#I just for some reason felt the need to clarify | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssa-dado · 4 months ago

Note

I could totally see Aaron being jealous. Maybe a oneshot of her meeting Sean Hotchner for the first time.

Covering Up - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff Summary: You’re late, and while Gideon’s passive-aggressive remarks are expected, it’s Hotch who really has you on edge. But it’s not just his authority; it’s the way you inadvertently caught the attention of Hotch’s brother, Sean. Warnings: None, just wanted to clarify the story is set around late 1998 or early 1999, before Hotch became Unit Chief (Gideon was in charge instead). Word Count: 3k Dado's Corner: You didn't see this coming, did you? Something cute to celebrate the end of the year. Sorry it took so much to respond, I totally forgot about this ask... hope you like itttttt. Again, HOTCH IN LOOOOOOOVE but doesn't want to admit hahaha what a fool.

masterlist

You were late today. Remarkably late.

For the first time ever in your life.

And while the idea of Gideon giving you one of his passive-aggressive “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speeches wasn’t exactly fun, there was one person who truly terrified you in this situation.

Hotch.

How ironic: it wasn’t your boss you were afraid of - it was your fussy coworker. The same coworker whose desk, unfortunately, happened to sit right in front of yours.

Perfect.

You were still trying to salvage your dignity in the elevator, jabbing at the elevator button, fumbling with your hair as the doors closed. Maybe an updo would make you look less… late. But by the time you reached your floor, the mess you’d made felt more “distressed damsel” than “competent federal agent.”

So, naturally, you made the split-second decision to undo the whole thing, pulling your hair loose halfway to your desk.

You winced.

Not because anyone was watching - everyone seemed too absorbed in their own work - but because if someone had been looking, you’d have perfectly executed that clichéd, overly dramatic hair flip straight out of a low-budget action movie.

The kind made by men, for men.

The ones where the femme fatale struts into the room, stiletto heels clicking, hair whipping in slow motion, cleavage doing all the talking, her entire existence engineered for the male gaze.

And here you were. No stilettos. No slow motion. Just… the hair flip.

Fantastic.

You shook it off, hoping to slink to your desk unnoticed, now more focused to brace yourself for the silent judgement of-

A man.

Not the man you expected - Hotch.

An actual man, a somehow handsome man.

Oh God. He’d definitely seen you do the dramatic hair flip.

His smirk confirmed it - no need for a profiler to figure that one out.

A man, sitting comfortably in Hotch’s chair. And, notably, no Hotch in sight.

“Are you here for a consultation with Agent Hotchner?” you asked, doing your best to sound at least professional as you set your bag down.

He chuckled – like you were the punchline of some inside joke you weren’t in on. “Actually, yes.”

Though you couldn’t help but study him... it was in your nature afterall.

He was about Hotch’s height, blond, blue-eyed, and generically good-looking in a way that probably gave him the nerve to sit at an agent’s desk without any kind of second thought.

But what really stood out? He looked about your age.

Very early twenties - which, mathematically speaking, made him way too young to be here asking for a consultation.

Not that you were one to talk. You were constantly reminded you were “too young” to be working for the FBI. So, at least you had that in common.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he read from your badge, dragging out the syllables for some of his twisted reasons you chose to ignore. Then he smirked. “You’re young.”

“She is.” Hotch’s voice cut through the air before you could form a response, making you startle slightly. He was suddenly there, right behind you, like he’d materialized out of thin air.

“Sean,” he said, his tone clipped in that uniquely Hotch way that made you feel guilty even if you’d done nothing wrong, “I told you to wait for me outside.”

“And why are you so late?” Hotch added, his focus snapping to you with laser precision, his brows drawing together in that way that made your stomach twist in both irritation and… something else.

Classic Aaron Hotchner.

Two seconds on the scene, already cataloging what annoyed him. Efficiency at its finest.

“Damn, Aaron, relax. It’s barely been a minute,” Sean said, standing up finally, though not without flinching slightly under the weight of Hotch’s glare.

He stepped closer to you, extending a hand like he wasn’t about to be vaporized by the man’s disapproval. “I’m Sean, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Before you could decide whether to shake his hand or politely tell him to run for cover, Hotch’s voice sliced through the air, as sharp and unyielding as ever. “No, you haven’t. Y/N, this is Sean, my brother. Sean, this is Agent Y/L/N, my partner.”

It took approximately two seconds after those words left his mouth for Hotch to realize he’d made not one but two rookie mistakes.

The first? The fact that, for some reason, you got to be “Y/N” while Sean - his brother - was firmly stuck with Agent Y/L/N.

A seemingly innocuous choice, but an interesting one.

Almost as if Hotch didn’t want Sean to forget who you were. Or worse, as if he wanted to keep that small, intimate privilege - using your first name - exclusively for himself.

And why?

Perhaps because, whether he admitted it or not, you’d managed to take up residence in his overworked brain. You weren’t just his colleague - you were his very own walking, talking paradox.

Equal parts intellect and quick wit, you could quote anything from your beloved dead philosophers as easily as you could dismantle someone’s argument with a single sarcastic comment.

You lingered, persistently, in his thoughts - too vividly, too often - so much so that you’d even started showing up in his dreams.

That might explain why his tongue betrayed him now - a slip you would undoubtedly label as ‘textbook Freudian.’

Somehow, through the cracks in the armor of the man who prided himself on control and precision, a truth he had no business acknowledging had leaked out.

Because, inexplicably and irreversibly, he’d just let his younger brother - of all people - catch the faintest glimpse of something he refused to admit even to himself: that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you.

Not that Sean picked up on it - yet.

No, Sean’s focus was already drifting toward his second mistake, the one Hotch really hoped would keep Sean too distracted to notice the first. And, to Hotch’s silent horror, it worked like a charm.

“Partner?” Sean repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are the two of you…?” He let the insinuation hang, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Because here’s the thing - thanks to the way Hotch had worded it, Sean wasn’t just thinking that his big brother was casually sleeping with you. Oh no, this was way bigger.

This was Sean, standing here wide-eyed and completely convinced that his older, emotionally constipated, miserably single brother - who’d spent years brooding after his breakup Haley - had somehow not only managed to get a girlfriend but had kept it a secret.

And worse? That this whole scenario meant Hotch was maybe, just maybe, a little happy these days.

That alone was enough to blow Sean’s mind.

But before his imagination could run too far, you stepped in, your voice sharp and immediate. “God, no,” you blurted, practically recoiling from the suggestion.

“No,” Hotch said at the same time, though in stark contrast to your reaction, his was flat and unbothered.

Sean chuckled at your synchronized denial, which only prompted Hotch to fix you with one of his looks - the kind that felt like it could peel layers off your soul. Judgy, silent, but impossibly loud at the same time.

The kind of look that made you curious.

“Was he like this as a kid,” you asked Sean, “or was he ever actually a normal person?”

Sean’s smirk widened. “The only difference between then and now is that now they pay him to act like this.”

You laughed, loud and genuine, and Sean joined in - a perfect snapshot of solidarity between two survivors of Hotch’s relentless Hotch-ness. “Though I have to wonder… maybe he misunderstood the government’s contributions as a green light to act this way. It’s kind of like when you teach a dog to stand on two legs for a treat, and then he just keeps doing it.” You commented.

You and Sean burst into laughter, your voices echoing through the bullpen, while Hotch just stood there.

Watching. Seething.

But not entirely for the reasons he’d expect.

Sure, he was irritated that you had the audacity to make fun of him within perfect earshot - a clear, deliberate payback for all the grief and micromanagement he’d put you through.

But there was something deeper beneath his discomfort, something far more unsettling.

It wasn’t just that you were laughing at him - it was that you were laughing with Sean.

That easy, effortless kind of laughter, the kind he so rarely managed to coax out of you. Sean, his little brother, was already pulling it out of you like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he’d cracked some code Hotch didn’t even know existed.

And that stung. More than it should’ve.

Because as much as he told himself it was ridiculous - childish, even - he couldn’t shake the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest.

A low, unwelcome burn.

It wasn’t just about the laughter. It was the way you looked at Sean. The way you seemed curious, intrigued by him in a way that made Hotch feel like an outsider in his own space. Like he was standing just outside the circle, close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

And he hated that.

He hated how much it bothered him.

Hated that he cared at all.

Hated the fact that, for all his discipline and carefully crafted walls, you always managed to slip through the cracks.

Unnoticed until it was too late.

Though you weren’t quite as unnoticed by everyone else.

Standing on the mezzanine, there was Gideon, watching you with that unshakeable calm of his. His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could even catch your breath, he called you over to his office.

It was probably for showing up two full hours late, but who could say?

Panic was all over you, though you were certain you kept it well-hidden - at least, you hoped so.

But before you could second-guess yourself, Hotch, who had been silently observing everything, grabbed a file from his desk and walked toward you at a precise angle that turned his back to Gideon.

Then, in a blur of words, he started speaking faster than you thought possible.

“I covered for you,” he said, voice low and hurried. “Tell him you went to see your mom yesterday. You took the 5:07 a.m. train. It broke down in Baltimore - stuck for an hour and forty-two minutes. That’s why you’re late. It’s all fact checked. If he asks - and he probably won’t - you don’t have the ticket because after a 90-minute delay, the company offers a full reimbursement if you send in the original.”

Before you could process what he was saying, he thrust the file into your hands.

“I filled out all the interrogatory statements for the Arlington case. If he asks why I had them, say I’m an idiot and that you cracked the unsub before I did, so the paperwork fell to me.” His dark eyes bore into yours, and for the first time since you’d met him, he sounded almost…desperate. “Don’t panic.”

Your brain short-circuited. The only thing you managed was a breathless, “Thanks.”

He watched you go, tracking every step you took until you disappeared into Gideon’s office. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his side like he was bracing himself to pull you out of trouble if it came to that.

Though Sean, ever the opportunist, broke the silence. “Since when do you cover for people?” he asked.

Hotch didn’t bother looking at him, his focus firmly fixed on the files in his hands, though his grip had tightened ever so slightly. “Since her boss called her in for something unfair. She’s the first - well, second - person to arrive every day and the last to leave. She works harder than anyone here, including me, and she never complains about it. It’s not fair to punish her for being late once when she’s the one who picks up everyone else’s slack. This is a one-time thing, and frankly, it’s probably for the best - at least she got some sleep for once.”

Was that an over-articulated answer to what was likely more of an exclamation than an actual question? Yes. But better to be thorough than shallow - or at least, that’s what Hotch told himself.

Sean, on the other hand, had no qualms about being a bit shallow.

“You’re sure that’s the reason she was late?” Sean asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Not because she, you know…” He trailed off, tilting his head, the mischievous grin practically begging Hotch to take the bait.

No. Of course not.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with it. Not because he wanted to come off as paternalistic or prudish about it.

Hell, if you really did, he hoped it was… fine.

Great, even.

But then, there was that annoying, traitorous part of him whispering - shouting, really - that he hoped it wasn’t too good.

Or serious.

Or anything worth bringing up more than once.

Damn it, Hotchner, could he not just be a normal, well-adjusted adult and be happy for someone else’s happiness without making it weird? Apparently not.

Still, he needed to give an actual response. Out of the 600,000 words available in the English language, what did he choose? The most original, expressive, and earth-shattering one of all: “No.”

Of course, it probably came out sounding way too sharp, betraying every tightly-coiled emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

Luckily - or unluckily - Sean was too busy zeroing in on something else to even notice.

“So,” Sean began, dragging out the word, “she’s single.”

…it wasn’t even a question.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, his patience already wearing thin. “Yes.” He admitted. “But don’t think about it.” He stopped him, already knowing where this conversation would eventually go.

“Why not?” Sean asked, his smirk practically carved into his face now. “You like her?” The teasing lilt in his voice was impossible to miss, but beneath it, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Yes. Absolutely.

More than liked.

Liked in a way that he thought about you far too often, in places he shouldn’t, and at times he didn’t have the luxury of indulging.

Liked in a way that made him occasionally catch himself smiling in the middle of a meeting because some stray thought of you had slipped past his defenses.

Liked in a way that he imagined you during his early-morning runs, wondering if you’d find the sunrise as breathtaking as he did - or if you’d roll your eyes at his choice of music.

You probably would, because it was either the original cast recording of whatever Broadway musical he’d recently become obsessed with, or something from The Beatles.

Not just their classics, but the deeper cuts - the kind his mom had played on repeat during her own Beatlemania phase back in the ’60s, which was, admittedly, a phenomenon he’d inherited in his own way.

He liked you in a way that felt ridiculous, really.

Like the time he caught himself wondering if you’d like the tie he was wearing, not that he’d ever admit he chose it with you in mind.

Or when he stayed up too late re-reading one of your old case reports, pretending it was for work when it was really just to admire how sharp and thoughtful your insights were.

But admitting that? Out loud?

To Sean, of all people?

He’d rather reorganize the mountain of case files sitting on your desk alphabetically and chronologically - twice.

“No,” Hotch said instead, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. “I work with her, Sean.”

Sean wasn’t one to let things go easily - especially when he sensed he was onto something. “Okay, so you work with her,” he said, dragging out the words like they were some kind of weak excuse. “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t take a shot. What’s stopping me?”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he shifted his attention back to the windows of Gideon’s office. He didn’t want to say it, but he also didn’t trust his brother to let the subject drop without some kind of deflection. “You’re not her type,” he said flatly.

Sean blinked, caught off guard for a moment before recovering with an incredulous laugh. “Not her type? How do you know what her type is?”

Hotch didn’t respond right away.

He didn’t need to.

The deadpan look he shot Sean over his shoulder was enough to say ‘I know her type because I know her’.

Sean, however, wasn’t deterred. “Okay, genius, enlighten me. What exactly is her type, then? Because I’m charming, good-looking, and - let’s not forget - single.” He motioned to himself like he was presenting the world’s greatest catch.

Hotch sighed. “Her type,” he began almost whispering, now suddenly afraid that someone would hear him, “is someone more serious. Someone who knows how to respect her work ethic, her intelligence, and the fact that she’s earned her place here. Someone who doesn’t think he can waltz in and-” He cut himself off, realizing he was veering dangerously close to sounding personal.

Too personal.

Too bad he stopped talking before he could drop the one crucial piece of information Sean probably needed to know: as far as Hotch knew, you only dated older... much older.

And him being the same age as you? Yeah, that definitely didn’t work in his favor.

Sean tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So… basically, someone who isn’t me. But someone who is… maybe a little more like you?” He watched the way Hotch’s shoulders stiffened at the suggestion.

Hotch turned fully to face his brother, his expression dark. “Sean,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.

But Sean wasn’t fazed. “I’m just saying, Aaron. You’re standing here, going on about how she deserves someone serious and respectful and all that, but you’re practically describing yourself. So maybe the reason you don’t want me going after her is because-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through any further teasing. “It’s not appropriate, and it’s not happening. End of discussion.”

Sean held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “Alright, alright. But for the record, you didn’t deny it.”

Hotch didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he turned back toward the windows of Gideon’s office, his gaze locking on your profile once more.

Sean followed his brother’s line of sight, leaning closer “She really does have you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

Hotch ignored him.

But as much as he wanted to pretend Sean was wrong, the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Because 'twisted up' was probably an understatement for what you were doing to him.

---

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #symposiumff #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #1k notes wooooooooooooooo

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pbaz7 · 1 month ago

Text

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 1

paige x azzi

word count: 11.7k

A/N: I’m back!!! This is one of my first AU and it got me excited to write again! I don’t even know how to describe it honestly 😭 just read it and find out. Let me know what you think please 🤭

—————————————————————————

Azzi Fudd stood at the counter of the small, semi-packed café in Dallas, Texas, holding her warm cup of coffee in her hand. Normally, the café was a quiet, peaceful retreat—just the perfect place for a quick moment of solitude before heading to her office for the day. But today? The usual cozy hum of conversation and soft music turned into a buzz of chatter, and for some reason, there were more people milling about than she was used to. Some sat with their drinks, but there were others who didn’t seem to have a purpose, simply standing around, scanning the space. It felt like the usual sereneness had been replaced with a subtle restlessness in the air.

Azzi shook the thought from her mind. She’d come here for one thing: a much-needed pick me up with a cup of coffee. She took a sip, the warmth swirling in her chest, but as she turned toward an empty corner, a sudden bump jolted her from her thoughts.

She looked down to find herself toe-to-toe with a tiny figure.

The little boy stood there, almost too small to notice in the midst of all the bustling customers. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle anytime the sunlight hit them, his blonde hair a soft, messy assortment of wavy curls. There was something about him—something about how his wide-eyed gaze was a mix of innocent curiosity and complete calmness.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Azzi murmured, stepping back to avoid the awkwardness of the accidental bump. She gave him a gentle smile, but before she could ask if he was alright, the boy softly mumbled, “Sorry.” Then he turned his attention back to the cafe around him, his focus unbroken as he looked around.

Azzi tilted her head slightly. She couldn’t help but smile at how quietly composed he seemed. Kneeling down to his level, she knelt to make eye contact, her voice soft but warm to not scare him. “Do you need help, sweetie?”

The boy paused, his brows furrowing ever so slightly as if he was pondering the question carefully. “Maybe,” he said after a moment.

Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. “Maybe? That’s a first,” she teased gently. She watched him closely, noting the confidence in his small but steady posture.

The boy shifted his gaze, his blue eyes scanning the café again with all of the seriousness he could muster. Finally, he turned toward Azzi. “Ma says I’m not posed to talk to strangers,” he said. Pausing for a second before adding, “But you’re pretty.”

Azzi’s smile widened at the compliment. “Well, thank you, handsome,” she replied. “Where’s your mom?”

The boy looked around again, his small body twisting in place as he searched the area. His little shoulders sagged as he gave a shrug, his eyes lowering briefly, unsure what to do next.

Azzi’s heart melted at the sight. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

The boy’s eyes brightened at the question, a sudden surge of confidence rising in his small frame. “Lukas Drew Bueckers,” he said, puffing out his chest with a quiet pride. He then added, as though to clarify a very important piece of information, “Lukas with a K.”

Azzi laughed softly at his enthusiasm. “Well, Lukas with a K, can I help you find your mom?”

The boy studied her for a moment, his blue eyes scanning her face carefully. Weighing his options. After a second, he nodded, as if deciding she was trustworthy. “Sure,” he said simply.

Azzi smiled and without a second thought she carefully scooped him up into her arms.

She felt Lukas shift slightly in her arms, his small body twisting as he scanned the room with fresh determination. His earlier uncertainty had disappeared, replaced by a quiet confidence that Azzi couldn’t help but admire for someone his age. As she looked at him, she saw his blue eyes brighten, and before she could ask him about it, the boy’s small hand shot out.

Azzi’s gaze trailed the direction of his tiny finger. Across the cafe, standing near a group of young girls, was a tall blonde woman who immediately caught Azzi’s attention. She looked calm, almost serene, as if she had mastered the art of existing in a crowded space without ever being overwhelmed by it. Her posture was straight, her movements calculated as she offered polite smiles to the people around her giving each one of them just the right amount of attention. But there was something else in her gaze—something more intentional behind her warm expression. Azzi could see that, despite the casual grace she radiated, the woman was intentionally scanning the room in between bursts of eye contact.

The way the woman held herself reminded Azzi of the little boy she had in her arms. They both seemed to exude that same stillness, that calm poise. Like they were in their own little bubble amidst the chaos of the café.

Azzi squinted slightly, her eyes narrowing in on the blonde. There was something vaguely familiar about her, a recognition that lingered just out of reach, but Azzi couldn’t place it because she was a little too far to make out the full details of her face.

Then, Lukas’s soft voice broke her thoughts. “That’s my ma,” he said proudly, his chest puffing out with a sense of triumph.

Azzi’s eyes shifted back to the woman. Her calm demeanor was still in place as she subtly swept her gaze across the room again, her eyes eventually landing on Lukas and holding there for just a moment longer than necessary. She didn’t rush or react too visibly—she simply locked eyes with him, a small flicker of relief in her expression.

Azzi adjusted him in her arms, the little boy now content to rest against her with a gentle but firm grip. “I think we found her, huh?”

Lukas nodded, his blue eyes fixed on his mom as he let out a small sigh of relief.

Azzi’s gaze lingered on the blonde woman a little longer than she’d intended. There was something magnetic about her, something familiar yet entirely unknown. As Azzi observed her, the woman’s gaze shifted again, this time locking onto hers with an intensity that made Azzi’s heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just a casual glance—it felt like a quiet assessment. As if the blonde was calculating who this woman was with her son in her arms. Azzi’s breath caught in her chest, feeling the weight of that scrutiny, and for a brief second, she wondered what the woman was thinking.

But then, as quickly as it began, the assessment seemed to end. The blonde’s expression softened, a small smirk tugging at her lips. The moment passed, and she effortlessly shifted her attention back to the person in front of her, posing for a picture with a polite smile and signing her autograph.

Azzi gently adjusted Lukas in her arms as she began making her way over to the blonde.

As Azzi approached and the details became a little more defined it clicked in her mind who the woman was. The blonde paused mid-laugh, her attention shifting to her son who was now in front of her.

Lukas, known to be a little enthusiastic, reached his small arms toward his mother, his face lighting up when she caught him effortlessly despite him basically launching his body at her.

“Where’d you run off to, buddy?” the blonde asked with a soft laugh as she organized some of the messy waves of curls on the boy's head.

Lukas looked up at her with wide eyes, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to explain his logic. “I was standing right there,” he began, his words spilling out in his three, almost-four-year-old cadence. “But then a girl tried to take a picture with you, and she almost ran me over! She dropped her chocolate, so I went to get her napkins.”

The blonde smiled at his story with an affectionate glint in her eyes. “Being a gentleman, huh?” she teased, clearly proud of her son’s instincts.

Lukas beamed at the praise, nodding vigorously. “Yup!”

Before Azzi could react, Lukas was off again, his little mouth running a mile a minute as he continued, “And then I bumped into this nice ma’am, but I wasn’t gonna talk to strangers ‘cause you know Ma you always say I shouldn’t, but she was really pretty, so I did anyway. And then she helped me find you!” Once he was done he shrugged casually, as if the sequence of events was a regular part of his day.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the way he rambled, completely unfazed by the world around him, his innocence and honesty shining through in his words. Paige, for her part, seemed entirely accustomed to this stream-of-consciousness storytelling, her eyes twinkling as she chuckled softly, the lines around her eyes deepening as she smiled at him.

“Well, alright, Casanova,” Paige said with a playful tone, her voice soft but still authoritative. “Go sit right there where I can see you and don’t move.” She pointed toward a chair directly next to where she was standing, just a few steps away, so Lukas wouldn’t be out of her sight again.

Lukas nodded, his eyes wide with excitement at the notion of getting to sit in such a grown-up chair. “Okay!” he said, already wiggling in his mom’s arms as she gently set him down.

Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched the little boy plop himself into the seat with a small flourish, trying to act like a big kid, yet still so full of that innocent wonder. She turned her gaze back to the blonde woman, who was already looking at her.

The blonde licked her lips, a subtle gesture, before she spoke. “Thank you for helping out the ladies' man over there,” she said, her voice smooth. She reached her hand out, a slight smirk forming on her lips—not one of arrogance, but a kind of self-assuredness that made it clear she knew exactly how to speak to women. “I’m Paige,” she added, her tone warm and inviting.

Azzi didn’t immediately respond with her name. Instead she simply reached out to shake Paige’s hand, a small flicker of amusement crossing her face when she felt Paige’s thumb brush against her knuckles. The touch was subtle, Azzi pulled away with a quiet confidence that Paige wasn’t used to encountering.

With a small smile, Azzi said, “I know who you are.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, her eyes flashing with curiosity. “Yeah?”

Azzi chuckled softly. “Kind of hard not to know who the face of the Wings is when you live in Dallas.”

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, not surprised but seemingly entertained. Azzi glanced around the café, her eyes noticing the small crowd still lingering near Paige and watching her conversation subtly.

“So, I take it you’re the reason my coffee run was so hectic today?”

Paige chuckled softly. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she said. “Someone posted about me being here before I could leave, and Casanova over there was taking his sweet time eating his breakfast muffin.”

Azzi laughed, the image of the little boy sitting there eating his food slowly while the world swirled around him. “I’m happy I could help,” she said, her voice warm but with a hint of finality, as though the conversation was wrapping up.

But just as Azzi turned to walk away, she felt a light, unexpected touch at her elbow. Paige’s fingers brushed against her skin, stopping her from walking away. The confident smirk never left her face, only now it seemed a little more certain.

“Lemme take you out,” Paige said smoothly, her blue eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “You know, to thank you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued but also well aware of the kind of woman Paige was simply by how she carried herself. There was something about her—something that spoke volumes without her needing to say much. Azzi could tell that she was used to getting what she wanted with women, and something about that made Azzi want to make her work for it just a little more.

“Take me out, huh?” Azzi’s voice was laced with amusement, her lips curving into a slight smile.

Paige, unphased, nodded. “Yeah...you know, to properly thank you.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly as she gave Paige a once-over. Paige was very attractive, no denying that. Her tall frame, the way she carried herself, and that self-assured smile—it was all part of the appeal. But Azzi wasn’t about to give in that easily. She knew what Paige was implying, and while one night stands wasn’t Azzi’s thing, she found herself intrigued in a different way. She met Paige’s eyes, a spark of something unspoken passing between them.

“Coffee,” Azzi said simply.

Paige blinked, momentarily taken aback, though she hid it quickly. “Coffee?” she echoed, as if trying to process what Azzi had just suggested.

Azzi’s grin grew, a glimmer of challenge in her gaze. “Coffee,” she confirmed, her voice steady, eyes locked on Paige’s.

Paige’s lips twitched, her smirk softening into something a little more genuine, almost intrigued. She didn’t push it further. Instead, she let out a small surprised laugh.

“Alright…coffee it is,” Paige said, her voice smooth but with a quiet acknowledgment of the unusual challenge Azzi had just thrown her way.

Azzi, sensing that subtle shift in Paige’s gaze—something that told her she wasn't going to be as easy as Paige was used to—smiled to herself. She reached into her wallet, fingers grazing over the smooth surface of a business card, pulling it out. Flipping it over, she grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled down her personal number.

Without a word, she handed the card to Paige, her fingers brushing against hers just for a moment. "You can text me," Azzi said.

Azzi turned to walk away, her body already angled toward the door when Paige’s voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.

“You never told me your name.”

Azzi paused for a brief second. A slight smirk danced on her lips, playful and a little enigmatic. She didn’t turn back to face Paige fully. Instead, with a casual motion, pointed at the card still resting in Paige’s hand. Without another word, she walked away.

Paige stood there, her brow furrowing in confusion for just a heartbeat, before she looked down at the card in her hand. Her fingers flipped it over, and her eyes scanned the text on the front.

"Azzi Fudd, DO – Private Sports Medicine Physician."

A small, amused smile spread across Paige’s face.

Azzi Fudd.

Paige’s smile deepened, a quiet breathy laugh slipping past her lips as she looked up, her gaze scanning the café for the woman who had already disappeared into the crowd. There was something about the way Azzi handled the whole situation that was a little out of Paige’s typical experience.

Shaking her head slightly, a smile still still tugging at the corners of her lips. She slipped the card into her pocket.

Paige turned back around to check on Lukas, who was sitting in the chair, deep in concentration, scribbling away at something on a piece of paper. Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself, wondering just where he’d gotten that paper and pencil from.

She glanced down at his artwork, trying to make sense of it. The lines were haphazard, the shapes somewhat abstract. Paige tilted her head, her curiosity piqued as she tried to figure out what she was looking at.

“What you drawing dude?” she asked as she crouched down to get a better look.

Lukas looked up at her, his expression completely serious, like it should be clear as day what he was creating. “Ma, it’s a basketball hoop,” he said matter-of-factly, as if she should’ve known that from the start.

Paige raised an eyebrow at the drawing, her smile growing. The abstract shapes and squiggles started to make sense in her head now, and she couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his imagination. “Oooh, yeah, I see it now,” she said, playing along with a grin as she exaggerated her acknowledgment, making him laugh with pride.

She scooped him up effortlessly, his small arms wrapping around her neck immediately. He let out a yawn and buried his face in her shoulder with a soft sigh. Paige smiled down at him and kissed his head before moving toward the door.

She caught sight of her security guard sitting at one of the tables near the entrance, doing his usual routine. He never looked too imposing, but that was part of the job—he blended in. He was always calm, always steady, and knew when to step in without making anyone feel uncomfortable.

Paige had always been a little protective of her sense of independence, even after hiring a security team when she got to the league. She had always been determined to keep the control of her life in her own hands. She still drove herself around whenever she could, enjoyed the simple privacy of a quick coffee run without the constant buzz of attention, and most of all, she never wanted her security guard to be too close, hovering nearby. It was one of the things that made her feel like herself—the ability to be just another person, moving through the world without the heaviness of fame always hanging over her.

Her security guard was great at his job. He knew when to blend into the background and when to step in to get her out of situations. Paige had learned to trust him over time—he was discreet, always in the right place at the right time, without being an obvious presence.

Paige glanced over at him. “We’re heading to the gym,” Paige said. He gave a quick nod as he stood up to follow.

Paige stepped out of the café, the door closing gently behind her security as he walked towards his vehicle. The early Dallas sunlight bathed her in a warm glow. She walked toward her car, her sneakers making soft sounds against the pavement as Lukas chatted away.

She unlocked the back door of her Jeep where Lukas’s car seat was waiting. As she opened the door and sat him in his seat, she asked with a teasing tone, “You can buckle it?”

Lukas stopped in his tracks, a look of almost exaggerated offense crossing his face. His wide blue eyes narrowed slightly, as if she’d just asked him the most ridiculous question.

With a huff, he promptly reached over and started to buckle himself into his car seat—no assistance needed. The little grunt of concentration made Paige smile as she leaned against the car, arms crossed as she watched him with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

“You’re so independent,” she muttered under her breath, but Lukas was clearly on a mission and didn’t hear her. Within seconds, he had the car seat secured, sitting up proudly in his seat as he looked at his mom as if saying ‘see.’

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “My son is so sassy,” she muttered to herself with a small, fond smile. She gave a small tug on the buckle to make sure he did it correctly before kissing his head and shutting the door and walking to the driver's seat. Paige was used to it by now—the way Lukas was quick to show off his little bits of grown-up behavior, always full of surprises, always one step ahead of her in his own way.

…

Later that night, after her day had wound down, Paige sat on the couch in the living room, the quiet hum of a random game playing on the TV in the background. Lukas was sprawled out beside her, completely fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Paige took a moment to just look at him, her heart swelling with that familiar sense of calm that always followed after a long day of chaos.

Her gaze shifted to the table in front of her, where she had tossed the card earlier. Reaching for it, she flipped it over in her hands, her thumb grazing the edges before she grabbed her phone. She typed in the number on the back of the card, staring at the digits for a moment before tapping them into her messages.

She typed out a quick simple message: "So, about that coffee?"

Paige tossed her phone to the side before leaning back on the couch, eyes going back to the game on TV. Her phone buzzed a few minutes later, breaking her train of thought.

Paige scoffed when she saw the reply, and couldn’t help but grin. It read: “No introduction?”

She quickly typed back, tapping her fingers across the screen: “Didn’t think I needed one.”

The reply came almost immediately, and Paige’s grin grew. “Of course you didn’t.”

Paige chuckled and sat up a little straighter, then typed her response: “When are you free?”

She watched the screen for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against her phone as she waited. A moment later, Azzi’s response popped up: “Thursday?”

Paige slid her thumb across her phone to open the calendar app, checking her schedule with a quick scan before going back to the message thread. She typed out: “I can do 11 Thursday.”

Azzi’s response was short and to the point: “Sounds good.”

For a moment, Paige paused. A thought struck her, and she smirked as she typed her next message: “So, what, I just gotta think about you for another day before I can thank you for helping my son?”

She hit send and set the phone down on the couch beside her, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she leaned back again. But it didn’t take long for Azzi’s response to come through, a quick and simple reply: “Seems that way.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, glancing at her phone. “Sounds kinda crazy to me,” she typed, a little smirk tugging at her lips as she sent it off.

She set the phone down again, turning her attention back to Lukas, who was still sound asleep beside her. Before she could drift too far into her thoughts, her phone buzzed once more. The message that appeared on the screen was brief and simple: “Goodnight, Paige.”

A genuine smile crossed Paige’s face at Azzi not playing into her antics. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips before she tossed her phone aside, letting it land gently on the couch. She moved quietly, scooping Lukas into her arms, his small body warm against her chest.

"Come on, little man," she whispered softly, cradling him as she stood up. She carried him to his room, the quiet rhythm of his breathing the only sound that filled the quiet house. Once she’d tucked him into bed, she kissed the top of his head gently, smoothing his hair back.

Paige stood for a moment, watching him before turning to leave the room.

…

When Thursday rolled around, Paige strolled into the café at around 10:55 AM, her steps steady and relaxed as she took in the familiar setting. The soft sound of music filled the air. As she walked further inside, her eyes immediately landed on Azzi. She wasn’t expecting her to be there before her, but there she was, already sitting at a table with her legs crossed as she looked down at her phone. Paige raised an eyebrow, half impressed, half surprised. Azzi looked perfectly at ease, even in the midst of the quiet bustle around her.

Paige’s security guard, always positioned with careful subtlety, took a seat near the door, his gaze scanning the room.

Paige made her way over to Azzi, a small smile tugging at her lips as she approached the table. Azzi’s eyes flicked to the guy that walked in with Paige, a subtle look of confusion crossing her face. Paige settled into the chair across from Azzi and shrugged lightly, her grin a little teasing.

“Security,” Paige said simply.

Azzi gave a small nod. “Ahh, okay.”

For a brief moment, there was a silence between them. Neither spoke, but they both seemed to take a moment to observe each other.

Paige cleared her throat, breaking the quiet, and leaned forward a bit. “Can I get you a coffee?”

Azzi smiled softly at the gesture, standing up gracefully. “We can go up together,” she said.

Paige nodded and stood up as well, the two of them heading toward the counter.

After they ordered their drinks, Paige and Azzi made their way to a booth in the back of the café instead of a regular table. The cozy corner felt more private, offering them a bit more space. They both sat across from one another, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The soft clinking of mugs and the low hum of background chatter filled the space.

Finally, Paige couldn't help but laugh, breaking the silence. “If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly used to this whole coffee date thing.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.” she said sarcastically, clearly a little amused by Paige’s admission.

Paige chuckled at the tone in Azzi’s voice, the subtle tension easing just a little. “Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just used to…other things.”

Azzi’s eyes glinted with curiosity, she leaned forward slightly. “What do you usually do with women, Paige?”

Before Paige could answer, Azzi added, her tone light but assertive, “And I’m someone who prefers honesty.”

Paige paused for a second, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. She liked this. Azzi wasn’t playing games. She didn’t want anything sugar-coated, and Paige appreciated that, maybe more than she expected to.

“Well,” Paige started, “usually, women aren’t all that interested in the dating aspect.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving Paige’s, studying her with that cool, almost calculating gaze. She set the cup down gently on the table, her fingers brushing against the porcelain as she leaned back slightly.

“I see,” Azzi finally said, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing just a touch as she added, “And what were you looking for when you asked to take me out?”

Paige studied Azzi for a moment, taking in the way she carried herself with such quiet confidence. Her brown eyes were soft and inviting, yet still calculated, and the curly hair perfectly pulled out of her face added to the allure of her composure. There was something about the way Azzi held herself—it wasn’t like anyone else Paige had ever met.

A small chuckle escaped Paige’s lips as she shrugged, her shoulders moving in a casual semi playful gesture. It was the same move Lukas had made the other day. Azzi’s eyes softened as she took in Paige’s posture, realizing with a small smile that Lukas definitely got it from her.

Paige leaned back in her seat, studying Azzi for a moment, before answering in a more casual tone. “I wanted to thank the gorgeous woman in front of me for helping my son.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t change at first, but her eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and something else. “So you wanted to sleep with me?” she asked bluntly.

Paige met Azzi’s gaze directly, her lips curling into a slight smile. “The thought is definitely on the table,” she said, speaking honestly, without any pretense.

Azzi picked up on the way Paige worded her response. “Is?” she repeated, the single word hanging in the air between them.

Paige hummed thoughtfully at the question, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah, is,” she said softly, her voice laced with a quiet confidence that matched Azzi’s own.

Though Azzi carried herself with a poise that was different from the women Paige was used to, there was something about her that Paige couldn’t place. Azzi was calm, composed, but Paige noticed the way Azzi crossed her legs a little more tightly as the conversation shifted. The subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the slight tightening of her throat, a small, almost imperceptible swallow that hinted at a shift in the dynamic.

Paige couldn’t help but smirk, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them without a word being spoken.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she met Paige’s gaze again , and then, with a slight tilt of her head, she said, “You’re attractive.”

Paige’s smile only deepened, her confidence never wavering as she responded, “I’m aware.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh. She leaned back slightly in her seat. “But I’m not sleeping with you after one coffee date.”

Paige paused for a moment, considering her words. She wasn’t used to hearing that—at least not in such a direct way. But there was something about Azzi’s honesty that Paige found appealing, something real and refreshing. Finally, she hummed, acknowledging the boundary without pushing. “That’s fair.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, her gaze steady, before asking with that same confidence, “Is that something you’re okay with?”

Paige took a deep breath, her mind running through a series of thoughts before she responded. She could appreciate that Azzi wasn’t playing games, that she wasn’t trying to hide her expectations. Paige took another beat, then added, “Let’s see how this first date goes.”

“That’s fair.”

After that the conversation flowed naturally between them, not forced but easy, the kind of conversation where the gaps in speech felt comfortable rather than awkward. Paige talked about basketball, the upcoming season, and the usual pre-season jitters that came with gearing up with a slightly different roster. She joked about the pressure of always having to be at her best, but Azzi could hear the underlying seriousness in her voice, the weight of a career built on constant performance.

Azzi shared her own experiences, talking about her work with athletes and how she approached sports medicine differently. She explained what a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine was—how she took a more holistic approach to treating injuries, focusing on the body as a whole rather than just isolating the injury. It was clear from the way she spoke that she was passionate about what she did, but Azzi wasn’t sure how much Paige would actually connect with it. After all, most athletes only cared about getting back on the court or field as quickly as possible, and they usually relied on standard physical therapy or rehab.

Much to her surprise, Paige was attentive, asking questions at just the right moments, listening intently. It wasn’t just idle small talk for her; she was engaged, processing what Azzi was saying and chiming in when something in particular piqued her interest. Azzi found herself intrigued by how naturally it came to Paige—how her curiosity and genuine interest seemed to draw out more of Azzi’s thoughts than she had expected to share.

On the other hand, Paige was pleasantly surprised at how much she didn’t mind listening to Azzi explain sports medicine. She had never considered herself the type to get into that side of things, but there was something about Azzi in general that made something that she would typically find a bore to be interesting.

In the middle of their conversation, as Paige was talking about something Azzi had asked her, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A teenage girl had approached their booth hesitantly, and Paige paused mid-sentence. Her eyes softened as she caught the girl’s gaze, and a warm smile spread across her face. Azzi, still talking, didn’t notice at first, and the sudden change in Paige’s demeanor left her slightly confused.

The girl, her voice a bit shaky, asked, “Hi can I get a picture please?”

Paige stood up from the booth without hesitation, her smile never wavering. “Of course,” she said. The girl’s face lit up, and her excitement was palpable as she stepped closer to Paige. Her father, who had been standing a little off to the side, joined them, ready to take the photo.

Azzi watched the scene unfold. She saw how gentle Paige was in her interaction with the fan.

The father snapped the picture, and once he was done, he extended his hand with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. Huge fans,” he said.

Paige shook his hand with a smile. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone warm but brief, showing how accustomed to this routine she was. As the father and daughter turned to leave, Paige’s voice caught their attention one last time.

“Sorry to ask this,” she said, sounding a little apologetic. “But if you’re planning on posting that, could you wait a few hours until I’m gone? Just wanna enjoy the afternoon, you know?”

The father nodded understandingly. “No problem at all,” he said, and Paige smiled again, grateful.

“Thank you,” she said before turning back to the booth, easing herself back into the seat in front of Azzi, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping her as Paige settled back into her seat. “Not used to being the center of attention, huh?” she asked with a teasing grin.

Paige shook her head, smiling back at Azzi. “I’m used to it, just...sometimes it’s nice to have a day of peace.” She glanced at Azzi. “Sorry about that.”

Azzi shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I get it. You’re a big deal.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, a soft chuckle escaping her as she leaned back slightly. “You should see Lukas when kids approach me,” she began, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought about her son. “He used to get super jealous—until he realized I was his mom and not theirs. He still gets a little jealous now, but it’s better.”

Azzi smiled, the mention of Lukas bringing something a little lighter to the conversation. “That’s the first time you’ve talked about him today,” she observed, almost surprised.

Paige’s smile deepened. “Yeah, well… kids not exactly first date material,” she said with a slight laugh, as if the idea of talking about her son had never crossed her mind for this kind of setting.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly. “I disagree,” she said.

Paige looked at her, a curious glint in her eyes. “Yeah?”

Azzi leaned in a bit, her gaze steady. “I mean, he’s a big part of your life, right?”

Paige nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah, he is.”

Azzi’s expression softened too, her voice carrying a subtle warmth. “Then he’s a part of getting to know you.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully, considering Azzi’s words for a moment. There was a quiet acknowledgment in the way her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions.

Azzi leaned in slightly, her voice inviting. “Tell me about him.”

Paige laughed lightly at the thought of him. “Oh, he’s a handful. Probably two handfuls, honestly,” she said, her smile turning a little more affectionate as she spoke about her son. “He’s smart, always getting into something but he probably gets that from me so I can’t even be upset.”

Azzi smiled. “He’s a cutie.”

This seemed to catch Paige’s attention, her smirk returning. “Hm, is that right?” she said.

Azzi rolled her eyes, recognizing exactly what Paige was implying. “I already told you I thought you were attractive,” she said.

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, a small smirk curling at the corner of her lips. She was about to reply when Azzi’s tone shifted, something more serious slipping in. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, giving her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Lukas is clearly biologically yours,” she began, her gaze steady but gentle, as if she was treading carefully.

Paige immediately caught on to the unspoken question, her expression softening. She leaned back slightly, a quiet honesty in her voice. “My ex gave birth to him using my egg.”

Azzi nodded slowly, processing the information. Paige continued, “I have sole custody of him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The air between them shifted, Azzi’s curiosity evident but respectful. “So you don’t have any contact with her anymore, I’m assuming?”

Paige’s eyes darkened slightly, but her response was straightforward. “No.”

Azzi nodded again, a sign of understanding, and didn’t press further as she shifted the conversation back to something lighter.

Their coffee date wrapped up a little while later, both of them glancing at the time as they realized how quickly it had flown by. Azzi had a client scheduled, and Paige had practice waiting for her, the familiar weight of their responsibilities pulling them back into their respective worlds.

As they stood up from the booth, a quiet but comfortable understanding lingered between them. Azzi reached for her bag, giving Paige a small, warm smile. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to your day.”

Paige nodded, returning the smile with a softness in her eyes. “Yeah, practice is calling.” She paused, then added, “But this was nice.”

Azzi’s smile widened just a bit. “It was. Maybe we should do it again sometime?”

Paige smirked at this question, “So I wasn’t too arrogant?”

Azzi laughs saying, “Just enough apparently.”

Paige huffed out a laugh saying, “I’ll text you.”

Azzi gave a soft smile. “I look forward to it.” With that she headed toward the door where her driver was waiting to take her to the clinic.

They didn’t exactly plan when or where their second date would happen, but neither of them seemed worried about it.

…

After that day the two of them hadn’t seen one another in some time. Their busy schedules made it hard for them to find time to meet up again. Still they had kept in contact. They had been texting and even had a few phone calls here and there as they got to know one another.

One evening Azzi sat at the bar, sipping on a cocktail and enjoying the women in sports gala around her. The atmosphere was lively, with people mingling, but she wasn’t as interested in the small talk as some others were. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone she knew, but when she saw Paige walking toward the complimentary bar, her attention was immediately drawn.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, observing the scene. Paige’s stride was confident as she approached the bar, her simple presence commanding attention even in a crowd of people. The bartender greeted her with an overly flirtatious smile, her body language completely different than when she served anyone else. Paige gave her a tight, polite smile in return, but it was clear she wasn’t interested.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile. She hadn’t expected to see Paige here, but now that she had, she found herself happy to see her again. Azzi reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, typing a message.

You clean up nice.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, watching Paige as she stood at the bar, the bartender handing her a drink. Paige glanced down at her phone, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. Azzi watched the gears turn in her head as she scanned the room. A few moments passed before their eyes locked across the space.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Paige’s lips as she made eye contact with Azzi and raised her eyebrow. Azzi’s pulse quickened just a little, amused by the unspoken challenge. Paige thanked the bartender, tossing a generous tip down before turning toward Azzi.

Azzi stood up from her seat. Before she could say anything, Paige closed the distance between them and leaned in for a quick hug. Azzi didn’t miss the way Paige’s eyes scanned her up and down once they pulled apart—quick, but thorough. Azzi could almost hear the assessment happening behind that sly smirk.

Paige sat down next to Azzi, adjusting her drink in her hand as she got settled.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, her smile softening. "I see you finally noticed me," she teased before she took another sip of her cocktail.

Paige’s eyes met hers as she replied, "Well, you weren't hard to miss. You look amazing.”

Azzi smiled at the compliment, her own eyes giving Paige a once over as she settled next to her. It felt like an unspoken game, both of them sizing each other up without quite saying the obvious. The tension was there. Neither of them had to try too hard to make it noticeable.

“You, enjoying the event?” Azzi asked.

Paige leaned back, looking around the venue before sighing. “Honestly? Hell no. I been bored all night. Networking, small talk, you know the drill. I’d rather be on the court.”

Azzi nodded, understanding immediately. “I get that. It’s hard to get invested in something that feels ingenuine.”

Paige’s lips quirked. “Exactly. But, I’m here, so... might as well make the best of it. Paige pauses for a second smoothly scooting closer to Azzi as she adds, “I think I can have a pretty good time now though.”

Azzi playfully rolls her eyes at this. She had gotten used to Paige’s non stop flirting in the past two weeks. Azzi mumbles, “Whatever.”

Paige chuckled lightly, swirling the ice in her drink before taking another sip. "So," she started, leaning back in her seat and eyeing Azzi with a grin. "What do you do for fun, when you're not, you know, saving athletes from ourselves and texting me at ungodly hours asking about my day?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow, at the question. "First of all, you like it. Second, If I’m being honest, I don’t really get a lot of time for ‘fun,’” she said with a soft laugh. “But when I do give myself a break, I like to get out of the city, maybe take a short trip somewhere.

“Where you like to go?”

Azzi thought about it for a second before saying, “Well you know I like nature so anywhere that doesn’t have light pollution honestly. Somewhere quiet.”

Paige hummed at Azzi’s answer, swirling the ice in her drink. “That actually sounds nice,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve seen real stars in years.”

Azzi tilted her head. “What, not even on the road? Some of those late-night flights gotta give you a decent view.”

Paige let out a short laugh. “Maybe, but I’m usually either knocked out or too busy watching film for the next game to notice.” She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I went on an actual vacation. Between the WNBA season, Unrivaled, endorsement events, Lukas, and whatever else gets thrown my way… there’s barely any downtime.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, catching something in Paige’s tone that felt just a little heavier than her usual confident energy. “That sounds exhausting,” she said, voice softer. “Do you ever give yourself a chance to just… stop? Even for a second?”

Paige scoffed, leaning back in her seat. “Not really. If I’m not playing, I’m training. If I’m not training, I’m doing media. If I’m not doing media, I’m at some event pretending to care about small talk.” She motioned toward the room with a light laugh, but there was an underlying truth there—one Azzi could see past the bravado.

Azzi tapped her fingers against her glass thoughtfully. “You ever think about forcing yourself to take a break? Even just for a couple days?”

Paige raised an eyebrow at her. “And do what?”

Azzi shrugged. “I don’t know… go somewhere with no cameras, no schedule, no pressure. Just exist for a bit.”

Paige looked at her, a flicker of something in her expression before she smirked. “You offering to be my getaway guide?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just saying, if you ever decide to escape for a second, I could give you some ideas.”

Paige held her gaze for a moment before smiling. “Noted.” She took another sip of her drink, then nudged Azzi lightly with her shoulder. “Alright, next question. If you had a weekend off, no responsibilities, no distractions—what’s your ideal way to spend it?”

Azzi leaned back, considering the question. “Easy. A cabin in the mountains, a fire going, no phone, and maybe a book I’ve been meaning to read.”

Paige smirked. “No phone, huh? You’d survive without texting me at midnight?”

Azzi shot her a look, shaking her head with a laugh. “I think I’d manage.”

Paige hummed, tilting her head as if imagining it. “Sounds kinda nice. Maybe I need to consider that too..”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you do.”

Their eyes lingered on each other for a beat longer than necessary before Paige let out a small chuckle and looked down toward her drink.

“And what about you?” Azzi asked, tilting her head slightly. “I remember you saying Lukas is obsessed with building things.”

Paige chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Yeah, I got him his own little tool set and everything. The other day, he convinced me he needed a bigger bed just because he wanted to help build something.”

Azzi laughed, setting her drink down. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

Paige sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “Unfortunately,” she mumbled, though the small smile on her face gave her away.

Azzi smirked. “But I guess this means you’re good at putting things together?”

Paige shrugged. “Yeah, I’m pretty handy around the house.”

Azzi hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “So I know who to call when I need something built.”

Paige turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you were still in the building stage of a house you’ve lived in for years.”

Azzi shrugged, her expression carefully neutral. “I’m not. But who knows…I was thinking about getting a new entertainment system.”

Paige hummed at the insinuation, her lips twitching into a smirk as she leaned in slightly. “If you want me to come over, you can just ask.”

Azzi took a small sip of her drink before saying, “So, you're open to coming over?”

Paige huffed out a laugh, a glint in her eyes. “I thought we both knew that already.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady. “I mean, you never really brought it up again after the last time we texted. I just assumed that boat sailed.”

Paige’s lips quirked as she raked her eyes over Azzi’s frame slowly. “Definitely hasn’t sailed.”

For a moment, they both seemed to consider the implications of the words they just exchanged. The air between them a little thick with unspoken tension. They held each other’s gaze, neither of them needing to say much more, as if they both knew exactly where this was heading.

Then, as if on cue, Paige’s phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping them both out of the brief spell. Paige sighed, almost reluctantly breaking eye contact as she pulled the phone out, her expression shifting as she saw Drew’s name on the screen.

She swiped to answer, and immediately, the sound of Lukas’ cries echoed through the speaker. Paige tensed, her whole demeanor changing instantly. “Drew, what the hell is going on?” she asked.

Drew’s voice was frantic, a little apologetic. “I wasn’t looking for like two seconds, and he fell off the stool at the island. His hand’s pretty bad, Paige. He’s crying his eyes out and he’s asking for you. I swear it was only two seconds, I'm sorry.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat as she clenched her jaw, trying to stay calm. “I told you he couldn’t fucking sit there, Drew,” she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. Drew apologized profusely before asking if he should take Lukas to the ER.

“No, I'll do it. I’m on my way,” Paige said, hanging up quickly. She turned to Azzi, her face drawn with concern. “I’m sorry I have to go. Lukas hurt his wrist and I have to take him to the emergency room.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly with immediate concern. “I can look at it if you’d like?” she offered without hesitation.

“Really?” Paige asked, her tone softening.

Azzi nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

Azzi set the glass down on the bar with a soft clink. She turned to Paige, who had already started rising from her seat.

Paige smiled at her, though there was a subtle tension in her posture, a quiet nervous energy she hadn’t shown since they’d met. Azzi caught it immediately. "Ready?" Paige asked, glancing down at her phone again, probably hoping for an update on Lukas.

“Yeah,” Azzi replied, giving Paige a reassuring smile. As they both started walking toward the exit, Azzi noticed how Paige’s pace had quickened as they neared the valet area.

When they reached the valet stand, Paige handed over her ticket. Paige’s nerves were palpable and Azzi noticed her chewing lightly on her bottom lip.

For the first time, Azzi saw the cracks in Paige’s usual confident demeanor. It was an interesting sight, seeing the athlete, usually so poised and composed, so visibly tense. Azzi caught her eye, her voice soft but steady. “Hey.”

Paige met her gaze, blinking, and then looking away. “Hm?”

Azzi stepped closer, her voice calm. “He’ll be fine,” she reassured her. “I promise.”

Paige sighed, her breath a little shaky as she checked her phone again. “I know…I just hate when I’m not there with him when something happens,” she admitted.

Azzi gave her a small, sympathetic smile. Paige noticed how Azzi’s arms had goosebumps from the breeze, her dress not quite enough to shield her from the night chill. Without thinking, Paige slipped off her suit jacket and draped it over Azzi’s shoulders.

Azzi froze for a moment, clearly surprised by the action. She glanced at Paige, her fingers instinctively running over the fabric of the jacket. The warmth from Paige’s body lingered in the material, her scent clinging to the fabric, and Azzi couldn’t ignore the small smile that tugged at her lips. There was something comforting about the action, the quiet care behind it.

"Thanks," Azzi said softly, her voice quieter than usual as she pulled the jacket tighter around herself.

Paige smiled in return, her lips curling up at the corners. “No problem,” she replied, her voice warmer than it had been moments before.

Paige smiled in return, her lips curling up at the corners, though it was a soft, almost vulnerable smile. “No problem,” she replied, her voice warmer than it had been moments before. A second later, the valet pulled up with Paige’s car. Paige walked toward it and opened the passenger door for Azzi.

The gesture once again caught Azzi by surprise, a small but meaningful one that made her chest warm. She knew Paige was worried about her son, likely running through a million thoughts in her head, yet she still made the effort to open the door for her. It wasn’t much, but it meant something.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered as she slid into Paige’s car. Her words were quiet, but genuine, carrying a touch of warmth that mirrored what she felt in her chest.

Paige nodded and softly shut the door, her hand lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. Then, she walked around the car, giving the valet a tip as she got into the driver’s side. As the door clicked shut Paige put on her seatbelt and adjusted her grip on the wheel before pulling away from the valet stand.

…

As the car came to a stop in front of Paige’s large driveway, Azzi had very little time to process just how beautiful the house was before she and Paige were getting out of the car and heading toward the door. The space was impressive, a blend of modern elegance with a sense of warmth, but Azzi didn’t have much time to linger on the details.

As soon as they stepped inside, Azzi could hear small, almost pitiful whimpers coming from the living room.She instinctively followed Paige as she led the way down the hallway. The moment they reached the living room, Lukas' eyes locked onto Paige, and his face lit up with a mix of relief and sadness.

The boy reached up for his mom, his blue eyes welling with tears again immediately. Paige easily scooped him up into her arms, holding him close, and let him rest his head against her neck. Azzi watched the way Paige instinctively soothed Lukas, rubbing a gentle hand along his back.

Paige had rolled the sleeves of her dress shirt up on the drive over, the cuffs left undone, a casual detail that gave her an even more relaxed appearance. But now, with Lukas in her arms, Azzi couldn’t stop herself from noticing how effortless it all seemed. The way she moved, the way she was comforting her son—it was magnetic, and Azzi was acutely aware of how attracted to Paige she felt in that moment.

Paige sat down on the couch, cradling Lukas in her lap, her hands gently rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down. The small boy whimpered slightly, still upset, his eyes swollen from the earlier tears. Paige leaned down to look at him as she spoke.

“Can you let Azzi look at your wrist, buddy?” she asked. Lukas’s eyes welled with fresh tears at the mention of someone touching his injury. He shook his head a little, clearly reluctant to have anyone near it.

Paige sighed softly, her thumb brushing against his cheek in an effort to soothe him. “Remember what I told you about being tough, even when you don’t want to?” she said, her voice steady, but full of warmth. Lukas hesitated for a moment, his pout deepening, but after a few seconds, he nodded slowly.

Paige smiled at him reassuringly. “This is one of those times, okay? But I’m going to be right here with you while she looks at it.” She made sure her voice was steady, offering him comfort in the midst of his hesitation.

Lukas sniffled but nodded again, still clinging to his mom. Azzi smiled sympathetically as she walked over to the couch, reaching for Paige’s jacket. She carefully slid it off her shoulders before draping it over the back of the couch. She then took a seat in front of Lukas and smiled at him sweetly, hoping to put him at ease.

“Hi, handsome,” Azzi said warmly.

Lukas’s face lit up for a brief moment, and Azzi caught the faintest hint of a grin forming on his lips. But before he could fully show it, he blushed shyly, quickly ducking his face into Paige’s chest, hiding from Azzi.

Paige’s jaw dropped slightly and she looked down at her son who was hiding in her chest. “No way, you just made my son blush,” she said.

Azzi laughed. “I’m pretty, what can I say?” she responded, raising an eyebrow with a confident smile.

Paige couldn't do anything but laugh as she continued to stroke Lukas’s hair.

Azzi refocused as Lukas peeked at her from behind Paige, his attention now on her. Azzi leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle. "I’m just going to take a quick look at your wrist, okay?"

Lukas nodded, though his face still held a trace of uncertainty. Azzi reached for his hand gently, unwrapping the makeshift wrap with careful hands. As she finished undoing the wrap, she set it aside before giving Lukas a soft, reassuring smile. “If anything hurts, can you tell me?” she asked.

Lukas nodded, and Azzi could see that he was trying to be brave, even if his little body still trembled here and there. She smiled at him again, her tone soft and still as patient as ever as she moved slower than usual. “You’re doing great.”

Azzi began near his elbow, gently squeezing the area there and watching for any signs of discomfort. When Lukas didn’t flinch or pull away, she continued to slowly move down his arm.

When she finally reached his wrist, she squeezed the red, portion carefully, her eyes immediately noticing the small flinch from Lukas. He whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, but Azzi was quick to adjust, maintaining a gentle hold to keep him from fully pulling away.

“Hey, Lukas,” she said softly. “Can you move your hand like this for me?” Azzi demonstrated by making a small motion with her own wrist, gesturing for him to follow.

Lukas hesitated for a second before slowly mimicking the motion with his own wrist, wincing slightly as he did so. Azzi watched carefully. “Good job,” she praised him before instructing, “Now, can you move it in the opposite direction like this?”

Lukas’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded and followed her lead, turning his wrist in the opposite direction, though more slowly this time. Azzi’s smile widened slightly as she observed how brave he was being, even if it wasn’t easy for him.

“Look at you, tough guy,” she whispered, still holding his hand gently as she kept a watchful eye on his reactions.

Azzi smiled warmly at Lukas, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “All done,” she said softly. She glanced up at Paige. “He’ll be fine. He just needs a little ice.”

Paige looked at Azzi with a hint of disbelief, as if she was searching for more confirmation. “Really?” she asked.

Azzi nodded. “Yes, really. It’s just a little sore. Nothing serious.”

Paige let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension drained from her body. “Thank god,” she muttered, a relieved laugh slipping from her lips. She looked down at Lukas, who had calmed down a little, his small hands still clutching her.

“Dude, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Paige teased as she gently ruffled his hair. Lukas let out a small giggle, a faint smile creeping onto his face.

Paige’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Can you say thank you to Azzi?” she prompted, guiding Lukas’s attention back to the woman who had just helped him.

Lukas hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet Azzi’s. The instant their gazes locked, his cheeks flushed bright red. He quickly ducked his head, burying his face into Paige’s chest again.

Paige froze, staring at Lukas for a moment in shock. She’d never seen him act shy like this before. Lukas was always the confident little charmer, always trying to impress girls. But now, here he was, hiding in her chest, blushing like a little kid. It took her completely off guard.

Before she could say anything, Drew, sitting across the room with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I think Luke has a little crush."

Lukas’s head whipped around instantly, his eyes wide with shock, and he yelled, “No!” at the top of his lungs, his face now a deeper shade of red.

Drew chuckled. “Nah, it’s okay, man,” he teased, leaning back on the couch. “We all get crushes.”

Lukas was having none of it. He jumped off Paige’s lap, completely ignoring the pain in his wrist now as he rushed towards Drew, fists raised.

“Hey, hey, careful!” Drew laughed, raising his hands defensively. But Lukas was determined, throwing playful punches at his uncle, clearly more upset about the teasing than the injury.

Paige, still sitting on the couch, watched the little scuffle unfold, but when she saw Lukas’s hands flying, her tone became more serious. “What did I tell you about hitting?” she asked firmly.

Lukas froze mid-swing, his little arms still outstretched in the air, and his eyes widened as he realized he’d crossed the line.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he mumbled, dropping his hands and looking down at the floor, a little embarrassed.

Paige sighed, but the edge in her voice softened as she gently pulled him back into her lap. “It’s okay, but you know better than that. We don’t solve problems with our fists,” she said softly, brushing a hair away from his face. “Can you apologize to Uncle Drew now?”

Lukas gave Drew a look of mild defiance but reluctantly said, “Sorry, Uncle Drew.”

Drew chuckled, his hands up in mock surrender. “No worries, buddy. Just don’t go knocking me out, alright?”

Realizing she hadn't introduced them, Paige quickly turned to Azzi, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, Azzi, this is Drew, my brother. Drew, this is Azzi," she said, gesturing between the two of them.

Drew smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you," Azzi said politely, her eyes flicking to the little boy in Paige’s lap.

Drew nodded at Azzi. "The pleasure’s mine," he said, before shifting his attention back to Lukas, who was now squirming in Paige’s lap. Without missing a beat, Drew scooped Lukas up, holding him upside down. "Alright, Imma go finish my uncle duties and get this dude ready for bed."

Lukas let out a dramatic screech, kicking his legs as Drew playfully dangled him. “No! Not bed!” Lukas whined, but Drew just chuckled, walking toward the stairs with Lukas hanging upside down in his arms.

Paige laughed at their antics, shaking her head. “Y'all are crazy,” she yelled after them.

Turning her attention back to Azzi, Paige exhaled a relieved sigh. “Thank you, really. I didn’t know what I’d do without you tonight,” she said.

Azzi gave her a soft smile, nodding. "No problem at all. I’m just glad I could help.”

Paige leaned back into the couch, her shoulders relaxing. “I owe you one,” she added, her gaze lingering on Azzi a little longer this time.

Azzi caught the look, and for a second, the playful tension between them reappeared. "I’m sure I’ll think of a way for you to make it up to me," Azzi teased, her soft smile still on her face.

Paige tilted her head, smirking in return. "Oh, yeah?" she asked.

Azzi hummed.

“Like what?”

Azzi’s gaze dropped just briefly to Paige's lips, a small spark of something passing between them. Paige noticed the subtle shift and leaned in just slightly, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s, her finger brushing lightly against Azzi's shoulder as she waited for an answer.

Azzi's breath hitched slightly, but she pulled back, her eyes still locked onto Paige's. "Like getting me home safely," she said, her voice soft.

Paige threw her head back against the couch with a soft laugh, running her hands down her face. After a beat, she sat up again, turning her attention back to Azzi with a smirk that was impossible to miss.

"Getting you home safely, huh?" Paige said, her tone a little more teasing now, her eyes gleaming with that signature confidence.

Azzi met her gaze, her lips curling into a subtle smile. "Mhm," she confirmed, the warmth in her voice matching the look in her eyes.

"I think I can handle that."

With that, Paige stood and offered Azzi a hand to help her up from the couch. Azzi took it, feeling the small jolt of energy from the touch. She started to rise, but before she could, Paige’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

"You sure I can’t give you a tour before we head out?" Paige’s question was smooth, casual, but there was an edge to it. The way Paige’s blue eyes sparkled made it clear that she wasn’t just offering a tour of the house.

Azzi was about to agree, the invitation on the tip of her tongue, but then she caught that smirk on Paige’s face—the way she was looking at her. They both knew what would happen if Paige led her into her bedroom, and Azzi wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that leap—at least, not tonight.

"I think I’ll pass on that," Azzi said, her tone light and teasing, her eyes dancing with the same playful energy.

Paige raised an eyebrow, that glint still lingering in her expression. "Mm, okay." Then she gently placed her hand on Azzi’s lower back. The contact sent a ripple of warmth through Azzi’s body, and she felt the pressure of Paige’s palm guiding her toward the door.

Without another word, Paige led her out of the house, the night air surrounding them as they walked to the car. Neither of them spoke immediately, but the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.

As they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi, her hand lingering just a little longer than necessary on her back.

Azzi smiled softly, her heart racing a little faster than it probably should have as she sat in the passenger seat. Paige gently shut the door before she walked around to the driver's side. As Azzi waited, she couldn't help but glance out the window, her eyes landing on the two other cars in the driveway.

Paige noticed the shift in her attention, and spoke up. "I use that one," she nodded toward the blackout jeep, "when I'm taking Lukas with me. Has his car seat in it."

Azzi nodded, her gaze following Paige's hand as she gestured to the car they were in. "And this one?" Azzi asked.

Paige smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to show off a little. "This one’s got a better tint and it’s faster," she explained. "I use it for events and things like that." She paused, her eyes meeting Azzi's. "Keeps things a little more private."

Azzi raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Private, huh?" she teased, as she considered the implications of that.

Paige's lips curved into a smile of her own. "Well," she said, her tone shifting to something a little more flirtatious, "you never know who might be watching."

Azzi couldn't help but laugh softly. There was something about the way Paige carried herself—confident, self-assured, but still a little obnoxious—that Azzi found undeniably magnetic. It was hard to ignore the chemistry between them anytime they spoke.

Azzi simply shrugged, keeping the mood light. "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind," she replied, her gaze lingering on Paige for a moment longer than she intended.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head as she shifted the car into drive. The drive to Azzi’s place was smooth, the low hum of the engine and the occasional soft exchange of words filling the space. The atmosphere between them felt comfortable, even with the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

When they finally pulled up to Azzi's place, Paige parked the car, and before Azzi could even reach for the door handle, Paige was already walking around to the passenger side. She opened the door for her as she extended a hand to help Azzi out.

Azzi smiled and placed her hand in Paige’s. “Thank you again,” she said softly, the sincerity in her voice clear.

Paige gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. She followed Azzi up the path to her door, her footsteps quiet beside Azzi’s heels clicking against the pavement as they approached the front steps. Once they reached the door, Paige paused, leaning back against the railing.

“Thank you for your help… again,” Paige said. There was a certain softness to her voice that made the words feel more personal than just a simple thanks.

Azzi glanced at Paige, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she stepped a little closer, the sharp click of her heels against the pavement adding a rhythmic sound to the quiet of the night as her perfume filled Paige’s senses at the proximity.

“No problem,” Azzi replied with a small smile, her voice just as soft as before. She took a small step closer, her gaze never leaving Paige's face.

Paige felt a surge of warmth, a quiet pull between them that made her a little excited. She kept her hands in her pockets, not moving but fully aware of how close Azzi had gotten.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, just standing there, the space between them filled with something that neither could name.

Azzi's voice broke the quiet moment. "So, about that second date?" She paused, watching Paige carefully. "What's your schedule like?"

Paige pulled her phone out of her pocket, flicking through her calendar. She turned the screen toward Azzi with a half smile.

Azzi accepted the phone gently, her fingers brushing against Paige’s as she did so. She pulled out her own phone and began comparing their schedules, the two of them silent for a few moments as she browsed through the information. When she found a time that worked for both of them, she tapped in the details and then, without asking, added it to Paige's calendar.

Paige watched with an amused grin as Azzi took charge of the timing. "You didn’t even ask," Paige said playfully.

Azzi looked up, catching the glint in Paige’s eye, and shrugged with a soft smile. "I’m just being efficient," she replied, handing the phone back.

Paige glanced at her phone, noticing that Azzi had put the date for the day after tomorrow. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she locked the phone and slid it back into her pocket.

Azzi spoke, her voice quieter, almost grateful. "Thank you for getting me home safely."

Paige's smile softened as she met Azzi’s gaze. "Anytime," she replied, her words almost too easy, as if the offer to look out for Azzi was something she genuinely wanted to give.

Azzi bit her lip, clearly holding back something, before she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Paige's cheek. The action was quick but warm, and it sent a small shock of heat through Paige’s chest. "Goodnight, Paige," Azzi whispered.

"Goodnight, Azzi," Paige responded, her voice lower than usual. The moment lingered between them as they hugged, Azzi’s arms wrapping around Paige’s shoulders, and Paige’s arms gently pulling Azzi closer by the waist.

Azzi watched as Paige turned to walk toward her car, her eyes following every step. Paige stopped before getting in the car and leaned over the driver’s side door slightly, her voice cutting through the night air.

"I'll pick you up on Wednesday?"

Azzi’s smile grew at the offer. "You’ll pick me up Wednesday," she said.

Paige nodded, watching as Azzi unlocked her door and stepped inside before getting in her car and driving off.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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matchpointfaist · 12 days ago

Text

super rich kids with nothing but loose ends

art donaldson x pr relationship! reader

tw for drinking, drug usage, smut, might split into two parts

art donaldson had a tiny image problem. okay, maybe tiny wasn’t the right word. according to his team, and grandmother, he was on a downward spiral headed nowhere. he was at the height of his career, fresh out of stanford and in with the pros, perpetually gearing up for his next tournament, always running on as little sleep as possible. he had more than he knew how to handle; more money, more alcohol, more parties, more people offering him coke and more of a reason to finally try it. when he was younger, 16 or 17, he’d preached about his body being a temple, he’d never have dreamed of putting anything harmful into it. but now? now, he was living in a free for all, and he just kept coming out on top.

you, on the other hand? the media loved you. you were riding a high from your US open win straight out of college, on a winning streak that was finally being recognized as more to do with skill than luck. your team was a tight ship, constantly keeping tags on you, making sure nothing undesirable slipped through. it wasn’t just about winning, for you. it was about being the best, and that meant every aspect of your life revolving around getting people to like you. behind closed doors, though? that was a whole different story.

you could, and often did, keep up with art and all of his friends. you weren’t close, really, but you ran in the same circles, always running into each other at parties, occasionally flirting. he’d run into you once at some magazine launch, making small talk, already half drunk. “how do you do it?” he’d let slip through, watching you with hazy eyes. “do what?” you’d laughed, brows knit. “keep it together. you’re always more fucked up than i am, but you go out and win the next day like nothing happened,” he’d sounded frustrated, like he was holding it against you. “i just do it,” you’d shrugged, knowing fully well it was a blatant lie. every moment of your life was choreographed and orchestrated- you never just did anything. “bullshit,” he’d said under his breath, turning away before you could ask him what he meant. he’d avoided you after that, watching from afar as you drank the other girls under the table, as you stayed out even later than he did despite having a 8am match. he didn’t need to know how you did it. he could figure it out himself.

six months later, he found himself sitting in his manager's glass office, getting scolded for what felt like hours, lectured endlessly about his problematic behavior. "we need to rehab your image," his manager told him, leaned over his desk, "you need a girlfriend, someone to soften your appearance, make you more favorable to brands," "i'm a tennis player," art sighed, sinking down in the crinkling plastic seat, "i didn't sign up for all this shit, honestly, and i'm certainly not gonna go date some random girl just so a brand will sponsor me," "you don't need a random girl," his manager smiled, paging his assistant, and before art could ask him to clarify, you were strolling through the door. "oh, fuck no," he shook his head, standing without hesitation, "no. i don't need tennis' golden girl to tidy up my image, okay? this is bullshit," "if you want to stay signed on here, you'll sit down,"

art sat back down with an agitated huff, crossing his legs, trying to keep his eyes off of you as you sat down in the chair just beside his. "you need to understand that the two of you are not just tennis players anymore, alright? you're celebrities. my firm represents both of you, and i have zero intention of letting my investment go to waste because you can't get a grip, donaldson. we've drawn up contracts-" the man slid two folders across his desk, rigid with tension, "the two of you will maintain a stable, healthy relationship for a minimum of six months, until the buzz about art's recent escapades dies down. if, for any reason, this relationship ends before the six month term, both of your contracts with this firm will be terminated. got it?" a handful of mumbled expletives and messy signatures later, you were following art out of the office, the tension palpable.

"i think this is all bullshit, for the record," he told you as the elevator doors closed behind the two of you, "i don't need this. i'm doing perfectly fine for myself," "you're an alcoholic who sleeps his way through whichever city he finds himself competing in, don't be stupid. i know you, art. or were you too fucked up to remember all the times you hit on me at parties?" "i'm not an alcoholic," he scoffed, running a hand through his hair, "and that's rich, coming from you. you drink more than half the guys there," "and yet i still show up and don't make an ass out of myself!" you laughed incredulously, "face it, art, really. you need this,"

the elevator dinged and he watched as you stepped off, hesitating before following after you. “we might as well make the best of it,” he finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “we need to be seen out together,” “just call me when you set something up,” you told him, smoothing out your skirt, “see you around, art,” and then you were gone, slipped out the door and into the back of some dark suv, just casual enough to get under his skin. he waited a week before calling you, finally deciding just to take you to dinner, try to at least be friends if you were stuck together for 6 months. he picked the restaurant, insisting on picking you up himself- he had a new sports car he was itching to drive- and sent you the details. he pulled into your driveway 5 minutes late, debating if he should get out and come to the door before changing his mind. this wasn’t a real date, after all.

you walked out after a moment, a vision of long legs and a sleek dress, your hair falling in loose curls down your back. “rude to make a lady come to the car alone,” you told him as you slid into the passenger seat, “i’d prefer if you didn’t do it again,” “do forgive me,” he rolled his eyes, raising his hands in mock surrender before putting the car back in drive, pulling out of your driveway, “you look nice,” “hm, you do too,” you smiled just slightly, eyes raking over his blazer and slacks, the shining watch on his wrist. he reached over to turn the music up, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “we need to talk about how we want to come across," you said over the song, "like what do we want the public to think about our relationship?"

"i couldn't give a fuck less," he laughed, shrugging one shoulder, "as long as they think we're together, who cares about specifics?" "well you can't be seen with anyone else," you frowned slightly, irritated by his nonchalance, "you know that, right?" "getting jealous already?" he flashed you a grin, one hand coming to rest on your thigh. you jerked away immediately, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, but he just waved it off, pulling you back towards him. "relax, i'm just getting in character," he smiled, more like smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "you want it to come natural, don't you?" you tried to relax, ignoring the way his thumb rubbed circles on the skin of your thigh, the way his hand felt warm against you. it wasn't real, so it didn't matter that the simple touch had your heart racing.

the dinner went smoothly, the two of you falling into practiced touches easily, your hand lingering on his arm and his eyes lingering on your lips. by the end of the night, you had a near perfect rhythm. "you're good at this," he mumbled as he walked you down the crowded sidewalk back to his car, his hand on your low back, "guess you get used to that, being the golden girl of american tennis," "that's funny coming from you," you laughed slightly, "you're number one in the country, damn near in the world. you should be used to it by now," "never get used to having a beautiful woman on my arm," his voice was dangerously slow, suspiciously genuine. "bet you say that to all the girls," you rolled your eyes, attempting to brush off the way goosebumps dotted along your skin. "you're naive if you think i care about the other girls enough to flatter them," it sounds too easy to be a lie, "they throw themselves at me, i don't really have time to try and impress them,"

"you're an asshole," you laughed, shocked at his bluntness, "i thought you were nice, you're always so soft at parties," "soft?" he repeated, like he'd been scorned, "i am not soft, i just try not to be as aggressive as some of the other guys," "well i'm glad to discover you're actually exactly the same as they are," you rolled your eyes, "frat boys are all the same anyway, i'm not surprised," "i'm not a frat boy!" he argued, "i graduated last year, thank you very much," "once a frat boy, always a frat boy," you grinned, looking up at his flushed face. he looked down at you, the tension melting away as a boyish smile spread across his lips, "god, should've known you were just fucking with me," he laughed, nudging your shoulder. "i have no room to talk," you laughed, running a hand through your hair before letting it fall to his shoulder, looping your arm through his as you walked, "guess we're not too different,"

the drive home was quiet, his playlist playing idly in the background as he drove, your eyes glued to your phone so you wouldn't look at him for too long. he walked you to the door when you got there, smiling apologetically, "hopefully this makes up for earlier," "i guess so," you grinned, leaning against your doorway. "so we won't see anyone else," he said after a moment, "what about affection? i know we have to sell it, but are you okay with kissing in public? i don't want to take it too far," "wow, a frat boy who cares about consent," you teased, "why don't you come inside? we can sit down and talk about everything,"

you shouldn't have invited him in. you knew it as soon as you actually saw him in your space, sitting on your couch like he belonged there, his dress shoes by the door right next to your discarded heels. it made it all too real, his sobering presence casting a light on your home. "your place is so nice," he said, standing from the couch to run his fingers along the frame of a painting, "i'm surprised you don't have all your trophies out on display," "oh, they're out, just not in here," you assured him, "i have a room for that," "can i see?" he sounded genuinely curious, bordering on excited, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid before pushing it down and leading him through the house.

you opened a door along the main hallway, hesitating before letting him step inside after you, the only person you'd ever allowed inside besides your parents. "jesus," he said under his breath, glancing around. you knew you must look insane to a normal person- there were trophies and medals littering the shelves, plaques displayed, framed photos of winning shots or of you posing with coaches. there was a small tv against the wall, only used to watch back matches, and a loveseat for when you spent hours locked in the room, examining your every played back movement. you watched as he studied each trophy, his eyes lingering on the US Junior Open cup, the first one you'd ever won. "you were 15," he finally said, his fingers tracing the inscription in the copper, "weren't you?" "yeah, i was," you nodded, surprised that he even knew that, "why?" "that's fucking incredible," he continued on over the awards, "this is all fucking incredible,"

"i thought you'd think i was crazy," you admitted, "like this was some kinda shrine or something," "i think this is the hottest thing i've ever seen," his voice was hoarse, his eyes on the photo of you just after your most recent win, kissing your trophy. "what?" you almost laughed, to diffuse the tension if nothing else. "you're so fucking talented," he turned to face you, and your breath left you, your cheeks flushing. he looked undone, pupils dilated and cheeks tinged pink, "do you just sit in here and look at all you've done?" "i only come in here to watch matches," you felt suddenly embarrassed, like you were admitting some weakness, baring some part of your soul to him, "that's really all," "oh, god," he ran a hand through his hair, "you're so intense," "is that a bad thing?" you asked defensively, crossing your arms over your chest. "no, god no," he said quickly, shaking his head, "this whole thing is just- you're just insanely talented,"

a mental alarm goes off as he crosses the room, standing just in front of you, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “you make all those other girls look like a fucking joke,” he murmured, “you know that? wouldn’t even bother playing against you if i were them,” that does it- ignore the voice in your head telling you this is wrong, that this isn’t real- and kiss him, feverish and hot, rough and quick. he grabs hold of your hips, tight and greedy, with an intensity you’d only ever seen on the court. “we shouldn’t,” it comes out in a pant between kisses, your voice heady, “art, wait-“ “fuck waiting,” he mumbles, pulling you back to kiss you again, your back hitting the wall behind you. he tastes like vodka and redbull and mint gum, your lips tingling against his. a startled gasp leaves you as he halfway picks you up, your shoulder knocking a trophy from the wall with a clang. “shit, i’m sorry-“ “bedroom,” you cut him off, sliding out of his arms to pull him down the hallway, stumbling steps taken between messy kisses.

he laid you back on your bed, his kisses getting sloppier the needier he got, his hands anywhere he could reach. “these fucking legs,” he choked out, his hands grabbing at your thighs, lips trailing down your neck, “gonna be the death of me,” “shut up and fuck me,” you pulled his lips back to yours, eager for more. your body was taut with need by the time he finally rolled on a condom, ignoring your chastising remark when he pulled it from his wallet, and fucked into you, stretching you out more than you’d expected. “art, fuck,” you moaned against his lips, back arching. “oh,” he pulled away just enough that you could see the moment his eyes rolled back, his lips swollen and red, all blissed out as he rolled his hips. “oh, fuck me, that feels good,” his hands came to your thighs as his thrusts grew faster, his fingers leaving little marks across your skin, roaming pointlessly until he stretched your legs up, holding them above you, the new angle making you squeeze him even tighter. “oh, right there,” you were breathless, reaching between your parted thighs to circle your clit, desperate for your high. “you like that?” he panted, pressing a kiss to your calf, “tell me, baby,” in any other situation, you’d have rolled your eyes at his cockiness, but it only served to bring you closer. “yes, feels so fucking good,” you nodded, shameless and eager, “oh! oh, art, right fuckin there-“ he fucked you even harder, your muscles burning as he held your legs higher, a scream nearly leaving your throat as you came, trembling beneath him. “oh, jesus-“ he followed you almost immediately, filling the condom with a moan, his hips stilling slowly, “god, that was good,”

he slowly pulled your legs back down, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom as he caught his breath. your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, a serene feeling enveloping you as you curled up into bed, yawning quietly. “you can stay over,” you offered- something you never did- “if you want,” “yeah, okay,” he nodded, curling up behind you, his hands resting on your waist, “g’night, then,” “mm, night art,” you hummed, eyes closing.

you woke up only a couple of hours later, blinking into the darkness of your room, the spot beside you cold. your brows furrowed as you sat up, glancing around, only to find art gone, as well as the pile of clothes he’d shed earlier that evening. “what the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, checking the time on your phone, rubbing your eyes. just under the 3:14am, there was a text from art. ‘sorry i dipped. don’t think we should do that again, wasn’t in the contract and all that. night!’ your face stung, anger and humiliation filling your veins. you slammed your phone down on the nightstand, pulling the pillow over your head and trying your best to get some sleep. he was right, you thought. it wasn’t real, so why pretend? only five months and 29 days to go, anyway.

#challengers #art donaldson #art x reader #challengers 2024 #mike faist #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x reader #artdonaldson #art donaldson smut #spotify #art donaldson au #art donaldson x pr! reader #art donaldson x you #stanford art donaldson #art x you #artxreader #art x reader smut

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actyl · 1 month ago

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cw. they make out.

her face was still flushed from the argument. it wasn’t the first one—god knew it wouldn’t be the last one—but for some reason, this one had just gone too far.

heat roared beneath her skin in a way that made her head pound. sweat clung to her hairline, beads threatening to slide down the back of her neck. she could feel it steaming off her skin as her anger burned hotter, searing through her veins, setting in her bones.

her scowl twisted deeper, muscles pulling taut until her jaw ached and cheeks throbbed from the strain. every breath felt like stroking a first: sharp, shallow, scalding. her chest heaved as she took in breath after breath, but it still wasn’t enough to cool the fury coiled inside her, something nearly suffocating.

“you should go,” her voice was low and tight.

“you’re not serious.” he scoffed, taking a step back in disbelief. “you’re gonna throw me out just ‘cause i proved you were wrong?”

“this isn’t about that.” she shot back, arms crossed in defense, completely guarded.

“it’s about you being completely impossible. always picking a fight, always pushing like you’re trying to pick a fight.”

“well,” his voice was smooth, the smile on his face dangerous. “you just make it so easy—”

“god, you’re so insufferable.”

“i know.” yet his smile, sharp and triumphant, never disappeared. she was used to his cocky demeanor, the teasing that lived permanently on his lips. but his eyes were different—something darker, something warmer—something that made her stomach churn. every hair on her body stood up, like she knew danger was coming.

“you just love to show up like you know everything—like you’re just waiting for me to fail so you can swoop in and prove you’re better.” she snapped.

he chuckled, an exhale more than a sound, stepping closer.

“please,” his voice was sharp. “i don’t need to wait for you to fail, you make that part pretty easy all on your own.”

she clenched her fists at her side, breaths shallow as hos words stung deeper than she’d like to admit. his smirk only added salt to her wounds, the way he stood, so effortlessly self-assured. she was used to this, his arrogance, but she’d never seen him push her buttons so purposefully.

“is that what you think?” her voice trembled with a mix of frustration, irritation, and something she couldn’t quite place.

his head tilted, smirk growing wider as he took a step closer. he could feel the heat radiating off her, her skin just a few inches away from his own. there was something in the way he looked at her, a knowing glint in his eyes that made her blood run hot in ways she’s always hated.

“i don’t think you want me to show you up,” he clarified, voice barely above a whisper. “but we both know you wouldn’t mind if i did.”

her eyes narrowed. “you love to think you’re better than me, don’t you? like you’ve got everything figured out, like you’ve got nothing better to do than look down on me.”

he met her glare, unflinching, the tension between them palpable. for a moment, they just stood there, her words hanging heavy between them before he broke the silence.

“it is pretty amusing seeing you like this. but don’t lie—deep down, you like this. you like the challenge.”

his gaze was intense, she took a step back and he took another step forward, maintaining the distance. “we’ve been at each other’s throats for so long, you’d probably miss it if i wasn’t here.”

her breath caught in her throat, the air felt thick, a knife wouldn’t be enough to cut the tension between the two. heat built up with every word; she wanted to scream at him, but he was right. she would miss it, and some part deep inside her knew she would miss him, as insufferable as he was.

“we’re supposed to hate each other.”

“supposed to.” she was suddenly aware of how close he was, too close. his presence felt overwhelming, and she struggled to maintain her composure even as her pulse quickened. his cologne tickled her nose, clinging to the air—something sharp and clean. it made her head spin.

she wanted to step back, to create some distance, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. the way he looked at her, the maddening intensity of his gaze made the world disappear.

“i don’t think either of us know what we’re supposed to do anymore,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet challenge daring her to admit what they both knew.

she swallowed hard, she could hear her heartbeat as her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. she opened her mouth to say something, anything—to push him away, but any words she could muster up caught in her throat.

instead, she stood there, staring at him, her mind a chaotic swirl of what they were, and what they weren’t supposed to be.

she didn’t expect it—didn’t know how it happened—but suddenly, his mouth was on hers, hard and demanding. it was messy and heated and too much; it was all teeth and heat, clashing of frustrated breaths, as if neither of them could hold back any longer. she gasped against him, the intensity of the kiss stealing the air from her lungs, making her knees weak beneath her.

his hands were on her, one on her waist, one threading through her hair, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. the way he kissed her felt desperate, almost angry—as if he was trying to prove something to her, or perhaps to himself.

it was like fighting and surrender all at once—like neither of them could decide if they were given in or trying to win.

their lips found a steady rhythm, molding into each other. his grip on her waist was firm, fingers digging deep enough to leave her dizzy, like he was grounding her and setting her on fire all at once. her hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan into her mouth—a low sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

his hand slid from her waist to her back, she was sure if they pressed against each other any closer they’d become one. it felt as if they couldn’t get enough of each other—like every sharp word, every bitter stare they’d shared had all been building to this.

“i hate you.” she gasped between kisses, breathless and burning.

“i know,” he murmured, “i hate you, too.”

“you’re impossible.”

she could feel his grin against her lips as he kissed her again—deeper, slower kiss, like he knew exactly how much it would unravel her.

“you love it.”

mikey sano, takashi mitsuya, shinichiro sano, KISAKI TETTA, rindou haitani, RAN HAITANI / yuji terushima, TETSURO KUROO, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, akaashi keiji / EDWARD ELRIC, roy mustang / tomura shigaraki, TOUYA TODOROKI, KEIGO TAKAMI / JASON TODD, tim drake, damian wayne, DICK GRAYSON / shin asakura, YOICHI NAGUMO / EREN YAEGER, jean kirstien, armin arlert

actyl -> do not copy or repost my works

#[ written — multi ]#ran haitani x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #touya todoroki x reader #keigo takami x reader #damian wayne #yoichi nagumo x reader #sakamoto days x reader #dcu x reader #haikyuu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren yaeger x reader #mha x reader

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writeriguess · 2 months ago

Note

Having a super hard time right now so could you do a single dad kirishma or bakugo or shinsou and they’re struggling trying to juggle parenthood and being a pro then they meet y/n she’s new to their agency and she just so happens to catch their eye, just a simple receptionist but she has so many ideas. They’re so busy that they don’t even get the chance to actually meet her until one day she comes up to their office with an idea for a daycare in the agency since she’s getting so many call outs about people who don’t have child care. She offers to run/teach the daycare as well since she was a teacher back in the states before she moved and it turns out this is the key to their own problems and they slowly fall in love with her.

author's note: Hey, I just wanted to clarify something. I’ve noticed that “comfort fics” sometimes get published quickly after being requested, which might give the impression that I prioritize them. However, that’s not the case—every fic is written and published in the order it was requested.

If you requested this piece, you might have noticed that I didn’t publish it immediately after seeing it. Please know that I don’t rush requests out of order. The only time I made an exception was for an emergency request, but I now realize that was a mistake, as some people overlooked my author’s note explaining it was a one-time thing. I’m sorry for any confusion, and I appreciate your patience!

Safe in Your Hands

The constant buzzing of his phone was a persistent, grating reminder that life didn’t slow down for anyone. Not even for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he read yet another text from the daycare. His son, Ryo, had caught a cold and needed to be picked up early—again. He wasn’t mad at the kid, never at him, but the frustration of trying to juggle being a top pro hero and a single father was wearing him thin.

His office was a mess of paperwork, mission reports, and unfinished emails. He was barely keeping his head above water, and his agency, while thriving, was in dire need of some structure. Or a miracle.

That’s when a soft knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he grumbled, expecting another stack of files or another meeting he didn’t have time for.

Instead, you stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Dynamight-san.”

He barely looked up at first, recognizing you as the new receptionist. You’d been here a couple of months, always polite, always handling things smoothly. He’d noticed, even if he never had the time to actually speak to you. You were a quiet force in the chaos, managing things from behind the front desk with a calm confidence.

“I, uh, hope I’m not interrupting,” you said, shifting slightly but holding your ground. “I have an idea I wanted to run by you.”

His gaze flickered up then, curiosity outweighing his exhaustion. “What kinda idea?”

You stepped forward, placing a neatly written proposal on his desk. “I’ve been getting a lot of call-outs from employees who are struggling with childcare. And I’ve noticed you’ve had to step out unexpectedly for similar reasons. I was a teacher back in the States before moving here, and I was thinking… what if we had an in-agency daycare?”

He blinked, stunned into silence for the first time in what felt like months.

“I’d be willing to help set it up, even run it,” you continued, your voice steady. “It’d give the staff some peace of mind, knowing their kids are safe while they work. And it might make things easier for you, too.”

He stared at you for a long moment, your words sinking in. No one had ever suggested something like this before. No one had ever looked at the chaos of his life and offered a solution so simple yet perfect.

“Tch,” he finally scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re serious about this?”

You nodded. “Completely.”

And just like that, something in his chest loosened.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Once Bakugo approved the daycare idea, you got straight to work. There were meetings to hold, rooms to convert, supplies to order, and staff to hire. Despite the long hours, you found yourself energized by the project. The employees were thrilled with the idea, and as word spread through the agency, more and more heroes began stopping by to offer assistance.

Bakugo was still a little wary, though. He wasn’t the type to trust easily, but he couldn’t deny that things were starting to feel a little less overwhelming.

One evening, as you were reviewing the final details before the daycare’s official opening, Bakugo showed up at the converted space. You looked up from your clipboard, surprised to see him standing in the doorway with Ryo in his arms. The little boy, looking sleepy and snuggled into his father’s shoulder, blinked at you drowsily.

“Figured we should do a test run,” Bakugo muttered, stepping inside. “See how the brat likes it.”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. Come on in.”

Setting Ryo down gently, Bakugo watched as the toddler hesitantly explored the room. His tiny hands ran over the soft mats, and he eyed the shelves of toys with curiosity. Slowly, he toddled toward a plush All Might figure, giving it an experimental squeeze.

You crouched down next to him. “You like that one, Ryo?”

The boy looked up at you, then at his father, before nodding shyly.

Bakugo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like it’s a hit.”

You grinned. “I think so.”

For the first time since you’d met him, you saw the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders ease slightly. Maybe this really was the answer to the problem he hadn’t been able to solve alone.

As the weeks went by, the daycare became an integral part of the agency. Parents were relieved, the kids were happy, and Bakugo—though he’d never say it outright—was grateful beyond words.

You and Bakugo started seeing more of each other, too. At first, it was just in passing—quick meetings to discuss logistics, brief encounters when he dropped Ryo off. But then, it turned into coffee breaks, conversations that stretched a little longer each day, small moments of laughter that neither of you had expected.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, Bakugo stopped by your office. You looked up, surprised to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

“Hey,” you replied, setting your pen down. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Just… wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. “You don’t have to thank me, Bakugo. I’m happy to help.”

His gaze softened, just a little. “Still. You’ve made shit easier for me. And for Ryo.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad. He’s a great kid.”

A rare smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, he is.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. And in that moment, you both knew—this was just the beginning.

As months passed, your presence in Bakugo’s life became more than just professional. He found himself looking forward to seeing you every day, whether it was during a hectic morning drop-off or a quiet evening chat after work. Ryo adored you, always running to you with excitement when he saw you at the daycare.

One night, after a late shift, you were locking up when Bakugo showed up with Ryo asleep in his arms. He was exhausted, but there was something softer in his expression than usual.

“Wanna grab a late dinner?” he asked, almost shyly.

You blinked in surprise before smiling. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, everything changed. The weight on Bakugo’s shoulders didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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firewasabeast · 6 months ago

Text

“Hey, it's me!” Tommy called out as he entered Evan's place.

“I- In the living room,” Buck replied, sounding a little anxious.

“You ready to head to the gym?” Tommy clapped his hands together as he headed toward Buck.

When he got into the living room, Buck was sitting a chair, sweatpants and hoodie on.

Tommy felt something was off right away. Especially when Buck made no effort to get up, or even look in Tommy's direction.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Buck answered, tugging the hood further over his head. “Still don't know why we couldn't just practice Muay Thai at your place.”

“Because when we practice Muay Thai at my place we end up naked on the mat.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Evan tried to sound cheeky, but it was more awkward than anything with the way he continued to lower his head, trying to cover his entire face with his hoodie.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Evan, what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?”

“Nothing! No reason. Let's go!” Buck went to stand, but Tommy held out his arm to keep him in place.

“Evan, what's going on? Did something happen at work? Did you get hurt? Did someone hit you?” he asked, each question filled with more concern.

“No, no, it's-” Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Hesitantly, he reached up and pulled his hoodie down, then angled his face up toward Tommy.

Tommy didn't mean to let out a gasp, or jump back the way he did at the sight of Evan's face, but he couldn't help it. The blisters scattered over his face and neck looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“Wow, thanks,” Buck muttered, grabbing his phone. “Just what every guy wants their boyfriend to do when they look at them.”

“No, I- Evan, I'm sorry, I just...” he leaned in to get a better look. “What the hell happened?”

Buck looked at himself through the camera on his phone. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“It... It's not good. I think we need to get you to the hospital.”

“No, I don't wanna go to the hospital like this, Tommy. They'll quarantine me or something!”

“Honey, that might be what you need,” Tommy replied pointedly.

“Tommy!”

“Evan, I don't... I don't know what this is. You've gotta be in pain.”

“It- It's not too bad.”

“Evan.”

“Stop saying my name like that,” Buck whined.

“You just said my name like that.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Okay, okay, that's enough,” Buck said, getting up from his chair. “Let's go do some Muay Thai.”

“You've got to be joking. We are not going to the gym.”

“Great!” Buck smiled, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. “Your place it is.”

Tommy sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Buck's face fell. “What are you doing?”

“I'm texting Eddie.”

“You are not texting Eddie.”

“I am too texting Eddie.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Ugh!” Buck rolled his eyes, turning and heading for the kitchen.

“Babe, if you won't go to the hospital, you can at least have Eddie come check you out,” Tommy said, following behind Buck, “because I don't know what this is and I have a feeling you don't either.”

“Actually, I do.” Buck reached into his fridge and grabbed a water, then turned back to Tommy.

“Okay? Enlighten me, please.”

“It's a curse.”

Tommy stared at Buck for a moment. A few moments actually. Blinking once, twice, before, “Yeah, I'm texting Eddie.”

“No, I'm serious,” Buck said as Tommy sent the text. “See, I- I bought a mummy for work.”

Tommy gently set his phone down on the counter, nodding. “As one does.”

“Exactly. And, I- I didn't know it was a real mummy. Price was definitely too low for that.”

“Wait a minute. You bought a real mummy?”

“Unknowingly,” Buck clarified.

Tommy had dealt with a lot of odd things in his life. And he couldn't deny that dating Evan made his world even more odd and eccentric, but this definitely took the cake.

“Okay, Evan, I... you aren't cursed.”

“Take a good look at this, Tommy,” Buck said, leaning over the countertop. “This is a curse.”

“That,” Tommy replied, gesturing toward Evan's face, “is probably some sort of infection. Possibly from touching a decaying corpse.”

Buck reached up, feeling just below one of the blisters. “It does kinda hurt.”

“And that's why-” Tommy paused as his phone buzzed. He picked it up and read the text, then turned it to show Buck, “that's why Eddie will be here in about fifteen minutes. Why don't we get you back to the couch while we wait?” He motioned for Buck to come around the counter. As Buck rounded the corner and neared him, Tommy held out his hands and guided Buck back toward the living room without touching him.

“Are you avoiding contact with me?” Buck questioned, glancing back at him with a glare.

“Until I find out if this is some sort of plague, I'm maintaining proper distance.”

Buck plopped down on the couch while Tommy opted for the chair Buck hadn't been sitting in when he first arrived.

“So, no Muay Thai today, huh?”

“No, no Muay Thai.”

Buck sighed dramatically, looking over at Tommy with his pouty eyes on display. “No sexy time either?”

There had been many times over the last nearly six months that Tommy had thought, I'd give him whatever he wanted. Anything he asked for, wouldn't even question it.

This was not one of those times.

He swore one of the blisters had gotten bigger just since he'd arrived.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 #idk what this is just wanted to write something before the actual episode #i love doing little spec pieces that never turn out to be correct in any way shape or form lmao

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josephquinnswhore · 11 months ago

Text

refined taste - joel miller x female reader

summary: joel relishes in the taste of you.

word count: 3.2k

content warning: pre-existing relationship, girl dad joel, drinking breastmilk, fingering, humping the bed, male and female ejaculation. mother + father joel. mentions of joel being a hoe pre-outbreak lol. brief mention of age gap, joel cums in his pants.

Times were scarce where you and Joel got to relax.. with no one but the company of each other. That’s what happens when you have a baby—you learn. Hell, most of the time you roamed the house in nothing but one of Joel’s shirts, as you are now. Maria had warned you of what was to come, after her and Tommy’s son was born, he was an absolute nightmare baby. Your and Joel’s daughter, Tilly, was wonderful. She had Joel’s dark hair and his hazel eyes. She looked just like him.

You didn’t mind, not when you could see that she was healing him in a way that you couldn’t. To fill the grief of Sarah. Not to replace her.. but to have a connection that felt the same way. A paternal connection.

Joel is a hands-on father, and he’s honestly incredible. He gently lies Tilly down in her cot.. after she had downed the whole bottle of your warm breast milk. Maria was generous to share over the baby things she no longer needed.

Tilly coos as she falls asleep, her tummy full of milk. For some reason, the bottle was the only way she would take your milk, since she was born she absolutely refused to take your breast. It was hard for you, as you’d heard it was good for her immune system and a way of connecting to the baby. You eventually grew accustomed to bottle feeding, still expressing by hand to relieve your breasts of their ache.

Joel sighs as he lies into bed with you. The sheets wrinkling under the sudden weight.

“Y'know I always wondered what breast milk tastes like.” You wonder aloud. A soft murmur so you don’t wake your daughter.

Joel's eyebrows rise in surprise at your sudden statement, a mix of amusement and mild shock on his face. He chuckles softly, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

"Oh really?" he playfully retorts, trying to hide a smirk. "Well, I can tell you it's quite distinct."

He pauses for a moment, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks, before continuing with a teasing tone, "Though I can't claim to be an expert taster."

“Then how do you know?” You ask, a confused expression on your face.

Joel's smirk widens slightly, the playful banter continuing between the two of you. He raises an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.

"I happen to have certain experiences with it," he replies with a feigned air of nonchalance, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of devilishness.

You laugh softly. “Oh, so it’s a fetish of yours then?”

Joel chuckles softly, enjoying the lightheartedness in your voice. His expression softens slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of humour and affection.

"I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fetish," he clarifies with a hint of a smile on his lips, "but let's just say I’ve had my moments. You know, like any man who's been around the block.”

A gasp leaves your lips, part shock and part confirmation. “So you were a whore before the outbreak?” You’d assumed he would’ve been a ladies man anyway, looking at the old photo of him before the outbreak.. he was a hunk, even then.

Joel's expression turns serious as he addresses your question, his tone softening. He realises the weight of his past actions and the impact they had on him and others.

"It's true, I was," he confirms, his voice filled with a sense of regret. "Back then, I was not the man I am now. I was more wild, more reckless. The world was a different place, and I made some choices I'm not proud of."

A faux gasp of surprise leaves your lips, and you raise a hand to your chest. “I can’t believe I’m marrying the town bike of Texas!”

Joel's jaw drops slightly at your playful remark, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if trying to process the teasing.

"Hey, you better watch it," he retorts, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I may have been the town bike, but you're the one marrying me. Who's the real crazy one here, hmm?"

“Probably the guy that’s tasted breast milk before his fiancé that’s actually got breastmilk?” You retort.

Joel's eyes widen at your teasing remark, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the flush of red.

"Okay, okay, you got me there," he admits, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "But in my defence, it was research. Purely for scientific purposes, you know."

The laughter that leaves your lips is followed by a low snort. “You’re ridiculous…. Well maybe I can help you with your.. peculiar study.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your offer. He gazes at you for a moment, gauging your sincerity before responding.

"Oh yeah? You feeling generous, are you?" He teases, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, I suppose I could use a volunteer for my, ahem, 'study.' Just don’t go spreading rumours about me now."

You bite your lip to stop your smile. “I’ll be sure to hold my tongue whenever I feel like making fun of you.”

Joel smiles, his eyes gleaming with affection and a hint of playful mischief. He leans in closer, his voice slightly huskier as he responds.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his words filled with warmth. "I know you wouldn't." He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, his gaze fixated on your face, as if he can't take his eyes off you.

A small drop of milk leaks through one of Joel’s shirts you wore and your face heats up, but you take the opportunity to tease him. You lift your shirt and swipe a drip of milk falling from your nipple, and pop your finger in your mouth, tasting your breast milk. You raise an eyebrow. “Huh.. not bad..”

Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he watches you taste your own milk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. He can’t help but chuckle softly at your reaction.

"That’s all? Just ‘huh’? I thought I was gonna get some more details," he teasingly responds, his voice carrying a hint of playful disappointment. "Don’t leave me hanging here. How does it taste?"

“You’re more than welcome to test it yourself, mister scientist..”

Joel blinks once, his cheeks flushing with a hint of a blush at your suggestion. He can’t help but chuckle softly, the idea a bit new and unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“Well, I suppose I could be a good scientific partner and contribute to my.. study," he replies with a hint of a smile, his voice a little husky.

He reaches out, gently lifting the material of his own shirt that you wore, exposing your breasts with one hand, and leans in closer, his warm breath grazing your nipple.

A whimper leaves your lips as Joel latches onto your nipple, suckling softly at first to let you adjust to the new feeling, then when the milk starts to flow; he starts suckling desperately, using his hands to help express the milk.

Well; it certainly did seem like he’d done this before.

The tips of your fingers caress his scalp, as his ministrations grow more desperate, you gently tug on the greying locks, he draws a breathless whine from you.

Your touch sends a shiver down Joel's spine, intensifying the connection between you. His mind and body are consumed by the sensations swirling around him. He moves his hands to your hips, gently pulling you closer as he continues to suckle on your breast, the taste of milk fueling his passion. The sound of your whimper only serves to heighten his arousal, his desire for you growing with each passing moment.

“You’re a selfish man Joel.. gonna drain me dry.”

Joel's body tightens at your words, a mix of desire and restraint filling his mind. He pulls away from your breast, his lips leaving a trail of warm kisses along your sternum before he finally speaks.

"You taste divine, you know that?" He whispers, his voice husky and filled with passion. "I might get addicted to this."

“Don’t get greedy now sweetheart.” You tsk him in a mock condescending tone.

Joel chuckles softly, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your hips as he whispers, "I don’t intend to. But you’re tempting me, you know that?”

His eyes gleam with desire, the passion evident in his gaze. "You’re so captivating. I can’t help but want more of you. I hope you’re prepared for it."

Giggling, your fingers play with his hair. “So.. what’s the verdict—Mr scientist? How does it taste?”

Joel smiles, his eyes filled with warmth and affection as he responds, "Ah, the scientific results."

He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Well, it tastes wonderful. Sweet, with a hint of earthy goodness. And the texture, smooth and creamy. Not to mention the effect it has on me."

He leans in, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "But I think I’ll need more time to conduct further research."

You hum. “Tastes like sugar water to me. Seems like you’re.. undecided.”

Joel laughs softly, shaking his head in playful disagreement. He nuzzles his face against your neck, his voice filled with teasing desire.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that. It's not sugar water. It's unique and delicious. I'm not undecided. I'm just thorough, sweetheart. I need more... samples. For science, of course."

“Oh right—if it’s for science.. by all means, go ahead.”

An eager smile spreads across Joel's face, his body pressing closer against you. His eyes gleam with desire, a mix of playful mischief and affection. He leans in, his voice filled with a husky rasp as he whispers against your neck.

"Perfect. I promise to be... thorough."

It feels more sensitive than it did the first time.

Joel's smile widens against your skin as he hears your whine, his body reacting instinctively to the sound. His mouth presses gently against your breast, his tongue coaxing out more milk as he suckles hungrily. His hand begins to massage gently, his grip firm but tender, his touches designed to elicit more of those delightful sounds from you.

Joel becomes more intense with his mouth and tongue, lapping at you, his teeth gently graze at the sensitive skin of your nipple and you moan softly.

A sudden movement catches your attention, the bed shakes a little, and you’re curious—so you look. His hips are desperately rutting against the bed, he groans against your flesh.

As Joel's mouth continues it’s ministrations, exploring your body with increasing intensity, his hips involuntarily rocking in rhythm with your moans and whimpers.

The sensations swirling between you only seem to intensify, the connection between you growing more intimate and powerful. Your voice, the sound of your pleasure, fuels his desire, his touches and kisses growing more urgent and desperate.

“Joel..” you whine, an octave higher than normal. Almost begging for something.. more.

Joel's ears perk up at the sound of his name, his mind consumed by the intimacy of the moment. He can tell that you need more, that you're on the verge of something intense. His mouth moves hungrily across your skin, his teeth grazing softly as one of his hands slide down your body.

His fingers slide down between your cunt—it’s soaking his fingers, the pad of his thumb begins to swirl softly against your clit, teasing you at first. He drags his other fingers down into your hole, pumping in and out. Your head hits the pillow, hips bucking upward as you whine in approval.

As he hears the sharp inhale that escapes your lips, he knows he's found the spot that makes you quiver. His touches grow more deliberate, each stroke sending a shiver of pleasure through you, his touch knowing precisely how to ignite the fire he's been fueling.

You tremble at the sensation of the two most sensitive parts of you both being worked simultaneously. His mouth is lapping desperately at your breast, your sensitive nipple is perked and dribbling milk. Joel doesn’t let a single droplet go to waste. The feeling of his thick fingers pumping into the spongey flesh of your cunt makes you clench around him, his thumb remains in it’s steady pace of working your clit.

Joel's eyes are fixated on your face, watching every tiny expression and reaction to his touch. Witnessing the way you tremble beneath him only serves to heighten his own desire. The intensity of the simultaneous stimulation is nearly overwhelming for you, and he takes full advantage of the moment. His mouth lingers on your breast, his tongue exploring and teasing as his fingers continue their seductive dance on your precious cunt that’s soaking his fingers, determined to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

You curl your fingers in his greying hair, pulling taut as you fall apart, feeling it all at once, the sensations overwhelm you in a delicious symphony of overstimulation. Then, as coil that had been winding tighter with every pump of his fingers, every lap of his tongue.. it snapped. The quickest orgasm of your life.

By far, the most intense, too. Your toes curl into the bedsheets and your legs try to close at the feeling of sensitivity. Your cunt clenches around his fingers at it coats the thick digits with your cum. A ringing sound warbles through your ears, breath struggling to regulate as you huff quickly, desperate to get oxygen to your lungs after Joel ripped it from you.

Joel's body tightens in response to the way you pull at his hair, a mix of excitement and pleasure surging through him. As your body quivers in release, he continues his ministrations, each slowed stroke designed to prolong your bliss. He can feel the intensity of your pleasure, the way your body convulse and clench, and it fills him with a sense of satisfaction. He watches as you surrender to the moment, his touch gentle yet deliberate, guiding you through the waves of ecstasy until you come back down.

Joel falls apart at the sight of your parted lips and pinched brows—relishing in the intimate and ecstasy of his actions.

The bed vibrates as Joel desperately ruts against the mattress, hearing you fall apart, feeling your cum coat his fingers..

Joel's own release follows shortly after yours, the intensity of the moment overwhelming his senses. He continues to move against the mattress, the friction of his body against it adds to the intoxicating mix of sensations. He finds release in the rhythm of your breaths, the tremble of your skin, and the sound of his name on your lips. As he climaxes, his grip on your body tightens, his gasps and moans mingling with yours in the heat of the moment.

He couldn’t help the way his weeping cock finally exploded inside of his jeans.

You’re wide eyed as you realise Joel had just cum in his jeans, he pants heavily, groaning against your skin as he pulls away from your breast, resting his sweaty forehead against your warm chest.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as he tries to calm his racing heart. He can feel the heat in his cheeks and he glances up at you, realising the mess he had made.

“Did you just..” you trail off.

He lets out a sheepish chuckle, his voice filled with a hint of embarrassment.

"Oh...well, that was unexpected. Guess I got a little carried away."

“A little? You think?” Your eyebrow is raised. But you’re not upset, not even a little. It was.. flattering, honestly.

Joel laughs again, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and fondness. He looks up at you, a softness in his gaze as he responds.

“Alright, maybe more than a little. Can you blame me though? The sight of you in the throes of passion...it's a sight I can't resist. I couldn't help myself.”

You smile softly, admiring the redness in his cheeks.

“I love you. Even if you were the town bike back in the day.”

Joel's expression softens at your words, a deep affection shining in his eyes. He reaches up, gently cupping your cheek in his calloused hand.

"And I love you, more than anything.” He responds, his voice filled with sincerity. He pauses for a moment, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. "And as for being the town bike...well, let's just say that's a reputation I'm grateful to have left behind. You're the only one I have eyes for now."

His words were truthful, and it entices a smile, knowing he was serious even in your playful banter.

“Good. Cause I’m not sharing my soon to be husband.” You murmur into his hair.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, a surge of warmth spreading through his body. He returns your smile, his eyes gleaming with love and contentment.

“You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he reassures you, his voice laced with affection. “I'm all yours. Body, heart, and soul. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with than you."

Your other breast, that was left unattended to, starts to leak from being so engorged. As if weeping that it didn’t get any attention.

Joel notices the leaking breast, a flicker of desire in his eyes. He watches as it leaks and dribbles down your torso, leaving a sticky trail.

"Hmm...it seems like this sweet girl is in need of some attention too," he comments, his voice low and husky. He gently cups your breast, massaging it gently. "Can't have you leaking all over the place, right?"

A whimper leaves your dry lips. “Such a greedy man.”

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes meeting yours with a heated gaze.

"Can you blame me, sweetheart? You're simply irresistible," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing teasing circles on your breast. "Every part of you is so alluring. I couldn't resist if I tried."

You roll your eyes in a playful manner. “Just save some for the baby.”

Joel's smile widens, his eyes softening as he leans in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. "Of course. Just because I can't get enough of you doesn't mean I'll deprive our little one.”

"We'll just have to find ways to share you, hm?" he whispers, nuzzling his face against your neck. "But rest assured, I'll never let either of you go hungry."

You hum as his facial hair scratches against your soft skin.

Joel's stubble brushes against your skin, it’s roughness adds a delightful contrast to the softness of your neck. He nuzzles further into you, relishing the intimacy of the moment.

"You're just so damn irresistible," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "The way you react to my touch...it drives me crazy.”

Joel's body presses closer to yours, his need evident as his arousal grows stronger. He groans, the sound a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He mutters, his voice husky and breathless. "The way you affect me...it's hard to hold back sometimes."

You grin cheekily. “Keep up baby. You have a good few decades left. I’ll have to keep you on your toes, eh?”

Joel laughs softly, the sound a mix of amusement and affection. "You cheeky little minx," he teases, his eyes gleaming with adoration. "I should be the one keeping you on your toes, given I'm the older and wiser one. But I reckon keeping up with you will keep me young in spirit."

You laugh. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Joel chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Years of experience, sweetheart. You learn a few things along the way." His fingers lightly trace across your cheek, a tender gesture that complements his teasing words.

"Besides, when it comes to you, I always have something clever to say. How else am I supposed to keep up with your wit and sass?"

“I just hope little Tilly doesn’t grow up to have your sense of humour, cause then we’ll be in trouble.”

Joel grins against the soft skin of your breast. “Ain’t that the truth.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #game joel miller #smut #dad joel miller

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abyssalzones · 8 months ago

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can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

#sorry this took a while I wanted to draw something extra for it ^_^ and I've been busyyy #lab notes #askbox #lab discussion #lab creations #gravity falls #gfposting

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odileeclipse · 1 month ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 9

<<<Previous Next>>>

You drummed your fingers against the edge of your notebook, staring at the corrections Shadow Milk Cookie had pointed out. You had already rewritten most of the problem areas, refining your explanations, filling in the missing steps. Soon, your work would be as polished as it could get. And then what? You swallowed, shifting in your chair as a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind finally surfaced. “How many more of these do you think I’ll need?” Shadow Milk Cookie, seated across from you in his office, glanced up from his own work. His golden eyes flickered with quiet curiosity. “Clarify.” “These tutoring sessions,” you said, feigning nonchalance as you tapped your quill against the parchment. “At some point, I’ll be good enough on my own, right? So… how much longer before I don’t need them?” He regarded you carefully, setting his papers aside. “That is not a question I can answer definitively.” You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Of course not.” “Improvement is an ongoing process,” he continued, unbothered by your reaction. “It does not cease simply because one reaches a threshold of competency.” You nodded absently, but your mind had already started to drift. Of course, he was right he always was but that wasn’t really the heart of what you were asking. At some point, these tutoring sessions would end. At some point, you would stop meeting with him like this just the two of you, in the quiet of his office, surrounded by books and the faint scent of parchment and old ink. Your stomach twisted slightly. You had been struggling for so long that improvement felt like a distant dream, something to chase but never quite reach. And now? Now it was finally happening. You were getting better. He had acknowledged it himself, and though he would never coddle you with outright praise, you could tell he recognized your efforts.

But what happened when there was no more need for his guidance? Shadow Milk Cookie was a figure far beyond your reach in the academic world. He only taught high-level courses, ones you had little hope of qualifying for anytime soon. If not for these tutoring sessions, you would have had no reason to interact with him at all. And when they were over… you wouldn’t anymore. You shifted in your seat, the realization sitting uncomfortably in your chest. “I guess I was just wondering,” you murmured, eyes fixed on your notes, “when I’ll stop needing to come here at all.” Shadow Milk Cookie observed you for a moment before responding. “Is that what you desire?” You blinked, glancing up at him. Was it? You had dreaded tutoring at first dreaded the thought of being under the scrutiny of someone so renowned, someone so impossibly intelligent. And yet, now… Now, the thought of not being here felt strangely hollow. You forced a small smile, shrugging. “Well, all good things have to end eventually, right?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice as composed as ever, he said, “Perhaps.” The single word lingered in the air between you, neither a confirmation nor a denial. And yet, something about the way he said it made your chest tighten just a little. You lowered your gaze back to your notebook. For now, at least, these sessions weren’t over yet. And you weren’t in such a hurry for them to be.

Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of your notebook, your gaze drifting from the pages to the scholar seated across from you. The warm glow of the enchanted lamps cast soft shadows across his desk, illuminating the meticulously arranged books and parchment. Shadow Milk Cookie, ever composed, was glancing over a separate manuscript perhaps something unrelated to your session, or perhaps some ancient text that only a mind like his could decipher with ease. You hesitated, staring at him for a moment longer than you should have. The words formed slowly, heavy on your tongue before you finally managed to voice them. “And… after all this,” you began, carefully, “would I still be allowed a fraction of your time?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes lifted from his work, meeting yours with quiet intensity. His gaze was steady, not startled, not dismissive, just… observing. As if measuring the weight of your question before offering an answer. You quickly looked back down, fingers tightening around your notebook. “I know you’re busy,” you continued, keeping your voice level. “You’re a scholar, a mentor. There are plenty of students who actually belong in your classes, who actually need your time. I’m not-I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to have these sessions in the first place, so I get it. I just…” You exhaled slowly, feeling foolish for even asking. “I just wanted to know if when this is all over I’d still be able to come to you. Even if it’s just once in a while.”

There. You had said it. There was silence for a moment. Not uncomfortable but weighted. You forced yourself to look up again, only to find Shadow Milk Cookie regarding you with that same unreadable expression. When he finally spoke, his voice was as measured as ever. “It is true that I am often occupied.” Your stomach twisted slightly. “But,” he continued, his tone softer than before, “if you have need of guidance, I would not turn you away.” Your breath caught. It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t an invitation, nor was it a promise of time freely given. It was simply… an acknowledgment. A confirmation that, despite the inevitable end of these sessions, despite the divide between your standing and his, you would not be dismissed outright. It wasn’t everything. But it was enough. You swallowed, nodding. “Right. Of course. Thank you.” Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head slightly before returning to his work, as if nothing had changed. But for you, something had. Because even when these sessions ended, even when the structure of weekly meetings and guided lessons fell away, there would still be a path back to him. Not as a student in need of tutoring but as a scholar seeking wisdom.

You carefully gathered your things, slipping your notebook into your bag as you rose from your seat. Shadow Milk Cookie had already turned his attention back to his manuscripts, his golden eyes scanning the delicate inked text with unwavering focus. You hesitated for just a moment before speaking. “…Thank you for your time.” He didn’t look up immediately, but he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Use it wisely.” You weren’t sure if he meant the knowledge he had shared with you or the time itself. Maybe both. Either way, you nodded, gripping your bag a little tighter as you made your way to the door. The cool brass handle was smooth beneath your fingers as you stepped out into the quiet corridors of the Scholars’ Wing. The moment the door shut behind you, you released a slow breath, as if shaking off the weight of the session. Not that it was a burden no, if anything, you felt lighter in some ways. More certain of your steps. But also… heavier in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You shook your head. No use lingering on it now. You had other things to focus on. Adjusting your bag, you set off toward the dining hall, your pace brisk. You hadn’t had the chance to chat with your friends earlier, and after spending so much time analyzing, correcting, and reevaluating, a little familiarity sounded nice. If you were lucky, Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, and Earl Grey would already be there, saving a seat for you. The halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy carried their usual late-evening quiet, the kind that settled after most scholars had retreated to their dormitories or study halls. The faint glow of enchanted lanterns flickered along the walls, casting a soft, ethereal light as you made your way through the winding corridors. As you neared the grand entrance of the dining hall, the distant murmur of voices and clinking silverware greeted you. The warmth of the space seeped into your skin before you had even stepped inside, a stark contrast to the cool air of the Scholars’ Wing. And for a moment you allowed yourself to set aside formulas, calculations, and the lingering weight of scholarly expectations. For now, you just wanted to be with your friends.

Balancing your tray, you weaved through the bustling dining hall, the comforting aroma of warm, freshly prepared food lingering in the air. The glow of enchanted lanterns cast a golden hue over the long wooden tables, where groups of scholars sat in clusters, deep in conversation. Your eyes quickly found them Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, and Earl Grey, huddled together at your usual spot near the wide arched windows. The three of them were already deep in discussion, voices low but animated, leaning in as if exchanging some grand secret. Of course. They always ended up like this, discussing whatever academic gossip, theoretical debate, or absurd rumor had surfaced that day. It was tradition by now no matter how busy you all were, dinner was the time to reconnect. As you approached, Chai Latte Cookie spotted you first. Her ears perked up as she waved you over, a warm grin spreading across her face. “Oh, finally! We were starting to think Shadow Milk kidnapped you for extra lessons or something.” Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Given the way you’ve been practically living in the Scholars’ Wing, I wouldn’t have been surprised.” Earl Grey, who had been sipping his tea with an unreadable expression, finally glanced up. “I assume it went well?” You set your tray down, sliding into the open seat between Chai Latte and Hazelnut Biscotti. “Define ‘well.’” Chai Latte smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “That bad, huh?” You exhaled, picking at your food absentmindedly. “It’s not that it was bad. I just…” You hesitated, unsure how to put the feeling into words. It was true that you were improving. Shadow Milk himself had acknowledged it. But the thought of your tutoring eventually coming to an end it lingered in the back of your mind, unwelcome and difficult to shake. Earl Grey studied you for a moment before setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Something on your mind?” You glanced down at your plate. “…Just thinking about how much longer I have left before I don’t need tutoring anymore.” For a second, there was silence. Then, Chai Latte hummed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You sighed. “I mean, no. Obviously, it’s good that I’m getting better. I just…” You frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I won’t really have a reason to see him after, will I?” The words felt strange coming out, but they were true.

Shadow Milk was a renowned scholar, an academic figure so highly regarded that students like you would never have had the opportunity to be taught by him under normal circumstances. He wasn’t a professor for general coursework; he lectured at the highest levels, among the greatest minds of the Academy. Once your tutoring ended, what reason would he have to spare time for you? Hazelnut Biscotti tapped a thoughtful finger against the table. “You could still ask for guidance,” he mused. “He hardly seems the type to refuse an earnest pursuit of knowledge.” Earl Grey nodded slightly. “It isn’t as though he’d suddenly forget you exist once your tutoring ends.” Chai Latte elbowed you lightly. “And hey, maybe you’ll impress him enough that he’ll let you take one of his classes someday.” You snorted. “Yeah, right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” But despite your skepticism, their words eased something in your chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as simple as the end of tutoring, meaning the end of knowing him. Maybe there would still be a way a reason to stay in touch. For now, though, you shook your head, letting yourself settle into the warmth of your friends’ company. There would be plenty of time to figure things out later.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement as she dramatically whispered, “Alright, so you all won’t believe what I heard today.” Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, already adjusting his glasses. “Here we go…” Earl Grey, ever composed, simply lifted his teacup, the slightest raise of his brow the only indication that he was mildly intrigued. You smirked, propping your elbow on the table. “Alright, let’s hear it.” Chai Latte grinned, clearly reveling in the anticipation. “So, you know that second-year alchemy student, Chestnut Praline Cookie? The one with the horrifically unstable potions?” “The one who accidentally turned the entire east corridor into a swamp last semester?” Hazelnut Biscotti deadpanned. “That’s the one!” Chai Latte beamed. “Anyway, I heard from very reliable sources” “Meaning?” Earl Grey interjected smoothly. She waved him off. “Irrelevant! The point is, I heard that during today’s lab session, they were supposed to be brewing a simple fortification tonic, but” she paused for dramatic effect, looking at each of you before continuing, “they messed up the proportions so badly that instead of a tonic, they made an unstable crystallization compound. It reacted immediately, turned rock-solid inside the cauldron, and then exploded.” You blinked. “Wait. Exploded? Like, actually exploded?” “Like boom,” she confirmed, flinging her hands outward to emphasize the blast. “Whole classroom covered in glittery, indestructible shards of whatever-the-heck they created.” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How does this keep happening?” “I have no idea,” Chai Latte admitted, clearly enjoying herself. “But here’s the best part…they panicked and tried to neutralize it with a dissolving elixir, except they grabbed the wrong bottle and-” “Oh no,” you murmured, already sensing where this was going. “Oh yes,” she grinned. “It was a growth solution. The shards expanded. The entire back half of the classroom is apparently a crystalline forest now.”

You choked on your drink. Earl Grey, despite his usual impassive demeanor, actually sighed. “Professor Mulberry must be exhausted.” “Oh, definitely,” Chai Latte agreed. “I mean, they tried to undo it, but apparently the magic stabilized too fast, so now it’s… permanent.” You buried your face in your hands. “No way.” “Oh, yes way.” She was practically vibrating with amusement now. “The Headmaster had to step in, and his solution was to just leave it there. Apparently, it looks ‘aesthetically pleasing’ and they don’t want to risk another alchemy accident trying to remove it.” “I give it three weeks before it’s declared a ‘historical landmark of academic perseverance,’” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered. You snorted. “Honestly, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing this Academy has immortalized.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte gestured wildly. “That’s why I love this place. Any other academy would call that a disaster. Here? It’s just Tuesday.” Hazelnut Biscotti sighed heavily. “Remind me why I still have hope for the future of academia?” “Because deep down, you love the chaos,” Chai Latte teased. “You pretend to be the responsible one, but I see you, Biscotti. I see the way you actually enjoy our nonsense.” He shot her a flat look. “I tolerate your nonsense.” “You enable it.” “She’s not wrong,” Earl Grey added, casually taking another sip of tea. Hazelnut Biscotti exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I should find new friends.” “No, you shouldn’t,” you said, nudging his arm with a grin. “You’d be miserable without us.” For all his grumbling, he didn’t argue. Chai Latte smirked, propping her chin in her hands. “See? This is why dinner is the best part of the day. Where else would you get quality entertainment and deep philosophical insights into the state of academia?” You chuckled, shaking your head. As much as you stressed over your studies, over the uncertainty of the future, moments like these made everything feel a little lighter. No matter what else happened, you had this this ridiculous, wonderful group of friends who made even the strangest days feel like home.

You leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at your lips as you tapped your fingers against the table. “Alright, since we’re on the topic of unbelievable things, I have something, too.” Chai Latte Cookie perked up immediately, eyes sparkling with interest. “Oh? Do tell.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arched a brow. “If this is about your last failed experiment” “It’s not,” you interjected quickly. “This one isn’t about me, thank you very much.” Earl Grey Cookie gestured lightly with his teacup. “Then by all means, enlighten us.” You glanced around conspiratorially, then lowered your voice. “So, I was cutting through the Academy gardens earlier today you know, taking the long way to clear my head-” “Procrastinating,” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered.

You ignored him. “when I saw something very interesting near the Moonvine Pavilion.” Chai Latte gasped. “Not the Moonvine Pavilion! You know everything that happens there is scandalous!” “Exactly,” you said, enjoying the dramatic effect. “So, I’m walking by, right? Just minding my own business. And then I see Professor Star Anise Cookie” Earl Grey blinked. “The Divination professor?” You nodded. “Yes, him. Mister ‘I Foresee All, Nothing Escapes My Gaze’ Star Anise Cookie.” You paused for effect, then leaned in closer. “Holding hands with Professor Frosted Clementine Cookie.” Chai Latte practically squealed, grabbing your arm. “WHAT?!” Hazelnut Biscotti’s spoon clattered against his saucer. “You must be mistaken.” “Oh, I am not mistaken,” you said, voice full of certainty. “They were standing real close, talking in hushed voices, and then clear as day he took her hand. And she blushed.” Earl Grey actually set his teacup down. “That… is unexpected.” “I know!” you said, grinning. “I always thought Professor Clementine was too icy for romance, but apparently-” “She’s been thawed,” Chai Latte finished dramatically. You cackled. “Exactly!” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned, rubbing his temples. “Stars above, why do we care about this?” “Because it’s deliciously interesting!” Chai Latte countered. “Think about it two esteemed professors, secret romance, destiny versus logic-” “Truly, a tale for the ages,” Earl Grey murmured, amused. Chai Latte turned back to you, grinning. “Okay, but what happened next? Did they notice you?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I stayed hidden behind the wisteria trellis.” Chai Latte gasped. “You spied?” “I observed.” “Same thing.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I didn’t stick around too long, but I swear, they were lingering. Like, full-on ‘I-have-more-to-say-but-should-I-say-it’ lingering.” Chai Latte fanned herself dramatically. “Oh, this is juicy. I need to know what happens next.” “We all need to know what happens next,” Earl Grey said. Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, shaking his head. “You all are ridiculous.” “And yet,” you teased, “you’re still here listening.” He scowled, but said nothing. Chai Latte grinned. “This is why dinner is essential.” She looked around the table. “Academics? Stressful. Life? Chaotic. But gossip? Gossip keeps us alive.” You laughed, shaking your head. As much as you worried about the future, about your studies, about everything, moments like this reminded you that some things friendship, laughter, and a little bit of intrigue made it all worth it.

Chai Latte Cookie turned toward you with a sly grin, resting her chin in her hands. “Sooo… since we’re already talking about romance in the academic world…” You froze mid-bite. “...What about it?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Chai.” “No, no, I have a valid question,” Chai Latte insisted, waving him off before turning her full attention back to you. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with the esteemed Sage of Truth lately.” Your stomach flipped. “That’s because he’s tutoring me.” “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” she teased. “Yes,” you deadpanned. Earl Grey Cookie smirked slightly over the rim of his teacup. “You do talk about him quite often.” “That’s because he’s my tutor,” you repeated, heat creeping up your neck. “And because I have to. It’s academic.” Chai Latte hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mmmhmm. But is it just academic?” You groaned. “Yes! What else would it be?” “Well, let’s think about it,” she mused, tapping her fingers against the table. “You spend hours together, he personally reviews your work, you get that look whenever you talk about him-” “What look?” you interjected defensively. Hazelnut Biscotti exhaled through his nose. “The one you’re making right now.” You covered your face with your hands. “I hate all of you.” Chai Latte cackled. “Oh, relax! I’m just saying, if you did develop a little scholar’s crush, it would be so poetic.”

“It would be pathetic,” you muttered. Earl Grey quirked a brow. “I don’t know. There’s a certain… tragic beauty in it. A scholar seeking wisdom from an untouchable figure, only to long for something far beyond mere knowledge.” Chai Latte gasped, clutching her heart. “Ohhh, that’s good. Forbidden academia love!” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned. “Don’t encourage them.” You shook your head aggressively. “No. Absolutely not. He’s a respected scholar, and I am…” You gestured vaguely. “Me.” “So?” Chai Latte shrugged. “All I’m saying is, you’re getting a lot of personal time with him, and if something were to happen-” “Nothing is happening,” you interrupted firmly. Chai Latte just smirked knowingly. “Mmmhmm.” You sighed, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary. “Can we talk about literally anything else?” “Oh, of course,” Chai Latte said sweetly, before shooting you one last teasing look. “But just so you know if you ever do need to talk about a certain someone, you can always confide in me.” You groaned again, but despite yourself, a tiny, conflicted part of you wondered If all good things must come to an end… would your time with him, too?

You leveled Chai Latte Cookie with the flattest stare you could muster. “I would be caught dead before anything like that happened.” Chai Latte giggled, undeterred. “Oh, would you now?” “Yes,” you said firmly. “And even if such a ridiculous thing were to happen, I wouldn’t tell you because I know you’d never let me live it down.” She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like you’d struck her. “Me? Tease you? I would never!” Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. “You absolutely would.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded in agreement. “Without hesitation.” Chai Latte huffed. “Okay, maybe a little hesitation.” Then she grinned at you. “But only because I’d need time to craft the perfect response.” You groaned. “And that is exactly why you’ll never hear a word from me.” Chai Latte pouted. “Aw, c’mon! You can’t really expect me to believe you’ve never thought about it, even just a little.” “Nope.” You popped another bite of food into your mouth and chewed, staring blankly ahead as if the conversation had ended. She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re a terrible liar.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, voice perfectly monotone. Chai Latte leaned in. “I will crack you, you know.” You met her gaze, unblinking. “No, you won’t.”

A challenge sparked in her eyes, but before she could escalate further, Hazelnut Biscotti cleared his throat. “As entertaining as this is, some of us would like to enjoy our meal without listening to Chai interrogate our friend like a suspect in a crime novel.” Earl Grey nodded. “Besides, we wouldn’t want them to actually drop dead just to avoid answering.” Chai Latte sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.” You exhaled in relief. Finally, some peace. Then she smirked. “But if I ever hear a whisper of something happening, just know I will have my moment.” You rolled your eyes. “Duly noted.” Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny prickle of unease. Not because she was onto something because she wasn’t…Right? Earl Grey Cookie set down his fork with a sigh, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. “As much as I enjoy listening to Chai torment you, I have my own set of troubles to air.” You glanced at him, thankful for the change in topic. “Oh? What’s got you sighing like that?” He exhaled again, dramatically this time. “Professor Mulberry Bark assigned another impossibly long analysis on pre-Astral Convergence enchantment theory. Again.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie winced. “Didn’t he just assign something similar last week?” “Yes. And the week before that. I am convinced he enjoys watching us suffer.” Earl Grey shook his head. “If I have to analyze another obscure spell construct with a name that’s longer than my lifespan, I might actually collapse.” Chai Latte Cookie snickered. “Well, at least you know what to expect. That’s something, right?” Earl Grey shot her a tired look. “That’s precisely the problem.” You chuckled but tilted your head when you noticed him studying you for a moment, like he was debating something. “What?” you asked. Earl Grey hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “I heard something about you earlier.” Your stomach twisted slightly. “...Should I be concerned?” He shrugged. “Not really. Just thought you should know. There’s been a little talk about how you’ve been spending a lot of time with the Sage of Truth.” Your heart nearly stopped. “...Oh.” Chai Latte Cookie practically lit up. “Ohhh?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie frowned. “That’s not surprising. They’ve been struggling in class. The Sage is their tutor. That’s normal.”

Earl Grey nodded. “Right, but, you know how the academy is. If you see a student spending too much time with a high-ranking scholar, people start making assumptions.” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Let me guess someone thinks I’m dating him?” Chai Latte gasped. “Are you?” “No!” Hazelnut Biscotti gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t let it bother you. You know how people love to speculate about things that have nothing to do with them.” Earl Grey hummed. “Agreed. Just figured I’d give you a heads-up. It’s nothing serious, but it’s always better to be aware.” You sighed, slumping back in your chair. “Great. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with.” Chai Latte leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Well, if you ever do want to confirm or deny anything to the masses, I’d be happy to act as your spokesperson.” You shot her a glare. “I would rather let the rumors consume me whole.” She giggled. “Fair enough.”

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossed as you mulled over Earl Grey Cookie’s words. Try as you might to brush it off, the thought itched at you. It was one thing for idle rumors to float around, but another entirely if people were actually taking note of you specifically. You leaned forward, lowering your voice just slightly. “Do they know who I am?” Earl Grey Cookie regarded you carefully before answering. “Not exactly.” You tensed. “What do you mean, not exactly?” He took a slow sip of his tea, as if weighing his words. “No one’s mentioned your name outright not that I’ve heard, anyway. But people have noticed you.” Chai Latte Cookie’s ears practically perked up. “Ohhh? So they’re talking about the Sage of Truth’s mysterious pupil rather than our dear friend?” You groaned. “That’s not better.” Earl Grey chuckled. “It means you still have some anonymity. But if you keep showing up with him, that might not last long.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie offered you a reassuring nod. “It’ll pass. The academy cycles through rumors like the seasons. By next week, they’ll be onto some other scandal about some other student.” Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows. “Unless something happens that fuels the intrigue.” You shot her a warning glare. “You are not helping.” She grinned. “I know.” Still, you couldn’t shake the unease settling in your chest. The academy was full of whispers, and if you were becoming the subject of them… well. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You frowned, still turning it over in your head. “But how would they even know?” you asked, skeptical. “The Scholar’s Wing is only for the best of the best. Everyone there is too busy with their studies to care about me.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “You do realize that scholars gossip just as much as anyone else, right?” You blinked. “...No, they don’t.” Chai Latte Cookie snickered. “Oh, sweet, naive you.” She leaned in, resting her chin in her palm. “You think just because they’re studying complex theories and groundbreaking spells that they don’t have the time to notice a new face trailing after the Sage of Truth?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded in agreement. “It’s a closed circle up there. Any change, no matter how small, is bound to be noticed.”

Your stomach twisted slightly. It wasn’t like you had expected to go completely unnoticed, but you hadn’t thought you’d stand out enough to be talked about. You had assumed you were nothing more than a passing presence just another struggling student seeking guidance. “So what exactly are they saying?” you asked, dreading the answer. Earl Grey took another slow sip of tea before replying, “Mostly just curiosity. Some are wondering why the Sage of Truth took on a student at all.” You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like that. He’s just helping me with my studies.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “Oh, we know that. But they don’t.” You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. This was the last thing you needed being a subject of curiosity among the scholars of the academy. It was hard enough trying to keep up with your studies without the weight of expectations or scrutiny. “Great,” you muttered. “Just what I needed. More reasons to embarrass myself.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “At least it’s just talk. Nothing malicious.” “Yet,” Chai Latte Cookie added with a playful grin. You shot her a glare. “Not helping.” She winked. “I know.” You knew she meant well attempting to lighten your mood.

Dinner had ended with laughter, the warm kind that settled in your chest and reminded you why you treasured these moments. No matter how exhausting the day had been, sitting among friends, sharing stories and teasing jabs, made the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter. Even with Earl Grey’s quiet reminders of your newfound attention among the scholars, even with Chai Latte’s relentless teasing, even with the lingering ache of your tutoring session tonight, it had all felt manageable. For a little while, at least.

But now, alone in your dorm, the silence pressed in. You shut the door behind you, exhaling softly as you leaned against it. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of your enchanted study lamp casting long shadows over your desk. Your books sat in neat stacks where you’d left them that morning, your notes still open from the frantic reviewing you’d done before class. It was strange walking back in after everything that had happened today, as if stepping into a space untouched by time. Like you had changed, but your room had stayed the same. You crossed the room and sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You had asked Shadow Milk Cookie if, after all this, you’d still be allowed a fraction of his time. Even now, the question sat heavy in your chest, the weight of it something you weren’t ready to unpack. Because the truth was You didn’t want this to end. You should. It was just tutoring. Just guidance. And eventually, you’d get better. You were getting better. You were fixing mistakes faster, answering questions with more confidence. And once you had proven you could stand on your own, you wouldn’t have any reason to sit across from him in his office, feeling the steady rhythm of his voice guiding you through your work. You swallowed, running a hand through your hair. For all the exhaustion, all the frustration, all the times you had felt like you weren’t good enough, there was something about his presence that settled you. He was direct, sometimes painfully so, but there was never malice behind his words. No mockery. No disappointment. Just… expectation. And when he expected something from you, it made you want to rise to meet it. What would it feel like when that was gone? You frowned, lying back against your pillow and staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if you had some grand claim to his time. He was a scholar of the highest caliber, someone who spent his days immersed in pursuits far beyond your reach. Eventually, he would move on to the next great pursuit, and you…You’d go back to being just another student at Blueberry Yogurt Academy. The thought left a strange hollowness in your chest. You shut your eyes and let out a slow breath. For now, at least, it wasn’t over yet. There were still problems to solve, still concepts to master. And as long as you still had those to cling to, you had a reason to be there to see him. You just wished it didn’t feel like something you’d have to let go of too soon.

Morning came far too quickly, the night passing in what felt like mere moments. You had tossed and turned more than you’d like to admit, thoughts looping endlessly in your head, yet somehow, the sunrise still managed to sneak up on you. Still, routine was routine. You got up, dressed, and made your way to breakfast, finding comfort in the familiar sounds of the dining hall the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from a particularly lively table. Your friends were already gathered in your usual spot, Chai Latte waving you over before launching into another enthusiastic recounting of last night’s gossip. You let the conversation wash over you, contributing here and there, but your mind was already half elsewhere. Lecture passed in its usual blur taking notes, trying to keep up, nodding along even when you weren’t sure if you fully grasped what was being said. But today, there was no office hours afterward. No quiet moment in Professor Almond Custard’s study. Today was a lab day. It wasn’t that lab worried you, exactly. It was necessary, practical, the kind of work that let you take theory and make it tangible. But something about it always felt daunting as if the moment you stepped into that room, everything you thought you understood would be tested under an unflinching lens. Mistakes were easy to make, and unlike a homework assignment where you could take your time correcting them, here, they were immediate. Unforgiving. Still, you steeled yourself as you made your way to the lab, tucking your notes under your arm. It would be fine. It had to be. At least there was something to look forward to after.

The laboratory was already buzzing with activity by the time you arrived, the steady hum of voices mixing with the occasional clang of glassware and the flickering glow of enchanted burners. The air carried the faint scent of alchemical reagents earthy, metallic, with an underlying sharpness that hinted at something volatile. At your shared workstation, Chai Latte Cookie was already setting up, adjusting the height of a distillation apparatus while glancing over the day’s experiment guidelines. She looked up when you approached, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. “Well, well, look who finally decided to join me in our noble pursuit of scientific progress,” she teased, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I was beginning to think you were going to ditch me.” You rolled your eyes as you set down your materials. “You’ve been here for, what, five minutes?” “Five minutes alone, which is practically an eternity when there’s no one to complain to about this absolute mess of instructions,” she sighed, tapping the alchemical guide on the table. “I swear, do they try to make these as convoluted as possible?” You pulled your copy of the instructions closer, skimming the details of today’s experiment. A multi-step reaction sequence designed to test your ability to control magical yields if done correctly, it would produce a shimmering, stable potion infused with starlight essence. If done incorrectly… well, you didn’t want to think about that. “It’s not that bad,” you said, though your confidence wavered as you tried to make sense of the notations. “We just have to be careful with the reagent additions. One mistake and the whole thing destabilizes.” “Right, no pressure at all,” Chai Latte muttered, pulling on her gloves. “Okay, genius, where do we start?” You took a breath, rolling up your sleeves. “Let’s take it one step at a time.” Despite the initial nerves, there was something grounding about working in tandem with her. The two of you had fallen into a familiar rhythm over the semesters passing instruments back and forth without needing to ask, watching each other’s work to catch any potential mistakes before they became disasters.

You and Chai Latte Cookie worked in quiet concentration, the only sounds between you being the measured clink of glassware and the soft bubbling of the mixture as it reacted to each new addition. The instructions required careful precision one misstep, and the starlight essence could either dissipate entirely or, worse, cause an unstable chain reaction.

Chai Latte handled the base mixture, combining the ethereal dew and powdered astralite while you carefully calibrated the enchanted heat rune beneath the flask. The potion had to remain within an exact temperature range for the essence to bind properly too hot, and the components would burn off; too cold, and they would crystallize before infusion.

“Alright, heat’s stable,” you murmured, adjusting the rune’s glow to maintain the proper balance. “How’s the solution looking?” Chai Latte squinted at the swirling liquid in the flask, giving it a slow stir. “I think it’s at the right consistency it’s got that whole ‘liquid moonlight’ vibe going on.” She stepped back slightly and gestured at the next reagent. “Your turn. Time to add the starlight essence.” You nodded, taking the small vial of softly glowing liquid in hand. According to the instructions, the essence had to be introduced in an incremental spiral pattern a slow, deliberate movement that would ensure even diffusion throughout the solution. Lifting the dropper, you steadied yourself, exhaling before carefully letting the essence fall into the potion in a spiraling motion. As the shimmering liquid made contact, the mixture pulsed with a faint, otherworldly glow. Chai Latte whistled. “Okay, that looks really cool.” You didn’t respond immediately, too focused on ensuring the reaction stabilized. A few more careful additions, a few more slow stirs, and then, finally, the glow settled into a deep, mesmerizing blue with flickers of silver threading through it like tiny stars suspended in liquid. Chai Latte leaned in, inspecting it closely. “I think we did it.” You studied the potion as well, double-checking the indicators from your notes. “Yeah… that looks right. No weird discoloration, no sudden temperature spikes…” You allowed yourself a breath of relief. “We actually pulled it off.”

Chai Latte grinned, nudging you lightly with her elbow. “See? Maybe all that tutoring is finally starting to pay off.” You gave her a halfhearted glare, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Or maybe we’re just a good team.” “Obviously,” she said smugly, crossing her arms. “Now let’s just hope we don’t jinx ourselves. We still have to get it approved.” Right. The professor would be coming around soon to check everyone’s results. You took a final look at your work, double-checking for any overlooked mistakes. With the experiment successfully completed and approved, you packed up your station, cleaning up any stray residue while Chai Latte Cookie hummed to herself. By the time everything was put away, the weight of responsibility lifted ever so slightly. “Alright, that’s that,” Chai Latte announced, stretching her arms above her head. “And we’re free until our next class. Or, in your case, free until tutoring.” She shot you a knowing look. You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I know.” She grinned, leaning against the lab bench. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna go grab a snack before you spend the rest of your afternoon basking in the wisdom of The Sage of Truth?” Her voice took on an exaggerated, reverent tone. You gave her a dry look. “I was just thinking of walking around for a bit.” Chai Latte raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. By yourself?” “…Yes?” She huffed dramatically. “Fine, be mysterious. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve been spending in the Scholars’ Wing lately.” Your stomach twisted slightly, though you tried not to show it. “It’s tutoring,” you reminded her. “Tutoring,” she echoed, smirking. “Right, right. Well, don’t work yourself to death. I’ll see you at dinner later?” You nodded, and with a wave, Chai Latte Cookie disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing in the now-empty lab. With still nearly an hour before your tutoring session, you had time to breathe, to wander. The idea of heading straight to the Scholars’ Wing so early felt… too much. Instead, you found yourself walking toward the academy gardens. The crisp afternoon air met you as you stepped outside, the scent of enchanted flora and old stone pathways filling your lungs. Your feet carried you forward on instinct, weaving through the familiar paths of the gardens, past the towering moonlit trees and the delicate, glimmering flowers that thrived under the academy’s protective enchantments. The place was quieter at this hour, most students still busy with their classes.

You let your mind wander. You had improved. That was undeniable. Shadow Milk Cookie had acknowledged as much himself. And yet, the closer you got to mastering your coursework, the more uneasy you felt. Because once you did what then? Would this all just… end? Would he simply nod, satisfied, and send you on your way? And then what? You’d go back to struggling through everything on your own? The thought of it left an odd hollowness in your chest. You sighed, rubbing your temples before shaking your head. You were overthinking again. For now, you still had today. You still had tutoring. You still had time. With that thought grounding you, you turned and began making your way toward the Scholars’ Wing. You hesitated at the doorway, one hand lightly gripping the frame as you took in the scene before you. The door to Shadow Milk Cookie’s office was slightly ajar, just enough for you to hear the unmistakable cadence of his voice measured, rich with knowledge, yet tinged with something… lighter. Amusement? You couldn’t make out every word, but the conversation was fluid, the way one spoke when deeply engaged in an exchange of ideas. He wasn’t alone. Another scholar, most likely. Someone of his caliber. Someone who belonged in this space. You shouldn’t feel so strange about it. And yet, you found yourself rooted to the spot, fingers tightening against the wood of the doorframe. You had always known, of course you had that he was a renowned scholar, well-respected, well-sought after. He didn’t just make time for you. Still, you’d never walked in on him mid-conversation before. You weren’t sure why that bothered you. The question now was whether you should make your presence known or wait. Logic told you it wasn’t a difficult decision. It wasn’t as if you were interrupting anything truly private. You had a scheduled session, after all. If he was too busy, he’d tell you. And yet, another part of you…the part that still struggled with being here, in his space, in his world hesitated. Would it be better to wait? To not intrude? You swallowed, debating your next move. You took a breath, steadied yourself, and knocked lightly against the door. The conversation inside paused for only a moment before Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice rang out, steady as ever. “Enter.” You pushed the door open, stepping inside. The atmosphere of the room shifted slightly not in a way that was obvious or outwardly hostile, but in a way that made you hyper-aware of your presence. Seated in the office, gathered around the central desk, were three other scholars. Two women and one man, all poised with an air of effortless intellect. Their robes were neatly arranged, their notes methodically placed before them. They belonged in this room, in this world of academia, their presence natural expected. And then there was you. Your gaze flickered between them briefly before settling on Shadow Milk Cookie. He remained as composed as ever, but you couldn’t ignore the way the three scholars regarded him. Their eyes, bright with admiration, held something deeper, something lingering beneath the surface adoration. It wasn’t surprising. Who wouldn’t look at him that way? You shifted your weight, suddenly feeling out of place. This wasn’t your space. You were just a struggling student, given the privilege of his time through necessity, not merit. “Ah,” Shadow Milk Cookie said, closing the tome in front of him. “Right on time.” That pulled you from your thoughts. You hesitated, then nodded, gripping your notebook a little tighter. “I yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The man among the three scholars tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in quiet assessment. “A student of yours, Sage of Truth?”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. “Not quite,” Shadow Milk Cookie answered smoothly. “But an eager learner nonetheless.” You weren’t sure why, but that phrasing stung just a little. One of the women smiled, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “How fortunate to receive such direct guidance.” You gave a small nod, unsure of what to say. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you briefly before gesturing to the side of the room. “Take a seat. I will conclude here shortly.” You obeyed, moving to the seat he had indicated, but even as you sat down, the sense of displacement remained. They resumed their conversation something about magical theorem applications but your mind was elsewhere, thoughts caught on the undeniable truth. You were not like them. And maybe you never would be. As the three scholars rose from their seats, they exchanged their final words with Shadow Milk Cookie, their voices carrying a warmth that felt both familiar and distant. “Until next time, Sage,” one of the women said, her fingers ghosting over the edge of his desk before she stepped away. The other woman offered a gentle smile, her eyes lingering just a second too long. “Conversations with you are always illuminating.” The man gave a slow nod, expression composed but reverent. “Your insights remain unparalleled.” Then, with a final exchange of glances ones that seemed to hold something unspoken as they departed. You hadn’t meant to watch them so closely, but there was something in the way they carried themselves that you couldn’t ignore. Something in the way their voices softened when they spoke to him, in the way their gazes lingered just a breath longer than necessary. You shifted uncomfortably, staring at the door they had left through before glancing back at Shadow Milk Cookie. You had only caught fragments of their discussion snippets of terminology and references to studies far beyond your grasp. It had been like listening to a language you had only just begun to learn, the meaning slipping past you before you could latch onto anything concrete.

Still, what unsettled you wasn’t the academic distance between you and them. It was the way they looked at him. And the quiet realization that he was always surrounded by people like that. People who understood him. You hesitated before speaking, trying to keep your voice neutral. “…Were those your friends?” Shadow Milk Cookie, who had been straightening his desk, paused only briefly before resuming. “Colleagues.” The word was delivered so smoothly that it almost seemed rehearsed. You frowned slightly. “So, not friends?” He regarded you for a moment before answering. “Friendship, in academic circles, is often secondary to the pursuit of knowledge.” That was… not exactly an answer. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but something about his response sat strangely with you. Something about the way he had said it, as if dismissing the notion entirely. “…I see,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I… really saw how much they admire you,” you said, keeping your voice light, as if it was just an idle observation. Shadow Milk Cookie looked at you with mild curiosity, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue. You let out a small breath, averting your gaze slightly. “They just… seemed so comfortable talking to you. Like they already knew exactly what you meant before you even finished a sentence.” There was something strange in the way those scholars had interacted with him and how naturally they seemed to fit into his world. You weren’t sure why it lingered in your mind so much, but the feeling sat heavy in your chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. “I guess I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t know why I feel this way, but… it kind of made me wonder if I’ll ever be able to understand you like that.” It was an uncomfortable thought; one you hadn’t fully grasped until you said it out loud. You had been learning, studying harder than ever, and yet somehow, today had made you feel like an outsider again. Like there was an invisible wall between you and him, between you and the world he truly belonged to. Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a moment, his golden eyes steady as they regarded you. He didn’t immediately dismiss your feelings, nor did he rush to correct them. Then, with a measured tone, he finally spoke. “There are many paths to understanding,” he said. “Not all must be the same.” You met his gaze again, and though his expression remained composed, there was something deliberate in his words as if he was choosing them with care. He was not denying the gap that existed between you, nor was he pretending it wasn’t there. “I guess… I hadn’t thought about it like that,” you admitted. “But sometimes, it feels like no matter how much effort I put in, I’ll always be behind. Like I’m chasing after something I can’t quite grasp.” Shadow Milk Cookie considered this, his expression unreadable. “A scholar’s journey is not a race,” he said. “Nor is it a simple ascent. There will always be others who stand at different points along the path some ahead, some behind. But progress is not measured by where you stand in relation to them.”

You frowned slightly, tapping your fingers against the desk. “That makes sense, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s still a gap.” He nodded. “No, it does not. But gaps are meant to be bridged, not feared.” Something about the way he said it made you pause. He spoke as if the answer was so simple, so obvious like it wasn’t a question of whether you could catch up, but when. The thought settled strangely in your chest, a mixture of comfort and something you couldn’t quite name. You glanced down at your notes. The hesitation from earlier still lingered, but it no longer weighed as heavily as before. “I… guess I’ll just have to keep going, then.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly. “Was there ever any doubt?” You let out a quiet huff, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” His lips quirked just slightly, an almost-smile, before he gestured toward your notebook. “Then let us ensure your doubts do not linger.” And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you with something new not quite confidence, but something close enough.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat before sliding your notebook toward him. “Anyway,” you said, trying to sound casual, “I finished the assignment for Professor Almond Custard’s class. I think I did well on it.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered to the notebook, and he reached for it with his usual practiced ease. You watched as he scanned through your work, his expression remaining unreadable as his fingers ghosted over the lines of your calculations and explanations. You told yourself you weren’t waiting for his reaction but you were. A part of you hoped, maybe even expected, that this time, he’d simply nod in approval and move on. That he’d confirm what you were feeling that you had done well, that you had finally gotten it right. Shadow Milk Cookie turned the pages with practiced ease, his golden eyes scanning your work with a meticulous gaze. You tried to sit still, to keep yourself from fidgeting under the weight of his silence, but every second that passed made it harder. Then, finally, he set the notebook down and looked at you. “…Well done.” You blinked. “Wait, really?” He nodded once, fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the desk. “Your reasoning is clear, your calculations correct. The structure of your argument is sound. This is a marked improvement.” For a moment, you just stared at him, half-expecting some kind of ‘but’ to follow. When none came, a rush of relief, no, pride bloomed in your chest. “I actually got everything right?”

“Indeed.” You exhaled, barely resisting the urge to sag against the desk. “Finally.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with something almost amused. “Did you expect otherwise?” “Honestly?” You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.” His expression softened, just a little. “Doubt is natural. But in this instance, unnecessary.” He tapped the notebook again, deliberate. “You are capable. This work is proof of that.” It wasn’t an elaborate speech, nor was it overly sentimental but coming from him, it meant everything. You let out a breath, rolling your shoulders back. “I’ll take that as high praise.” “It is.” Your chest felt lighter than it had all day. You beamed brightly, laughter spilling from your lips pure, unrestrained, the kind that came from deep within your soul. Just knowing you had finally done something great, something without the need for corrections, overwhelmed your senses in the best way possible. “I can’t believe it,” you admitted between quiet chuckles, shaking your head as if that would make the moment feel more real. “No mistakes? Not even one?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curved ever so slightly. “Had there been, I would have pointed them out.” You grinned, still riding the high of accomplishment. “Wow… I actually did it.” For the first time, you weren’t scrambling to make last-minute fixes, weren’t leaving his office weighed down by another list of errors to correct. It was strange, in a way like standing at the peak of a mountain you had been climbing for so long, unable to believe you had finally made it. Shadow Milk Cookie watched you, his gaze steady. “This is the result of your perseverance. Do not diminish it with disbelief.”

You paused, taking in his words. He was right. You had worked for this. You had earned it. You straightened, exhaling a breath that carried away the lingering doubt. “Then I’ll just say… thank you.” He inclined his head slightly. “No thanks are necessary. You have proven yourself through effort alone.” Still, you smiled, warmth filling your chest.

A/N no update tomorrow I won't have time to finish the chapter, but it'll be started and then finished+editing by hopefully Wednesday latest Thursday you might be asking yourself "Odile how do you get these chapters out so fast?" The simple answer: I'm hyper-fixated...+ It...'s break week and it was raining all day...My friends and I had to call it a day early cause it was pouring...so it gave me time to use the rest of my day to write and cook a good dinner etc...

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