#I genuinely think they’d be the perfect team

[roots-symphony]

honestly Lumon is extremely lucky that Devon and Helly have no way to meet (so far) and Devon would never get severed because they would not survive a Devon/Helly team-up, like they’d be decimated so fast

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter fifty-one!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

wc: 720 (its the last written chapter bro dont be lazy nd read it😔)

SHE

THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR WAS FAINT AT FIRST, almost swallowed by the roar of the rain. y/n glanced up from her phone, a furrow forming on her brow. another knock—firmer this time, more urgent. she sighed, setting her phone down and making her way to the door, her pulse quickening despite herself.

when she opened it, she froze.

there stood daniela, soaked to the skin, rainwater streaming from her hair and dripping off the hem of her jacket. she looked as messy as the storm outside—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

y/n’s voice caught in her throat. “what are you doing he—”

“i’m sorry.” the words tumbled out of daniela’s mouth before y/n could finish, her voice breaking. “i’m so sorry. “just let me talk. let me—let me explain.”

y/n stepped back slightly, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “you shouldn’t be here,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“i know,” daniela said, her voice breaking. “but i couldn’t stay away. i can’t—” she paused, dragging a hand through her wet hair, her shoulders trembling. “i can’t keep running from this. from you.”

y/n didn’t move, her hand gripping the door frame as she tried to steel herself. “why now?” she asked, her voice quieter than she’d meant it to be, the hurt bleeding through despite her effort to hold it back.

daniela blinked, tears slipping free and mixing with the rain still streaking down her face. “because i’ve been a coward,” she said, her voice raw. “because i’ve spent every second since i left you trying to convince myself i was better off alone, that i didn’t need this—didn’t need you. but i do. i need you, y/n.”

“i know i hurt you. i know i pushed you away, lied to myself, lied to you. i told myself it was better that way. that it was safer. but all i’ve done is destroy the one good thing i’ve ever had. you don’t deserve this,” daniela continued, her voice trembling, raw and unguarded. “you don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice or their escape. you deserve to be loved the way you love—completely, without hesitation. and i was too much of a coward to give that to you.”

y/n closed her eyes. “you think an apology fixes this? that just saying you’re sorry makes it all okay?”

“no,” daniela said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t expect it to. but i had to try. because i love you. and if there’s even the smallest chance that you’ll let me prove it to you, then i’ll take it. even if it means standing here all night in the rain.”

y/n’s eyes opened, locking on daniela’s, and for the first time in weeks, she saw something in her gaze that felt genuine—raw and unguarded in a way daniela had never allowed herself to be.

she stepped back, the door swinging wider. “you’re an idiot. come in,” y/n said softly, the words catching in her throat.

daniela hesitated for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe it, before stepping through the threshold. y/n didn’t speak as she shut the door behind her, didn’t look at her, but when daniela turned, y/n’s arms were already around her, pulling her into an embrace that was as much a lifeline as it was a question.

“you’re a huge idiot.” daniela let out a sound at y/n’s words—a mix of a sob and a laugh—as y/n pulled her into a hug, the warmth of her embrace cutting through the chill. the rain from daniela’s skin and clothes attached themselves to y/n’s own clothes, fabric darkening as daniela pulled her closer, hug tightening.

“i love you.” the words fell from daniela’s lips, soft and certain, like they’d been waiting their whole life to find their way to y/n. they settled in the air between them, filling the space with something tender and warm, spreading through y/n’s chest like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

y/n’s cheeks flushed as a slow, uncontainable smile spread across her face. she hid her face in daniela’s neck, her voice barely above a whisper but full of passion that seeped through the seams. “i love you more.”

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

is that... FLUFF??????

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[paddockletters]

unseen | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader  request: yes / Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone feels out cause that freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific author’s note: Hope you liked it!... as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The memories of my school days never really left me. Every now and then, they’d come creeping back — a careless comment someone made, or the way people used to whisper when I walked past. I could still picture the sneers, the cold stares, and the cutting remarks. The bullying wasn’t always physical, but the emotional scars felt just as deep. Being the quiet girl who loved math, cars, and physics made me an easy target. I didn’t fit in with the other girls who were into makeup and parties. I was more interested in tweaking engines and dreaming of Formula 1. That difference marked me.

It all began in middle school when I started to realize just how out of place I was. My grades were high, my social skills not so much. Every time I raised my hand in class, there’d be snickers. Every time I’d walk down the hall with my oversized glasses, someone would mutter a snide remark. The bullying wasn’t brutal, but it was consistent, gnawing at me bit by bit. High school wasn’t much better. The teasing continued, though by then, I had learned to keep my head down and drown out the noise by focusing on my dream of working in Formula 1.

Fast forward a few years, and here I am — an engineer for one of the top F1 teams. The transformation was surreal. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself. Who would’ve thought that the same girl who spent her lunch breaks in the library, sketching out car designs, would one day be standing in the pit lane at Monaco?

But something even crazier happened along the way — I met Jude Bellingham.

It wasn’t some grand, love-at-first-sight story. I wasn’t starstruck when I first saw him. In fact, I didn’t even know who he was. We met at a charity event, one aimed at inspiring young athletes and professionals from underprivileged backgrounds to chase their dreams. Jude was there as the football star, while I had been invited to speak about my journey into F1. He seemed genuinely interested during my talk, but we didn’t interact much that day. It wasn’t until I received a DM on Instagram a few days later that things really started.

“Hey, I loved your speech at the event. I’m Jude, by the way — football player. Would love to grab coffee sometime if you’re up for it.”

I remember staring at my phone, thinking it was a prank. A football star wanted to get coffee with me? It felt like a joke. But I responded, and we met. Coffee turned into long dinners, long dinners turned into walks in the park, and those walks turned into a relationship.

Jude wasn’t what I expected. Sure, he was famous, but he was also kind, funny, and remarkably down-to-earth. He never treated me like I was less important than him. If anything, he seemed fascinated by my work. He’d ask me endless questions about the F1 cars, the strategies, the engineering behind the speed. I’d tease him about football, asking if he really knew what went into designing the perfect car. We just clicked.

Still, going back to my hometown was something I hadn’t done in years. The memories were too bitter. But Jude wanted to go. He wanted to see where I grew up, to meet the people who had shaped me, for better or worse. So we planned a trip. I was nervous as hell, but Jude? He was excited.

The car ride to my hometown felt like an eternity. As Jude hummed along to the soft rhythm of the music playing through the speakers, my mind was far from the road. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I’d left for university. The thought of returning had always been… daunting. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts of the past. Or, more specifically, the people who had made my life a living hell when I was younger.

I glanced at Jude, who was focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel, the other on my leg, giving me an occasional reassuring squeeze. His presence grounded me, but that nervous pit in my stomach kept growing the closer we got.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at me.

I forced a smile. “Just... thinking.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, his tone soft as he asked, “About?”

“About how weird this is going to be. I haven’t been back here in years, Jude. People… they remember things. They remember who I was.”

“And who you were is exactly who I love. You know that, right?” he said, giving my thigh another squeeze.

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, trying to push the anxiety down.

“I know. It’s just that, back then, I was the awkward girl who couldn’t fit in. Now I’m walking into town holding hands with Jude Bellingham. People are going to freak out.”

“They’ll freak out because you’re a freaking Formula 1 engineer, not because of me,” he said, grinning. “I bet half the people in town have posters of you in their garage next to their Ferrari die-casts or something.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “No one from my town cares about F1.”

“They should. You’re a genius.”

Jude’s words were always so simple, but they held so much weight. He had a way of making me feel seen, really seen, in a way no one else ever had. That’s what made everything with him feel so different. He wasn’t just the football star that millions of people idolized; he was my Jude, the one who asked me about race strategies and remembered the names of the engineers on my team.

We arrived at the town square just as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the small, familiar streets. The sight of it brought back a wave of memories — good and bad. It was strange how everything looked smaller now, less intimidating. The buildings I used to walk past with my head down, trying not to be noticed, now seemed so ordinary.

Jude parked the car, pulling his baseball cap down over his head as we stepped out. I could already see a few people glancing in our direction, their eyes widening with recognition. They weren’t just looking at him, though. They were looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked, stepping closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Yeah, it’s just… surreal.”

We started walking through the town square, hand in hand. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. But they were everywhere.

“Oh my god, is that… Jude Bellingham?”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl who used to go to school here? She’s, like, a big deal now, right?”

“I heard she works in Formula 1. How did she end up with him?”

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar wave of insecurity creeping in. But Jude seemed unfazed. If anything, he walked a little taller, as if daring anyone to say something negative. He pulled me in closer, planting a kiss on my temple as we crossed the square.

As we walked into the shopping center, we decided to stop by a café for a drink. I could already feel the buzz of recognition in the air as people realized who Jude was.

Jude sat across from me, casually sipping his drink as if we were anywhere else in the world. He had his cap pulled low over his face, trying to avoid drawing attention, but it was hard not to notice him. He was Jude Bellingham after all.

The stares had started the moment we walked into the square, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had this effortless calm about him, the way he handled attention, fame. Meanwhile, I was doing my best not to feel like I was under a spotlight, even though I knew people were whispering and pointing, probably trying to figure out why he was with me.

I caught a glance from a group of teenagers at the table across from us. They were huddled together, looking our way, giggling and whispering. I sighed, already feeling a bit on edge.

Jude noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just... weird being back here.”

“I can imagine,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that soothing way he always did. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I took a deep breath, glancing around the café. “It’s fine. Just... a lot of memories, you know?”

He squeezed my hand, his gaze soft and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I said, surprising myself. I had never really told him the full story before.

He knew bits and pieces, but I had kept most of it to myself. Maybe it was time to let him in.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, thinking back to those years.

“I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I was the one they picked on. The ‘geeky’ one. I loved math, engineering, all the stuff no one else thought was cool. I spent more time in the library than anywhere else. They made fun of me for it—my glasses, my clothes, the fact that I never fit in.”

Jude’s expression softened. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were,” I agreed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “It wasn’t just teasing though. It got pretty bad at times. I used to dread coming to school. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield. I just wanted to disappear, you know?”

Jude’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “I hate that you went through that.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s in the past. I got out. I became an F1 engineer, so jokes on them, I guess.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t still hurt. It’s okay to feel that.”

I looked up at him, my throat tightening with the emotion I hadn’t realized was building up.

“It does, sometimes. I mean, I know I’ve made it, but coming back here... it just brings all that stuff up again.”

He stood up then, coming around the table to sit beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. They didn’t see that back then, but it doesn’t matter. I see it. The world sees it now.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and words wrap around me like a blanket.

We stayed like that for a few moments before pulling apart slightly, Jude resting his forehead against mine.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here,” he said softly. “You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank you. For always knowing what to say.”

Jude grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you did bag me, so I’d say you’re doing something right.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he teased, flashing that trademark grin.

As we sat there, talking about everything and nothing, a few more people came up to us. A couple of them recognized me from school. I could see the surprise in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe the girl they used to tease was sitting here with a world-famous footballer.

“Hey, I remember you,” a girl of the group said, her voice laced with nostalgia. “You were in my physics class, right?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow,” she said, glancing between me and Jude. “I heard you’re doing big things now. Formula 1, right?”

“Yeah, I’m an engineer for one of the teams.”

“That’s… amazing,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “I always knew you were smart, but I didn’t realize… well, you know.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Jude jumped in, his arm draping casually around my shoulders.

“She’s a genius. She’ll never admit it, but she’s probably the best engineer in F1 right now.”

I blushed, nudging him playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”

The girl chuckled awkwardly, clearly a bit starstruck by Jude’s presence. “Well, it’s great to see you doing so well. And… with him. That’s pretty cool.”

After she left, I turned to Jude, who was grinning like he’d just won the Champions League.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jude grinned. “See? People notice. They’re impressed, as they should be.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple. “But I’m also right.”

As we walked through the shopping center, I could still feel people glancing our way, some whispering, others taking quick pictures on their phones. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like the awkward, out-of-place girl from school. I felt like someone who had earned her place in the world, someone who had worked hard and made it.

A few more people came up to Jude, asking for pictures or autographs, but he always made sure to include me in the conversation, making it clear that I wasn’t just the girl on his arm. I was someone in my own right.

At one point, a young girl, probably no older than ten, approached me shyly. She held a notebook in her hand, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, “are you the F1 engineer? The one who works with the cars?”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at Jude before nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Her face lit up, and she held out her notebook. “Could I have your autograph? I want to be an engineer one day, just like you.”

My heart melted, and I took the notebook from her, scribbling my name with a quick message of encouragement. “You can be whatever you want to be,” I told her, handing it back. “Just keep working hard and never stop believing in yourself.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank you!”

As she ran off, I turned to Jude, who was watching me with a proud smile.

“See?” he said softly. “You’re a role model.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I guess I am.”

As we walked, Jude nudged me with his elbow.

“You handled that like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it all the time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

He laughed. “You get used to it.”

Jude looked over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced up at him, my heart swelling with affection. “For what?”

“For being you. For everything you’ve accomplished. And for putting up with me,” he teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “It’s not always easy, but I manage.”

As we left the shopping center and headed back to the car, I realized something important. This place might have been where my story started, but it didn’t define me anymore. I had moved on, grown, become someone I was proud of. And with Jude by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next, even if it meant coming back to the place I once tried so hard to leave behind.

[margeoww]

Heyy, I loved ur recent fic about Toto meeting the reader’s family and was wondering if I could please request an angsty one shot of Toto x age gap Reader where she meets his family (maybe even his older children) and they maybe think she is too young for him or like disapprove in general in the beginning. But pleeeaaseee happy ending???

Through Their Eyes

back to my masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x gf!reader

summary: On Christmas Eve, Reader meets Toto’s children—Jack, Rosa, and Benedict—for the first time. Despite initial skepticism over their age gap, holiday laughter and shared moments help her earn their acceptance, proving love knows no bounds.

warnings: family disapproval (not so hard) and mentions of y/n.

The Wolff estate glowed under a blanket of snow, its windows framed with warm golden lights. Y/N took a deep breath as she stood beside Toto at the front door, clutching a neatly wrapped gift in her hands. She had insisted on bringing something for each of his children, though Toto had assured her it wasn’t necessary.

—It’ll be fine. —he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. —They’re just protective. Once they see how happy you make me, they’ll understand.

The door swung open, revealing Rosa, who greeted her father with a warm hug. —Dad! You’re here. —She stepped back, her curious eyes flicking to Y/N. —And you must be Y/N.

Y/N smiled, offering the younger woman her hand. —It’s so nice to finally meet you, Rosa.

Rosa shook her hand, her expression polite but reserved. —Likewise. Come in, everyone’s in the living room.

Inside, the smell of cinnamon and pine filled the air. Jack and Benedict were already by the fire, talking and laughing. When Toto entered, the boys stood, their expressions shifting from cheerful to guarded as they took in the sight of Y/N at his side.

Jack, the eldest, extended a hand. —Jack. Good to meet you.

She smiled, meeting his firm handshake. —Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you all.

—Same. —Jack replied, his tone unreadable.

Dinner was lavish and beautifully prepared, with everyone seated around a long oak table decorated with garlands and candles. Though the conversation was cordial, Y/N couldn’t ignore the occasional glances exchanged between the siblings. Questions were asked—about her work, her family, and how she and Toto met. It wasn’t overtly hostile, but there was an undercurrent of skepticism, especially from Jack.

It wasn’t until after dessert, when the family gathered by the fire for games, that the mood began to shift.

—Charades? —Rosa suggested, her voice light. —We haven’t played in ages.

Jack smirked. —Perfect. Let’s see how good Y/N is under pressure.

Y/N glanced at Toto, who gave her a reassuring smile. —You’ll be fine. Just don’t take it easy on them.

The game began, and to everyone’s surprise, Y/N threw herself into it with enthusiasm. Her exaggerated gestures and quick thinking had Rosa and Benedict laughing so hard they were wiping away tears. Even Jack cracked a grin when she acted out “skiing penguin” with theatrical flair.

—Okay, I admit it. —Jack said after her team won. —You’re pretty good at this.

—Pretty good? —Y/N teased, catching Toto’s eye. —I think you mean unbeatable.

By the time the game ended, the tension had dissolved into genuine camaraderie. As they gathered around to exchange gifts, Rosa handed Y/N a small box.

—This is from all of us. —she said with a shy smile.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a snowflake charm. —We figured you’d want something to remember your first Christmas with us.

Y/N blinked back tears, her voice soft. —Thank you. This means so much.

Benedict stepped forward, clearing his throat.—Look, I know we were a bit… skeptical at first. But it’s clear you make Dad happy. And that’s what matters.

Toto placed an arm around her shoulders, his expression full of pride. —See? I told you they’d come around.

Later that night, as the snow fell gently outside, Y/N and Toto stood by the window, watching his children laugh together by the fire.

—Merry Christmas. —she whispered, leaning into him.

Toto kissed her temple, his voice warm. —Merry Christmas, liebling. You’re part of this family now.

And for the first time, Y/N felt like she truly belonged.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWO ━━ Quickly-Growing-Maybe-Soon-Best-Friend

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 3.6K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex but not much

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: paige is so down bad already and girl doesn’t even realize it…….. also my bad this is such a filler

PAIGE THINKS she might be in love with Jo Jacobson.

Not like that, of course. It’s not romantic, not even close. It’s more of an “I think this person is becoming my favorite human” kind of thing. Paige can’t really explain it, but there’s just something about Jo—and these past three weeks of living together have only solidified it.

From the first night in their shared apartment, when they’d sat on the couch in their living room in awkward silence, to now, where there’s never really any silence at all, one of them constantly talking the others ears off like they’ve known each other forever. Paige has always been the kind of person to warm up to others quickly, her extroverted energy practically bursting out of her, but Jo? Jo’s a little quieter, slightly more reserved. She’s not shy by any means, but there’s a certain softness to her that makes Paige want to protect her from anything and everything.

Paige adores that softness. Jo’s the kind of person who makes you feel calm just by being near her, like she has this invisible aura that radiates peace. She’s always smiling—bright and genuine, like she’s just happy to be here, happy to exist. Paige can’t help but smile back whenever Jo’s around. It’s infectious, really.

Truthfully, their personalities shouldn’t blend as well as they do—Paige’s loud, chaotic voice nervy should theoretically overwhelm Jo’s somewhat quieter demeanor—but somehow, it works. They’ve fallen into this easy rhythm of teasing each other, sharing random late-night thoughts, and laughing until their stomachs hurt over the dumbest things.

Like last week, when Jo walked in on Paige attempting to balance her basketball on her head for no reason other than she was bored. Instead of questioning it, Jo just laughed so hard she almost fell over, and then proceeded to try it herself. They spent the next several minutes in a competition over who could balance it the longest, which, for the record, Jo totally won. Paige pretended to be mad, but she wasn’t. She was too busy fighting back a grin as she watched Jo laugh loudly, making an L with her fingers and putting it right in front of Paige’s face.

Paige doesn’t know if she’s pushing it, but it’s been a while since she’s felt this connected to someone so quickly. Yes, she has her circle of close friends on the team—Azzi, Nika, Caroline, the list goes on—but there’s something different about Jo. Something special. Maybe it’s the way Jo listens so intently when Paige is ranting about some random topic. Or the way she’s always down to join Paige for a late-night shooting session, no questions asked. Or maybe it’s just the way Jo seems to understand Paige, even without her having to say much at all.

And don’t even get Paige started on their on-court chemistry. It’s almost ridiculous how well they mesh. They’re both natural point guards, which should make things complicated, but instead, it’s like they just get each other. During practices and scrimmages, it feels like Paige always knows where Jo is without having to look, and vice versa. They’ve perfected this unspoken language of no-look passes and perfectly timed cuts, and it’s perfect. Paige is convinced that when the season starts in November, they’re going to be unstoppable.

Today, they’re matched up against each other in their five-on-five, full-court scrimmage. Paige thrives in this environment, where the game is fast and physical, where every decision has to be made in a split second.

Right now, though, Jo is making Paige work.

Jo has the ball at the top of the key, her dribble steady and deliberate as she surveys the court. Paige crouches low in her defensive stance, her arms extended, her gaze locked on Jo’s every move. Jo’s face is calm, composed, but Paige can see the wheels turning. She’s looking for an opening, one Paige isn’t about to give her.

“Whatchu got, JoJo?” the blonde teases, voice light but goading.

Jo doesn’t take the bait, hardly even glancing at her, but Paige can see the corner of her mouth twitch like she’s fighting back a smile. It’s enough to make Paige grin, but she quickly suppresses it. She tells herself to focus.

Jo dribbles to her right, testing Paige’s reaction. Paige shifts with her, staying low and quick on her feet. Jo pivots, fakes left, then spins back to her right, her movements so smooth and seamless that Paige almost gets caught off guard. Almost.

The blonde recovers quickly, sliding her feet to cut Jo off, and the two of them are chest to chest now, close enough that Paige can hear Jo’s steady breathing. “Come on, freshie,” Paige whispers lowly, smirking, her tone playful but challenging.

Jo still doesn’t respond, focus unshakeable, not the type to yap on the court. She steps back, creating just enough space to pull up for a three. Paige jumps to contest, her hand outstretched, but the ball is already in the air. It arcs perfectly, hitting nothing but net.

As Jo lands, she jogs backward, prepared to get back on defense. But as she catches Paige’s eye, she sticks her tongue out at her. The gesture is quick, cheeky, and it makes Paige shake her head, biting back a grin. “Okay,” she mutters under her breath, “I see you.”

And she does. God, does she see her—and, God, does she understand why Jo was the number one recruit in the nation.

The next possession, Paige has the ball. She brings it up the court with that signature strut in her step, the kind that says she knows she’s about to make something happen. Jo’s in front of her, her stance low and her eyes locked on Paige like she’s dating her to try something.

Paige smirks. She loves a challenge.

She dribbles left, then crosses over to her right, her movements sharp and quick. Jo stays with her, her defense tight, and Paige feels a flicker of frustration. Jo’s good—really good. It’s annoying, but also exciting. Paige thrives on competition, and Jo is proving to be one of the best matchups she’s had in a while.

Paige steps back, her dribble steady, and sizes Jo up. She tilts her head for a second, blue eyes locked on brown. And then, in a flash, she’s driving to the basket, using her speed to get a step on Jo.

But Jo recovers fast, her arms reaching out to contest as Paige goes for the layup. The ball rolls off the backboard and through the net, and Paige lands with a triumphant grin. She turns to Jo, who’s already jogging back to the other end of the court.

“Close,” Paige calls after her. “But not close enough.”

Jo doesn’t say anything, just glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile that makes Paige’s chest tighten.

The scrimmage continues, and it’s a back-and-forth between Paige and Jo’s teams. On offense, Jo’s movements are deliberate and precise, her passes crisp and her shot deadly. Her connection with Dorka is impressive, the brunette getting past Paige’s defense too many times for her liking, sending the Hungarian dime after dime. On defense, Jo’s relentless, always in Paige’s space, always making her work for every point. And it only gets worse when Nika and Jo double-team her, two of the best defenders on their team.

But Paige gives as good as she gets. She uses her quickness and court vision to set up her teammates, threading passes through tight spaces and hitting open shooters. She drives to the basket with her usual confidence, finishing through contact.

At one point, Paige gets the ball on the wing, Jo right in front of her. She dribbles a few times, rocking back and forth like she’s deciding what to do. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, she blows past Jo and pulls up for a mid-range jumper. The hall swishes through the net, and Paige can’t help but shoot Jo a quick, cocky grin as she hits back on defense.

Jo shakes her head, her own smile breaking through despite herself. “Not bad,” she says softly, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

“Not bad?” Paige echoes, feigning offense. “That was textbook.”

Jo just laughs a little, her eyes crinkling at her corners, and Paige feels the need to fight back one of her own. She shoves it down, focusing on the game, but the need is there, lingering, buzzing at the edges of her thoughts.

By the end of the scrimmage, both of them are drenched in sweat, their faces flushed from exertion. Jo’s team wins by a single point, thanks to a clutch three she drains in Paige’s face.

As they walk off the court, Paige shakes her head, a mix of frustration and admiration swirling in her chest. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says, bumping Jo’s shoulder with her own.

Jo grins, glowing with the face of someone who’s just won. “You just can’t handle the face that I’m better than you,” she teases, nudging her back.

Paige laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, yeah, keep dreaming ‘bout that one.”

But as they head to the locker room, Paige can’t stop the smile that tugs at her lips. There’s something so effortless about it all—like Jo’s meant to be here, meant to be Paige’s teammate, her roommate, her… quickly-growing-maybe-soon-best-friend?

Paige thinks back to one of their conversations a few nights ago. Jo had been sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone while Paige was sprawled on the floor, eating Hot Cheetos, not paying any attention to the Grey’s Anatomy episode that was playing on the TV. They two of them had been talking about everything and nothing—summer classes, music, how gross Amari’s pasta was that she made the night prior. At one point, Jo had said something about how surreal it still felt to be here, with everyone, preparing to play Connecticut basketball.

Paige had looked up at her then, really looked at her, and felt this overwhelming sense of pride for someone she’s only known for a few weeks. Jo deserved to be here. She deserved every bit of success coming her way, and Paige couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

And Paige thinks that again now, as they walk side by side, knowing how much Jo Jacobson’s managed to make herself matter to Paige within a few measly weeks. Once again, not in a romantic way—because Jo’s in love with that boy, and it’s looking like she’s about as straight as they come—but in a way that feels just as significant. Jo isn’t just her teammate or her roommate. She’s almost like her person, or at least, she’s quickly becoming something of the sort.

JO WAKES UP groggy, her body tangled in sheets that suddenly feel too warm. Her head pounds slightly, though not from drinking—she’d been stone-cold sober last night. No, her headache stems from the distinct lack of sleep caused loud, unmistakable sounds that had her burying her head under her pillow to drown them out. She stretches out in bed, her limbs tangling in the sheets as her brain sluggishly catches up to the morning.

The muffled, rhythmic noises that had bled through the thin apartment walls are still fresh in her memory, making her cringe and laugh all at once. Paige has been away some nights due to certain… activities… but yesterday was the first time she brought the activities home. Jo groans, dragging a hand over her face.

She grabs her phone off the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen. 11:07 AM. Too late to justify staying in bed any longer but not quite late enough to feel and about sleeping in. With a sigh, she swings her legs over the side, her bare feet hitting the cold floor.

The idea of a run floats into her mind—something to shake off the sleep-deprivation gaze and clear her head. She pads over to her dresser, grabbing her tiny back Lululemon shorts that are probably a little too short for decency and a snug tank top that clings to her in all the right ways. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she ties her hair into a ponytail. Good enough.

If it was any other day, she’d knock on Paige’s door and ask if she wants to come along. They’ve started running together some mornings, and Paige’s competitive streak always makes it fun. But this morning, she doesn’t even consider it.

Jo knows Paige had company last night. Loud company. She rolls her eyes just thinking about it, fighting off a smirk. Paige wasn’t exactly subtle, and Jo doesn’t need the details to know what went down in the room across the hall. Whoever the girl was probably slept over, and the last thing Jo wants is to walk into Paige’s room and catch them in some awkward post-hookup moment.

With a sigh, she leaves her room and heads to the kitchen. The apartment is quiet now, a contrast to last night. Jo opens the fridge, pulling out what she needs to make herself a smoothie. As she gathers them, she shakes her head, still bemused by Paige’s complete lack of shame. It’s not like Jo’s a prude—she’s in a long-term relationship herself—but Paige’s ability to just… live her life so unapologetically is both baffling and oddly admirable.

Jo starts piling everything into the blender, her movements slow and deliberate as her tired bran catches up with her body. The faint hum of the apartment feels peaceful—until she hears the quiet freak of a door behind her.

Jo turns, expecting Paige, but her eyes widen slight at the sight of that greets her instead.

Celeste Sinclair.

The team’s media girl.

Jo blinks, not quite believing her eyes. Celeste looks like she’s just stumbled out of a damn tornado. Her fiery red hair sticks up in every possible direction, and her oversized T-shirt is unmistakably inside out. Her cheeks are flushed—whether from embarrassment or something else, Jo isn’t sure—and she’s moving with the caution of someone who really doesn’t want to be noticed.

Well, too late for that.

Jo bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from outright laughing. Of all people, Paige chose her? It’s not like Jo’s judging—she’s not. But the sheer audacity of Paige hooking up with the team’s media girl is enough to make Jo want to burst out laughing. Like, she knows Paige is kind-of unapologetically a slut, but damn.

Celeste freezes when she sees Jo, her eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. For a long moment, neither of them says anything, the awkward tension hanging thick in the air.

Finally, Jo decides to break the silence. “Hi, Celeste,” she says slowly, keeping her tone light and her smile as kind as possible. She’s not about to be rude—that’s not who she is—but the situation is so ridiculous it takes every ounce of self-control to not smirk, let alone cackle at the girl before her.

“Hi, Jo,” Celeste replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifts awkwardly, clearly mortified with the whole situation.

Jo glances back at the blender, pretending to focus on it to give Celeste a moment to collect herself. “Um…” Jo begins, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this worse. Keeping her tone as genuine as possible, she gestures to the blender and asks, “Do you want a smoothie?”

Celeste’s eyes widen even more, and she shakes her head so fast her hair bounces. “Thanks, but um—I’ve got to go,” she says, her words tumbling out in a rush. Without waiting for a response, she bolts for the door like her life depends on it.

It clicks shut behind her, and the apartment falls silent again. For a moment, Jo just stands there, staring at the spot where Celeste had been.

And then she loses it.

Jo leans over the counter, her forehead pressing against her folded arms as laughter shakes from her shoulder. She turns the blender on as she tries to stifle it, the sound of the mixing swallowing the sound of Jo’s giggles. The entire situation—the ungodly loud moans from last night, Celeste’s walk of shame, the inside-out shirt—is just too ridiculous.

She barely registers the sound of Paige’s door opening again until her roommate’s voice cuts through the hum of the blender.

“You gotta be doin’ that right now?” Paige asks groggily, her words slow and raspy from sleep.

Jo lifts her head slightly, peeking out between her fingers to see Paige standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand and bracing herself against the doorframe with the other. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing plaid pajama pants that hang low on her lips and a black Nike sports bra, her toned arms and midriff catching the faint morning light streaming through the blinds.

Jo doesn’t answer right away, partly because she’s still laughing and partly because her gaze catches on the faint purple mark blooming on the side of Paige’s neck.

That does it. Jo’s face drops back into her hands as another wave of laughter overtakes her, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“What’s funny?” Paige asks, her voice tinged with curiosity and laced with a tired, small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. She crosses her arms loosely over her chest, leaning against the doorway as she watches Jo with a bemused expression.

It takes Jo a full minute to catch her breath. When she finally looks up, her cheeks ache from smiling, and her stomach feels sore from laughing so hard. She swipes at the corner of her eye, blinking away the last remnants of her amusement before finally answering.

“Celeste is crazy, P,” the brunette says, shaking her head as if she can’t quite believe it herself.

The effect is immediate. A pink flush creeps up Paige’s neck and into her cheeks, the color depending as she straightens up slightly. Her arms uncross, and she fidgets, her fingers curling against the hem of her pajama pants.

“You saw her?” Paige asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. For a brief moment, Jo notices something she doesn’t usually associate with Paige: embarrassment. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a flicker of vulnerability in the way Paige avoids her eyes and rubs the back of her neck. It surprises Jo—the blonde has never seemed particularly guilty when discussing her extracurricular activities with their teammates, so why would this be any different?

“Heard her, too,” Jo says, her grin threatening to split her face. Her tone is teasing, light, but she doesn’t miss the way Paige’s blush deepens. Jo can’t resist pushing it just a little further. She leans forward, putting on her best mock-whiny impression of Celeste, and moans dramatically, “Paige! Oh, Paige, don’t stop!”

Paige’s eyes immediately widen in horror, and her mouth drops open in indignation. “Shut up!” she exclaims, grabbing the nearest thing she can find—Jo’s stuffed animal, Bubbles—and tossing it at her with as much force as she can muster.

Jo catches it with ease, still laughing as she hugs the plush turtle to her chest, feigning offense. “Hey! Don’t be throwing Bubbles like that,” she pouts, sticking her lower lip out in exaggerated mockery.

Paige rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she shuffles toward the counter. She drops onto one of the barstools, her elbows propped up on the surface as she buries her face in her hands for a moment. When she looks up again, she’s rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she says softly, her voice tinged with genuine guilt. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Jo arches a brow, her amusement softening into incredulity. “Literally nothing could’ve put me to sleep during that,” she deadpans, turning back to the blender and shutting it off.

Paige straightens up slightly, defensive now. “Well, you’ve always got your fuckin’ noise machine so loud. I thought that might drown it out!”

Jo shakes her head, still grinning. “Nothing could’ve drowned that girl out, P.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s no malice behind it. She doesn’t actually care—not really.

Paige frowns, mumbling, “Sorry,” again as she picks at the edge of the counter.

Jo places Bubbles down gently, her smile softening. “It’s okay,” she says, and she means it. Jo isn’t the type to hold grudges, especially not over something as silly as this. Besides, Paige’s bashfulness is almost endearing—it’s not a side of her Jo sees often.

She pours the smoothie into two glasses, sliding one across the counter toward Paige before taking a sip of her own. The cool, fruity flavor is refreshing, cutting through the heaviness of the morning.

“Get changed,” Jo says after a moment, her tone light and commanding. She flashes Paige a cheeky, sunshine-stained smile. “We’re going on a run.”

Paige groans, leaning back dramatically. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Jo replies, her grin widening. She lifts her glass in a mock toast before adding, “And you’re paying for my post-run cake pop.”

That earns her another groan and a half-hearted glare from Paige, but Jo knows she’s already won. The promise of Starbucks is enough to get Paige moving, even if she grumbles the whole way there.

[the-offside-rule]

Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona) - Secreto

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: mentions of injury

Pedri adjusted the collar of his new Barcelona jersey, feeling the weight of the photoshoot ahead. He rarely interacted with the women’s team, but today was different. They’d all been brought together to model the new 2024/25 jerseys. His mind raced, though, not because of the cameras but because of one person who’d be there; Y/n.

He’d met her briefly during his time at Las Palmas, back when they were both just kids with dreams. She was an incredible player, her talent undeniable, but what enchanted him most was her laugh and the way her eyes lit up when she talked. Back then, she seemed interested in one of his teammates, so he kept his distance. But now, fate had intervened. Y/n was back in Barcelona after her loan spell, and he couldn’t let this opportunity slip.

As he stepped into the studio, he spotted her instantly. Y/n was with her teammate Jana, the two of them laughing over some inside joke. Her laughter rang through the room, and for a moment, Pedri forgot how to breathe. Gavi nudged him. "Qué pasa contigo? Pareces un tonto." (What's wrong with you? You look like a fool.)

"Cállate." (Shut up.) Pedri muttered, his cheeks flushing. They walked over to the pair, and Pedri’s heart raced as Y/n glanced up at him. When she smiled, he felt his knees weaken. "Hola, Pepi." She said, her voice light and teasing. "Hola, Y/n." He managed to say, his voice quieter than he intended. "Estás listo para ser modelo?" (Are you ready to be a model?) Jana joked, nudging Y/n. "Y tu? Siempre pareces preparada." (And you? You always look ready.) Gavi shot back, making everyone laugh.

Y/n smiled over at Pedri, her gaze lingering just long enough to make his heart stutter. He felt like the world had tilted slightly on its axis. The director clapped his hands. "Vamos, chicos! Necesitamos que se vean naturales. Rían, hablen, pásenla bien." (Come on, guys! We need you to look natural. Laugh, talk, have fun.)

They were paired together for the first set of photos, standing side by side in front of the camera. Gavi and Jana stood off to the side, watching through the monitor. "Enntonces, cómo te ha ido desde Las Palmas?" (So, how have you been since Las Palmas?) Pedri asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Bastante bien. Aunque no pensé que te volvería a ver tan pronto." (Pretty good. Though, I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon.) She replied, smiling. "Yo tampoco. Pero me alegra que estés aquí." (Me neither, but I'm happy you're here." He said softly, his nerves beginning to fade. Her smile widened. "Ah, sí? Por qué?" (Oh, yeah? Why?)

"Porque nunca tuve la oportunidad de hablar contigo antes." (Because I never got the chance tk talk to you before." He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. She looked at him, slightly surprised but amused. "Eso es un cumplido o una confesión?" (Is that a compliment or a confession?)

"Ambos." (Both.) He said with a grin, making her laugh. The director called out again, encouraging them to keep the natural energy. Pedri gathered his courage. "Después de esto, te gustaría ir a comer algo?" (After this, would you like to grab some food?) Y/n’s laughter caught him off guard. His chest tightened, assuming the worst, but then she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and quickly clarified.

"Claro que sí! Solo no esperaba que tardaras tanto en preguntarme." (I just didnt expect you to take so long to ask.) She said, her tone playful. Pedri blinked, then broke into a wide grin. "En serio?" (Really?)

"Sí. No seas tan nervioso." Yes. Don't be so nervous.) She teased, her laugh softening any sting. They both laughed, the sound genuine and warm. The photographer captured the moment, snapping the perfect natural shot. Gavi and Jana exchanged knowing looks from behind the camera.

As the photoshoot wrapped up, Pedri leaned closer to Y/n. "Espero que te guste la comida que elija." (I hope you like the food I pick.) He whispered. "Seguro que sí." (I'm sure I will.) She said, smiling up at him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The energy at Estadi Johan Cruyff was electric. The women’s clásico between Barcelona and Madrid was always intense, and today was no exception. Pedri sat in the stands with Gavi and a few other teammates, his heart pounding—not just because of the game, but because of her. Y/n. She was playing brilliantly, as always, darting across the pitch with precision and control. To the world, she was just another talented player, but to Pedri, she was so much more. The secret they shared made every stolen glance and subtle interaction all the more thrilling.

"Tranquilo, hermano." Gavi teased, noticing how focused Pedri was on her. Pedri didn’t respond, his eyes glued to the match. The tension peaked when a Madrid player lunged into a reckless slide tackle, sending Y/n crashing to the ground. Pedri stood up instantly, his heart in his throat. "Siéntate. Está bien." (Sit down. She is fine.) Gavi said, tugging at his sleeve. Pedri hesitated, his jaw tight, but stayed where he was—until he saw the stretcher being brought out. "No está bien." He muttered, brushing past Gavi. "Vuelvo enseguida." (She’s not fine. I’ll be right back.)

He made his way down to the sideline, ignoring the stares from fans and staff. His entire focus was on Y/n, who was now sitting on the pitch. But to his relief, she waved off the stretcher and began limping toward the sideline instead. As she reached him, Y/n glanced up and offered a half-hearted smile. "Pepi? Qué haces aquí?" (Pepi, what are you doing here?)

"Quería asegurarme de que estás bien." (I wanted to make sure you were okay.) He said, his voice soft but firm. As he helped the physio bring her into the dressing room.

The physio began examining her ankle, bending it carefully and asking her to do a few tests. Pedri stood close, listening intently. "Parece un esguince. Nada grave, pero necesitarás unas semanas de descanso." (Looks like a sprain. Nothing serious, but you'll need a few weeks of rest .) The physio explained. "Me aseguraré de que descanse." (I'll make sure she rests.) Pedri said without hesitation. The physio paused, grinning knowingly as his eyes flicked between the two of them. "Claro." He said with a small chuckle before walking away.

Pedri furrowed his brow. "Qué fue eso?" (What was that?) He asked, turning to Y/n. "Es que no hablo de novios con ellos." She admitted, shrugging. "Pero viéndote aquí y diciéndoles que vas a cuidarme, pues… ya lo saben." (It’s just that I don’t talk about boyfriends with them. But seeing you here and saying you’ll take care of me, well… now they know.) Pedri sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Lo siento. No quería arruinarlo." (I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess it up.)

Y/n grinned, her eyes softening. "No te preocupes. Solo el fisio lo sabe, así que estamos bien." (Don’t worry. Only the physio knows, so we’re fine.)

"Gavi lo sabe." Pedri admitted sheepishly. She rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. "Por supuesto que sí." (Of course he does.) Pedri leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Te cuidaré. Te lo prometo." (I’ll take care of you. I promise.) She tugged on the oversized coat he was wearing, pulling him closer before planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Sé que lo harás." (I know you will). She whispered.

Just then, the door to the locker room opened, and her teammates flooded in for halftime. Y/n and Pedri jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Alexia smirked. "Es lindo, pero él tiene que irse. Tenemos trabajo que hacer." (It’s cute, but he needs to go. We’ve got work to do.)

"Sí, claro." Pedri stammered, his face burning. "Buena suerte." (Yes, of course. Good luck.) Y/n chuckled as he turned and hurried out of the room. The moment the door shut, her teammates erupted into laughter and teasing.

Meanwhile, Pedri returned to his seat, only to find Gavi and the rest of the guys grinning at him. "Qué?" Pedri asked, sinking into his seat. "Solo digo que estarás escuchando esto por semanas." (I'm just saying, you'll be hearing about this for weeks.) Gavi said, smirking.

[lovetommyactually]

Buck stood in the middle of Bobby and Athena’s new living room, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. The room was warm, almost too warm, crowded with the people he loved most—Maddie resting her hand on her growing belly, Chimney chasing Jee as she squealed with glee, Hen and Karen trading stories with Bobby and Michael. Even May and Harry, were perched by the tree, teasing Denny and Mara over the presents they’d opened early. It was perfect—he was happy.

He’d spent the morning on the phone with Eddie and Chris, smiling as Chris gushed about the new videogame Eddie had surprised him with. “It’s perfect,” Buck had said, meaning it. He wanted to believe it. Eddie and Chris were having their own quiet Christmas this year, just the two of them with their family—and Buck, with all his love for the Diaz boys, thought they deserved it.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

He tried, he really did. Tried to focus on the cookies Athena had baked (because yes, Bobby let her take over his kitchen), tried to laugh at Chimney’s ridiculous dad jokes, tried not to think about Tommy’s laugh—soft and genuine, usually accompanied by that deep scrunchy lines.

Tried not to think how was Tommy gonna spend his Christmas.

Tried not to imagine what their Christmas could’ve been.

***

Tommy’s shift at harbor was busier than usual—calls coming in, the team on high alert with the unpredictable holiday rush. He welcomed it, let himself get caught up in the rhythm of the work. The guys he worked with didn’t let Christmas pass without something small: someone brought cake, another guy strung lights up around the break room. Tommy joined in, a cup of coffee in hand as they told dumb stories and swapped jokes.

“You got plans after this, Kinard?” one of the guys teased as Tommy shoved another bite of cake into his mouth.

“Nah,” Tommy replied easily, flashing a smile. “Got all the plans I need right here.”

It wasn’t a lie. The work had been enough—it usually was.

But when his shift ended, and he stepped into his dark, quiet house, that familiar emptiness crept in, no matter how much he told himself to ignore it. His fridge hummed as he opened it, eyes landing on the six-pack of beer sitting untouched on the shelf.

For a long moment, Tommy stared at it, the cold air brushing against his face.

Get it together, Tommy. Always the same.

He slammed the fridge door closed, the sound echoing through the silence of the house. His chest felt tight, too tight, so he turned on his heel, headed for the garage.

The dim light buzzed to life as he wrapped his hands—old tape, frayed at the edges. He didn’t even bother turning on the music. His knuckles hit the bag with force, and the ache in his muscles welcomed him like an old friend. He pushed harder, faster, each strike punctuated by the words he refused to say out loud.

“Why—” hit.

“—are you—” hit.

“—so weak, Tommy?” hit. hit.

By the time he stopped, his breath was ragged, sweat dripping from his brow. He leaned his forehead against the bag, shutting his eyes.

It’s fine, he told himself. It’s nothing new. You’re fine, Tommy.

But as he stood there, the silence pressing in around him, he wondered—for the first time in a long time—what it might feel like to finally stop doing this alone.

To have someone waiting for him when he walked through the door.

To have Evan waiting for him.

Tommy swallowed hard, shoved the thought back, and stepped away from the bag.

It didn’t matter. This was just another Christmas.

[stellarfire]

good morning y’all !! now that i’ve had time to sleep on the crossover… oh my god ?? and i mean that in the best way possible. this was everything to me omg

although there were some things i lowkey wish we could’ve seen (i.e., more kelly and voight tension, potential my miracle parallel with stellaride), not getting them honestly didn’t take away at all from how much i loved this? more thoughts below the cut bc i got very rambly (and spoilers i guess ??)

starting with stellaride bc they’re my lovelies, obsessed with literally all their scenes. the intro? perfection. stella telling kelly to be careful without knowing she would be the one in the most danger the whole time? o w. “stella kidd, report back right now”? O W. and the more i think about it, the more i’m almost kinda glad we didn’t get the my miracle parallel? i mean sure, the absolute emotional gut punch would’ve done wonders, but there’s something that feels so much more intrinsically them about refusing to say goodbye to each other (namely stella refusing) and instead maintaining that fierce hope that everything would sort itself out and they’d be back together. on top of that, their little reunion with kelly being like “let’s get out of here tonight” like YES please go on that goddamn vacation now you two deserve to go to cancún something awful. what we did get may not be as heavy of a punch, per se, but at least to me, it hit all the same, and my god was i a lowkey mess hearing kelly’s message to stella being what she told him that morning😭 “we gotta make the time” what if i collapse huh then what

i think this has the potential, judging by the promo as well as this article, to be such a good segue into them finally getting into the real deep conversations and i’m really curious to see how it plays out over the rest of the season. i know some people think there could be a “but…” to this, but even if there is, i don’t think it will be as major of one people might worry it could be. that said, will it be an easy path? definitely not. i know we’re about to get some semblance of drama before the end of the season (and i’m prepared)😭 but all things considered, we’re heading in the overall right direction !!

secondly, plouch. oh my god plouch. i haven’t gotten more emotional watching this show in so long than i did last night watching those two. mouch talking to trudy before she went under for surgery? nobody touch me i’m STILL recovering from that one😭 christian stolte the actor that you are WOW, he put 200% into that and it SHOWS

thank GOD tho she lived holy SHIT i was fucking petrified ripley and lenox were gonna come out and say she didn’t make it omg

just as i predicted too, burzek gave me emotional damage !! ruzek refusing to say goodbye and being insistent he would be home for dinner ?? letting mak pick it ?? the way kim literally BOOKED IT to him at the end and he picked her up ?? i can’t stop watching that it’s so so perfect😭

stella and ruzek was such an incredible duo too, i need more of them asap actually. the way they balanced each other out and relied on each other and just worked so seamlessly as a team by the end of it, despite not being super familiar with each other? SO GOOD

what stella did to duffy when he had her at gunpoint??? first off i’m stunned that happened i wasn’t expecting that shit literally at all and god was i living in fear for a few moments there. but secondly, i’m floored omg, STELLA KIDD THE WOMAN YOU ARE. we all knew how badass she was before this, but that was something else. i think i just fell in love with her all over again but i digress

also one last thing, pascal’s reaction to stella not answering ?? i could go on and on about kelly’s obviously but pascal’s honestly caught me by surprise considering how frequently they’ve butt heads this entire season. the genuine concern ?? OUCH. there’s hope for them yet !! seeing that side of him, even if brief, was a good emotional punch. that mf truly does fascinate me as a character. will be thinking about that entire sequence for a while

i won’t keep yapping; i think all of that about sums up what i can manage cohesively LMAO. was this crossover perfect? no, but you truly can see just how much love and care and effort went into this entire thing from everyone involved. and i think as much as i do love the infection crossover, i gotta say, i think this one takes it as number one for me. i will be watching all three episodes so many more times

one chicago my beloved <3

[sequinsmile-x]

Smoke Signals

On better days, when the good outweighed the bad, when she could see the innocence in her sons’ eyes or sat with her husband on the porch swing he’d built for her just because she said she wanted one, she liked to think she’d earned this. That everything she’d ever been through, every terrible, awful, thing had led her right to this. 

Emily has a bad day, hundreds of miles away from Aaron, and he goes to see her.

-x-

Hi friends <3

This is dedicated to all my pals on Twitter (I will never call it X haha) who asked very nicely for a fic along these lines haha and the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Plenty of soft Hotchniss - which I think is perfect for a Friday night.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs as she steps into her hotel room. Her shoulders slump as soon as she’s behind the closed door, the weight she’d been pretending wasn’t pressing on them all day forcing her forward towards the bed. She huffs as she sits on the edge of it, leaning forward and pressing her elbows onto her knees and her face into her hands. 

It had been a long day at the end of a long few weeks. Back-to-back cases, each more awful than the last, and interpersonal issues on the team had left her more wrung out than she had been in as long as she could remember. She’d spent much less time with her family than she wanted to, recently all too fleeting moments with her husband and children that just weren’t enough to counteract everything else. Seeing them, spending time with them and reminding herself of all the good there was in the world, the innocence she’d never failed to find in the laughter of one of her sons or the smile they’d all inherited from her husband an essential part in warding off her bad days. 

It was something that had started years ago when Aaron was simply her friend she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember. He’d shown up on her doorstep the morning after she’d told him she had a bad day, a conversation between the two of them on the jet that she never could have anticipated would turn into everything it had. It was a moment she could trace it all back to, the first glimpse of radical honesty between the two of them that had started to shift their relationship into what it now was. He knocked on her door so early she was still in her pjyamas, his eyes wide as she opened the door as if that was the first moment he’d considered she might have still been in bed when he got there. 

He’d asked if she wanted to go for breakfast, to have a conversation with someone who understood at least some of what she’d been through, an unusually vulnerable smile on his face as he looked down at her doormat as he said he knew what it was like to feel unsafe in his home. She’d said yes without really thinking about it, finally pulling the door open to let him into her apartment and she’d smiled shyly at him, hyper-aware of how short her sleep shorts were as she told him she needed to go change and that he could sit in the living room whilst he waited. 

When she walked out of her bedroom and found he’d cleaned her kitchen, dishes she’d ignored for days washed and dried and the surfaces wiped down. It was the first time she thought he might love her too. 

She blows out a breath as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, a genuine smile ghosting across her face at the picture she had set as her wallpaper. It was taken just a month ago at Jack’s 14th birthday party. He was standing in between Emily and Aaron, wide smiles on all of their faces. Issac was standing in front of Aaron, proudly displaying his gap-toothed grin, his first baby tooth having come out just the week before, and Elliot was sitting on Emily’s hip - the 4-year-old always keen to be as close to his mother as possible. She gives herself a second to stare at it, to run her finger over their faces, to try and absorb some of the good that radiated off of them through the screen, and then she unlocks it, searching for her husband’s contact so she can call him. 

He’d retired when Issac was born 6 years ago. 

They’d discussed it at length throughout her pregnancy, both of them aware that if they had made the choice to expand their family they had to make some changes, that it wasn’t fair to Jessica to continue to rely on her like they always had with Jack. They’d argued about who should leave the BAU more than once, each of them demanding it should be them. Eventually, Aaron had won out. He’d talked through her reasons for wanting to leave with her, helped her understand that her choosing to continue working wouldn’t make her turn into her mother. He knew without her having to say anything that was at the centre of her insistence to leave, that she wanted to break a cycle he knew she would never repeat, and he helped her through. 

The day he’d retired had been bittersweet. It was the end of something, the end of a career he’d given so much to, that he’d lost so much to, but the start of something new. A beginning found in an end that even just a few years previously was a step he wouldn’t have taken. He’d told her one night, his head on her bump, his cheek pressed against her skin as Issac shifted under it, that he didn’t want to waste his second chance to have a family. That he felt lucky he’d been given one and he wouldn’t screw it up for anything. 

It worked for them. She’d found it hard to go back to work after Issac, and she did again just a couple of years later when she had Elliot, but she adjusted. Got used to how her life looked now, how it all rested on the balance of the horrors she would see in her job, the difference she could make there, and the peace she found with her Hotchner boys. They were her port in the storm, the safety net she would always know was there, the home she’d never had until that early morning when Aaron knocked on the door of her old apartment. 

She closes her eyes as she holds the phone up to her ear, her teeth clenched tight as she tries to fight off the tears burning at the back of her eyes. He answers on the second ring, his phone always close by when she was away, and she feels the hole in her chest bloom with love for him the second she hears his voice. 

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She opens her eyes and tears spill down onto her cheeks. She immediately wipes them away, “Hi.” 

She can practically hear his frown, can picture the look on his face, and she knows she’s been caught out with one word. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She wants to lie. She wants to tell him everything is fine, that she’s just tired, but she can’t bring herself to. A long time ago, she would have, but she can’t bring herself to lie. She hadn’t been able to for years. Not to him, not when the desire to talk things through with him, to bask in his comfort, outweighed the deeply ingrained need she had to save face.

She chokes out a noise between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head, “It’s just…it’s been a bad day.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” he replies, and she wants nothing more than to sink into his embrace, to settle into the impossible warmth that followed him like a shadow. A sanctuary just for her and their sons, a place of safety she knows she could never live without again. “Bad case?” 

She hums as she shifts up the bed, not bothering to take her shoes off as she sits on top of the bedding, her back now against the headboard.

“Terrible case,” she mutters, “The victims are all teenage boys, it all hits a little too close to home,” she says, purposely holding back the fact they were all sandy-haired and looked like their eldest, not wanting him to feel the way she was right now, “And the team are…” she laughs mirthlessly, “Let’s just say, I don’t know how you were the boss as long as you were.” 

She disliked the politics of it, how the decisions she made even as the Unit Cheif had ramifications. It’s why she’d turned down a recent offer to become the Section Chief. She didn’t need the money and she definitely didn’t need the expectations that came with it, the hassle that inevitably came with getting any further up the food chain than she already was. 

The team were tired, furious at the back-to-back cases as if she wanted to be here, as if she wouldn’t also rather be at home with her family. They’d barely slept and were all running on fumes so emotions were high and fuses were short. The slightest thing set each other off to make sniping comments over paperwork issues or disagreements about the profile they were building. 

“Well,” he replies, his drawling voice enough to let her know he was smiling, that he was about to try and cheer her up, “At least you don’t have to try to manage you. I had that to deal with on top of everything else.” 

She laughs, the sound escaping her before she can hold it back and she shakes her head even though he can’t hear her, “Hey,” she says, injecting purposeful indignation into her voice, “I always apologised in your favourite way.” 

“You’re right, you did,” he says as he clears his throat, “Can I help?” 

“Are the boys there?” She asks hopefully, wanting nothing more than to hear one of their voices, but Aaron sighs, letting her know without saying anything that she wouldn’t get a chance to speak to them tonight, “Oh, that’s okay.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he replies, “Zac and Eli are in bed. Jack is out with his friends with a strict curfew of about half an hour from now.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, wiping fresh tears from her cheeks, “I think I’m just tired.”

“Try and get some sleep, Em. You’ll feel better for it.” 

She hums and rests her head back against the headboard, blowing out a shaky breath, “Yeah,” she chokes on a laugh, “I could really do with a hug right now.” 

He’s silent for a few seconds, and she briefly wonders if the call has dropped before he replies, “Well, the moment you get home I’ll hug you as much as you want to.”

A genuine smile spreads across her face and she presses her lips together to try and contain it, the expression at odds with how she was feeling, “Be careful what promises you make, honey. I’ll hold you to that.”

___

She can’t sleep. 

She spends hours tossing and turning in her hotel bed, her frustration increasing with every passing minute that sleep evades her. She sighs as she looks at the clock on the nightstand and sees it’s just past 3.30 am, she sits up, growling in irritation as she runs her fingers through her hair. She’s about to consider just going back to the precinct, keen to get this figured out as soon as possible so she can get home, when she hears a knock on the door. She frowns, frozen in bed for a moment, wondering if she’s imagined it, when she hears it again. She climbs out of bed, adjusting an old t-shirt of Aaron’s that she’d brought to wear as pjyamas so it falls back into place over her thighs, and she walks over to the door. 

She gasps as she looks through the peephole, her hands already undoing the locks on the door of their own volition, and she chokes out a laugh as she pulls it open and finds herself toe to toe with her husband. 

“Aaron…” she says, shaking her head, “What are you doing here?” 

He shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if he shouldn’t currently be hundreds of miles away in their home, and he smiles at her, “You said you needed a hug.” 

For a moment, it’s almost 8 years ago. She’s in her old apartment and he’s on her doorstep, the smile she would never have admitted to herself at the time made her stomach swoop painted across his face. His casual kindness fills the space between them as he offers his time up to her as if it weren’t one of the most precious things in the world. 

She briefly wonders if she’s dreaming. If she fell asleep at some point and imagined that he was here, but the second he steps towards her, the door to her room closing behind them, and pulls her into his arms she knows it’s real. No matter how used to his touch she was, how much it was an essential part of her life, she was never able to get it right in her dreams. Her love for him, and his love for her, better than anything her subconscious could come up with even after years of real-life experience. 

She sinks into his embrace, her face against his chest as he wraps his arms around her. She hooks her arms around his back, not caring that she’s slightly encumbered by the go-bag slung over his left shoulder, and she breathes him in. She settles into him, her eyes closed as he runs his hand up and down her back and kisses the top of his head. Her brain finally catches up with her and she pulls back to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” She asks, “What about the boys?” 

He smiles and raises his eyebrow at her and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, “14, 6 and 4 seemed like a good age to leave them alone for the first time,” he quips, his smile only getting wider when she glares at him, “Garcia is currently sleeping in our spare room and I’m assuming the breakfast she’ll make for them tomorrow will have more sugar in it than we usually allow them in a week.”

She laughs weakly, “Pen came over?”

He nods as he lets her go briefly enough to re-lock the door to the room and then he guides her to the unmade bed, his bag joining hers on the floor, “I called her, told her I was worried, and before I could even ask she was already suggesting she came over to stay with the ‘Mini Hotchs.’”

She shakes her head, “This once I’ll let the nickname for the boys slide,” she shifts as closely to him as she can, “How did you even get here? We spoke 6 hours ago you couldn’t have possibly got a flight in that time.” 

“I drove,” he replies, hooking his arms around her shoulders, resting his cheek on top of her head, “The roads were quiet.”

She hums and reaches for his hand to press their palms together, forever obsessed with the difference in size, how it never failed to make her feel safe, “I guess it's lucky I was on the East Coast.” 

“I would have driven to the other side of the country if you needed me, sweetheart. There’s nowhere I wouldn’t go and nothing I wouldn’t do.” 

She looks up from their hands and is unsurprised to find sincerity splashed across his face, love for her almost seeping from his pores. She cups his cheek and drags him in for a kiss, sighing contentedly into it as his hand skips up her thigh and lands on her hip. She pulls away and rests her forehead against his.

“Thank you,” she says, the words feeling inadequate, “I…you didn’t have to-”

“Yes I did,” he replies, cutting her off as he pulls back to look at her properly, his palm on her cheek as he smiles softly at her, “You were having a bad day.” He makes it sound so simple that it makes her ache, tears gathering in her eyes again as she shakes her head at him, overwhelmed by the love he had for her, for their family, that sometimes still didn’t feel real. He wipes away her tears as they slip from her lashline, “Hey, you’re okay, Em,” he says, tucking her against his side as he pulls her so close she ends up in his lap, the material of his jeans scratching against her bare thighs, “I’ve got you.” 

She cries like she never would in front of anyone else, her face warm and sticky against his neck as she sinks into him and the comfort he always brought. She had spent most of her life without love like this and thinking she’d never get it. She never thought she would have someone who would love her enough to drop everything and drive to her just because she said she needed a hug. It overwhelms her and it makes her wonder what she’d ever done to deserve it, to deserve him. On better days, when the good outweighed the bad, when she could see the innocence in her sons’ eyes or sat with her husband on the porch swing he’d built for her just because she said she wanted one, she liked to think she’d earned this. That everything she’d ever been through, every terrible, awful, thing had led her right to this. 

“It’s so stupid that I’m crying,” she says, sniffing as she extracts her face from his neck, “It’s just a bad day.”

“It’s never just a bad day, sweetheart,” he says, wiping her cheeks, “And is it we always tell the boys?”

She smiles, her cheeks warm as he uses the comforting tone he always used when the boys were sad or hurt, “That their feelings aren’t stupid.” 

“Exactly,” he says, leaning forward and stamping a kiss against her lips, “So yours aren’t either,” he stands up and offers her a hand, pulling her up as she accepts it and she immediately leans against him, “You need some sleep, we both do,” he says, running his fingers through her hair, “Is it fair to assume you haven’t slept at all?”

She narrows her eyes as she pulls back from him, “You think you know me so well.” 

He smiles and kisses her, “I do. Very well,” he kisses her again and pulls back, “Get into bed, I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

She nods and separates herself from him. It feels almost impossible, as if a magnetic pull is dragging her back towards him, but she does it, climbs back under the covers she’d found no rest in so far that evening. She watches as he gets changed, her eyes flicking over long-healed scars, the marks on his skin as familiar to him as her own, before they get covered with his pjyamas. He slips into bed next to her and she immediately curls up around him, her head on his chest and her leg thrown over his hip. She hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around her, one of his hands on her thigh and the other on her back, his palm warm through the material of her t-shirt. 

“Elliot made friends with the new kid at preschool today,” Aaron says, his lips against her forehead, his hand running soothing circles on her back, gently lulling her to sleep with his touch and his soft words about his son, a story from home that he knew she needed without needing to be told, “He told me all about it when he got home.”

She smiles, love for her youngest blooming in her chest, the flowers of it almost making it hard to breathe, and not for the first time, she wondered how she had made someone so perfect, “He did?” 

“He did,” he confirms, kissing her forehead before he carries on, “He said he showed her around and gave her part of his cookie.”

She sighs contentedly as she closes her eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep as he tells her about their son’s day at school, his voice and touch soft as he reminds her that even on the bad days she has good things in her life. 

-x-

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[papagabu]

I’ve only recently in the past couple of weeks started posting about my AU, Metal Breakers. But I mentioned I started coming up with ideas months prior to now, and this wasn’t actually the first idea I had in the early stages. I actually had two other ideas for an AU, one being what eventually became the Metal Breakers AU.

The first was the one that eventually became this AU; it was initially this dumbass idea that was kind of like Sonic Prime. But the main premise was Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Amy all were fighting Eggman, trying to stop some kind of ultimate weapon he created. And they’d get isekai'd into a fucked-up post-apocalyptic world set in the past. where they’d team up with this universe's younger versions of themselves and use their knowledge of future events to help save the world and find a way back to theirs. I basically just took the post-apocalyptic setting and made an AU that I think is much better, not that I think this idea couldn’t work, but I just ended up thinking it was kinda dumb.

The second was an entirely separate idea, one I might revisit because I feel like it’s a somewhat unique take on the now sorta cliché “What if Tails was fucked up and evil and killed people?” Thing. It was an idea that is set up with the premise of “What if Tails met Sonic but was already on the tipping point?” So Sonic just barely manages to squeeze himself into Tails’ life to leave an impact but was too late to save him from turning insane from the years of being bullied and ostracized. The idea I had was Tails would be obsessed with gaining, replicating, or controlling Sonic’s power, so he pretends to be his cute, innocent best friend, but then also a part of Tails does genuinely care about Sonic and want to be his friend. So Tails is torn between his ambitions of creating a perfect utopia where no one will suffer like he did and his heart's desire to be with Sonic (NON-ROMANTICALLY!)

Edit: I decided I will revisit that Idea, but I’m not gonna put as much effort into it as Metal Breakers. It’ll just be a little side AU while most of my focus goes to Metal Breakers.

[legendary-69420]

In between Floors

Chapter 3

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

The day had been long, grueling even, but as the Ferrari team shuffled into the hotel lobby after the race, a sense of satisfaction settled over them. P3 and P4 weren’t the top results they were gunning for, but there was a quiet pride in their performance—a sense of having pushed their limits without breaking. The sound of footsteps on polished floors echoed in the expansive lobby, mingling with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses from the bar. Even the team’s usual chatter seemed quieter tonight, everyone tired but content.

Mark walked alongside Charles, the weight of the day still clinging to his muscles, but a smirk playing on his lips nonetheless. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now. "What do you think about dinner?" he asked Charles, his voice low, more out of habit than genuine curiosity.

Charles, who had been trying to stifle a yawn since they left the track, looked up at him with a distracted smile. "I think we should just get back to our rooms. I’m exhausted."

The two of them entered the elevator together, Mark briefly checking his phone one last time as Charles pressed the button for their floor. The soft ding of the elevator closing felt like a small reprieve from the chaos of the race day. But just as the doors slid shut, there was a jolt—a strange, sudden halt that made the elevator’s lights flicker ominously.

Charles frowned, pressing the button for their floor again, but there was no response. Another few moments passed, each one longer than the last, before he cursed softly under his breath. "Of course," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This happens now?"

Mark glanced up from his phone, his eyebrow raised slightly. "What happened?"

"The elevator’s stuck," Charles said, his tone barely containing his irritation. "Perfect way to end the night, right?"

Mark chuckled, a sound that was light and easy. "Hey, at least it’s not raining or something." He slid down to sit against the wall, stretching his legs in front of him. "Could be worse."

Charles raised an eyebrow, considering Mark’s ability to remain unfazed. For some reason, that grounded him a little, even though his patience was wearing thin. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall too, his eyes closing for just a moment. There was no telling how long they’d be stuck in this cramped, claustrophobic space. The weight of the day was beginning to settle in, pressing against his chest like a physical force. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, allowing himself to relax just a little.

But Mark, ever the contrast, seemed perfectly at ease. "You know," he started, looking at Charles with a grin, "we could always turn this into a bonding experience. I’m sure the universe thinks we need some one-on-one time."

Charles snorted, opening one eye to glance at Mark, who was clearly trying to keep the mood light. "Oh really? You’re gonna make me enjoy being stuck in an elevator?"

"Why not? There’s a first time for everything," Mark shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe you’ll get some good material for the next press conference."

Charles couldn’t help but chuckle, though the sound was more exhausted than anything. He appreciated Mark’s ability to keep things light even in uncomfortable situations, especially when Charles was prone to stress. "Maybe I’ll say I had to rescue you from a life-or-death situation," he teased.

Mark’s smile widened. "Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure your heroism would shine through. Just don’t expect any medals."

The conversation trailed off into comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the occasional hum of the elevator’s motor and the soft creaking of the walls. Mark pulled his phone out again, scrolling nothing specific idly, though he kept an ear on Charles, noticing the way the man’s breathing had slowed as the tension in the space loosened. There was a certain ease in the way Mark held himself, as though the discomfort of being stuck in an elevator wasn’t a big deal to him. It was almost like he was at home, the same way he would be in any other situation, whether it was in front of a crowd or in this small, confined space.

After a while, Charles noticed the slow rise and fall of Mark’s chest and the way his posture softened. There was something about the stillness between them that felt unusually intimate. Mark’s jokes had slowly faded into quieter comments, and the energy around them had shifted. It wasn’t just the tiredness of the day creeping up on them; it was something more subtle, like an unspoken understanding in the air, a shared moment of vulnerability that neither of them could have predicted. And surprisingly there was no trace of any awkwardness or tension that built up due to the kisses.

Then, to Charles’ surprise, Mark yawned deeply, his back arching as he stretched his arms above his head. "Man, I could totally fall asleep right here," he mumbled, more to himself than to Charles. "Like, this is the perfect spot for a nap."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re insane. You can’t sleep here."

But Mark, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, simply closed his eyes, as if to prove his point. "Watch me."

Charles rolled his eyes, but there was a small, amused smile on his face as he watched Mark settle in, arms folded behind his head. There was something oddly comforting about Mark’s ability to just…be. To make peace with the situation. To find humor in everything.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Charles was beginning to doze off as well, the gentle hum of the elevator and Mark’s calm presence around him lulling him into a half-dream state. But suddenly, he felt Mark shift beside him, turning slightly as if he was adjusting his position. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite. Mark’s shoulder brushed against Charles’, a quiet, familiar contact that didn’t seem forced or awkward. It was simply…natural.

Before Charles could process what was happening, Mark's own head shifted unconsciously, and he found it leaning gently against Charles’ shoulder. The unexpected contact wasn’t shocking, but it still caused a soft flutter in his chest. Mark glanced up, wondering if Charles would move away or say something, but Charles didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Either way, Charles or Mark couldn’t bring themself to pull away.

Minutes stretched on, and Charles felt his own body relax into the warmth of Mark’s presence. He had no idea why, but the steady rise and fall of Mark’s breath, the gentle weight of his body beside him, seemed to melt away the stress and tension that had built up throughout the day. It was so simple, so quietly comforting.

Eventually, Charles’ eyelids fluttered closed, and before he realized it, he had fallen asleep.

It was the hum of the elevator motor that roused Charles from his deep sleep. He blinked a few times, his mind slowly coming to the realization that the elevator was moving again. A soft warmth on his shoulder told him exactly where he was, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed that Mark had fallen asleep too—his head resting against Charles’, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

For a moment, Charles simply stared at Mark, unable to shake the soft warmth in his chest. It was an entirely new feeling, this proximity, this shared vulnerability. There was something undeniably comforting in this unexpected closeness. His heart beat a little faster than usual, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. He almost didn’t want to move, to disturb the quiet moment.

When the elevator finally gave a soft ding, signaling that they had reached their floor, Charles nudged Mark gently. "Hey," he whispered. "We’re here."

Mark stirred, blinking open his eyes groggily. "Did we fall asleep?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Charles nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it."

Mark stretched out, yawning, and grinned as he rose to his feet. "Not bad for an elevator nap, huh?"

Charles couldn’t help but laugh quietly. "Yeah, you might be the first person I know who can sleep through something like that."

As they stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, side by side, Charles caught himself glancing at Mark more than once. It was an odd sensation—the easy, almost effortless camaraderie that had developed between them, something he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been there, quietly building beneath the surface.

(Dividers by @mikeykuns & @toxisyddy)

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

And I Know It's Sad, But This Is What I Think About

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 4

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.2k words

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of alcohol, spoilers for The Great Gatsby

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Thank you as always to @agentstarkid for being the best and reading all my silly love stories💕

After my third Richmond game, April and I found ourselves once again having dinner with the Greyhounds at Ola’s. This time, Roy Kent and I sat with some of the players, who I was pleased to watch flirt with April; my beautiful assistant and best friend deserved the attention of hot, rich athletes, I decided.

While flirting with professional soccer players seemed to come easy to April, it felt like Roy and I were still figuring out how to flirt with each other. We sat close enough that our shoulders were touching, I flashed him plenty of coy smiles, and he made a point to whisper in my ear every now and then- although it was usually something like “Can I fucking leave now?” But still, if we were going to convince people that this was real, we’d probably have to step things up soon.

I remembered something Keeley had texted me the day before- we needed another date, and soon.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” I murmured, loud enough for only Kent to hear.

He grunted and shifted in his seat. “Why?” After I simply narrowed my eyes at him, he sighed. “Keeley texted you too, hmm?” He sighed, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “What were you thinking?”

I thought for a moment, trying to avoid something simple like dinner, where we’d have to talk to each other and act like two people who were interested in each other. “Want to go on a picnic? We could bring a couple of books. Wouldn’t have to say a word to each other.”

Roy blinked, clearly processing what I’d just said; I could practically hear gears whirring before he finally spoke. “Sounds fucking perfect.”

Satisfied that I’d done my part, I turned my attention back to my delicious meal; if I got nothing else out of this fake relationship, at least I’d be well-fed for the next few months.

“Hey there!” Keeley Jones plopped down on my other side, smiling broadly at me.

Suddenly very aware of the eyes of the team on me, the way they’d been the night I “met” Keeley the first time I visited Ola’s, I returned her smile with one of my own, going so far as to playfully bump her shoulder with mine.

“Thank you again for inviting us to sit with you and Rebecca,” I gushed, and I really meant it; if I was going to be hanging out at Nelson Road, it was nice to do so in a comfortable suite with champagne in my hand. “It was actually really fun.”

Keeley’s smile widened; it was warm and friendly and genuine, making it obvious why everyone seemed to adore her. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself! We’ll have to get you a Kent kit now, eh? I’ve got an old one you could have if you like.”

I swore Roy stiffened next to me. “That’s alright,” I assured her. “I think April was going to order one for me to wear to their next game.” I turned to Roy with a shrug. “Gotta look the part, right?”

Roy mumbled something about getting another beer and stood, pausing only to briefly touch my shoulder; I ignored how warm his touch was. Once he was gone, I turned my attention back to Keeley, whose eyes were following Roy with something that looked a lot like pity.

“How’re you two getting on?” she asked in a low voice, scooching closer.

The only response that felt right was a shrug. “It’s fine,” I murmured. “Definitely working on getting used to each other. Going from complete strangers to dating is… a unique way of getting to know someone.” She seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I added, “We’re going on a picnic tomorrow. I told him we could bring a couple books, that way we don’t have to just stare at each other the whole time.”

The corner of Keeley’s mouth tugged upwards knowingly. “Now that is a perfect idea,” she said, eyes shifting back to Roy as he approached, beer in hand. “Absolutely perfect.”

~

“How’s here?”

Roy grunted in response and dropped the picnic basket to the ground. Ten minutes felt like far too long to look for the “perfect” picnic spot, but Keeley had been kind of specific; it needed to be a public enough spot that they would be seen, but secluded enough that it didn’t look like they were trying to be seen.

He was beginning to wish they’d just gone to the pub again; at least then he could have a pint.

Instead, he helped spread out the blanket they’d brought with them and opened up the picnic basket, the one Keeley had dropped off at his house early that morning and that his date- when the fuck would he have to start saying girlfriend?- had loaded with lunch and snacks. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food she’d packed. Probably something trendy and vegan-y. Was she a vegan? Roy didn’t fucking know. But she was young and trendy and pretty and-

“Here.” She shoved something wrapped in white paper into his hands. “Should we eat first?”

Roy gingerly unwrapped the bundle, immediately recognizing its contents. “Is this a fucking kebab?”

She shrugged, already chomping on a bite of her own kebab. “Yeah. That a problem?”

Ignoring the annoyance in her voice, Roy took a bite; fuck, he’d know that flavor anywhere. “Where’d you get this?”

“That kebab place you like.” Her tone was casual, as if it didn’t matter. “I asked Keeley what you like, she sent me the address.” After eating another bite, she shrugged. “The owner asked me to bring in a headshot next time, said he’d give me free kebabs for life.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roy’s grip tightened on his kebab; he ate there at least once a week and still was never given so much as a discount. But she goes in once and gets kebabs for life? Fucking hell. Well, at least he’d get to take advantage for the next few months. Maybe he would benefit from this charade after all.

Still munching on her kebab, she reached into the bag she’d brought and pulled out a book, settling herself into a comfortable position before opening it. Roy took the hint and grabbed his own book out of the picnic basket, a murder mystery his sister had given him for his birthday. He glanced up over the top of his book to get a glimpse of what she was reading.

“The Great Gatsby?” he asked, raising his thick eyebrows.

She nodded, her gaze still on her book. “It’s my favorite,” she said simply. After a moment, her eyes flickered up to meet Roy’s. “I try to read it every year.”

Not sure why he was still talking, Roy sat up a little straighter. “Every year? I mean, yeah, it’s a fucking good book, but why would you read it every fucking year?”

“It’s… familiar.” She set the book down, now fully looking at Roy. “Everyone is desperate to be at Gatsby’s parties, to be surrounded by his wealth and glamor, to drink his booze and enjoy his hospitality.” She frowned, eyes flittering back to the book. “But then only a handful of people attend his funeral. Once the party is over, no one cares about him anymore.” She looked back at Roy. “That’s going to be me, isn’t it?”

Roy was speechless. Something about the softness in her eyes was so familiar, almost like looking in a mirror. That’s going to be me, isn’t it? How many times had Roy mumbled something just as cynical and broken? How many people- reporters, women, friends, even family- had stopped calling once he slowed down? How many more once he stepped off the field for the last time? In her eyes Roy could see the same dejection and fear of loneliness that had nestled itself inside Roy’s chest these last few years. It was something hard to explain, something one could only understand if they’d felt it deep in their souls. And it seemed to be something they both shared.

But instead of admitting to understanding how she felt and allowing her to glimpse behind his scowls and hard expressions, Roy simply shifted on the blanket and bit off his lunch. “Fucking hell. Are you always some fucking tortured poet, sunshine?”

Her face faltered for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Roy to want to kick himself for ruining the moment. She quickly recovered, picking her book back up and burying herself back into Jay Gatsby’s empty affluence. “Read your fucking book, Kent,” she mumbled, flipping a page absently. “There’s a photographer in those bushes.”

Sure enough, when Roy glanced around out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out the familiar sight of a camera lens.

~

“So, how’s it going with Roy Kent?”

Lanie looked perky as we sat in her office. My guard was immediately up; a perky publicist was never a good sign, I’d learned. It usually meant they had something rotten to tell you.

Anticipating whatever it was, I slouched into my seat, ready to narrow my eyes or scowl at a moment’s notice. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. “Keeley Jones said our picnic date got a lot of positive attention, and she said the Greyhounds’ viewership has skyrocketed since I started attending matches. So, it looks like we’re doing our jobs pretty well. Is my press looking good?”

Lanie nodded, eyes on her phone. “Good, good,” she said absently, as if she wasn’t really listening.

“Lanie?” I called.

She looked back up at me. “Well, with the Roy Kent stuff, you’ve got plenty of attention, and it looks like people are excited to see you in a new relationship, especially with someone who looks like him.” She ignored the way I wrinkled my nose. “But, uh, this morning I got wind of something that might take a little attention away from you and Roy.” She handed me her phone with a grimace.

The photo was kind of blurry, but I knew the two figures immediately. Everett- my most recent ex- nuzzling close to Cameron, the woman who had once called herself my best friend until she found out that a boyfriend of hers hit on me. Even though I had clearly rebuffed him and told Cam right away, she very publicly ended our friendship and even more publicly accused me of trying to steal her man. And now, irony of ironies, there she was, attached to my ex-boyfriend like the leech Lanie had always warned me she was.

“Lovely,” I finally snorted, gingerly handing the phone back to Lanie. “Do we think it’s real or just for attention? I know Cam’s new show starts filming soon.”

Lanie rolled her eyes. “Please, they’re not clever enough to pull off something calculated. If anything, he’s trying to make you jealous and she’s trying to get revenge on you. Idiots.” She sighed and dropped her phone onto the coffee table. “But, of course, your name’s being dragged into it. The phrase ‘love triangle’ has been trending on Twitter all morning.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed.” Lanie rolled her neck, something she often did when she was stressed. “I’ve been on the phone with Keeley this morning, and we both agree it’s time to step things up with you and Roy. Go public, make things official. Attend an event together that’s not a Richmond dinner.”

How much further could I slouch before I ended up lying down on the couch? “What event did you guys have in mind?”

“Your annual fabulous karaoke party!”

Keeley Jones strutted into the office with Roy right behind her. She greeted Lanie and I each with friendly hugs and kisses on cheeks; Roy, on the other hand, opted for short nods to each of us. Lanie stood and motioned for Roy to take her seat beside me; we shuffled awkwardly to ensure our knees wouldn’t bump.

Once we were all settled, I turned to Keeley, who now stood next to Lanie. “My karaoke party?” I echoed, feeling my stomach churn.

The “party” was the main fundraiser I threw every year for my nonprofit back home; it was near and dear to my heart, incredibly personal, and my favorite night of the year.

And now I’d have to share it with Roy Kent.

Sensing my unease, Lanie smiled at me, one of her reassuring smiles, the kind she always had for me after a bad bit of press. “It’ll be great publicity,” she pointed out. “You’ll probably raise even more than you did last year. Can you imagine how many people will register for the livestream? Especially if he sings,” she added, pointing at Roy.

“Sing?” the manager practically spat. “I have to sing at this party?”

With a sigh that even I knew was overdramatic, I turned to look at him, taking in his scowl and furrowed brow. “It’s a karaoke party,” I explained slowly, remembering how condescending he’d been the very first time we’d spoken in front of the elevator at Keeley’s office. “People pay a pretty penny for a ticket, there’s a paid livestream of all the singing, and I always release a new song, with all the proceeds going to my nonprofit. It’s… kind of a big deal.”

When Roy frowned, I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed this new information. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth. “You should invite some of the guys. They’d definitely fucking sing.”

Keeley bounced happily at Roy’s suggestion. “That would be perfect! And it would really show the two of you becoming part of each other’s worlds too.” She quickly tapped at her phone, somehow lighting up even brighter. “And it’s a bye week for them!” She shot me a wink. “Looks like the universe is really lining things up for us, hmm?”

All I could do was smile weakly, my mind spinning from learning about my ex-boyfriend and ex-friend becoming an item and finding out that I’d have to spend my favorite night of the year with a man who had barely glanced at me since that night we played darts together. I made up my mind to ask Lanie if my reputation really needed this much help or if she, as usual, was overreacting. Just as soon as Roy and Keeley left, I decided. Surely, with the numbers my upcoming tour sales was doing, along with the amount of people already signed up for the fundraiser’s livestream, and with all this social media attention, could dating a former soccer star turned grumpy coach really help that much?

“Oi, sunshine, your place or mine?”

Sunshine. Roy’s gruff use of the name he’d mumbled during our picnic had me snapping back to attention, out of my planned objections to my publicist. I stared at Roy blankly, trying to imagine what in the hell I’d missed that had him prompting what I thought he might be prompting- especially in front of his ex-girlfriend.

“She was zoning out,” Lanie quickly explained as she threw an M&M at me, her usual way of bringing me back to attention. “We want you two to have a sleepover,” she said loudly, as if she was repeating herself- which she probably was. “Something simple and domestic. Something you can post on your socials so continue this little soft launch. Something to help make things believable.”  

Roy nodded. “Keeley says just being seen in public isn’t enough to make it seem real. We’ve got to really sell this shit.” He scowled at me. “So, your place or mine?”

Okay, so that made a lot more sense than what I’d feared he was asking me. “My place,” I said, clearing my throat. “You can come over to my place.”

~

Roy let out a low growl as he pulled up to the front gate of the address on his phone. He quickly punched in the gate code she’d sent him, relieved he didn’t have to call her to let him in, and drove up the short driveway.

Her house wasn’t what he’d imagined; with the money he- and the rest of the world- knew she was worth, Roy’d figured she lived in a fucking castle or some modern monstrosity. Instead, he walked in the moonlight to the door of a sweet two-story house, blinking as he read the doormat that declared “There’s no place like home”. He heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and sharply knocked on the door, sucking his breath between his teeth. Another step in this weird, weird fucking situation he found himself in.

When the door opened, Roy instinctively took a step back, forcing himself to look her in the eye. She nodded curtly to him, gesturing for him to enter the house. “Kent,” was her simple greeting.

He returned the curt reception with a grunt of his own and followed her inside and into her sitting room, marveling at how the house did not match his expectations. He’d figured it would be something like Keeley’s place, all bright and pink and stylish with fluffy pillows everywhere. But everything was simple and cozy, and there were a lot more photos than he expected. Her family, he assumed, as his eyes lingered on a photo of her with a couple of pre-teen kids. In one corner was a piano, one he figured she used a lot, and one wall was completely covered with a bookshelf, which housed a large and clearly well-used library. It reminded Roy a bit of his own place if he was being honest. Simple, homey, and probably a refuge from a life lived in the public eye.

Before he could ask about the framed drawing that was clearly done by a child around Pheobe’s age, something brushed against Roy’s leg. “What the fuck?” he bellowed, looking down to see a cat staring back up at him.

“That’s Sydney,” his host explained, picking up the animal. “Syd, say hi to Roy.” She kissed the top of the cat’s head. “Apparently we need to get used to him,” she stage-whispered into the cat’s fur.

Roy snorted as he focused his gaze on the cat. He could almost appreciate the sarcasm in her voice- almost. Instead, he gestured to his duffel bag. “Where can I set this down? Are you sticking me in the backyard, or do I have to sleep in my car?”

With something resembling a smirk on her lips, she set the cat down and once again beckoned for Roy to follow her. “I’ve got a guest room,” she assured him as she led him down the hall. She let Roy enter the room alone, choosing to linger in the hallway and watch him drop his bag to the floor. She cleared her throat as the cat- Sydney- caught up with them. “I ordered a pizza,” she mumbled, shifting her weight. “We could, I don’t fucking know, watch a movie or something until, well...”

Right. Fucking sleepover. “Yeah, sounds fine,” Roy muttered, staring at the cat. He’d probably spend most of his night looking at the animal, he realized. “I’m just gonna… throw on some fucking sweats. If that’s alright.”

She nodded, her cool demeanor reappearing. “Do your thing,” she said airily. “Let me know if you need anything.” After giving Roy a firm, businesslike nod, she was gone.

With a shake of his head, Roy quickly threw on some sweats and a t-shirt, trying not to put too much thought into what the evening ahead held. Was this really necessary? Did the other fake couples Keeley knew- which she assured him was quite a few- have to go to such lengths? Knowing Keeley, she was probably just trying to push Roy’s buttons, see how far she could take this shit before Roy snapped.

But again, he was trying to prove to her that he was willing to go above and beyond for her. Anything for Keeley, he reminded himself as he trudged back into the sitting room.

He plopped himself down on the couch, where Sydney the Cat was already perched and watching Roy with narrowed cat eyes. Jamie had once compared Roy to a cat during a team dinner, he remembered. Not very social, easy to annoy, but incredibly loyal and affectionate once they decided to let someone in. Keeley had found the comparison hilarious and proceeded to call Roy “Fluffy” for the rest of the night. He chuckled to himself at the memory; he should send Keeley a picture of Sydney and let her know he remembered the joke. He always remembered Keeley’s jokes.

As he reached for his mobile, a voice came from the direction of what he assumed was the kitchen. “You eat pepperoni, right? I forgot to ask.”

The most glamorous popstar in the world strolled back into the sitting room holding a cardboard box in her hands with two bottles of beer balanced on top. Instead of her usual dresses or fashionable outfits Roy and the rest of the world was used to seeing her in, she wore a particularly tiny pair of sleep shorts and a Greyhounds sweatshirt- the one Roy had seen her wear to their matches lately.

Roy wasn’t blind. He knew she was a stunning woman, whether she was on an album cover or, apparently, in her pyjamas. And if he’d bothered to give the matter even two seconds of thought, he would’ve noted that he rather liked her figure, especially when she looked so comfortable and domestic. But Roy couldn’t think about that. Not when he heard Keeley’s name come out of her mouth.

“Keeley said to make sure we both post on our socials,” she was saying, either missing or ignoring the way Roy’s eyes lingered for a moment too long on her bare legs. “Why I couldn’t just send you something to post is beyond me.” She set the pizza down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, a respectable distance from Roy’s spot. “Like, is you coming over really, truly necessary?”

Roy snorted and made himself busy with a beer. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “But Keeley’s always got a method to her fucking madness. You learn to just fucking go with it.” Deciding he needed to look at something that wasn’t the way she was stretching out comfortably on her couch, Roy stood abruptly and meandered over to her bookshelf. “You read a lot?” he said, scanning her collection more closely now.

“When I can,” came her breezy answer. “I’d love to say I’ve read everything on that shelf, but that’s mostly a collection of books I want to read.”

“Maybe we can do more reading dates.” Roy didn’t know what the fuck made him say that; it just slipped out as he stared at a particularly worn copy of The Bell Jar. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to see a smile on her face.

She shrugged and sipped her own beer. “Sure, Kent. Sounds good.”

Ignoring whatever feeling was forming in his chest, Roy returned to the shelf, recognizing some names and finding himself curious about others. Finally, he spotted a stack of games on the bottom shelf. He noted that there were about four versions of the same game. “You like Scrabble?” he blurted out, desperate to put distance between himself and his picnic suggestion.

“Love it,” she laughed. “When my parents came to the States from Mexico, they were each pretty young and worked really hard to learn English. They wanted to make sure all of their kids were fluent in English, so in our house we were always reading and playing games like Scrabble.” Her smile became a smirk. “My youngest brother refuses to play with me anymore because I kind of win a lot.”

The competitive streak that made Roy a football legend started to bubble up in his chest. “That so?” He picked up one of the boxes and brought it over to the coffee table. “Let’s see, then.”

~

“You can’t put that word!” I cackled, throwing my head back when I saw the word Roy was putting on the board.

Roy smirked and put the ‘C’ down with finality. “I absolutely fucking can. And I did so…” He shrugged. “Gimme my points, sunshine.”

After updating Roy’s score, I snapped a photo of the board. “That’s going on Instagram,” I warned him with a smirk. I quickly shared the picture and put my phone down, trusting that Lanie would text me later about the post blowing up.

We finished one game, then another, and started a third. We didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel as awkward as those first few dinners with the Greyhounds. Sydney laid close to Roy, clearly already used to him, and I couldn’t deny the warm feeling in my chest when I saw him absently stroke her fur between turns. Maybe we’ll be friends, I thought fondly as I put down the tiles for my latest turn. Real, actual friends.

“Calamitous?” Roy read, wrinkling his nose. “What the fuck is calamitous? Is that even a word?”

I smirked and sipped my beer. “It absolutely is!” I stood and strolled over to my bookshelf, returning with the Scrabble dictionary my sister had given me a couple years ago. “Look it up.”

After shooting me a suspicious look, Roy flipped through the book; his scowl told me he had indeed found calamitous.

“It’s a good word,” I said as I sat back down. “One of my favorites. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to put it in a song.”

His gaze turned thoughtful as he stared at his letter tiles. “You written anything lately?” Before I could answer, he opened his mouth again. “You said something about a song for your fundraiser thing. It’s a new one, right?”

I nodded, squirming a bit as I thought about the song, one I’d been pouring a lot of myself into. “Yeah. I always release a new song after the party.” My eyes fell so Sydney, curled up close to Roy. “Want to hear a bit?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

His almost silly answer was enough to get me to my feet and retrieving my guitar from the extra room I often worked in. When I came back, Roy sat up straight, his gaze trained on my guitar as I settled on the couch.

“It’s called ‘Nothing New’,” I explained as I began to strum my guitar. “Here’s the chorus.”

Lord, what will become of me

Once I've lost my novelty?

I've had too much to drink tonight

And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about

And I wake up in the middle of the night

It's like I can feel time moving

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?

And will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

When I finally looked at Roy, his mouth was agape, and he was blinking rapidly.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered. “That’s good. That’s really fucking good.” He shook his head. “Reminds me of that shit you said the other day, about Gatsby and funerals and all that.” He sighed, a heavy, sad sound, and his voice was almost impossible to hear. “Fucking reminds me of me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that; I vaguely knew the story of Roy’s injury, the one that ended his career, and Dani had said something about it taking a while for Roy to find his way back to Richmond after his retirement. But I didn’t think Roy was the kind of person who liked to talk about anything, let alone what was probably the worst time in his life. So instead, I watched him stare stonily at my silent guitar, not saying a word when he stood abruptly, something I was quickly getting used to seeing.

“I should fucking sleep,” he mumbled, taking care to grab a couple of empty bottles. “Gotta be out of here early for training. Thanks for the pizza. And the beer.” He nodded to my guitar. “And the song.” After nudging Sydney gently with his foot, Roy turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen; I didn’t move from my spot until I heard the guest room door shut with finality.

~

~

Roy sighed as he sat down in front of the assembled reporters, all waiting to pounce on him after a hard-earned Greyhound victory. As always, Keeley stood in the back of the room, an encouraging smile on her face, the kind of smile that always gave Roy the strength to tackle what was probably his least favorite part of the job.

He answered several questions about the match- probably one of their best of the season, if he was being honest with himself- before the topic he was dreading finally reared its head.

“Coach Kent,” some wanker from a publication Roy couldn’t be bothered to remember called out, “care to say anything about the rumors concerning your latest fling?”

Instinctively, Roy bared his teeth and squared his shoulders before leaning forward, ready to growl out, “No.” However, a raised eyebrow from Keeley had him taking a deep breath; she’d trained him for this, he reminded himself. He knew what he was supposed to say. “We’re just… spending time together,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s been… nice, getting to know each other.” When he looked at Keeley, she was giving him a big thumbs up; it was enough to have him continue. “She’s different than I expected,” he added, nodding more to himself than anyone else.

“How’d you two meet?”

He coughed into his hand; he knew how to answer this, too. “She’s good friends with Dani Rojas,” he explained, wondering if it sounded as rehearsed as it felt. “So, she came to a match and then came out with the team afterwards. We danced a little, and then she gave me her phone number.” Again, Keeley smiled encouragingly. “It’s been kind of fucking cool, having her at our matches. She’s really embraced the Richmond way.” That last bit was something Keeley had come up with; normally, Roy would think it sounded incredibly lame and positively cheesy. But, since Keeley was the mastermind, he didn’t complain one bit.

Another reporter spoke up. “Will you be at her upcoming fundraiser? The karaoke party is legendary.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Roy answered with what he hoped was a good-natured smirk. “Get enough drinks in me, I might even fucking sing.” For a brief moment, the chuckles that filled the room reminded Roy of how this room sounded when Ted was there; he hadn’t realized he actually missed that sound.

“Have you heard her new song?” The voice was hopeful, as if Roy was about to give everyone a big scoop, let the sports reporters have something the gossip columnists would kill for.

For the first time since the press conference began, Roy’s smile was real. “I’ve heard a little,” he admitted. “And I won’t tell you a fucking thing, except that it’s fucking brilliant.”

Roy maneuvered around a few more questions- Would she be attending more Richmond matches?  (“Hopefully.”) Would Roy be going to any of the shows during her upcoming tour. (“We’ll see.”) Who won their Scrabble tournament? (“No fucking comment.”)- before he was finally set free. He and Keeley reconvened in his office, making sure no one else was around before assessing how Roy’s first official acknowledgement of the “relationship” had gone.

“You did a great job,” Keeley assured him from her perch on the edge of his desk, a spot she’d taken countless times. “Might be the most charming I’ve ever seen you at a presser, Roy. Looks like she’s really rubbing off on you.” Her wink had Roy’s insides squirming. “Did you really hear the song already?”

“Yeah,” Roy mumbled, slouching in his seat. “She played some for me the other night, during our sleepover.” He surprised even himself by not rolling his eyes at the word sleepover. “It’s fucking sad,” he continued, completely unprompted. “But really beautiful. Nothing like the fluffy stuff you hear on the radio.”

Keeley gently tossed a stray paperclip at Roy. “Oi, I like her fluffy stuff! And so does Phoebe, I might add.” Her smile widened. “Your niece wants to know when you’re introducing her to your girlfriend, by the way. It’s all she talked about at our last Pheebs and Keels Day.”

Roy shook his head. “Oh no,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “Not fucking happening. Last thing I need is for her to get attached. Look what happened with-”

Fuck.

The smile disappeared from Keeley’s face. “Right,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, might not be the best idea, eh?” After a moment, she perked up again, reigniting the energy in the room. “Have you two kissed yet?”

“What the fuck Keeley?” Roy hissed, looking around the obviously empty office; she’d sure recovered quickly from the awkward moment he’d caused.

She shrugged, clearly unfazed. “You’re officially together and are starting to go out in public as a couple. It’ll look funny if you don’t start being affectionate soon. I figured maybe you two’d gotten it out of the way already, so your first kiss isn’t in front of the cameras."

Shit. Roy hadn’t even started to think about how they’d act now that things were “official”. Had she?

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Roy mumbled, wondering why he was blushing so furiously. “I’m a forty-year-old man, Keeley. I know how to kiss a woman.”

“Yeah, but she’s not just any woman,” Keeley pointed out as she stood. “Just something to think about.” She paused, studying Roy’s face carefully. “You really did do a good job in there, Roy. I almost believed you for a second, smiling and blushing as you gushed about that gorgeous girl.” Her smile returned, completely full of mischief. “Anything you want to share?”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his ex and threw the paper clip she’d tossed at him earlier. “Fuck off, Keeley,” was all he managed before the giggling blonde strutted out of the office. He looked down at his phone to check where the guys would be going after the match; after all, he was expected to be there with-

“Hey there!”

Roy looked up at the sound of Keeley’s cheery voice. His “girlfriend” came into view, smiling tightly at Keeley as they squeezed by each other through the doorway. The popstar saluted as she entered the office.

“Hey, Kent,” she hummed, pausing by the door and leaning against the frame. “I was thinking, want to ride to the restaurant together?”

He heard what she said. He knew he had. But the only thing he could focus on was her mouth, the same mouth that had left lipstick marks on his cheek and had formed a smile when she won two Scrabble games in a row. The same mouth he’d have to kiss soon. He’d kissed plenty of women; hell, he’d more than kissed plenty of women. And those were kisses he’d actually meant.

So why the fuck did his palms feel sweaty at the thought of fake-kissing this woman?

“Kent? Kent?”

Oh fucking hell, she’d caught him staring.

Roy cleared his throat and stood up, pocketing his mobile. “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as they walked out of the office. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fucking fine.” Roy’s hand balled into a fist at his side as he fought the urge to clear his throat again.

“Okay then.” They walked silently down the hall, looking nothing at all like a couple in love. Finally, she bumped him with her shoulder. “Saw your press conference,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

Roy nodded, wondering if his face looked as warm as it felt. “What’d you think?”

When he glanced at her, she was staring straight ahead- and smiling. “You told them you liked the song.” Her voice could only be described as pleased.

“Well, yeah,” Roy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s the truth. It’s… it’s really fucking good. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally, she looked at him, her face serious now. “Hey, there’s some reporters hanging around outside. D’you think we should hold hands or something?”

Roy’s eyes flickered down to her outstretched hand before returning to her face; she gazed at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

“Probably a good idea,” he murmured. With that, he took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze as they walked out of the Dog Track.

He kept her hand in his as they walked through the parking lot; while his eyes stayed trained on his giant black car, she smiled sweetly at the couple of reporters who called their names and even offered a small wave in their direction. Roy held her door open and helped her climb inside, closing the door once she was settled. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he resisted the urge to grab her hand; old habit from dating Keeley, he told himself.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why his hand felt so cold without her fingers intertwined with his.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene @emmaallisonann @mrdsturd @confessionsofatotaldramaslut

[altschmerzes]

genuine question: how can you tell if you want your relationships to be platonic but you do want to do things generally associated WITH romance? like, I’m fucking my two best friends but our relationships are kind of “it’s complicated” right now because I think I might be aro and not really “experience” romance but like, The World associates things like cuddling and holding hands and kissing and sex with romance and I do want to do those things so I get confused by it? sorry if this question makes NO sense tho

no it makes total sense!! and honestly i think you’ve kind of explained the answer yourself there already - the world associates those things with romance but The World is not in your head or your heart or your body or your relationships! the only people who get to decide what your relationships and the things you do in them mean are you and the other person/people. plenty of things are associated with other things by default but don’t actually have anything intrinsic about them that makes them Automatically into something. this is especially true about relationships and intimacy and affection and other aspects of being with other people. different cultures have different standards for this stuff too! different people have different boundaries and different feelings about what actions mean to them and in what contexts they want them. the only person who can make those decisions for you is you!

for me, i’ve always wanted those things too. (well deciding i was open to sex specifically was a decision i came to about a year ago exactly, so not exactly Always but that’s immaterial.) physical affection and intimacy is something i’ve always craved and kind of figured i wouldn’t be able to have because of the way it got talked about and seen by so many other people. because when i thought about whether i wanted romance or wanted those things WITHOUT romance the answer was always, to me, very clear! something about the thought of romance and romantic attraction and romantic interaction always just felt viscerally wrong and bad to me. and not only did i want those things more without romance, i ONLY wanted them if i could have them without romance.

and it helped to look around and see other people doing the things i wanted to do in a nonromantic context too. hearing people tell stories about kissing their friends. seeing friends holding hands roller skating or just in general. i watch a lot of sports and people joke about intricate rituals but there’s a Lot of affection and cuddling involved in team sports. just paying attention to the world around me, and seeing that those lines that felt so rigid and enforced are always much more fragile and fabricated than they seemed.

talking to other aro people was crucial for this especially - hearing about not only what they wanted but the things they’d managed to find and cultivate in their lives and relationships. though plenty of non-aro people have very affectionate and intimate platonic relationships, too! a lot of people fuck their friends and contrary to what television and ao3 would have you believe it’s not inevitable that Someone will get their heart broken. a lot of people cuddle their friends, sleep in beds together, hold hands, kiss, cohabitate, vacation together, plan their lives together. im MARRIED to a platonic friend who i kiss and cuddle and have sex with and we’ve been extremely clear with each other about what it means to us and we are happy and secure in that.

it’s confusing. it’s so confusing. but if the thing that’s primary causing that confusion is external perception and the forcible association of every kind of intimacy, especially physical intimacy, with romance, and not what YOU feel and want, just try putting the rest of the world out of your head for a minute. in YOUR perfect world where the only rules and expectations and assumptions were the things you and your person/people agreed to and wanted, what would you want? what would it mean to you? that’s a good starting point, i think!

[rokurookajima]

help i need to know why you hate season 3 of mtl. it’s my personal fave however i know it’s very divisive amongst fans (s2 is literally perfect though agreed on that)

SEASON 2 IS PERFECT NO ONE CAN DENY THAT

ok so many issues..and i’ll say i’m not counting the first episode or obviously doublebookedklok bc those two are SO good, match the normal tone, AND are so important to the plot.. they are fully excempt from my critique

but some of the biggest issues i take:

there is a very weird vibe shift in season 3 to me, it feels overall so much mean spirited? idk there is a feeling of so much love and care in the first two seasons—in the writing from the creators and within the band themselves (in their very stupid Them way ofc). season 3 just. doesn’t feel that way? i wonder if the team was going through shit with adult swim at the time that manifested in a more spiteful tone overall? idk the band just doesn’t feel like the dysfunctional family they usually are in a lot of the episodes in season 3 and personally… it just feels like a loss. murderface is treated so much stupider than before to where it genuinely feels like they all dislike him, skwisgaar is lowkey forgotten as a character other than Guy Who Fucks (except ofc fatherklok which i also enjoy). rehabklok is undeniably also very good bc the music SLAPS and it’s fun to see brendon go full on theater kid with it, but even still — the band’s treatment of pickles is SO out of character too?? in season one they all lost their minds at the thought of losing pickles even temporarily to snakes n barrels, had to get wasted to watch him perform with them? but now he’s in rehab and they don’t give a fuck and replace him with a robot? HELLO??? i choose to interpret that episode as actually just a manifestation of pickles’ personal worst nightmare

THE PLOT.. WHERE DID THE PLOT GO? obv it’s a show where the overarching storyline is always the backbone and not the fronting part of the story line, but we had episodes twice as long as usual, and there’s barely any tribunal? we could’ve done soooo much more with that time was salacia just on vacation? in the same vein, i feel like the pacing within episodes is.. off?? the writers are SO good at fitting soooo much into 10 minutes, it almost felt like they didn’t know how to fill time, and scenes linger longer than they should, the comedic timing is not quite right, it’s just OFF

the two episodes i reeeeally hate are fertilityklok and dethsiduals…. they both just like epitomize the tone shift that doesn’t work for me. there’s something profoundly uncomfortable about fertilityklok to me that i can’t place, it’s just so unpleasant imo like everything about it lmaoo. i also .. don’t like that being back to back with fatherklok for skwisgaar it just feels like we got really good character insight and growth for him, and then.. COMPLETE shutdown. guy who fucks, that’s all (i’m also obv very very partial to skwis so biased haha). dethsiduals feels like THE most hateful toned?? i don’t like how anyone behaves in that episode lmaooo it’s just so OFF, all i can say can be summarized in vibes are OFF

i also do actually like the rockzo episode as well tho uh… y’know some things could be different (14???? come on man) but i actually enjoy all the rockzo episodes bc they always bring out interesting parts of toki. i love that we got more childhood toki insight!! a highlight for sure. and then uhhh dethhealth is one of the better ones as well - i think it suffers from the off pacing, but it still feels more like the past seasons AND toki’s cat song is a certified banger that gets stuck in my head all the time STILL

ok that was fr so many words that didn’t necessarily need to go this long BUT obv i have been needing to talk about this for years lmaooo tldr i wish they’d stayed truer to the tone and characterization set in the first two seasons, and REALLY wish they’d utilized the time better for the actual plot

[absolutesilly]

Another fun question to answer when you’re in the mood, what trope does FengQing fit in? A lot of people like to say rival to lovers but the thing is… these two can’t stand each other 😭 I feel like the fandom keeps forgetting these two seriously don’t like each other before the XL and MQ reconciliation (YES I SAID MQ AND XL ONLY, I just don’t think the f-f-friends part is directed to fx lol) For example, you know matchablossom from sk8infinity, those two bicker a lot but they’re genuinely best friends since young. Fengqing is nothing like that of the sort ☠️☠️☠️

fx has stated he doesn’t like mq because he’s a moody overthinker and looks down on him lol. And mq doesn’t like fx because he feels attacked by him all the time and his unwavering blind loyalty to royals. Anyways, they’ve said awful mean things to each other throughout the story and to see the fandom go “OMG HES SO MEAN TO HIM! Why would you ship them????!” “THEY HATE EACH OTHER”

like…. Duh? That’s the appeal 🙄 hear me out, hence why I believe they’re “almost” the perfect example of enemies to lovers lol.

hi hi!!! this is SUCH a good question!! these two are a bit hard to place! i’ve often called them rivals to lovers, but they definitely have more animosity than your usual rivals to lovers ship! (especially matchablossom, who as you mentioned are best friends despite their bickering… i think any similarities between the two ships are mostly aesthetic lmao, they’re verrrrrry different when it comes down to it)

there’s definitely a rivalry between them—as we see with the competition between them and their followers every year in the lantern battle—but most normal rivals can meet in public without trying to physically attack each other lmao. i think many people are too quick to gloss over the fact that they REALLY do have a LOT of genuine bad blood for most of their history! they’re not just in competition with each other, they hate each other!

i think that my own hesitancy to call them outright enemies to lovers is the fact that in spite of all this animosity, they are generally fighting on the same side of things! working under prince xie lian, serving as the two gods of the south, and joining forces to try to protect xl after his third ascension—they’re ALWAYS forced to team up! i generally associate true “enemies to lovers” with being on opposite sides of some big conflict.

in addition to working together, it’s clear that they don’t view each other as their “greatest enemy”—ie. they easily join forces when they believe there is a bigger or more pressing threat. hua cheng is the greatest example of this; it’s clear their distaste for him far outweighs their dislike for each other.

a lot of this may come down to my own personal definition of “enemy.” but i think what really makes me pause is the fact that it’s obvious neither of them has ever actually wanted the other one dead! whether they’d like to admit it or not, they cannot live without each other. we repeatedly see them save (or at least try to save) each other from danger, and in spite of all the hatred between them, they ran the south together for 800 years without either one ever genuinely trying to get rid of the other. (contrast this with yin yu and quan yizhen, who were tasked with running the west together… that didn’t work out!)

rivals to lovers doesn’t feel quite like an apt description to me, but neither does enemies to lovers. the more i think about it, the more i want to make up a category of my own, which is:

coworkers (derogatory) to lovers!

the enmity that can exist between two coworkers is something that is so sacred. sometimes you work with people who you really fucking hate! but my god. you work with them anyway, because you have to. and sometimes you accidentally work REALLY well together, in spite of everything. and sometimes, you get a new, even worse coworker that makes you realize the coworker you thought you hated actually isn’t so bad. maybe you like them. maybe you even love them.