbance that night, John sat, leaning against the couch, and rubbing his hand up and down your leg. Small smiles and laughs escaped him as you went on to complain about how you were now missing your nightly cup of tea.

"All this for a cup of tea, goodness"

"Well at least my tea is good for me, that coffee you got this morning is probably going to give you diabetes." You pouted and glared at him as he slowly rose to check your bandages again, "As a doctor you should probably know that"

"I assure you that as a doctor, I consume a very healthy amount of caffeine and sugar each day" He laughed as he wiped away the drying blood that covered your calves. "You seem to be missing some for the day. I'll go clean up your kitchen and make you some tea. Without breaking a cup."

Despite your protests, John simply placed a blanket over you, before making sure you wouldn't get up and possibly reopen your cuts while he was away.

"I'm not a baby, you know. I know I shouldn't exactly be walking" you called as you heard him sweeping up the ceramic that was most likely covered in your blood.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I don't want to treat you like my baby. I gave you my number for a reason, you know"

Too flustered to speak, you stayed laying down until he returned with another cup of tea. "So, you wouldn't mind going on a date with me, Dr. Shen? Maybe one with more tea and coffee than blood next time?"

John's face broke out into a smile as he handed you your tea. "Sounds good to me, just as long as you don't judge me for the sugar that will be in my coffee."

"You mean the coffee in your sugar?"

Rolling his eyes, John picked you up yet again, following your directions to your bedroom and placing you down in the covers. "You'll have to see your regular doctor soon, make sure it doesn't get infected, and that they heal well."

"Can't you check them?"

"No matter how much I want to give in to that, that's not exactly above board, dear. I'll come back tomorrow morning to help you around. You should try to keep off your legs for the next few days. Take it easy."

"You don't want to stay? You might as well so you don't have to drive back and forth."

"I really sh-"

"Should! What if I need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?"

John smiled, reaching out to play with your hair as you smiled. "Alright, pretty boy, you'd better scoot over then."

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ghostking4m

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 86 Anticipation Posting

First half: FINALLY. Second half: ...Oh no. Let's go, dear void.

Editor's notes: First Page: 渾身の...！！ [konshin no...!!] "Completely drained...!!" Last Page: 赴くげき戦場へ- [omomukubeki senjou he...] "Towards the battlefield..."

The End of Samurabachi

We've done it, everyone. We survived Samura's "villain" arc and are moving on to wider events.

Never miss a chance to glaze Kunishige though.

Honestly, I'm pretty happy with how all this played out. Samura still has remnants of the self-inflicted scars on his face so we know he's not completely "healed" inside, Iori got to say everything she needed to with a very appropriate punch, Samura apologised to her and the Masumi, and page 9 shattered my heart into pieces.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Seriously... Chihiro being so happy that Samura and Iori got to reunite properly while still clearly being sad that he can't do that with his own dad is...! It's...! Chihiro, I hope you're in store for a lot of healing by the end. Not just your physical scars but emotional ones too. Kunishige can't come back but there's still plenty of good, wholesome people you can surround yourself with.

Samura finally being the dad he should have been all along is going to be great to see. I wonder if Iori will be allowed to join them in the Tokyo mission though... it would be pretty lame to see her offscreened again now that she got her (well-deserved) punch in, but I can also see and agree with Samura not wanting to risk his daughter's life in such a chaotic situation. She can fight and she wants to do it though! And Samura's going to follow Kunishige's example to work together with his kid! So I wonder what she'll get to do. Maybe she can go with the Masumi assigned to protect her? Or keep watch on Kumeyuri since that's still hanging around somewhere? We'll see.

As much as I would have liked to linger on this cathartic moment a little longer, we've gotta move on and get a lot of story stuff done. We've spent a month in real-world time away from Tokyo to focus on the Chihiro vs. Samura fight, but now that we're finally done, it's time to get to the action climax of the arc.

First, a primer from Samura.

Note: Samura could be talking about a single traitor or multiple here, it wasn't specified in Japanese.

So, the unbreakable pact is most likely still in effect. This means that Yura still has a trump card to incapacitate him. We won't see it until it's time for it to come into effect though. So what's going to happen?

There are a few key things going on in Kamunabi HQ right now.

Azami facing off against Samuraishaku on level 1

Hakuri & Uruha heading towards the sealed Shinuchi on level 3

Traitors from an unknown squad and about 50 blackmailed staff being mobile risks; Izaru working with the security team to counter

Unknown locations of about 7 other Hishaku members/mercenaries

Unknown locations of Beard, Hairclips, Eyepatch, Giraffe, and Ichiki (RIP Kudo)

The Sword Master stands up on the lowest level; Earlobes observes this

So Samura, Chihiro, and presumably the Masumi and Iori are going to arrive on the scene of a madhouse, essentially. They're going to have to choose what to prioritise. I want Chihiro to head towards Hakuri -he's supposed to be "bait" for the main forces after all- and try to break the Shinuchi before Hakuri puts it in the storehouse, but... things are going to be unpredictable, I'm sure. Meanwhile...

In Kamunabi HQ...

Uh oh, spaghetti ohs!

Well that seems ominous.

Based on how things were described, it sounds like the Sword Master shouldn't be able to stand up at all. In JP it specified that he was being given the bare minimum of nutrients to survive without being able to kill himself. So being able to stand should be out of the question. And he even knows that something important is about to happen imminently in his isolated pit of a prison? How?! Throw anything at the wall with this one- counting down the minutes/hours/days/weeks/months/years until this moment? Somehow being contacted from the outside? Being able to sense when there's controversy around Magatsumi because he's that in tune with it? Prophetic shenanigans? No matter what, our protagonist and his crew are headed for some serious fuckery.

Putting an insane person in solitary confinement with no human interaction for 18 years would have driven them mad if they weren't insane already. I can only imagine the suffering that the Sword Master went through in that time while waiting for this moment. He's still corrupt as fuck and should not be allowed to rejoin society, no fucking way. He's a mass-murderer and needs to be kept apart. But man, the Kamunabi's method of dealing with him is cruel. I almost felt bad for him before he stood up and indicated that he was ready to do more awful shit. Good luck, Tokyo: you might be about to turn into a flowerbed.

This sword absolutely should never have been made, I'm convinced.

Speaking of that Magatsumi panel:

Chapter 60. Also, eat crow, Izaru and whoever else said that Hakuri was unreliable.

The seal may still be intact since this is how it appeared while the process was taking place. Maybe the cloth(?) twining around it is just for cool effect. Still, no one should be touching that cursed thing. Please let Hakuri, Chihiro, and Uruha stay safe (who am I kidding, they will be put into grave danger).

That Seitei War Spread, Though?!

Hellooooooooooooo handsome(?)

Amazing unexpected absolutely awesome and Misaka! We kind of know what he looks like! And that he's a guy!

It's kind of lame that Hokazono seems to be going with the only one girl per group rule of shounen. I'm not going to complain about another guy like that though- shirtless, posed like he's itching for battle in a casual-bloodlust kind of way. Like he's the kind of guy who has 2 braincells banging around in his skull and both of them are devoted to fighting. More Seitei lore when?!

Alright, dear void. If you hear a loud, angry screech off in the distance next week, that's me chimping out because we somehow did not check back in on Hakuri and Uruha and/or Azami despite returning to Tokyo.

[pomegranate-fawn]

Weekly update: Creativity and unease

Hellllooooo. I feel bad still, I mean I am still doing my best and chugging through each day one at a time but that doesn’t mean I feel great. I’ve worked on myself enough that even at my worst, I can still force myself to eat once a day and brush teeth once a day, all that stuff. Sometime I didn’t do much of this week was write…except I did…I wrote over 17k this week alone and yet…it doesn’t feel like I did anything.

I really love writing and I love Dear Nightingale so much but I always feel bad about my output for some reason. Like obviously I can’t write a book with over 100k words in one afternoon but I think that I can and I find disappointment when I can’t. I’m trying to be more positive and focus more on my craft but it’s embarrassing to feel like an amateur writer after all these years.

Realistically, it’s good that I’m not cocky. As that could easily lead to me becoming stagnant. But I feel that my level of self esteem in regards to my work also isn’t healthy. I need to find balance, a medium. I don’t know if I want to professionally publish Dear Nightingale for a plethora of reasons, but I don’t know if I want it to remain something published online. I’m very conflicted about the plan for my work as well but for the time being, I’ll leave you with chapter one and two…

Now let’s go onto what I did this week aside from writing. Well I’m possibly having issues with my ears again, I scheduled an appointment for Tuesday and the good news is the horrible ear ache I had was gone by the end of the day it started but I still want to get them looked at just to be safe. I also deleted tiktok again cause the amount of hateful people I would see on that app was so devastating, not to say that other platforms are paradise but they’re better at least in my experience.

On the day of my horrible ear ache I took a fat nap which is not something I do unless I’m really not feeling good. I don’t get tired often during the day and whenever I do I usually just brew some tea or it’s a sign I need to eat something! But the ear ache gave me a sickening headache and I needed to rest, but my mom was on the phone with her friend and was talking loud as she always does. I long for the day I can live alone (and with my darling girlfriend!) but until those days come I need to create my own peace. So I turned on some of my lamps and put on one of those Zelda relax/sleep videos and thankfully with the ambient sounds from the video and the songs it had I was able to rest. I legit took this photo before passing out lol.

Another thing I’ve been trying to do more is customize my belongings. I already do fun phone aesthetics so why not take things a step further? Plus it gives me an excuse to be off of my phone for at least a few minutes! I burn a lot of CDs and while some are just albums I wanna listen to others are playlists! I decided to decorate both my frutiger aero playlist and my shoujo playlist! Both just have a lot of good ambient songs and I really love how they turned out! I plan to decorate the rest of my CDs as well in the coming weeks! :D

I also decided to decorate my airpod case. I think personalization is important but I also think it’s good to truly personalize something. There is nothing I hate more than someone who buys things because they’re trendy. It’s why I can’t get behind those labubu’s, so many people don’t actually like them, they just want them for a status symbol. If you actually like them, more power to you. But often times when it comes to quick trends like them, they’re only enjoyed by normies who aren’t collecting for the long run. And that makes me sad.

I’m trying to be more adventurous with food. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here but on top of having bd I also have autism, I’ve been diagnosed with it since I was a kid and I have gone to a lot of therapy to help me learn coping mechanisms but the bottom line is I still have it. Now believe it or not, poke is one of my favorite foods and something I consider a safe food. Like I could eat it for days on end and not be overwhelmed by it, but my order is very plain. Cucumber, carrots, corn, masago, and salmon on top of rice. Well recently…I got edamame, which is something I typically don’t like. But it was actually really good here. Though I think I’ll ask for one scoop next time cause it was a bit much, I think I’ll also ask for a few green onions next time as well since I like them a bit.

But of course, when it comes to stepping out of your comfort zone, it’s best to also have something you’re familiar with. So I convinced (basically begged and meowed at her till she said yes) my gf to get boba with me today and I got my usual, a ube yam blended smoothie. It’s so good! And spending the day with my lovely wife also helped a lot with getting over my fear of trying something new! I love my gf dearly and I feel sick that I can’t see her yet today. She is truly my everything and I need to live with her soon or else my soul may vanish! I am being overdramatic but…I rlly do love her with my whole heart…

Music time…I actually didn’t listen to a lot of music this week nor did I watch a lot of music videos…well rather…I’ve been listening to a lot of musicals this week instead and I’ve kinda become obsessed with cats I need to see it live again my mom made us leave early cause she doesn’t like it. If she tried something like that now I would’ve just stayed and called a friend to see if they’d let me crash at their place but I was 16 when it happened so I’ll always hold the first act of the play close. But god memory is such a beautiful song and the way Elaine Page sings it is insane!!!

I watched more Wolf’s Rain with my gf today, we plan to finish it the next time we hang out! I love Wolf’s Rain but I watched it at 14 in a daze of drunkness. But for years, I would occasionally dream of a caracal and wolf chasing each other in a big green field. I couldn’t remember the show and sometimes I even assumed it was something I had made up. I even remembered a song that had a gentle melody but I couldn’t remember the words. Then in 2020, at the late of night on tiktok, I saw an edit. With a wolf and caracal chasing each other, I was hit with a flood of memories and joy. I didn’t properly rewatch wolf’s rain, I just watched episode 19 and 20 and that was enough to satisfy me. I’m fairly certain that the song I’m about to share plays for the first time when Kiba and Mew are running together, I nearly cried rewatching it honestly, it was so beautiful…I felt so lucky to rewatch these episodes with my girlfriend by my side…

I really didn’t watch YouTube this week, idk I just find myself watching more shows or reading or writing more. And unless something looks good or is by a creator I already know and like, it’s rare that I click on a video. But I did watch Kurtis Connor’s Time Machine video and…I liked it and I don’t mean to diminish anyone’s feelings towards it. But man, YouTubers can just say one slightly emotional line and people act as if they’re a philosopher. I understand people feeling a strong emotion to Drew Gooden’s over 2 minute speech about human art being better than generative ai, but Kurtis saying “maybe there’s a timeline where none of us were hurt” and that being his only heavy hitting moment just didn’t effect me…Not that I don’t think it’s a sweet sentiment. But his video was pretty light hearted and I felt like people were hyping it up cause it was by Kurtis and nothing more. But I still liked the video so maybe I’m just being negative.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Well. I did it. I finally read Clementine Book Three.

My in-depth review won't be out for a while since it takes a lot of time to write something like that, but for now, I'll leave some initial, stream of consciousness thoughts I have after my first read through.

Honestly? Not terrible. Not good, but not the worst book in the trilogy.

Where do I even begin? Book Three has such an odd feeling to it compared to the previous two. Also, I needed google translate to read a lot of the dialogue in this, though I don't think doing so enhanced the story or anything.

So... my very plausible prediction that Amos would be revealed as a twist villain.... did not come true. 😭 I know, I know, I was so sure that he was going to come back... and he does, but in flashbacks.

Olivia has the baby, but unfortunately, she does not name the baby Amos Jr. therefore we get no AJ 2.0... yet another disappointment for me.

However, the antagonist in this? The Gardener, Maria? Pretty good! A highlight of the book! At least, by clem comics standards.

She's definitely a step up from Georgia and Morro, like... she's such a manipulative asshole. She and her group of girls act as the protection of this place, they patrol for walkers, they deal with people who don't have the community's best interest at heart, everyone's scared of them, etc.

And the reason Maria is called the Gardener is because of her garden... of walkers. She has walkers buried up to their necks, but that's not all! She forces these girls to plant the walkers in the garden! She gives them some rope and they gotta wrestle these dangerous walkers into these holes and bury them! Why? To prove themselves to her. They have to do often! And they do it because Maria's sunk her claws so deep into them! She isolates them! She recruited them with promises of making the pain go away: "I'll take everything you're feeling, all your grief... and I'll kill it."

One new character we meet, Merkv, has a prosthetic foot.... you wanna guess where she lost her foot? She lost it planting a walker, and yet, she remains loyal to Maria, as do the other girls!

Hell, remember Shu-Fen from Book Two? She also joins their group, and she gets bit when she's planting a walker! They have to cut off her hand!

Like, Maria definitely preys on Clementine when she's at her lowest point after Ricca dies.

Oh yeah, by the way, Ricca dies... at the end of CHAPTER TWO. Put a pin in that.

So Clementine is going through a lot of shit with Olivia having her baby and having a stressful recovery, and watching Ricca die. She's very susceptible to Maria and the others girls beckoning her to join their little group...I mean, Clementine misses Ricca's funeral so that she can plant a walker! And naturally, it bites in her the ass when Maria inevitably turns on her, and has Clementine buried in the garden.

Maria's creepy, she's batshit crazy, she rips the head off a walker with her bare hands like it's nothing. And at this point? Screw it, I'm into that.

Anyway, so... yeah, about Ricca dying.

What the hell was that? Really, Ricca? Just gonna fall over like that? from a headache? and die? Really? That's how we're killing off a prominent character AND love interest to the protagonist?

For those who haven't read it yet, I shit you not... Ricca gets a headache as she and Clementine are walking down the street, then she passes out... and dies. No reason given. Like, the entire point is that it's pointless. No one knows what caused it. It just happens.

I don't think there was any foreshadowing? And if there was, I didn't pick up on it, or I don't remember it from the previous books. I'm planning on rereading the trilogy to write my review for this book, and you best believe that I will be on the hunt for anything that ties into this because what the hell?

I just... was this planned? Or did Tillie decide to kill Ricca off on a whim? I must solve this.

With Ricca dead, it makes talking about the clemricca romance different now. I have my issues with it, and the book pushing "this is a loss unlike any other that Clementine's faced" is very....... hnngggg. Maybe it's unlike anything COMIC Clementine has faced, but game Clementine's faced plenty of loss like it.

But does this book help clemricca, even though Ricca dies?

No. I still don't ship it, nor do I think it's a good romance. I'll dive deeper into that when I write my review.

Let's see... Clementine herself is fine. She's still a downgrade from game Clementine, but she's an upgrade from the previous books so... that's something? It's what I expected, y'know?

Olivia's probably my favorite character, and I'm so glad she survived. I'm so glad we didn't get the story everyone predicted where Olivia would die so that Clem and Ricca could raise the baby together.

As for the other characters, Shu-Fen is still pretty good. I liked her in the previous book. The other girls we meet from Maria's gang are fine. Everyone else is just kinda there? and they're all fine?

The ending is... okay? I guess? It just ends with Clementine visiting Ricca's grave for the first time, and then she comes home to her new found family gathering for dinner. She's holding the baby, Romi, and says, "Alright, alright, I hear you. Let's go inside. Everyone's waiting." and it's supposed to be bittersweet and touching, but.... ehhhh.

It's no TFS ending, I can tell y'all that.

This book is better than I expected it to be, but it's still not good. I'm just glad that the trilogy is done, and Tillie Walden can move on to better projects. I wish nothing but the best for her after having to deal with the morons in the twdg fandom that won't leave her posts alone.

As usual, I want to end this with the not so gentle reminder to leave Tillie Walden alone. Don't be one of those morons. I don't care how important Clementine or TWDG is to you; Clementine is not real. She's a fictional character and her feelings are not hurt by these comics. Because she's fictional. Tillie Walden, on the other hand, is a real person. Don't be a dick. Complain about the comics all you want, that's fine. Leave Tillie out of it.

[104cadetlauren]

Desiderium Chapter 1

Summary:

Levi Ackerman leaves behind the life he was born into, trading power for peace — but his name follows him like a shadow. After months of rejection, he finally finds work as a janitor at Stohess High School. It’s there he meets Hange Zoe, a chemistry teacher with a matching scar.

They don’t know each other. And yet, something feels… familiar.

A shared ache. A memory just out of reach.

As their lives quietly begin to intertwine, they’re forced to confront a bond neither of them can explain — and wonder if fate is offering a second chance… or playing the same story twice.

————————

Whatever our souls are made of,

his and mine are the same

-Emily Brontë

Levi Ackerman sat by the windowsill, scanning the classifieds in today’s newspaper. He highlighted anything that looked halfway decent.

He’d recently enrolled at Trost University to study Forensic Technology. A course that matched his compulsive need for order. But night school wasn’t cheap. For three months, he’d been applying anywhere that would take him, but the moment employers heard “Ackerman” or saw his resemblance to Kenny, the calls stopped coming.

He was losing hope, but he’d made his choice. Going back to the filth Kenny ran wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

The kettle’s shrill whistle snapped Levi out of his thoughts. He shut off the stove, letting the quiet reclaim the room.

He was about to pour the boiling water into the brew he prepared when his phone suddenly rang causing him to jolt and pour some boiling water on his left hand.

“Tch. Fuck it.” He muttered as he hurriedly grabbed his phone.

It was an unknown caller. Levi felt hope surge through him. This must be one of the establishments he had sent his application to.

“Hello? This is Levi Ackerman speaking.” He said trying to sound more formal than his usual stoic tone.

“Good morning! This is Keith Shadis, Principal of Stohess High School. Your application has been referred to me by a friend of yours, Erwin Smith, is this right?”

The son of a bitch really did help me after all, Levi thought.

“Yeah.”

“There’s a janitor position open. If you’re not afraid of hard work, I suggest you take it,” Keith Shadis said gruffly, his voice firm and matter-of-fact. Like he just offered him a CEO position and only an idiot would pass it up.

Levi weighed his situation before he answered.

Being a janitor would really require a lot of stamina, can he still perform well during his night classes? However, he really needed the money to stay enrolled so he has no choice but to grab the opportunity given to him by this Keith Shadis. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?

“Yea, fine by me. I’m good with cleaning anyway.”

“Come by tomorrow after school hours. Ask for Principal Shadis, someone’ll bring you to my office. Don’t keep me waiting. That’s all. See you then.”

Keith Shadis then hung up abruptly.

Levi felt relief because for the first time in three months, he finally had a chance, however, before he could celebrate further, the burning sensation on his hand registered in his brain once more causing pain to course through him. Blisters had now formed on the burnt area. Good thing he knew a thing or two about cleaning wounds and bandaging so that’s what he did.

After tending to his wounds, he went back to the kitchen to continue preparing his tea - his only solace in the chaos surrounding him.

Once he finished his tea, he washed the dishes and wiped down the countertop, clearing away the mess from earlier. Then he returned to the windowsill, scanning more job postings, just in case the name Ackerman ruin tomorrow’s chance again.

————————

“Okay, that settles it. You start on Monday.” Principal Shadis stood up and offered his hand for Levi to shake.

Hesitant but forced to conform to such pleasantries just to have a job, Levi reached for Shadis’ hand and tried to shake it firmly. He also muttered some pleasantries to Principal Shadis before leaving his office.

At least I don’t have to drop any subjects … He said to himself.

Outside the grounds of Stohess High, he tried to decide whether to buy himself dinner or just go to sleep with an empty stomach. When he reached for his wallet and found that he barely had money, he decided on the latter.

The railway crossing was filled with a throng of people striding fast, in a hurry to get home. 6:00 p.m. was the worst time to pass through because of the crowd, but he had no choice but to deal with it. As he was walking to reach the other side, a song he wasn’t too fond of started playing, so he looked down at his MP3 player to reshuffle his playlist.

When he looked up again, his eyes landed on a woman walking in the opposite direction.

For a moment, Levi’s world stopped.

His first instinct was to look away. To move, walk faster, pretend nothing had shifted. But his body didn’t listen. Something primal held him in place, like gravity had quietly rerouted its pull.

It made no sense. She was a stranger. And yet... everything in him felt like it already knew her.

The woman, sensing someone’s stare, slowly looked up from her phone and met his gaze.

Her first instinct was to rationalize it. A jolt in her chest, heightened senses...adrenaline, maybe. But her body already believed something else.

It felt like recognition. She was certain she had seen those steel-blue eyes before… but where?

The noise of the crowd seemed to dull around them. As if the world had paused—just slightly—so they could see each other clearly. It didn’t last. But it was enough to make them both wonder if they’d imagined it.

Neither of them moved until the train bell snapped the world back into motion.

As the train passed between them, they lingered on opposite platforms, as if hoping for one last glimpse. But before she could indulge the moment, the woman turned and disappeared into the crowd on the other side.

When the train finally cleared, Levi looked again, but the woman with the hazel eyes and brunette hair was gone.

“What the hell just happened? ” Levi muttered under his breath.

He didn’t know her name, but somehow, losing sight of her felt like something slipping away. His legs almost moved on their own. Idiotic . He had no reason to chase after a stranger.

His right hand drifted to the bandaged one, gripping it lightly.

Tch, he muttered, annoyed with the sudden pain that shot from his burned hand. Maybe it was just the cold. Still, he figured he should stop by a pharmacy for more bandages. He didn’t want it getting infected.

He shoved his hands into his pockets to shield it from the breeze he and kept walking, vanishing into the crowd like he’d never stopped at all.

————————

The room was bustling, filled with people and the soft sound of laughter shared between tables.

Miche and Nanaba Zacharias were animatedly talking about their time at the university when they noticed that Hange was spaced out, lost in thought. Her right hand hovered over her left, a subtle frown on her face.

“You're unusually quiet, Hange. That’s new. Is that what age does to you?”

Upon hearing her name, Hange snapped back into reality.

“Not really. It’s just…my scar won’t stop hurting. It started acting up while I was on my way here. Kinda weird, actually.”

Nanaba looked confused. “That the same scar you got during our little Christmas incident at the lab?”

Hange looked fondly at the memory. Yeah, that one! What’s weird is it hasn’t hurt in ages, but now it feels like the hydrochloric acid’s burning through my skin all over again.”

Miche scrunched his nose “Disgusting. I still remember the stench of burning skin mixed with hydrochloric acid.”

Hange laughed. She remembered how Miche couldn’t tell if his nausea was from the tequila or the smell of her burning flesh.

The Christmas shenanigans that Nanaba was talking about happened four Christmases ago.

In their senior year, Hange, Nanaba and Miche (who were just ‘friends’ back then, but Hange knew better) sneaked into the university’s lab, drunk from a party they attended at Trost. In their drunken stupidity, they decided to create the world’s most effective cleaning agent that would be able to exterminate 100% of germs instead of just 99.9%. The idea they conjured after six rounds tequila shots.

Their laughter was hushed, but their drunken antics were anything but quiet, chaotic in the way only silent drunk people could be. Nanaba broke a glass pipette, Miche was spouting nonsense jokes, and Hange, barely holding it together, was in charge of preparing the chemicals. She was on the verge of hyperventilating from laughing so hard. Then Miche cracked a joke so ridiculous that Nanaba slapped Hange’s shoulder, making her hand slip. Spilling hydrochloric acid onto her left hand.

“Aw!” Hange yelped in pain as she felt the acid burning through her skin.

The panic snapped the three of them back to sobriety, and they quickly performed the chemical burn first aid they had learned during their freshman year.

That accident caused their night to end early. Nanaba kept apologizing to Hange throughout the cab ride, and Hange kept saying it was fine.

The scar had faded over the years, a pale reminder of a chaotic Christmas, but tonight it ached again.

Sharp and sudden, like the acid was fresh.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted when the Cafe’s staff, together with Miche and Nanaba started singing happy birthday.

“Make a wish, Hange!” Nanaba exclaimed excitedly.

Wish? She had nothing in mind. Nothing she truly wanted, anyway.

Then, without warning, the image of the man’s steel-blue eyes flashed in her mind. So vivid she felt lightheaded. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the wave of nausea creeping in.

“Hange? Are you okay?! Miche, call 911! She might be having a stroke.”

Miche immediately took out his phone.

“Eh? No!” Hange stopped him before things escalated.

“It’s just that something…” she hesitated. She didn’t want to say more. It would sound stupid. Or even crazy. So she forced a grin and leaned toward the cake.

She closed her eyes and made a silent wish.

I want to see something new, maybe even something that defies logic.

Then she blew out the candles.

“So what did an old lady like you wished for your birthday?”

Hange smirked. “Nothing interesting.”

—————————-

Hey, I start today. Meet you after working hours.

Erwin was just about to leave his homeroom when he received this text from his friend from a different time of his life, Levi Ackerman.

He and Levi went way back. Childhood friends who remained close through high school. Erwin had continued his studies while Levi took on the family business, which caused them to lose touch for almost six years. Levi was the one who reached out to Erwin again, looking for a job.

At first, he was surprised to hear that Levi was looking for a different job, but he didn’t press. He knew Levi well enough to understand. If he was choosing to leave Mr. Kenny, then he must have his reasons. Levi wasn’t the type to ask for anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

He always operated on his own terms.

Erwin figured that Levi’s last name probably had something to do with it. Ackermans weren’t the kind of people you messed with. One wrong move and you might end up dead. That kind of reputation tended to follow a person. Maybe that’s why Levi was having such a hard time finding a job.

Erwin understood his predicament. So when he saw Levi’s message, he knew what to do. Good thing Shadis trusted his recommendation. At least he was able to help a friend in need.

As he walked back to the faculty room, he saw one of his co-teachers, Hange Zoë, in the hallway.

”Hange! Belated happy birthday, sorry I forgot to prepare something for you.”

“No worries! So, Erwin, how’s freshman history?”

Erwin smiled. “Same old, same old. Kids are still snoring when I get to the Titan Invasion of Marley.”

“How could kids sleep through that? That’s the best part of history!” she said animatedly.

“You could act as a proxy for me next time.”

“Careful, I just might take your job!” With that, Hange laughed and walked away.

—————————

When the clock struck 5:30 pm, Erwin started packing his things. He wasn’t really the one to leave work this early, but he promised to meet with Levi today, to catch up.

After organizing his things into his briefcase, he locked the faculty room and stood by the doorway to wait for Levi.

After a few moments, Levi showed up. Already in his casual clothes.

“Hey, Ackerman. Where’s your uniform?” Erwin teased, tone light but needling, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“Tch. I’m not showing up to night class smelling like filth. Nice outfit, though. You look like someone who’s never taken a shit in his life.”

Both of them felt a quiet relief. Nothing had really changed. They were still the same, just in a different part of their lives.

“Let me introduce you to someone, I know you and her will make a good pair.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “This better be worth my time.”

“If history’s anything to go by, you’ll get along just fine with Hange Zoe.”

Levi grunted as he followed Erwin down the quiet hallway. They turned right into a dim corridor, lit by a warm glow coming from the room at the end. The lab door was already open, so Erwin didn’t bother knocking. He walked right in, and Levi trailed after him.

The room was full of science equipment and materials needed to study the basics of the different branches of science. Most of the instruments, however, were for chemistry. Ones Levi was familiar with, as they were the same tools used in their Advanced Chemistry class, one of his major subjects.

At the farthest corner stood a figure in a lab coat, adjusting the knobs of a microscope. Levi quietly observed the woman, noting how focused she looked. What could be so interesting in that specimen that she didn’t hear two people entering the room.

“Hange, I see you’re still pursuing that elusive formula for 100% bacterial protection.” Erwin

The woman, who was apparently named Hange, Levi made a mental note of that.

“Very funny, Erwin. Tell that joke to your students, it might actually keep them awake,” she said, glancing up from her microscope. “Anyway, someone’s got to finish what the disinfectant industry cowardly left at 99.9%.”

Erwin chuckled. “I’m not alone, by the way. I brought Levi with me. The prodigal friend I lost a few years back.” He gestured at the man beside him.

Hange took off her protective glasses, shrugged off her lab coat, and sprayed alcohol on her hands before walking over to them.

Levi was momentarily distracted by a preserved cat carcass in a jar when he noticed a hand outstretched toward him. He glanced at the woman’s face—and froze.

Hange saw the steel-blue eyes that haunted her dreams just the night before.

Her hand recoiled instinctively.

It was him.

Levi, equally stunned, stood like he’d seen a ghost.

Who are you? Levi thought to himself .

But then he saw Hange’s widened eyes. Like she, too, had just seen something impossible.

“Have you two met?” Erwin asked confused.

Hange was the first to recover. “I… I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve seen him before. So, uh…Levi, right? Have we met?”

Levi tried to maintain his cool, suppressing the whiplash inside him. He looked at her eyes without letting emotion slip. “And you’re Hange Zoe. Not really. I haven’t seen you before.”

Lies.

He remembered her from the train crossing. From the second he saw her, he knew he’d never forget her face. Even in a crowd, he’d find her.

There was something... he couldn’t explain.

He reached out his hand this time. “The name’s Levi Ackerman.”

Though hesitant, Hange took his hand with her right one.

The second their skin touched, a sharp burn flared across the scars on their left hands. They both winced, instinctively, but neither said a word.

Each of them tried to hide it, unsure if the other felt it too.

Time faltered for both of them.

It wasn’t just a moment. It was everything at once.

A rush of relief. A quiet ache. As if something had died and been reborn in that instant.

Their eyes met. Hers, hazel and bright even in darkness; His, like the ocean, still and deep, hiding storms beneath.

For Levi, it was sorrow without origin. A weight in his chest that didn’t belong to him, yet lived there all the same.

For Hange, it was the kind of relief that filled the space between breaths. A silent answer to a prayer she hadn’t realized she’d been whispering.

Then, without meaning to, Levi pulled his hand away too quickly. Hange flinched, trying to play it off like nothing had happened.

“So, Hange,” Erwin said, “Levi and I were planning to grab dinner before his night class. You’re welcome to come too. Right, Levi?”

Before Hange could respond, Levi was already heading for the door.

“Just remembered I’ve got an assignment to finish,” he said without turning around.

“Catch you two some other time.”

Without looking back, Levi stepped out, leaving Erwin and Hange behind in the hum of the lab’s silence.

That’s odd,” Erwin said, brows slightly drawn as he looked toward the door Levi had just exited. “He was the one who wanted to catch up.”

Hange didn’t respond right away, her gaze still fixed on the space Levi had left behind.

“Erwin… have you ever felt a deep longing for something you’ve lost?”

He glanced at her, thoughtful. “You mean desiderium ?”

“Maybe.” She tilted her head. “But what if I don’t even know what it is I’ve lost?”

Erwin had an answer, one that bent the edges of logic, something Hange normally insisted on grounding herself in. So he kept it to himself.

Hange crossed her arms, her voice dry but edged with something heavy. “I’m emotionally compromised, Erwin. Feed me.”

Erwin gave a small nod, already turning toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get some soba before you start quoting metaphysics again.”

Hange followed with a tired huff of a laugh. “No promises.”

They left the lab together, their footsteps fading into the quiet corridor.

—————————

Levi still had one hour before his next class, but he needed to get out of that room.

He needed air. Space. Quiet. Something steady to hold onto while the ground under him shifted.

He didn’t do well with things he couldn’t explain.

And this—whatever the hell it was. Is slipping through the cracks in his logic.

He kept replaying the moment. Her hand in his. The heat. The weight. The ache that didn’t feel like it belonged to the present.

Was it just him?

Did she feel it too?

When their eyes met, something had opened in his chest.

Not pain exactly. More like the shape of it.

Like the echo of grief, but stripped of context. Emptiness with no name. It sat heavy in him, like a memory that hadn’t happened yet but still demanded to be mourned.

And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

This was messing with his head. And he didn’t like not understanding.

One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

Whatever this was.

Author’s Note:

This is an Anon request story. So, Anon, if you’re reading this, I hope I managed to deliver your vision. if not, hit me up!

This is also on AO3 for people who convenience and preference (Desiderium by Lauren Ackerman)

[buwheal]

I bet you would hurt your back, carrying around that million dollar smile like you do.

[mister13eyond]

its not that i DONT ship krusie its just that theyre so incredibly queerplatonic to me. do u understand. look at them. platonic soulmates. they don't need romance they're the Fun Gang that is a bond that transcends everything

[callizinc]

Puts lorehead hat on People are already running w the assumption that Oh Oldman is not actually Gerson but rather a Darkner based people's memories of Gerson. Which might be true... but I also think it's interesting how it's specifically his dust within the dark fountain, not just his photo or hammer. Like they go out of their way to make that clear, and that Gerson's dust is not buried, like is usually done with monsters. Is it a reach to assume that the way monster dust interacts with dark fountains is different than regular items? That the soul of monsters come to life again in darkness??

Another lorehead thought I had is The Knight definetly feels related to Dess, but I don't think Dess straight up Is The Knight in an easy straightforward way. Maybe the relationship between Roaring Knight and Dess is similar to the relationship between Asriel and Ralsei. Whatever that relationship is....

Third lorehead idea I had is I think prophecies are written in stone but I have a feeling like... whenever there's ambiguity, there's wiggle room. As long as something fits the prophecy, the prophecy can be satisfied. Like, "The Girl"? there's so many "Girls". The silhouette in the prophecy is so ambiguous too..(When Susie was on about how she's never been picked for anything, I kept thinking man, what if it's not her? Wouldn't that be sad?) and when you beat roaring knight in ch3 too and according to you kris gets knighted??? now there's two candidates that can fill the roll of the knight w a black blade in the prophecies, right?

anyway. takes off lorehat. this really deltas my rune

One: PEOPLE ARE DOING THAT??????????? I thought with the fact that we Literally find his goddamn dust in like Alvin's desk or whatever that it was VERY clear dark world Gerson IS basically just him. Or. his dust. Whatever. I think you Could be onto something though that dust doesn't interact like a normal object in the dark worlds... Especially considering the association with Dark worlds to dreams, and your imagination running wild to see things that aren't really there..... like.... Maybe?????

Two: I DO AGREE WITH THAT. LIKE I SAID DESS KNIGHT IS MY FAVORITE CANDIDATE AND THE MOST LOGICAL CANDIDATE IMO—BUT THERE'S STILL SO MUCH THAT DOESN'T LINE UP. That's a really interesting thought actually that it's similar to the confusing and vague relationship between Ralsei and Asriel?? I HAVEN'T EVER SEEN THAT BROUGHT UP BEFORE.... And i don't know if i have any particular thoughts about that at the moment.....? BUT I *WILL* BE PONDERING IT.

Something something....... Maybe Dess is the person in the unused code, trapped in some strange deep darkness, but either a part of her, or other people's perceptions of her, or, Whatever the fuck Ralsei is, also somehow came into existence and that's what the Knight is? Or this is total bullshit. Roaring Knight more like SNORING KNIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Three: ......I DID NOT REALIZE THE. KNIGHT WITH A BLACK BLADE. PROPHECY THING AND. .....HOW THIS CAN ALSO BE KRIS. ERM.....

OKAY ALL THE STUFF WITH THE PROPHECY AND WHO REALLY FITS IT DOES CONFUSE ME A LOT THOUGH. I can so understand where you're coming from, but I'm not totally sold on Susie not actually being "the girl" in the prophecy myself, because like Yeah no the silhouette does NOT look like her at all 😭😭 But if she's not it, Why does Ralsei instinctually know her name and call her a "Delta Warrior" at the beginning of chapter 1?

.....Also the fact that Susie who's never been picked for anything and has so much hope and is already being lied to by her 2 closest friends turning out to not even be in the prophecy would make me too sad. How can we do this to Susie deltarune