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sserpente · 1 month ago

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A Routine Check-Up (Kinktober #2)

Your phone buzzed. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

A/N: *cough* I'm just gonna leave this here. Have fun!

Words: 2578 Warnings: you guessed it—smut ;)

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Please schedule an appointment with your primary physician as soon as possible.

Oh. Your heart skipped a beat when you read the message that popped up on your Hunter’s Watch. Damn it all, you’d rather fight a horde of Wanderers than put yourself through that. You were, of course, very well aware of how important these regular check-ups were. Under any circumstances, they wouldn’t be a problem. But it wasn’t just any doctor that—

Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out of your pocket. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

Alright then…the sooner you made an appointment, the sooner you could get this over with. You weren’t necessarily nervous about the exam itself; it was uncomfortable, sure but other than that… Ugh. It was the fact it was Dr. Zayne—your Dr. Zayne—who would be performing it. There was something you’d wanted to bring up. A little problem, so to speak.

Sure thing, Dr. Zayne! I’ll be off the clock tomorrow afternoon?

He read it. Mere seconds later, the three dots indicating he was typing a reply popped up at the bottom of your screen.

Come see me at my office at 5 PM then.

Right. You’d do that. You glanced at your bathroom door. Perhaps you should get trimmed a little down there before that.

Thinking about anything other than that fateful exam in the evening, you spent the whole day whiling away. The pile of paperwork—reports on Wanderers you defeated and the Protocores you’d retrieved—didn’t grow any smaller.

Damn it, you’d feel more comfortable walking straight into the N109 zone rather than Zayne’s office. You hesitated when you finally stood before his door, your fist hovering mid-air. You’d count to then and then you’d knock.

One, two, three, four, five…with a start, the door opened, revealing Dr. Zayne in his usual medical attire. He was wearing his glasses and he looked a bit tired around the eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well either. Presumably, however, not for the same reasons as you.

You smiled. “Hello, Dr. Zayne.”

“Come on in.” Reciprocating your smile, he stepped aside. He’d already prepared the room. Normally, these types of exams were conducted in the treatment rooms but given you were a Hunter and Dr. Zayne was your primary care physician, no such arrangements had been necessary.

You took a deep breath, eyeing the gynaecological chair he’d set up.

“You seem nervous. Are you alright?”

“Me? Nervous? N-no, why would I be?”

Zayne tilted his head. His scrutinising gaze was full of worry—it often was when you discussed your health with him. “I’ve been doing your gynaecological health exams for many years now. You were never nervous before. What changed?”

Many years ago I wasn’t in love with you yet, you thought. Besides, we still haven’t talked about that kiss the other night…

“I guess I’m just a little anxious,” you lied, “Tara told me they found two cysts in one of her friends’ ovaries once.”

Zayne frowned. It was the last thing you saw before you moved behind the makeshift medical curtain to undress. Your skirt came off, and your panties soon followed.

“Have you been experiencing any pain or abnormalities?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then I don’t see any reason for worry. Have you been tracking your menstruation?”

“I have.” Timidly, you reappeared from behind the curtain and tiptoed over to the chair in your socks.

“Anything out of the ordinary? Any bad cramps or other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Alright then. Sit down on the chair for me so we can begin.” He was always so calm, so reassuring, so…collected. Come to think of it, you had never seen him lose his temper. Even that one time he was so angry at you for dismissing yourself from the hospital early he’d been quiet—almost eerily so. It was a trait that drove you mad in the best ways possible.

Biting your lower lip, you climbed on the gynaecological chair and crossed your fingers over your belly, scooting forward until Zayne had you where he needed you. You watched him prepare a speculum and cover it in lube, his hands hidden by a pair of medical gloves.

Your heart was pounding when he moved between your legs. Knowing that this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you…down there and that there was nothing to worry about barely helped your situation.

It was different this time. You longed for his touch, longed for his presence. But…you took a deep breath when Zayne inserted the speculum into your opening slowly and carefully. But if he could stay professional, then so could you.

“I’m going to do your pap smear first. It might feel a little uncomfortable.”

You hummed by way of a response, bracing yourself. Zayne was so gentle you barely felt anything though. You almost closed your eyes. Almost.

“Alright…” he said when he was done. “Everything looks normal. No infections, no discolouration…” You were pretty certain he was talking to himself and working through a protocol in his head. You nodded regardless, resisting the urge to flinch when his hand grazed your outer lips when he removed the speculum again.

“I am going to feel inside you now to check for any abnormalities. I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“O-Okay.” Shit, he was going to do what now? You bit your lower lip when he inserted to fingers into your warmth. They slid inside with ease due to the lube he’d used earlier…although at this point you weren’t so sure anymore if it was just the lube that helped him.

Zayne pressed down gently on various parts of your lower body, supporting his movements by placing his palm on your abdomen.

“You’re breathing heavily. Are you in pain?”

“No. No, I’m fine, Dr. Zayne!”

“Hmm…” He paused as if he couldn’t decide whether he believed you or not. “Alright. Let’s do the ultrasound and then we’re almost done.”

You nodded yet again and pressed your lips together to a thin line.

You almost whined at the loss of his fingers inside of you. The ultrasound wand wrapped in a condom didn’t feel nearly as nice when he inserted it, his gaze fixed on the little screen next to the chair.

“Your ovaries look healthy…I can see no cysts. Your bladder looks fine too and your uterus…yes. Everything’s alright.”

He looked at you and blinked once, eliciting a shy smile from you. Good god…it was almost over.

Zayne removed the ultrasound wand and began to clean it up. “Do you have any questions for me? Or perhaps…” He hesitated. “Are you planning on getting any birth control?”

“D-Do I have to run that by you if I do?”

“Not all birth control pills or other methods might be compatible with the medication you need for your Protocore Syndrome.”

“I see…no, I…I don’t think I need anything…right now.”

“Alright. You can sit up. If you’d just remove your shirt for me so I can check your breasts for any knots…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh yeah! O-of course.”

Shit. You’d give anything to have Zayne caress your breasts under different circumstances. Embarrassment due to your obvious romantic affinity for him aside, you almost wished…

You sighed and did as you were told. Timidly, you lifted your shirt and kept your arms tucked in.

“That…that is not going to work, I’ll need to feel the side of your breasts too. Perhaps it’d be best if you remove it completely. I know it’s a little cool in my office, it won’t be for long.”

It’s not about the cold, Dr. Zayne. It’s not about the cold.

“S-Sure.”

You pulled your shirt over your head quickly. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today knowing the exam was due, and it was just easier that way. You were left wearing only your skirt before him now, your nails digging into the soft leather of the gynaecological chair and almost tearing the protective cover on top of it.

Zayne’s expression remained stoic. After putting on a fresh pair of medical gloves, he examined your breasts one by one. Your chest was heaving.

“Have you noticed anything unusual?”

“What? Uh, no, no, nothing unusual.”

“Good.” He retreated. “That concludes the exam. Are you sure you don’t have any questions?”

Yes. No. God, you couldn’t ask him what’d been on your mind for the past months…could you? Not anymore, not now that you and he…

A shiver went through you when he said your name—calmly but sternly. “Do you remember when I asked you to always be honest with me, especially when it comes to your health?”

“I do but—”

“But what?”

You felt your eyes heating up and sucked your lips between your teeth. “It’s…it’s embarrassing… Doctor Zayne, perhaps…perhaps I should be speaking to a female physician or a nurse about…this?”

“So there is something that troubles you.” He spoke your name yet again and damn it all, you wished he would stop being so considerate and caring for a moment. That would make things a lot easier for you right now. “Even if you do speak about this with a female physician, they are obligated to enter all accumulated data into your e-file. As your primary care physician, I have access to that file. Whenever something gets added, I am either the one who entered it or the first one to find out.”

“O-oh…”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He placed his hands on your bare knees, his gaze respectfully glued to your eyes rather than your exposed sex right before him. “There is nothing you need to be ashamed of around me.”

“Zayne, I…just…I’ve been having trouble, uh…well…getting there lately.” Oh god, this was so embarrassing. Where was this pit to swallow you whole that everyone always talked about? You felt like you were in some cheap porn movie…

“Getting there?” He sounded genuine. Great. You had to spell it out.

“I’ve been having trouble…reaching orgasm when I…you know.”

Zayne remained quiet for a moment. Not a single emotion escaped his neutral expression—you did not, however, miss the slight twitching of his jaw.

“Prolonged stress can impact the ability to relax enough for acceptance, for lack of a better word, of sexual stimulation,” he began matter-of-factly, “and ever since you finished training at the Hunter’s Academy, your stress levels have almost constantly been alarmingly high.”

“How do you know that?”

“Heart rate variability analysis and regular hormonal testing during your monthly check-ups.”

“Ah…But…a-are you sure it’s just that? I’ve…I’ve tried everything. I even bought…” A vibrator. You stopped yourself and bit your lower lip.

“If you are worried about any physical causes, I can take a look. But, your Protocore Syndrome aside, you are healthy. It is highly unlikely you are affected by Anorgasmia or similar orgasmic dysfunctions that I have missed to diagnose. Have you always struggled? Or have you been able to bring yourself to climax before?”

You didn’t need to see yourself in the mirror to know you were as red as a tomato at this point. “I…no, this did start a while after I passed my Hunter’s exam…”

Zayne nodded. “There you have it. But if you want to be sure, I can go through a couple of tests with you.”

“T-tests?”

Another nod. “To make sure there are no physical restrictions to your ability to feel pleasure.”

Your lips parted. You…didn’t know you’d needed to hear the word pleasure out of Zayne’s mouth. But even so…this annoying little problem had been on your mind for weeks. What if there was something wrong with you? Something new that neither Zayne nor you had yet discovered?

“Then…then let’s do the tests. I want to be sure it’s nothing serious. How… How will you be doing that?”

“The best way would be through direct stimulation of the erogenous zones. We’ll work from there.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Sit back on the chair for me.”

You obliged and watched him mutely. Zayne applied some of the lube he’d used earlier to his thumb and moved back between your legs. You spread them wider hesitantly. With your heart in your mouth, you bit down hard on your lower lip when he pressed his thumb against your clit and began to caress it with slow and deliberate circular motions, his fingers cupping your pubic mound.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“You are responding right away. That is a good sign.”

Fuck…it…it did feel good. So good. Too good. So much better than when it was your fingers playing with your pussy. Perhaps it wasn’t the stress after all. Perhaps it was the fact that you were longing. For him. Perhaps your thirst could not be quenched unless it was…with him?

But…no! You couldn’t possibly…exploit him like that…he was…genuinely caring and…wanted…to make sure that…fuck…

Zayne applied a bit more pressure.

To make sure that…you were okay…he…he…

There was no way to hold back a moan when he used his other hand to slide two fingers inside of you. He curled them just right, quickly finding what he was looking for. And as he started stimulating your g-spot, you realised that it indeed wasn’t the lube that made you wet, receptive and responsive.

Zayne looked up, his lips slightly parted. Surprise reflected in his hazel green eyes—almost as if he caught himself…enjoying your reactions. Could…could that be?

He kept going nonetheless but his gaze now remained fixed on you, watching you intently.

“Z-Zayne…” You knew what you wanted to tell him. You knew what was going to happen. He knew that too, it seemed.

“It’s alright. Let go.”

“I…oh…oh God…Zayne…” You couldn’t have disobeyed the doctor’s orders even if you had wanted to. You came undone around his fingers, your tight walls clenching around him rhythmically as your orgasm washed over you. You arched your back, bucking your hips to meet his attentive touches. Zayne did not let up. He kept his hands on you to help you ride out every last wave of pleasure he’d bestowed on you.

Your eyes locked with his once you came down from your high, embarrassment crawling up your spine. But Zayne…he was breathing heavily. His eyes were glazed as if…had…had this aroused him too? You didn’t dare look down for evidence.

“There. Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I…I am. I…”

“It’s the stress that is keeping you from relaxing without a doubt. I…I believe I might have to describe more of this treatment to you just to be sure.” Wait, what? “Especially given how the excessive release of endorphins during an orgasm can help reduce stress levels.” He chuckled. He actually chuckled!

“I…you…we…” It was no use. You were at a loss for words.

“You were my last patient for today,” Zayne announced. “Let me drive you home.”

You nodded, still dazed from what had just happened. Your cheeks were flushed, your ears hot. Between your legs, there was a waterfall you’d have to bring back under control before you put your panties back on.

This evening was far from over. Because if there was one thing you knew despite both your twisted emotions and feelings for one another, this bi-annual gynaecological check-up had just moved your relationship to a new level.

#zayne lads imagine #zayne lads x reader #zayne lads smut #zayne lads x you #love and deepspace imagine #zayne #zayne imagine #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne smut #love and deepspace #lads #lads imagine #zayne love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace imagine #zayne love and deepspace x reader #kinktober

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letorip · 2 months ago

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kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n

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ddiidi · 3 months ago

Text

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Pt. 1

Next Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: I tried something new, I hope y'all like it :3

You and Chan had been dating for good 3 years now and just a few days ago it had been your anniversary and if anything, the past 3 years had been the best years of your life. You guys met when you were put in charge for one of Straykids's album and since then, the two of you grew really close. Of course Chan was a busy person, but he mad time for you whenever he could and never got mad at you for anything. Not even your clingy and sometimes overcaring personality, which had been a big problem in your previous relationships, bothered him. Or so you thought.

You were currently in the Kitchen of your apartment to make yourself breakfast. Chan stayed over last night to which you decieded, it would be for the best to sleep a little longer, and stay longer at work, even though you've still got to pack your things since you'll be moving soon.

You opened the fridge to get out some blueberries and other stuff, when you saw the Lunch made for Chan sitting in it, untouched.

You frowned and took your phone out, to notify him that you'll stop by at the studio to drop it off.

You let out a sigh and put your phone in your bag. I should just get over and drop it off, you thought to yourself and made your way down the hallway, between some boxes you've packed, while waiting for a reply the past hour. You stepped out the door, greeted by the shivering cold winter air and made your way to the studio, with your bag in one and chan's lunch in the other hand.

By the time you arrived at the building, you were freezing cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the car. You stepped inside the building, greeted by your co-workers. You gretted them back, making your way to the studio, knocking on the door once. No respond. You knocked twice. Again no respond. You decied to just let yourself in.

When you stepped in the room, you find a busy chan, howering over his Laptop, aggressivly clicking on his keyboard.

"Hey Babe, I texted you earlier but you didn't respond..you forgot your Lunch at my apartment, so I thought I'll bring it over" you said, and put the lunch next to him on his desk, with a smile on your face, which immediately dropped, when he just ignored you. You decided to shrug it off and came behind his chair, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you working on?" No respond. "Chris do you hear what I say?" you ask and stare at him, but he just continues typing on his Lapotop. "Chris-" "Jesus fucking Christ Y/n, can't you just leave me alone?!" He bursted out and turned to you in his chair "But I-" you try to explain, just to be interrupted by him again "DON'T YOU GET THE HINT?!?" he yells, and you instantly stiff "Obviously I'm hearing what you say I'M NOT FUCKING DEAF OKAY?! I'm just ignoring you because I'm trying to have some alone time and do my fucking work without you constantly breathing down my neck!! Can't I just have like 5 minutes of alone time without your clingy ass being right here, next to me, like always asking me stupid questions and breakthing down my neck!?? And your overly caring personality is really getting too much, ever thought I left the Lunch there on purpose??? Or that I don't have time to constantly check my phone because I actually have work to do?????? Get you clingyness under control and LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know if you should say something. You've never seen him like that. He sounded really mad, and you couldn't help but tremble and blinking your eyes so no tears could escape, but they did and didn't get unnoticed by Chan. "And here comes the river.." he sighed out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You sobbed your cries in and turned around to leave, only mumbling out a weak "I'm sorry..." before rushing out of the room, running towards the exist, when you bump into Felix.

"Um Y/n is everything okay?" he asks, genuily worried but you just smile at him and nod, before hurrying to get home.

You just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but you couldn't even do that because you had to pack you things.

It's so cruel.

Everything is so cruel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

#stray kids #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chris #christopher bang #stray kids angst #stray kids fake texts #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #lee felix

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heohl-art · 11 days ago

Text

I DREAMT THIS (and I HAD TO draw it and share it with the world😭✨)! Get ready to C-R-Y!

• Sleep Dearie Sleep, 1916 •

I'm ✨SO PROUD✨ of this one!😭🩷

Attention: ANGST!

World War I.

Anthony J. Crowley leaves to fight in France. After a year, he is wounded and ends up in the infirmary. There he meets the field doctor Aziraphale Fell, who heals his wounds and somehow manages to warm his heart. He falls in love with him, but he's unable to tell him anything. So, every night in the trenches - when it rains water, fire or mud - he writes letters. Letters and letters that will never arrive.

The war becomes more and more violent, as do his feelings. He steals Aziraphale's fountain pen, then his photograph from the infirmary tent. He puts it in his wallet, to keep it close to his heart.

Each day he advances on the battlefield, he vows to deliver those letters to Aziraphale's caring and gentle hands, but each time he returns, he fails to keep his oath.

One day, the last time he sees the sun touch the ground, he loses his life. In his last moments, the only thing he cares about is not letting blood stain Aziraphale's photograph.

The last thing he sees, just before drifting off to eternal sleep, is Aziraphale's smile.

Two days later, a corporal reaches the medical tent and hands Aziraphale Crowley's last item.

Crowley always thought his love was unrequited, but Aziraphale fell in love with him too, a year earlier, the first time he saw Crowley, playing with a stray kitten and a tender smile.

🩷

That's what happens when I rewatch 1917, War Horse and All Quiet on the Western Front all in one day.

(I had this dream, it was so vivid, I HAD TO put into an artwork. I have no regrets✨)

Bonus: ✨details✨

1. Crowley stole Aziraphale's fountain pen (it has his surname engraved) to write him letters.

2. He keep those letters into his wallet, close to his heart.

3.He also stole Aziraphale's photograph (it's the last thing he saw).

4. Once it's returned to him (together with the letters) Aziraphale sees behind his photo, Crowley's last promise. The one he couldn't keep.

5. Crowley always thought his love was one-sided.

6. But Aziraphale actually fell for him first, after seeing him playing with a cat, a long time before.

✨

HERE THE FULL LETTER💌✨:

Nov 2, 1916

My dear Angel,

As I sit here in the cold embrace of this ditch, the distant echoes of battle remind me of how fleeting moments are. Each day feels like a cruel gift, and yet your sight warms me against the chill. I find solace in thoughts of your gentle hards, the way they skillfully mend wounds while my heart aches for a different kind of healing.

You may never know the depth of my devotion admiration, how your laughter dances through my mind like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

In this world torn apart by war, you are a fragile thread connecting me to something beautiful.

Should fate be unkind and silence fall upon me, remember that affect friendshi love can bloom even in the darkest fields.

If I do not return today, carry with you the knowledge that you were my light amidst shadows, a truth I cherished silently but deeply.

Yours always,

Anthony

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

Text

When at work - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader

Plot: Lando has known you since you were born, literally childhood friends. You went to every karting weekend with him until he started to travel more. As childhood lovers who have been dating for 8 years what happens when the general public find out about you?

You'd known Lando since you were born just two years after him, and so until Year 4 when you excelled in your academics you were a school year behind him, you were moved up a year to his year. You followed him to the karting tracks when you were little being his biggest supporter and if you go back and look at interviews you'll always be spotted talking animatedly to his family about the race.

You had very strict parents about schooling and they wouldn't let you miss any days off, you could go to karting with Lando, after school or on the weekends but you couldn't take days off school for his races.

"Mum please! I want to go support him!" you cried when she told you that you couldn't have the day off to go watch Lando kart in one of his first proper championship races.

"No Y/N, Lando has found something he is good at... you are a smart girl and school is where you should be!" you mum had refused, smiling at you sadly.

"Dad?" you cried looking over at your dad, who would normally say yes to any request you had, especially if it involved Lando and his dad Adam, as they were friends.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry but I'll have to agree with your mum on this one" he sighs pulling you into a hug. Those days at school that Lando wasn't there were lonely to say the least, Lando's friends wouldn't hang out with you if it was only you and you didn't have any of friends.

Eventually Lando quit school when he got to British Formula three, there he made lots of new friends including Max, who he introduced to you. You would miss Lando in school, and tried to branch out to make new friends but nothing felt as close as the bond you shared with Lando.

"Y/N, this is my friend Max I met him in karting" he smiles pulling you closer to Max.

"Erm, hi" you had smiled shyly at Max, who smiled back at you. With Max it felt like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you unlike Lando's school friends who just sort of acknowledged your existence because of Lando.

You and Max of course made fast friends after this.

This was 2015, and he asked you there and then to be his girlfriend. At first you laughed and said no, because you thought he was joking and one of the boys from karting had dared him as a cruel joke. But after lots of groveling on his behalf you said yes.

In 2016, you managed to exceed in your GCSE'S getting 6 A* to B grades. Lando had come just to celebrate with you. The next year you did the last of your GCSE's getting 7 more A* - B grades making you come out with 13 GCSE's in total. Lando had come to celebrate with you, while you had gone to celebrate with him that he had won the Formula 3 championship.

He of course, was promoted to Formula 2 for the 2018 season and became a test and reserve driver for Mclaren, which made you so proud because this was his way of being able to get into Formula One. You went on to do your Alevel-s, which were Maths, Physics, Design and Technology and Law. You were now just turned 17 and looking at universities you could go to, and looking at what degree you wanted to go into.

He came second in Formula 2, just behind the other British Racing Driver George Russell. And was promoted to F1 for the 2019 Season and would be in his rookie season.

Halfway through his first season which had gone pretty well with only 2 DNF's and him coming 6th highest, you'd finished your exams and had got offers back from all 5 universities you'd applied to. It was sad really, you'd applied to the University of Surry and University of Royal Holloway just to be near the Mclaren Technology Centre so you could be closer to Lando in the off season.

You'd ended up choosing Cambridge University in the end and spend the rest of your summer until the end of September travelling to races with Lando, you went with his Dad, having his other spare pass. You saw him in Monaco, Canada, France, Austria, Silverstone, Germany and Hungry before you spent the summer break in Greece together along with Max. Then you came with him to Belgium, Italy and Singapore before you had to go home to move into student accommodation.

As a rookie there wasn't too much focus on Lando, but when a girl was spotted with him in the paddock for 10 races, people had questions. After they did some digging they worked out that you were childhood friends with Lando and you were in his older and definitely cringier Instagram pictures, and they checked his tagged photos which led them to your account that he was following.

Luckily it was private but you were shocked at the influx of follow requests.

Rumors spread and people deducted that you must be his girlfriend. It made you nervous but Lando promised to go at your pace.

Your first year of university was cut short, everything went into lockdown, and you were alone in your little dorm room with 5 other housemates. It was a month until you finished all your exams online, and made the decision to travel to Lando's to live with him.

You ended up staying with him for the whole lockdown, and then travelling around with him for the whole of the 2020 season. You managed to do this while studying as your campus was shut for the whole of 2020 and most of 2021. You had an amazing second year grade passing with a 92 overall school having a 1st in your second year. So when 2021 came around you'd applied for Formula One internships so you could keep travelling around with Lando and almost all of them as they already knew you accepted you, you had a difficult time deciding who to go with.

Eventually you went with Red Bull, of course Lando had made jokes about how betrayed he felt, but was happy for you being in a top constructor. You joined them for the 2021 Azerbaijan GP, on the 6th of June you were there for 17 races in 2021 and learnt so much from the team.

You spent until September 2022 with them having major input on the build of the 2022 Red Bull to the point Christian Horner ask for you to be shown on the Instagram. 14 races you spend with them and it was a wild ride before you had to go back to University for your final year.

At this point you and Lando had been together for 7 years strong now. People worked out how long you'd been together a while ago and it had really shocked them. They expected you to be engaged and ... well they weren't far off.

He proposed to you in the winter break of 2022 on a ski holiday he'd taken you on. All of your's and his family were there too see and it was beyond magical. You were going into the 2023 season with a Fiancé and your soulmate.

You let your Instagram go public during this time, the fans had been asking for more content from you. You appeared on streams, and Lando always posted you on his accounts. Now it was time for them to go and stalk you account, instantly people went back through your photos finding old pictures from when you and Lando were younger and then the more recent pictures that everyone thought were cute.

Now Lando had gone back to racing and you were starting revision for exams that would happen in May.

However, you didn't tell Lando, that money was getting a bit tight. You'd always been funny when it came to how much Lando earned and how he always insisted that you lived rent free with him and to not worry about it. So at the start of 2023, towards the end of your degree you got a little side job as a barista in an independent coffee shop.

Lando of course being busy now that it was the start of the 2023 season and he had a new rookie team mate to meet, he was none the wiser.

It was just a typical day at the coffee shop when you were with your colleague, making yourself a drink when a girl and her friend came in.

"Oh my gosh, your Y/N!" a voice says making you look up, you smile happily not thinking much off it because you were wearing a name badge so you assumed she got it from there.

"Yes, hello how can I help you today!" you ask politely stopping making your drink and walking over to the till.

"You're Y/N Lando Norris Fiancé right?" she asks and your mouth drops open in shock. You had been noticed around the paddock, of course you had... but this was the first time someone had come to you in public.

"Ah yes I am!" you smile shyly. The interaction was relatively normal, you served them their drinks and made conversation with them before having to go back and serve more customers.

You didn't notice them take pictures and videos of you interacting and serving customers, which of course made their way onto social media. Suddenly and influx of customers came, which was strange for a Tuesday afternoon.

As well as the influx of customers you had people come in with cameras, starting to take pictures.

"Y/N what is happening all of these people are asking for you" Rhianne your co-worker asks and that's when the blender turns off and you can hear people calling your name.

They were fans of F1.

"Hey Y/N Lando deserves better than you"

"Y/N why are you working minimum wage when you have a boyfriend with a net worth of over 10 mil"

"Y/N break up with Lando"

"Oh my god, how did they all know this is where I work" you say asking your colleague not sure what to even do.

"Okay, let's get you out the back. Call the police and I'll try keep up with orders" She says pushing you towards the exit, the staff room was on the other side of the shop so you were going to have to tackle your way through the mound of people.

Eventually after people shoving phones in your face and grabbing at your wrist. You manage to get into the staff area and lock the door. You were crying as you called the police, who said they'd send bodies to you immediately.

After you hung up, your phone started to ring and Lando's face popped up.

"Hi baby" you say trying to sound like your not crying. Your camera was facing up so he couldn't see you.

"Y/N show me where you are right now. I swear to god, if what I'm seeing on twitter is true" he huffs out making you pan down the camera to show the back room you were in. He was in Australia right now and had heard from Oscar that you were trending on twitter and looked scared.

"Are you safe?" he asks worried, making you burst into tears. You could suddenly feel everyone's hands back on you and your breathing goes shallow.

"Mmm, I had to call the police there was so many people" you cry, wiping your tears.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. Look after Australia, I'm coming to you okay! Why the fuck didn't you ask me if you needed money" he asks looking at you with that disappointed look you hated.

"Lando, you know how i feel about that" you say.

"Baby, your still in Uni. You shouldn't have to work. Do you parents know?" he asks, and you shake you head.

"Hey Y/N! How are you?" Oscar asks coming into view of the camera.

"I'm okay Oscar, I cant wait to meet you next week!" You smile at him, blinking away the tears that were still trying to come out.

"Oh, I think the police are here, but I'll call you when I'm home!" you say hearing a knock at the door.

"Ask them to take you home. You shouldn't walk round the streets alone! I love you darling" Lando sighs.

"I love you too Lando, thank you!"

A/N: I feel like this isn't very good, I'm sorry this feels like its so info dumpy and not much fluff!!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader

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wandascosmic · 4 months ago

Text

whatcha doing with a boy like that? (1)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part one of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1348

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“I have a question for you,” Wanda whispers.

You smile, leaning further over Wanda’s receptionist's desk to hear the question.

You can see Wanda suppressing a laugh as she says, “Are you going to Jennifer’s cat party on Sunday,” finally breaking as she finishes her sentence.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe how serious she is about her cats.”

Wanda looks up at you from her chair smiling at you, and you smile back, secretly pulling out a container of mixed berry yogurt from behind the desk and placing it on the elevated edge along with a metal spoon on top of the lid.

“You made me forget what I came here for,” you say, pointing towards the yogurt. “Special delivery of a mixed berry yogurt for your afternoon snack break.”

Wanda grins and takes the items from her best friend.

“You know my favorite flavor of yogurt?”

“Nah, it was the last one in the fridge.”

Wanda’s face falls.

You smile. “I’m kidding,” you say, bringing the smile back to Wanda’s face, “of course I know the same flavor of yogurt you’ve eaten for the past 7 years.”

Vision doesn’t. Wanda thinks in her head. But that’s fine, he only sees her at the end of the workday, so it makes sense that you would know instead.

You’re about to ask Wanda what’s wrong since you see her lost in thought, but you’re both suddenly interrupted.

“Y/N!” Tony, your boss calls out. “Stop giggling with Maximoff and get back to work!”

“Since when did you care about your work Tony?” Nat calls out.

“Good point,” he responds, walking back into his office.

You turn to look at Wanda giving her an apologetic look. “I should probably get back to work anyways,” you tell her, pointing at your desk over your shoulder.

Wanda nods, a little deflated on the inside since you’re the only thing that makes her work day more interesting.

You sigh as you sit down at your desk, picking up your phone to make a few sales calls.

Wanda does the same, doing her job of answering the ringing phone with ‘Shield Industries this is Wanda’ over, and over, and over again.

You notice Wanda out of the corner of your eye, seeming a bit forlorn compared to before.

You smirk, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better.

“God, damn it!” Sam yells out, growling. “Damn it! Y/N!”

“Hold on, hold on. Sam, what happened?” Tony asks.

Sam sighs, putting his head in his hand.

“She put my stuff in Jell-O again,” he pulls out the plate that has the stapler encased in the lemon dessert.

And right on cue, Wanda lets out a shocked laugh, her hand going to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter. You smile.

“That’s real professional. Thanks a lot, Y/N. Tony, do something.”

You decide to engage in a bit more banter for Wanda. You pull out a Jell-O cup and a plastic spoon from your drawer, opening it to eat the treat.

“How do you know it was me?” You ask as you lean back in your chair.

“It’s always you!” Sam snaps.

Tony sighs. “Alright, the thing about practical jokes is you need to know when to start and when to stop,” you look over at Wanda, sharing a knowing look as she smiles at you. “And Y/N, I think it’s time for you to stop putting Sam’s personal items in Jell-O.

You nod, placing the Jell-O cup down and swallowing the Jell-O that had been in your mouth. “Alright. Sam, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan,” your mouth quirks up into a smile at your pun.

You watch Wanda out of the corner of your eye bite down on her fist to stop from laughing.

Tony snorts. “That was a good one,” he puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know what, that’s just the way it is around here. Just deal with it, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna deal with it, Tony. It’s damage to company property.”

“I’ll order a new one, dude. And those staplers are getting old anyways.”

Sam sighs. “Fine, whatever.”

Tony leaves to go back to his office.

“Hey, Sam,” you say.

“What do you want?”

“You should’ve put me in custardy.”

Wanda lets out another laugh.

“Do you like going out at the end of the week for a drink?” You ask Wanda, leaning over her receptionist desk and smiling at her.

“Yeah,” Wanda replies, looking up at you.

“Yeah, I mean.” you shrug. “That’s why we’re all going out. You know, so we can have an end-of-the-week drink.”

“So when are we going out?” she asks, hopeful to have some fun after a while.

“I don’t know, tonight, hopefully.”

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening is heard, and you both turn your heads to see Vision walk in. Wanda’s fiance. You pull away from her desk.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you reply.

“Hey, babe,” he says to Wanda.

“Hi, Vis,” she leans over her desk to kiss him. You look away. “Do you mind if I go out for a drink with my friends from work?” she points to you and the rest of the Shield Industry staff.

He looks over at you before responding. “Uh, no, no, let’s just go home, Wanda.”

Wanda frowns but quickly replaces it with a neutral look. “Um, okay. Give me a few minutes though,” she points to the various papers on her desks. “I still need to do my faxes since it’s only 20 past 5.”

You watch the way her eyebrows are still creased, and you can tell that she had been looking forward to a night out.

Wanda walks around her desk and smiles at the two of you, heading off towards the fax machine.

You open and close your fists nervously, turning around to face Wanda’s fiance. “You know what, you should come with us. You know, since we’re all going out, it would be a good chance to see what people are like outside of the office. Who knows, it could be fun,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, I think we’re good. We’ve gotta get going anyways.”

You nod, “Sure, no worries.”

You and him stand there for a bit, and you can’t help but break the awkward silence, “What’s in the, um, what’s in the bag?” you point to the black trash bag he has in his right hand.

He gives you an annoyed look before turning around, “just tell her I'll talk to her later,” he says to you and walks out the door.

“Got it, no problem.”

Your co-workers’ plan to go out for drinks has been canceled, and you sit at your desk trying to finish up your sales work as fast as possible.

“Hey.”

You swivel around in your chair to face Wanda who has her arms crossed over her baby blue button-up shirt, looking stressed.

“Hey, are you ok?” you reply.

“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she waves her hand. “Weren’t you going out for a drink with everyone?”

“Oh, no, the plans got canceled.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry that’s a bummer.”

You chuckle. “No worries, Wanda, I think I’ll be ok.”

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry,” she looks around. “Hey, are you, uh, um-” she points towards the door.

“Walking out?” you supply with a smile.

She grins. “Yeah, that.”

“Yes I am, Maximoff. Wanna go together?”

She purses her lips and nods.

You start packing up your stuff while Wanda waits for you, but suddenly you both hear an aggressive honk outside.

You pause to pack up your stuff. “Oh, shoot, Vision.”

She looks at you apologetically, “yeah, sorry, Y/N. Have a nice weekend!” she tells you before turning around and running off to meet Vision in his car.

“You too,” you tell her, leaning back in your chair.

You sigh as you watch the girl you’ve been in love with for 7 years go home to her stupid fiance.

part 2

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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bugbit3ss · 4 months ago

Text

PRETTY LIKE A DEER ꧂

warnings :: swearing, cheating

wc :: 1.2k words

pairing :: boyfriends big sister!ellie x brothers girlfriend!reader

It was 7pm on a random Tuesday and your boyfriend of 2 years had kicked you out of his room like he normally always does when you come over, so you had decided to hang out with his older sister Ellie, she had only been a year older than you but you always felt like you had a special bond between the two ofyou almost like you guys were soulmates, butyou weren't cause you were with her asshole little brother, Liam.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You would normally hang out with Ellie when her brother was being a pain, to be honest you normally went to their house just for Ellie, and Joels bomb lasagna, but other than that you didn't have any other reason to go to their house.

As you knocked on Ellies door your boyfriends slams his shut obviously annoyed when you had done nothing to annoy him in the first place, You rolled your eyes at how childish he could be sometimes. You knock a few more times thinking Ellie couldn't hear you because she had her headphones on or she was taking a nap. After around 3 minutes of you knocking she yells out from behind the door.

"What?!" she yelled sighing.

"Its me." You replied back waiting for her to let you in.

"oh right come in!" sounding happier after realising who it was at the door, as you pushed the door open seeing Ellie on laying on her bed scrolling on her phone.

"Hey els" You said to her knowing calling her "Els" always made her a bit nervous, you sit down on her bed at her feet then falling back andyour arms out like a starfish on her bed.

"uh. hey, what are you doing here? Did Liam kick you out of his room again?" She answered biting at her chapped bottom lip.

"yeah he did, did you get the Chapstick like I told you to buy?" You say sitting up and straddling her hips and running your thumb over her bottom lip what was all cut from her biting it.

Ellie face flushed her hands automatically moving to your hips her thumb drawing small circles against your skin.

"I forgot to get it, but I swear I was going to get it!" She rambles on trying to get her story straight.

"Elsss" You whine out what just makes Ellie even more flustered.

“I'm sorry okay!? You know what just to make up for it come on ill show you place!" She said quickly throwing herselfoff from the bed and stuffing her wrecked converse over her dinosaur socks she had on.

"Ow!" You say dramatically as Ellie threw you off her hips.

"Come on, Come on!!" Ellie rushed you as she grabbed your hand and pulled you up off her bed in a hurry.

"Come on getyour shoes on!" Ellie said excitedly, throwing your shoes at you. You grabbed your shoes and tried to get them on your feet as Ellie rushed

you.

"I cant get this shoe on!!" You said bashing your foot against Ellie's floor

desperately trying to get your converse over your heel, when it finally went on your foot. "Finally.." You sighed out.

A few hours later you and Ellie were in the woods, You both soon seen a farm house that looked like it hadn't been touched in years but was still full of love, it was looking out onto a field filled with overgrown grass a bunch of different types of flowers and a massive willow tree in the middle of it. The field had been surrounded by a bunch of trees so it made it feel like a secret field

almost.

You and Ellie both standing silently against the porch of the farm house that looked out onto the field, When Ellie finally broke the silence.

"its really pretty don't you think?" Ellie mumbled looking out onto the field not bothering to look at you. You looked over at Ellie admiring her for a moment not realising how pretty

she actually was. "Yeah it’s gorgeous..." your eyes flickering back out onto the field when two wild deer appeared and danced around the old willow tree as you and Ellie watched in awe.

The next 5 minutes were just silence of you and Ellie watching the deer

dance.

"I don't get it, Why are you even with my of a dickhead brother. I mean come on you could do so much better, you're like those deer out there, you're fucking so delicate, you're soft... my god you're angelic if I'm putting it at the least." Ellie mumbled out softly and you didn't know how to answer the

question because you don t know why you’re with Ellie's brother.

"Follow me." You said to Ellie and walked off the porch the two ofyou leaving the deer, the sun was now setting and was different shades of oranges and

pinks and reds.

When you and Ellie finally reached the spot that you had taken her too, it was a river with a rope swing into the water at the top of a hill above the water and a water fall coming down the rocky cliff into the pool below it, the grass and rocks at the bottom of the water waving around as the waterfall splashed down, you rushed up the hill to the rope swing off an old sturdy tree. Once you made it to the top of the hill you looked down at

Ellie who had her arms crossed and an annoyed expression plastered on

her face.

"What are you doing get down from there, you’re gonna get hurt." Ellie huffed looking up atyou.

You took your shirt off leaving you in a white bra then took your trousers off leaving them at the top off the hill next to the tree, Ellies face flushed red seeing you in your underwear, as you reached out for the rope swing and grabbed onto it nearly falling in the water below.

"Are you ready Ellie?!" You asked her jumping in excitement smiling from ear to ear.

"Get down you're gonna get hurt!!" Ellie yelled up at you concerned.

"WOOOOO!!!" You yelled swinging off the hill and dropping down into the water, you came back up to the surface coughing and your hair swiped back.

"Get in the water it’s warm I swear!!" you yelled out at her smiling, and Ellie

chuckled

"You're fucking stupid..." Ellie said unbuckling her belt from her jeans and unbuttoning her flannel and jumping into the water with you.

Hours later of you and Ellie splashing water at each other, you both were

floating in the water smiling back and forth at each other.

"What did you mean earlier when you said, I could have better than your

brother.." You asked her.

Ellie sighs softly "I think I like you and I know you're with my brother and you guys have been dating for a year and all but i-" Ellie starts to ramble on but gets cut off by you.

"i like you too." You say planting a kiss on her lips, Her eyes widen and she squeaks a little not expecting a kiss but she doesn't pull away and instead shuts her eyes and kisses you back wrapping her arms around your waist as your hands come up to her cheeks which her bright red.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie #ellie x y/n #bug bites #viral #ellie williams fic #fanfic

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imaginespazzi · 3 months ago

Text

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away.

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night.

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily.

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved.

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else.

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone.

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?”

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet.

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late.

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave.

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay.

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away.

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter.

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart.

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine.

Until she’s not.

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine.

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck.

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down.

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out.

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers.

“What?”

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home.

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind.

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight.

April 2033

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age.

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word.

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her.

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen.

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes.

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room.

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse.

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too.

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever.

“Why would this be about Clémence?”

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again.

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown.

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks.

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?”

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave.

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off.

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had.

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years.

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown.

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again.

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it.

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp.

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could, “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze.

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever.

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too.

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back.

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk.

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug.

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face.

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs.

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests.

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women.

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins.

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking.

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world.

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette.

“Clém-” Azzi sighs.

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home.

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand.

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip.

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless.

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up.

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly.

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently.

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns.

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door.

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles.

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand.

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally.

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously.

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much.

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound.

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells.

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi.

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first.

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs.

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice.

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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