#Jumbotron kiss

[natalievoncatte]

This was a rare novelty: Lena was not the most famous person in a pubic place. In fact, dressed down in jeans, a tank top, and a ball cap, Lena was downright unremarkable. Or at least, it seemed that way.

All of the attention was heaped on Kara. Or rather-

“Supergirl!”

A gaggle of girls of versions ages charged over to them in a virtual mob, and Lena felt almost snubbed. Kara, herself in shorts and a Sentinels jersey, briefly seemed confused at the attention, even though she’d been out as Supergirl for almost six months now.

She quickly settled into meeting and greeting, asking the girls their names and signing various bits and bobs for them while the rest of the group, Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy, hung back, just behind Lena.

Finally, Kara managed to disentangle herself when security started breathing down their necks.

Lena had gotten everyone box seats directly behind the home dugout, and the group made their way down.

“This is pretty far from the rent-controlled section,” Kara said, grinning as she gestured at the nosebleed seats, a high above them on the top deck.

Brainy immediately settled in to study the game program and books on baseball he’d brought with him, amiably explaining (mansplaining? Coulansplaining?) baseball to Nia. For her part, his girlfriend seemed content to listen to his excited chatter, so Lena wasn’t bothered.

Alex had apparently appointed herself to keep Kara fed, and had already acquired enough snacks for a small army, and Kara was happy to dig in and take a chili dog in either hand.

Lena didn’t much care for the game, so she was pleased when Alex handed her a beer with a sardonic “things we do for love” look. Kelly was apparently more the fan of the two, and the Sentinels were playing the Metropolis Knights in this game, prompting an intra-Superfriend rivalry.

As for Lena? She was there for Kara.

The afternoon light seemed to caress her features, bringing out the soft glow in her honeyed skin and golden hair, and there were depths in her eyes that no one in the world could ever equal. Lena could stare at her forever and never get bored.

The spell wasn’t even broken when she polished off the first two hot dogs and let out a wild, rumbling belch that made her giggle and Alex roll her eyes.

She already knew that she was in love with Kara, but every time it seemed like her heart was full to bursting, it grew even fuller.

Lena has meant this for them. Lena had offered her the seats, hoping to feel out Kara about the potential for a date-date, to finally get an answer about the maddening tension between them over the last two months. Kara spent more time at Lena’s new house over the last two months than she had in her own apartment, and yet that line had never been crossed.

The line remained unbroken, but they were right up against it. Kara gave Lena’s thigh a squeeze without seeming to realize what she was doing, then yanked her hand back as if she’d touched something hot, and just played it off when Lena looked at her, and kept looking at her.

The start of the game spared her from the awkward conversation.

Kara was eager to explain to her, leaning over to over-explain the nuances of every move and play.

Exactly like Brainy and Kelly were doing with their girlfriends.

Lena paid her more attention than the game, so Lena didn’t even notice when one of the Knights hit the ball oddly and, instead of flying out over the field, rocketed almost straight up. Lena was, in fact, so focused on Kara that she didn’t realize where the ball was going until it was cutting lazily through the air and headed straight at her head.

A yelp jumped from her throat and she jerked back, but of course there was nothing to fear. A moment later there was a hearty slap of cowhide on skin. Kara plucked the ball from the air two inches from Lena’s nose, dramatically holding it in place for a moment.

When she moved her hand, and the ball, Lena followed Alex’s eye-line. Kara’s sister was groaning.

They were all on the Jumbotron, the huge screen over the left field stands, and the crowd was pointing and cheering as the announcer’s voices boomed out about the great catch by Supergirl.

Lena wanted to sink through her seat.

Then Kara said, “Here.”

She held out the ball in both hands, turning in her seat. The way she held it, cupped gently in her palms with great reverence, giving Lena a weird and silky flash of her doing the same thing with a velvet box. Lena took it, grinning like an idiot in spite of herself and clutching it to her chest.

Lena pointed at the giant screen, and Kara looked, waving to the crowd as if she’d suddenly remembered that they were there. Lena gave a half-hearted wave, then turned back to Kara to say something.

Whatever it was, it was utterly scrubbed from Lena’s brain by impossibly soft lips gently brushing her own, then locking with them. Some distant part of Lena’s brain tried to explain, to rationalize. It was a mistake. Kara would get flustered and play it off with something about what friends are for and the moment would slide away, a taste of a dream that would leave Lena starving for another morsel.

No. Kara was full on kissing her. The heat that surged through Lena’s body was all consuming, and she barely registered the thunderous cheers from the crowd. She let herself fall into Kara, hiding against her shoulder as Kara wrapped an arm around her and settled them both lower in their seats, tugging her ball cap down.

The camera finally turned its attention elsewhere.

Alex turned to Kelly and said, “fucking finally.”

“Hey,” said Kara, her voice soft and only for her. “Want to head home after the stretch?”

Home. Not your house. Home.

“I’m not totally sure what that means, but yes,” Lena whispered back, then popped a bit of popcorn in Kara’s mouth.

[my-prompt-dump]

No but. Sam and Dean going to an event (concert or a sports game?) with a fuckin jumbotron. And suddenly it’s those Kiss Cams segment and it lands on them. Sam was about to shake his head and say that’s his brother but Dean just pulls him in unexpectedly and made out with him on live fucking television in front of hundreds of people

the crowd cheers snd whistles and Dean is so proud of himself that he doesnt notice Sam gaping like a fish, beet red from head to toe

[biiguru]

💝HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!💝 From the Khaoseum!

[kitnita]

jake oettinger in the 2nd period — DAL vs WPG — 03.14.25

[gruesomejack]

Rabbit in a little baseball hat sitting with Alex at Andy's games 😭❤️

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bruce Wayne had you on your knees between his spread thighs, his fingers threaded through your hair. “Behave,” Bruce commanded before pressing his thumb down onto the pad of your pink tongue, testing your gag reflex. Always experimenting, always testing and tweaking. “I see you’ve been practicing the pharyngeal exercises I’ve provided. You didn’t even gag this time,” he murmured, more-so to himself, though the soft smirk that crawled onto his lips was for you. Satisfaction shimmered in his naturally icy gaze. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip. “Impressive. Well done, honey.”

The affectionate name was a nice touch, right? Right? Or was it too. . old-fashioned? Or worse, was he too forward and made himself look like a desperate creep?

“You look exquisite on your knees. Beautiful, like a painting.” *Not trashy or filthy, but elegant and tasteful,* Bruce had nearly added, but he understood how the words could be received coming from the lips of a wealthy white man.

(I was ovulating when I hurried and threw this together lmao)

. . . That’s how you’d ended up stuffed full of Bruce Wayne’s cock, bent over the examination table of his home lab, his hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck. He analyzed your facial expressions, every twitch and moan, in your reflection off the metal equipment.

Chest to back, he panted against your ear, “How does this feel? You like when I go deep, doll?” Bruce placed a hurried, sloppy kiss against your cheek before planting his palm between your shoulder blades, holding you in place.“Use your voice, honey. I want to know what you like. How do you want me to play with you?”

Dick Grayson had planned the perfect date . . . except he forgot how prone to rain showers Bludhaven was.

On the rooftop of a rain-slick abandoned building beneath the neon glow of restaurant lights and advertisements on the Jumbotron, takeout containers were hastily shoved aside along with the spandex of your super-suit, so you could straddle him. A crisp drizzle dampened his hair. In between ravenous kisses, you could hear the patter, patter, patter of rain droplets hitting the plastic of your takeout.

Dick was the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. “We’re gonna have to be quick, baby, or it’s gonna get wet around here. And I don’t mean just you.” His skin was damp with mist, and a florid blush sprouted on the apples of his cheeks as he watched you sink down onto his cock. Lips pursed in a wince, you wobbled, your balance not the greatest.

Dick was the acrobat, not you. You preferred the safety of gravel, the promise of a next step.

“Oh, come on, just a little more,” he dared you,” I know you can take it. You’ve done it before.” Dick’s gloved hands slithered around your waist, pulling your chest to his, then he bucked his hips upward, bullying the rest of his cock into your hole. “There we go. Just like that,” he half cooed, half murmured into your cheek and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Look at you. . .” Jason Todd said, almost reverently, his breath fanning your slit from beneath you. You’d been sucking his cock after every patrol, no questions asked. It made Jason feel a bit guilty, like things were unfair, so he let you ride his face. He’d been teasing all night because he was still Jason. Thigh kisses, kitten licks, his breath ghosting over your core.

The smirk that crept across his lips could only be described as sardonic, smug, shit eating. “Worked up yet?” Jason raised a scarred eyebrow. “Aww, you poor thing, needing me to take care of it.” Jason pressed a kiss to your mound, right above your puffy clit, the special place he was needed most. Your stomach was flooded with warmth, your thighs were as tense as violin chords. You needed to cum.

“Should I cave?” Jason considered, tilting his head and screwing his lips up. “Nahhh. You look too good all soaking wet and desperate.” He himself was rock hard and leaking within the confines of his jeans. Never mind that, teasing you was one hundred percent worth whatever torture he might suffer. Though, you knew the game of teasing would be a lot less fun when his turn came around.

“Y’know you could beg and I would be a bit more. . . forthcoming.” Jason paused and gave you time to cave and beg. “No? Nothing? Then I guess you’ll just have to get your own self off, sweetheart.”

A string of saliva connected his top and bottom row of teeth when he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Well, baby, if you want to it so bad, you better start taking it. I’m set to go all night.”

[hearts4hughes]

rafechella where doja is performing agora hills (ik she performed last year but wtv) and rafe reader are singing to each other nd theyre just in love and then the big screen captures them and everyone goes crazyhendjejej

RAFECHELLA 2025

there’s something magic about nights like this. neon lights paint the sky and the desert air clings to your skin, sweet and electric. you’re drunk on the music, the outfits, the feel of rafe’s arm slung low around your hips.

doja’s halfway through her set when the first notes of agora hills start to play. the crowd roars and you feel it in your bones.

rafe’s already watching you, a little smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, like you’re the only thing he wants to see. you tug him closer, fingers lacing through his, your body fitting to his like a puzzle.

when the first chorus hits—“kissing and i hope they caught us”—you’re both laughing, singing it to each other, off-key and grinning like idiots.

he tugs your hand to his chest. you mouth the words right to him, letting yourself fall completely, stupidly, hopelessly.

then suddenly the screaming around you gets louder. you blink, confused until rafe glances up and huffs out a laugh.

“baby,” he says, squeezing your waist. “look.” you crane your neck. the jumbotron above the stage flashes…and there you are.

both of you, wrapped up in each other. his forehead pressed to yours. your mouth open mid-laugh. his eyes glued to you like you hung the goddamn moon.

the crowd loses it.

whistles, cheers, people aww-ing so loud you can hear it over the music. your face heats up instantly. you cover it with your hands, mortified. rafe just pulls you closer, arms locking tight around you, his chest shaking with silent laughter.

“they’re jealous,” he murmurs against your temple, “don’t blame ‘em.”

you swat at him, but you don’t pull away, you can’t.

because even with thousands of people watching, it still feels like it’s just you and him.

just your hands tangled. just your hearts pounding. just you and him.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @rafestoothbrush

[solxamber]

stay w me in this one, kiss cam w the first years 🙂‍↕

Kiss Cam with: The First Years

a/n; anon you brain is so big!! i got so happy??? when i saw this?? i kinda blacked out for a while and ended up writing it

Ace Trappola

The arena was packed, the air buzzing with energy as the Magift team dominated the field. You were sandwiched between Deuce and Ace, the latter chugging a soda while obnoxiously yelling at the players.

“Ace, they can’t hear you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he yelled, “PASS THE DISC, YOU IDIOT!”

“I don’t care! They need to know how bad they’re screwing up!” Ace shot back, waving his drink wildly.

Deuce leaned over, clearly mortified. “Can you not embarrass us in front of the whole school?”

Ace just smirked. “What? Embarrassed to be seen with your cooler, more handsome best friend?”

You snorted. “Handsome? In your dreams, Trappola.”

Ace turned to you, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m not handsome? Guess I’ll have to let the kiss cam settle this one.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

As if the universe decided to spite you, the lights dimmed, and a giant heart frame appeared on the jumbotron.

You froze. “No. No way.”

Ace leaned forward, his grin turning devious. “Oh yes.”

Deuce, ever the supportive friend, burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “This is the best day of my life.”

Meanwhile, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “This has to be a mistake.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Come on, lovebirds! Don’t be shy! Show us some NRC spirit!”

“I’m going to die,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“Not without giving the people what they want,” Ace teased, turning to you with an exaggerated smirk. “Come on, for school pride.”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “Ace Trappola, I will—”

Before you could finish, Ace leaned in, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. It’s just a little kiss, right?”

Your breath hitched. The crowd was chanting louder now, and your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the embarrassment.

“Just a little kiss,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then it happened.

When his lips met yours, the crowd erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Time seemed to stop as the noise around you faded into a distant hum.

His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, and the faint taste of soda lingered as he pulled back, his face flushed but grinning like an idiot.

“Well,” he said, his voice slightly breathless, “that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting. “You… You just kissed me!”

“You kissed me back,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Deuce, still laughing like a lunatic, clapped Ace on the back. “Congratulations, Trappola. You finally grew a pair.”

Ace turned to the jumbotron, where your kiss was being replayed in slow motion. “Man, we look good together,” he said smugly, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You shoved him, your face burning hotter than the sun. “Don’t push your luck.”

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Ace was insufferably smug, Deuce wouldn’t stop teasing you, and your heart refused to calm down.

As the crowd filed out of the arena, Ace caught your hand, stopping you just outside the gates.

“Hey,” he said, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “So, uh… about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you. Like, a lot. And this is not just because of the kiss cam thing.”

You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Ace…”

“I mean, no pressure or anything!” he added quickly, his face turning red. “But, you know, if you did want to be more than friends, I wouldn’t mind…”

You smiled, stepping closer and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”

His jaw dropped. “Wait—does that mean…?”

“It means yes, Ace,” you said, laughing. “But you better not let this go to your head.”

Ace grinned, grabbing your hand. “Too late.”

Spoiler: Ace tells everyone at school, and now half the campus thinks the kiss cam was staged. You’re stuck with him, but honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Deuce Spade

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the crowd alive with cheers as NRC's Magift team scored another point. You sat beside Deuce, who was yelling encouragement so earnestly you swore the players might actually hear him through sheer determination.

“Come on! You’ve got this! Pass it—yes!” he shouted, punching the air.

You couldn’t help but smile. Deuce’s enthusiasm was contagious, even if he had accidentally knocked over your popcorn in his excitement earlier.

“You’re going to lose your voice,” you teased, nudging his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a grin. “This is important!”

What wasn’t important, however, was the dreaded kiss cam that appeared on the giant screen moments later.

The heart-shaped frame zoomed in on various couples, each one receiving cheers as they nervously or enthusiastically complied. You laughed, thinking nothing of it—until your own face appeared on the screen.

You froze. “Oh no.”

Deuce, oblivious, kept clapping until the heart frame zoomed out to reveal him beside you. His face turned crimson so fast you worried he might combust.

“W-What?!” he stammered, pointing at the screen as if denying its existence might make it disappear.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, the announcer’s voice booming. “Come on, lovebirds! Let’s see some NRC spirit!”

“Deuce, say something,” you hissed, your face burning.

“I—uh—I—” he stuttered, looking everywhere but at you. “They—uh—made a mistake! Right?!”

The announcer wasn’t letting up. “Looks like someone’s shy! Don’t leave us hanging!”

Deuce looked at you helplessly, his face a mix of panic and mortification. “I-I’m so sorry about this!”

You sighed, your own heart racing. “It’s fine, Deuce. Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on.”

He nearly choked. “A kiss?!”

“It’s not a marriage proposal!” you shot back, trying to keep your cool despite your own nerves.

He nodded frantically, visibly psyching himself up. “O-Okay! Let’s do this!”

Deuce leaned in slowly, his eyes shut so tightly you thought he might be praying for divine intervention. His lips brushed your cheek in the softest, most hesitant kiss imaginable before he pulled back like he’d just touched a live wire.

The crowd cheered wildly, but Deuce wasn’t done. In his panic, he’d miscalculated the kiss angle, and his forehead accidentally bumped yours as he pulled away.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” he asked, horrified.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness melting away at his sheer awkwardness. “I’m fine, Deuce.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his hands hovering like he wanted to check for injuries.

You smiled and, feeling bold, leaned forward to kiss his cheek in return. The crowd’s cheers doubled, and Deuce looked at you like you’d just announced he’d won the lottery.

“Um,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “That was… uh… nice.”

You laughed. “It’s just a kiss, Deuce.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a kiss.”

Deuce spent the rest of the game sneaking glances at you, his face perpetually red. By the time the match ended, you were sure he’d worn a hole in the ground with all his nervous foot-tapping.

As the two of you walked back to the dorms, he finally cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I… I really like you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “Deuce—”

“I mean it!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out like he’d been holding them back for ages. “I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and the kiss cam just kind of—”

You cut him off with a quick kiss to his lips, effectively silencing his rambling.

“Does that answer your question?” you asked, smiling at his stunned expression.

Deuce nodded, his face practically glowing. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Spoiler: Ace finds out and teases Deuce relentlessly, but Deuce doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class and holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack Howl

The stadium was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the stands as NRC's Magift team dominated the field. You sat beside Jack, who had insisted you attend because "It's good to support our school." Truthfully, you didn’t mind—watching the game with Jack was its own kind of fun.

He sat rigidly in his seat, tail swishing lightly as his sharp eyes tracked every play on the field. You chuckled at how serious he looked.

"Jack, relax. It's just a game," you teased.

"It's not just a game," he replied, his ears flicking. "This is about teamwork, discipline, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence when the crowd erupted in cheers. You both looked up to the big screen, only to see a giant pink heart frame around… you and Jack.

Cue Panic.

“Wait, what?!” you exclaimed, your face instantly heating up.

Jack’s ears flattened against his head as his eyes widened in sheer panic. “Oh no.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Looks like we’ve got a shy couple! Let’s hear it for them, folks!”

The crowd cheered louder, and you groaned. “Oh, come on…”

Jack was frozen in place, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. His tail puffed up slightly as he asked, “They’ll move on, right? They’ll pick someone else?”

You glanced at the screen, seeing your own mortified expression reflected back at you. “Not unless we do something.”

Jack’s face turned impossibly red. “You mean…?”

“Yes, Jack,” you said, trying to suppress your own embarrassment. “A kiss. Just a small one! It’s no big deal.”

Jack looked at you like you’d just asked him to leap off a cliff. “I can’t! What if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or—”

“Jack,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s just a game. Let’s get it over with.”

His ears twitched nervously as he nodded. “Okay. But, uh… where?”

“Where?” you repeated, confused.

“I mean, do I… your cheek? Your forehead? I—I don’t want to—”

“Jack!” you laughed, despite your own nerves. “Cheek is fine.”

He nodded again, his tail wagging nervously behind him as he leaned in. Just as his lips barely brushed your cheek, the crowd erupted in cheers—only for Jack to try to jerk back so fast that his forehead bumped yours.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing your head.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, panicking.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying not to laugh at his flustered expression. “But you might’ve just knocked me into next week.”

The announcer’s voice interrupted. “Let’s hear it for our lovebirds! What a show!”

You both sank further into your seats, faces burning. Jack mumbled an apology, looking like he wanted to crawl under the stadium.

“You know,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve just kissed me properly.”

Jack froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “What?”

“Yeah,” you teased, grinning. “You’re already on the big screen. Might as well make it count.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his ears flicking nervously. Then, to your surprise, he leaned in again—this time more confidently—and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

The crowd lost it, cheering so loudly you could barely hear yourself think.

When Jack pulled back, his face was crimson, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips. “There. Was… was that okay?”

You smiled back, your heart racing. “More than okay.”

Jack spent the rest of the game sitting a little closer to you, his tail wagging uncontrollably. As you left the stadium, he finally cleared his throat.

“So… does this mean we’re—uh… dating?” he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed, grabbing his hand. “What do you think?”

Jack’s tail wagged even harder. “I think I’m really lucky.”

Spoiler: Ace, Deuce and Epel find out later and tease Jack mercilessly, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class with his hand in yours.

Epel Felmier

The game was electric, with the crowd roaring as NRC held a narrow lead over RSA. You sat near the bench, cheering loudly for one player in particular. Epel was a blur of determination on the field, his every move brimming with adrenaline and a grit that made your heart race just watching him.

During halftime, the players jogged off the field to hydrate and strategize. Epel wiped the sweat from his brow and spotted you by the bench. You held up an electrolyte drink with a proud smile.

“Here, you earned it!” you said, handing him the bottle.

He accepted it with a quick grin, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. “Thanks. Didja see that shot I made earlier?”

“I did!” you replied enthusiastically. “You’re playing amazing out there!”

Your encouragement had him standing a little taller, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and affection. “Well, I ain’t done yet. Gotta show those RSA guys what we’re made of.”

But before he could head back to the huddle, the crowd’s noise shifted. You both turned toward the massive screen above the field, where a familiar heart-shaped frame surrounded… the two of you.

Epel froze for a fraction of a second, his flushed face turning an even deeper shade of red. You stared at the screen in surprise, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Is that… the kiss cam?” you muttered.

Epel glanced back at his team’s huddle, where his teammates were laughing and giving him exaggerated thumbs-ups. The crowd began chanting, egging him on.

In that moment, with the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins and the giddy rush of your praise in his chest, Epel made a snap decision.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you—hard, fast, and with enough confidence to leave you absolutely stunned.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as Epel pulled back, his violet eyes sparkling mischievously. “Thanks for the drink,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

Then, with one last grin, he jogged back to his team, leaving you standing there, breathless and staring after him.

The rest of the game was a blur. Epel was on fire, scoring two more goals and securing the win for NRC. The crowd was ecstatic, the team celebrating wildly, but your mind was stuck on that kiss.

When the post-game frenzy finally settled, Epel approached you by the bleachers. He was still sweaty and flushed, but his usual nervousness was nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline from the game still seemed to fuel him as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hey,” he started, his accent thick and his voice a little raspy. “About that kiss earlier…”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding. “What about it?”

Epel took a deep breath, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “I ain’t just kissin’ people for fun, ya know? I… I like you. A lot. And I’ve been wantin’ to say somethin’ for ages, but I didn’t know how. Guess the kiss cam kinda forced my hand.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty. “So what are you saying, Epel?”

“I’m sayin’... would ya go out with me?” he asked, his cheeks turning red again.

You pretended to think for a moment, but the truth was, you already knew your answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Epel’s face lit up, his grin wide and genuine. “Really?!”

“Really,” you said, laughing.

He fist-pumped the air triumphantly before quickly trying to play it cool. “Well, uh, that’s great. I’ll, uh, plan somethin’ nice, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, your smile as wide as his.

The kiss cam video was all over campus the next day, much to Epel’s embarrassment and your amusement. Still, neither of you could deny how it sparked something wonderful between you.

And yet, every time someone teased him about it, Epel would just grin and shrug. “What can I say? I go for what I want.”

Sebek Zigvolt

The Magift stadium was loud and lively, the crowd cheering wildly as NRC battled RSA in a fierce match. You sat next to Sebek, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Not for the game, mind you, but for the honor of cheering for his young master.

“Do you see that?!” Sebek shouted, practically jumping out of his seat. “The precision! The sheer grace! Lord Malleus is unmatched on the field!”

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, Sebek, I see it. You’ve mentioned it about... ten times now.”

“Only ten?!” He gasped, scandalized. “I must rectify this immediately—”

Before he could continue his speech, the crowd erupted into cheers. Confused, you looked up at the massive screen, only to freeze.

There, framed in a gigantic pink heart, were you and Sebek.

“What… what is this madness?!” Sebek’s voice boomed over the crowd noise, his face quickly turning beet red.

“It’s the kiss cam,” you explained, already feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

Sebek blinked at you, utterly baffled. “Kiss cam? What nonsense is this?!”

The announcer chimed in cheerfully. “Looks like we’ve got a lively one, folks! Give the crowd what they want!”

The audience clapped and whistled, clearly entertained by Sebek’s outburst. Meanwhile, you wished you could melt into the ground.

“Sebek, we’re on the big screen,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low. “Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on!”

Sebek recoiled as if you’d suggested dueling Malleus. “What?! A kiss? In public? In front of—of all these people?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “It’s not that big of a deal!”

“But—! But—!” Sebek sputtered, his hands flailing in an uncharacteristically awkward display. “I cannot—this is—HOW DARE THEY IMPOSE SUCH A THING?"

The crowd was relentless, chanting louder as Sebek grew more flustered.

“Sebek,” you sighed, leaning closer to him. “If you don’t just do it, they’ll keep us up there forever.”

His eyes widened, darting between you and the screen. “I—fine! But only to end this nonsense!”

Sebek sat up stiffly, his face as red as his dorm uniform. Slowly, he leaned toward you… only to stop halfway, completely frozen.

“Sebek,” you whispered, trying not to laugh at his deer-in-headlights expression. “You’re overthinking it. Just a little peck.”

He shut his eyes tightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “For the honor of the young master.�� Then, with the precision of someone about to execute a high-level spell, he leaned in and pressed the briefest kiss imaginable to your cheek.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sebek immediately pulled back, clutching his chest like he’d just fought a dragon.

“Well, that was…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “Anticlimactic.”

Sebek glared at you, still blushing furiously. “What more do you want?! I have upheld this ridiculous tradition to the best of my ability!”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, come on. You’re supposed to kiss me on the lips.”

“WHAT?!” Sebek practically shouted, earning another wave of laughter from the crowd.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you teased, leaning in just a bit more.

Sebek’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, but before you could follow through on your teasing threat, he surprised you by leaning in and kissing you properly.

It was quick and clumsy but sincere, and when he pulled back, the people sitting around you erupted into wild cheers.

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to faint. “There. Are you satisfied now?!”

You laughed, touching your lips. “Actually, yeah. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

For the rest of the game, Sebek sat ramrod straight, refusing to look at you.

When the match ended and you both walked back to campus, he finally broke the silence. “That… that was purely for practical purposes!”

You grinned. “Sure, Sebek. Whatever you say.”

He glanced at you, his blush returning in full force. “It—it meant nothing!”

But the way his hand brushed against yours—and stayed there—told a very different story.

Masterlist

[ruinix]

can you do one where reader goes to one of his games and shows up on the big screen then it switches to quinn and him smiling looking up 🙇‍♀️ i fear this would kill me

( i love all ur writes they fuel me throughout the day esp w the cannuck season over )

Hello, lovely. This is such a cute prompt for a lil fluffy thought.🥺Thank you for reading, lovely, sweetie. I am sending you lots of forehead kisses, mwamwa. Apologies for only getting to your ask. Hope you're still there! (Game photo from Pinterest.)

18+. Fluff thoughts. No warnings except it might not be realistic. (Optional) Bonus content on your POV included!⬇️⬇️⬇️

Quinn would always want you to attend his games. He knew you would sometimes prefer sitting with the crowd, sometimes the family box. Depending on your decision, he would try to get you the seats you wanted, always eager to ask whether you would be going or not, especially for home games. Except for tonight, you told him that you had plans.

He was dejected. Of course, he was. He only wanted you to see the brief intermission featuring Fin—you've always loved Fin—and perhaps even get the chance to interact with Fin when the mascot roamed the crowd during the game. He would even make that happen, perhaps drop hints to the mascot wearer where you would be, but you would not be attending tonight.

However, instead of telling you that to entice you to cancel your plans, he didn't, fearing you would cancel your plans. He didn't like interfering with your plans no matter how much he craved your very presence in the arena. You were his good luck charm, but that included your presence wherever you were. As long as he had you.

Currently, Quinn was fucking thankful you weren't in the crowd. He was playing like shit. The Canucks were down a goal in a 2-1 game with no change in the score since the first. It was more than halfway through the last period. He tried to make plays but the puck was getting swiped away. It didn't help that he could feel his fatigue, his heart pumping hard, his nearly cramping.

Yet he pushed himself. He knew you would be watching, even by checking the NHL app for the score or play-by-plays. He had to do you right, especially when you gave him actual good luck kisses before he went out. He just—

A whistle was blown for a stoppage. Quinn swerved behind the other team's goal line, taking deep and regulated breaths, taking full control of himself, skating towards the bench when the coach called for timeout. He sighed, taking sips of water, listening to the strategy while he rested himself.

At that point, he was starting to get overwhelmed. From countless plays to be done, to the slight cramped spaces next to his teammates. Until he heard the crowd cheer, he dared to look up the jumbotron, seeing Fin holding a messily done sign.

In broad black markers, in fucking glitters, it said, "GO CANUCKS. GO QUINNY, MY LOVE!"

He nearly frowned until he saw you, jumping and cheering despite the frustrating score, wearing the signed home jersey and red-black-yellow outfit. He could read your lips, shouting "Go, Quinn! I love you!" before you spun to show off his number on your back.

Quinn laughed, earning looks from his teammates and the coaching staff, but he didn't fucking care, because you spun again, grabbing your sign from Fin and waved it in full avid fan energy. Nothing could ever bring him down, not even at the sight of his game-exhausted yet grinning face being blasted on the Jumbotron for at least a second before it flipped over to you cheering harder. So, this was your plan. Fuck, he loved this. So much.

"Huggy, do you hear me?" The couch called. "You either get back to the bench or—"

"I'm rested. I'll play," he said just as the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their timeout. He nodded at his teammates on the ice. Feeling renewed, feeling the burn of your kisses earlier, wishing that you were still on the jumbotron, he adjusted his helmet one last time. "Let's do this."

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

They won. The Canucks actually won 4-2 with Quinn having the game-winning goal. Three goals on the last 5 minutes.

With glitter under your nails, on your jersey that you purchased in arena store, on your seat, on the floor, you screamed with the crowd, waving your crumpled sign. Even more when Quinn got the first star.

You were shaking all over the place from the adrenaline, zooming onto Quinn when he went back on the ice to give out his Canucks hockey stick. You felt so proud of him. He played so amazingly, so breathtaking, especially after their timeout.

Your heart did backflips when you noticed him turning to your general direction before he skated away for an interview. Then there he was again on the jumbotron, his voice raspy, his hand running through his hair to keep it away from his face, yet a few wet strands fell on his temples. It should be a crime to be that handsome, no?

After Quinn disappeared, everything felt like a blur. You walked with the crowd, determined to go to a specific place in Rogers Arena to wait for him.

Your phone pinged with a message, "Don't leave. Wait on our spot."

Our spot, he said. You let out a giggle, ignoring the concerned looks you received. You called him and he instantly answered.

"My Love...hi." He sounded like he was breathless.

"It's our spot now, huh, Mr. Game Winner?"

There was a pause on the other line. "What else is it then?" You could hear the smile on his voice, could see the blush blooming on his face. Quinn has always been so simple. Shy but so eager to brag in his own way.

"Our spot," you echoed, giggling so much that you heard him chuckle. "Don't take long."

"See you in fifteen."

"Make sure to shower!" You whisper-yelled.

That made him laugh. The loud and cute laugh of his. The exact laugh you wish you had heard when he was on the ice after your quick five-second-jumbotron fame. You felt so soft all over, like you were swimming on the clouds with Quinn's laugh on repeat in your head.

"Longer then? Thirty?"

"Thirty. I'll wait for you, Quinny. I love you."

"I love you more."

You both spent a whole minute just listening to each other's silence before you ended the call with a soft kissing noise which made him laugh again, leaving you so happy as if you won the world when it was Quinn who won the game.

I tried my best. This was written with me who doesn't attend hockey games face-to-face (or any sports) as an avid TV watcher (i fear the crowds).

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 1

paige x azzi

word count: 7.1k

A/N: Not much to say about this one yet. It was a random idea I got and I decided to combine my two interests lol. Let me know what you think and if this is something you’d like to see play out more!

—————————————————————————

The Sparks were up by twenty-four. The starters pulled halfway through the third, and Azzi sat near the end of the bench, her legs were stretched and a towel was sitting around her neck as she casually sipped from her water bottle.

The energy in the arena had changed. The crowd was still loud but they started entertaining themselves with whatever the jumbotron fed them: dance cams, kiss cams, baby cams. Azzi’s body had cooled, but her mind still flickered with the movement on the court, tracing the plays, missed shots, moments that might’ve gone differently.

She only half-registered the familiar cadence of the courtside camera sweep. A ritual of sorts in a city like LA—celebrities shown on the jumbotron like saints. The crowd responded on cue: applause, laughter, a few cheers too loud to be genuine.

A few big house names and faces flashed across the screen—actors, influencers, former players—each one hamming it up for their moment. They didn’t pay for their court side seats for nothing.

Then the frame landed on someone who didn’t match the rest.

Blonde. A little stone-faced. She wore a cream Essentials sweatsuit, ankle resting over her knee, a few rings on her fingers, completely still.

She didn’t wave at the camera. Didn’t smile. Just stared at it like it had interrupted her thoughts—then looked right past it, completely disinterested.

Azzi blinked her eyebrows drawing together.

“…who is that?” she murmured, subtly nudging Rickea beside her.

Rickea followed her gaze and then smiled widely. “Oh that’s my Paigey wazy. She’s Cam’s god sister she’s always talking about.”

Azzi nodded. “She famous or anything?”

Rickea nodded. “She does MMA. Popular as hell in UFC right now. She’s...definitely different, I love her though.” Rickea said it and her tone was like a warning mixed with a compliment.

Azzi glanced back toward the baseline, toward the blonde who hadn’t moved since the camera left her. She didn’t fully blend in—but she didn’t look like she needed nor wanted to stand out. Unfortunately for her, the mere presence alone did the work.

When the final buzzer sounded players filtered off the court, their laughter started to echo through the tunnel, a chorus of their sneakers against the concrete. Azzi walked slowly, towel over her shoulder, thoughts already shifting to her recovery and film review.

She was halfway to the tunnel when an arm threw over her shoulder.

“Wait,” Cam said, grinning. “You’re the only one who hasn’t met her yet.”

Azzi blinked. “Met who?”

“My sister,” Cam said, casual, like it was obvious. “Well—god sister. But she’s basically blood so.”

Before Azzi could protest, Cam was already guiding her back toward the floor, past security and stragglers still lingering for selfies.

She was standing court wide on her phone, seemingly waiting for Cam. Same expressionless face. A storm sealed behind glass.

Cam stepped up beside her, nudging her gently with an elbow to get her attention. “Paige, this is Azzi I don’t think you guys have met.”

Paige looked up slowly.

Her gaze flicked over Azzi in a single sweep—measured, unreadable. No smile. No raised brow. Just a quiet recognition, like Azzi had been noted, filed, and shelved in the space of her brain.

“Hi,” Azzi offered politely, her voice warm but tempered by a slight curiosity. “Nice to meet you.”

A pause.

Then Paige gave a small nod. No handshake. No return greeting.

Just acknowledgment. As bare as it could be.

Azzi let her eyebrow raise slightly, a smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth. There was something oddly fascinating about someone so immune to her charm. Most people lit up in her presence—Paige barely flickered.

Cam chuckled, watching the exchange like it was perfectly on brand.

Then she turned back to Paige. “How was weigh-in this morning?”

Paige’s gaze didn’t change much. “Good. One thirty-five exactly.”

Cam grinned. “So you can eat again without whining about still being hungry.”

A breath of laughter left her, but Paige didn’t outwardly react—no smile, no eye roll. Just stillness. Cam barely noticed. She was used to it.

Undeterred, she kept talking, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pocket. “Some of the team’s coming to the fight tomorrow. We’re sitting in your section again.”

Then Cam turned to Azzi, face brightening. “You should come.”

Azzi blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah! I swear you haven’t really seen Paige until you’ve watched her fight.”

Azzi glanced at Paige again, intrigued. “Is that right?”

Cam nodded. “Totally different energy. You might actually see her blink. You’ll love it. Rae basically got a girl crush on her after seeing her fight the first time.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, surprised by how curious she suddenly felt. She didn’t know if she’d love it—but the idea of seeing what stirred beneath that quiet, unreadable exterior intrigued her.

Her smile returned, softly, her eyes returning to Paige. “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Paige didn’t answer. She just nodded—precise, barely perceptible.

Cam rolled her eyes and mumbled something about Paige being a pain in the ass before she and Azzi walked toward the locker room.

…

The octagon was much bigger than Azzi expected. Not just physically—but in presence. Under the heavy lights, it felt enormous, like a coliseum dressed in modern steel. The energy inside the venue was a little unnerving, thousands of fans humming with anticipation, loud enough that it vibrated in her chest.

People packed every seat, most with eyes locked on the cage watching the current fight. Some wore merch, shouting names with beer-slicked voices. Others were dressed like they belonged on a runway, leaning into each other with glossy lips and barely hidden intentions—here less for the fights, more for whoever looked good throwing punches.

Azzi had never seen a crowd like this.

The Sparks players arrived late, just in time for the final card—Paige’s fight. Their seats gave them a clean view of the octagon, and even then, Azzi felt miles away from the quiet girl in the Essentials sweatsuit.

It didn’t feel like her world. Until it did.

The lights changed. The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena as he introduced the final card.

“Fighting out of the red corner—ten wins, three losses, three draws…”

A pulse of music filled the air. Loud and flashy. Her opponent stepped out, face painted with focus, arms raised as her corner hyped her up. The screen showed her highlight reel, knockout clips, quick hands. She worked the crowd like she was made for the attention.

Azzi watched, her arms folded, lips pressed together. She glanced at Cam. “She any good?”

Cam shrugged. “She’s fine. But she’s not Paige.”

The lights dimmed again, then roared back with Paige’s name.

“Fighting out of the blue corner—twelve wins, no losses…”

The crowd erupted. Louder than before. A different kind of loud—not hype, but reverence as fans screamed her name.

No dramatic song. No chest-thumping entourage. Just Paige.

Her bun was pulled back tight. Her expression as unreadable as ever. She didn’t play to the crowd. She didn’t acknowledge the noise. Her hands were wrapped, feet steady, and her eyes were locked straight ahead—already in the cage long before she stepped into it.

She hadn’t blinked. Not once.

Inside the cage, the difference in opponents was transparent.

Her opponent stood in the red corner, flanked by a full team—three cornermen barking last-minute instructions, one of them pounding their fist into a pad like they could transfer momentum through noise. She bounced on her toes, muscles twitching with anticipation, feeding off the crowd’s energy like it was oxygen.

Paige, by contrast, sat quietly in the blue corner with just two: her trainer crouched beside her, and a cut man leaned casually against the gate, hands folded, already knowing his night would likely be uneventful.

Her trainer murmured something low in her ear—brief. Paige didn’t respond. Just a slow nod.

No fire in her eyes. No bravado. Just a complete stillness that felt more dangerous than all the antics.

She tugged off her shirt, revealing a black UFC sports bra. Her frame was lean. She rolled her shoulders back, tilted her neck side to side until it cracked, took a steady breath then rose to her feet.

No theatrics. No psych-up routine.

Just the quiet poise of someone who already knew how this would end.

Azzi watched from the stands, her heart ticking a little faster in anticipation all of a sudden. She’d never seen someone so calm in the center of so much chaos.

The bell rang.

From the start Paige moved like water—never still, never rushed. Her stance was coiled. Calculated. From the opening seconds, it was clear she wasn’t pressing for control. She gave her opponent space, let her circle. Almost like there had been an agreement—an unspoken one—to make this last.

Azzi leaned closer, her eyebrows drawing in with confusion. “She’s…not even trying.”

“Not yet,” Cam said beside her, arms crossed tightly as she studied the blonde intently. “That’s just Paige. She reads. Waits.”

Inside the octagon, Paige’s eyes never left her opponent. Every jab that came her way was slipped or parried, her head moving just enough, her feet dancing just out of reach. Not a single clean hit landed.

Then, like a breath between beats, Paige struck.

A quick jab to the ribs and then another to the shoulder before sliding out of range like nothing had happened. Her opponent stumbled for a moment, surprised by the speed, the force.

Azzi sat forward a little in shock. “She’s fast.”

“Quicker than most,” Cam replied. “She’s still holding back. Hasn’t gotten the read she wants.”

It was strange, watching someone so calm in a cage built for violence. Paige moved with a quiet rhythm, not aggressive, not passive—just controlled. There was no adrenaline in her face. No fire. No nothing. Every attempt at a choke, every kick, punch, she slipped out of it with an ease.

The bell rang again for the start of the second round.

Paige returned to the center like nothing had changed—fluid, unhurried. The same measured steps. The same calculated distance. To anyone else, it looked like she hadn’t felt a thing in the first round. Like she still wasn’t interested in finishing the fight.

Azzi crossed her arms, shifting in her seat. “She’s still not pushing.”

“She will,” Cam said softly.

The two opponents moved around the cage. Paige throwing a few hits that landed clean, easing just out of distance every time her opponent tried to counter.

Then—snap. A right hook came quick out of nowhere and landed hard across Paige’s jaw.

The sound cracked above the crowd, a clean connection that rocked her head to the side.

The arena gasped and Cam sat up a little bit.

Azzi's breath caught. “Damn.”

Rickea leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Oh shit she’s about to be pissed.”

Paige didn’t go down. Didn’t even stagger. Her feet stayed planted, spine straight. Just the subtlest tightening in her jaw, a flicker of something in her eyes.

She stepped forward—not aggressively, but with intent. Her hands came up a little higher. She slipped a jab, ducked under a left cross, and countered with a shot to the ribs. Her opponent winced, retreating, but Paige followed—not rushing, just closing space.

Another hit—clean, to the ribs again. Then an uppercut with dominant hand that snapped her opponent’s chin up.

The crowd roared.

Azzi leaned in, almost transfixed now. Paige was still silent, still unreadable, but her body was speaking for her.

A left calf kick.

A right jab.

Then, when her opponent flinched Paige threw a final cross throw, hitting the side of her jaw like a switch being flipped.

She dropped.

The referee dove between them waving his hands.

It was over. The final card of the night meant for five rounds done in two.

The crowd exploded around her, but Paige didn’t move much. No celebration. Just a steady rise of her chest turning toward her corner, jaw set, breathing calm.

Azzi sat frozen in her seat, blinking like she’d just come out of a dream. The fight was still playing in her head—the jabs, the fluid movement—the stillness that followed.

Paige spit the slight blood from her mouth into the bucket beside her. She muttered something tight to her trainer—no emotion on her face, no victory or pride, just words exchanged, a formality.

Azzi could see it in her eyes. The flash of fire behind her cool blue orbs. A controlled anger. The flicker of frustration that didn’t quite make it to the surface.

With a final nod to her trainer, Paige stepped out of the cage, eyes forward, posture straight.

Azzi couldn’t look away for some reason.

The hallway leading to the back of the venue was buzzing—staff, security, the hum of celebration from other fighters and teams. But the air shifted the moment they rounded the corner and stepped into the private area Paige was assigned to.

Azzi heard it before she saw it—the sharp thump of fists slamming into leather, steady and forceful.

Paige stood in front of a heavy bag, wrapped hands pounding into it with methodical anger. Sweat clung to her skin, her jaw was clenched tight, and a faint bruise was already blooming across her jaw like a slow, dark sunrise.

Azzi slowed, instinctively when she felt the tenseness in the room. So did Rickea.

Only Cam kept walking like she didn’t feel the weight in the room.

“Hey,” she called out casually, stepping right into the storm.

Paige didn’t turn. Her punches came harder now. The bag jerked with every hit. The anger she never showed on her face bled through her fists instead.

“You know she’s lucky she landed that hit, right? You let her dance for a whole round and a half for the sake of entertainment and the contract.”

Still nothing.

“You pissed ‘cause she got that shot in, or ‘cause you gave her the space to?”

Another strike—harder. Paige’s shoulder tensed, her jaw tighter now.

Cam groaned, completely unfazed. “Okay, silent treatment. Classic.”

Azzi stayed near the wall, her arms crossed, gaze flicking between Cam and Paige.

Rickea leaned in and whispered, “This is how she decompresses. Last time she almost broke the damn bag.”

Azzi didn’t respond. She felt like she shouldn’t talk. Her eyes were fixed on the slow rise and fall of Paige’s chest, the focus in her face, the storm she carried so tightly under the surface.

She was beautiful, but in the way fire was beautiful—dangerous and controlled only by choice.

Azzi watched her hit the bag again, harder, sharper. Her body said what her mouth never would.

Cameron stepped closer, folding her arms as she watched Paige continue hammering the bag, knuckles snapping against leather like a ticking clock.

“You know,” Cam started, voice lighter than the atmosphere deserved, “one of these days you’re gonna hit the bag so hard it punches back.”

Paige still said nothing.

Thud.

Cam sighed. “You could at least pretend to listen. I brought people to watch you fight today.”

Thud.

“You don’t get to brood in a corner every time you get touched—”

CRACK.

The next punch landed louder, the bag swinging violently. Azzi flinched.

But Cam didn’t budge. “Seriously. It was one punch. And you won. With a knockout. Again. So let’s wrap this post-fight existential crisis up and go get a drink like normal people—”

THUD.

“Paige,” Cam said, sharper now.

Still, Paige didn’t stop.

So Cam grabbed her.

She stepped in close, hands catching Paige’s wrist mid-swing.

Paige whipped around. Her expression that was once unreadable, flared. Her jaw was clenched and her blue eyes seared through Cam like a fuse had finally been lit.

Azzi froze.

“Don’t touch me when I’m not ready Cameron,” Paige snapped.

For a moment, everything stood still but Cam held her ground not concerned by the anger.

Then, slowly, Paige pulled her wrist free, shoulders still tight, chest rising and falling with the restraint it took to pull the heat back in.

She looked away before mumbling, “Fine. I’m done.”

Cam raised her eyebrows, unfazed. “Wow. What a glowing yes.”

Paige didn’t answer. She turned and started taking off her gloves.

Cam glanced over her shoulder at Azzi and Rickea. “You see what I deal with?”

Azzi blinked, completely confused. Her gaze lingered on Paige as the blonde gathered herself, recentering.

Despite the snap in Paige’s voice, despite the way her jaw tightened when Cam grabbed her, Azzi hadn’t been afraid.

Because Cam hadn’t moved and Rickea didn’t react either.

It was clear that this wasn’t unfamiliar. Paige’s temper was a known storm. One that rumbled, but didn’t destroy the people she cared about.

Azzi found herself wanting to be the one who could calm it. Which, she admitted to herself, was probably the stupidest thought she could have. Still, the feeling settled in her chest.

Paige muttered something to Cam, the words too soft for Azzi to hear, but the way she shrugged out of her hoodie and grabbed a towel made the intention clear.

“Gonna shower.”

And just like that, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, the room finally exhaling.

Rickea immediately snorted, breaking the silence. “I swear, Cam…one day you’re really gonna piss that girl off.”

Cam rolled her eyes. “If she hasn’t snapped on me by now, she’s not gonna. I used to really push her buttons when I was in college.” She shrugged. “Besides, someone’s gotta rile her up a little bit here and there.”

She turned toward Azzi, a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t let the glare scare you. She’s a softie. That’s just her version of agreeing to be social.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, the tension softening in her shoulders. Her gaze flicked toward the closed door again, curiosity twisting like thread around her thoughts.

Social. Sure.

The three of them talked a little longer, light conversation humming to fill the space as they waited for Paige. Azzi listened, but her mind kept circling the same question. She couldn’t quite let it go.

After a pause, she finally asked, “Why was she so upset?”

Cam’s mouth opened, but before the answer could come, the bathroom door creaked open.

Steam curled into the air, and Paige stepped out, hair damp, the fresh bruise harsh along her jaw. Her expression was blank—but her eyes landed on Cam.

“Stop talking about me, Cam,” she said, her voice even and clipped, not bothering to slow her pace as she crossed the room.

“I wouldn’t have to if you pulled the pole outta your ass.”

Rickea snorted again, laughing into the back of her hand.

Azzi blinked, but she couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto her face. Paige paused for the smallest second, like she registered it—then kept walking, grabbing her phone off the bench.

Cam just shook her head. “Anyway,” she said, picking up the thread like Paige hadn’t just tried to end the conversation, “She hates getting touched in a fight. Takes it personally. She doesn’t admit it, but she’s a little vain. Hates when they mess up her face.”

Rickea laughed, sitting in a nearby chair. “That bruise is already turning purple. You’re gonna be cranky about that for days.”

Across the room, Paige sat on the bench, towel draped around her neck. She didn’t even glance over. “You’re the one who said it looked good last time.”

“Yeah,” Rickea shrugged, “but that was a black eye. This one’s different. It’s got character.”

Paige finally looked up, her gaze sliding to Rickea first. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not working.”

Rickea grinned. “I’m just saying. You still look pretty Paigey, don't worry.”

Paige snorted, quiet and barely audible—but it was there. A crack in the stone.

Azzi, still leaning against the wall, tilted her head slightly as she decided to chime in. “So it’s the face you’re protective of. Not the record?”

Those blue eyes shifted, landing on Azzi like they’d just remembered she was in the room. Her expression didn’t change, but there was something focused in the way she looked at her now.

“You ever get punched in the jaw in front of a screaming arena and ten cameras?” Paige asked.

Azzi’s smile curved. “I’ve taken elbows from girls twice my size. So maybe pretty close.”

A beat passed. Then Paige’s gaze drifted away again. “Then you kinda get it.”

Cam grinned like she’d just seen lightning hit dry land. “Wow. Full sentence and everything on the first day. That might be a record.”

Azzi laughed. “Do I get a prize?”

Paige reached for her phone, not looking up. “Don’t push your luck.”

Rickea leaned toward Azzi, whispering behind a not-so-subtle hand, “That’s basically a compliment from her.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes drifting back to Paige—who still wasn’t looking at her, but something in the quiet set of her shoulders said she was listening.

…

The restaurant had polished floors, beautiful wood tables, and a bar that stretched long under a wash of amber light. It wasn’t flashy, but perfectly familiar.

Azzi walked in followed by Cam and Rickea, all three of them caught in easy conversation. Her gaze drifted around, slowing as she caught sight of Paige already at the bar.

“How the hell did she beat us here?”

Cam didn’t bother looking. “Told you she would. She drives like a crazy person sometimes.”

Azzi felt it then—the same quiet pull she’d felt last night at the game.

They approached the bar together, Cam sliding in beside Paige with a light shoulder bump. “Look who actually showed up to be social,” she teased.

Paige didn’t look up. “Debatable.”

Rickea gave Paige a half-hug from behind that she didn’t react to before turning to Cam. “I think I saw someone James knows near the back. Come with me real quick?”

Cam looked over her shoulder, spotted what Rickea was talking about, then glanced back at Azzi. “You good here for a second?”

Azzi nodded, her eyes still on Paige. “Yeah.”

They disappeared into the crowd, leaving Azzi to ease into the empty seat beside her. Paige didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking to her, then forward again.

Azzi took her time, letting the silence stretch as she rested her arms on the bar. Then softly, “You always this friendly?”

Paige’s lips barely moved. “You always this brave after watching someone knock somebody out?”

Azzi laughed—fullly, like it came from somewhere deeper than amusement. “So you do talk.”

“I thought we established that already,” Paige said, eyes still on the mirror behind the bar, watching the room without ever turning toward it.

Azzi’s gaze flicked to the bruise along Paige’s jaw. “Does it hurt?”

There was a pause. Paige glanced at her again, like she wasn’t used to being asked questions.

“You never really get used to being hit by someone who hits people for a living,” she said finally. Her voice was flat—but not dismissive.

Azzi winced sympathetically, then gave a small smile. “So no secret trick to making it hurt less? Ice, adrenaline, pride?”

Paige tilted her head just slightly. “Denial.”

Azzi laughed softly. “That tracks.”

There was a beat of silence as Azzi’s eyes lingered on her face—the bruising, the set of her mouth.

“So…no celebration? No smile? Not even a little shoulder shimmy like Steph?” Azzi teased gently.

Paige blinked at her once. “I don’t shimmy.”

“Everyone shimmies for something.”

“I don’t.”

Azzi grinned, leaning in a bit. “What about a smile? You got one of those, or are they pay-per-view only?”

Paige’s lips quirked—barely. It could’ve been amusement or irritation. “Expensive ticket,” she said dryly. “Most people don’t make it past the preview.”

Azzi laughed again. “You know, I think that was a joke. You might be more charming than you let on blondie.”

Before Azzi could push her luck further Rickea slid in beside Paige again with a smile as she looked at AZi. “If she’s talking to you, that’s like…step two in the Paige friendship program. Step three’s making her laugh, but I don’t think anyone’s ever made it that far.”

Paige took a sip of her drink, ignoring them. “Y’all alk too much.”

Cam grinned, dropping her bag on the bar. “Yeah, but admit it—you’d miss us if we stopped.”

Paige didn’t respond, but her silence felt a little lighter.

As time passed the bar had filled out fast, music pulsing beneath the chatter and clinking glasses. Paige sat quiet at the bar, still nursing the same drink. Azzi was leaned in, teasing something light out of her, when a sudden jolt rocked Rickea’s chair next to Paige.

A man, maybe late twenties, stumbled back with a grin, clearly not sorry. “Shit my bad,” he said with zero sincerity, eyes already scanning Rickea’s body. “Didn’t mean to bump into something so pretty.”

Rickea frowned. “Yeah, you’re good. Not interested, though.”

He leaned in closer anyway, undeterred. “That’s fine. I’m not asking for forever or nothing like that, just the rest of your night.”

Rickea once again made it clear she wasn’t interested but the man insisted.

“Damn I can’t even try the ride out? You like pussy or sum?”

Paige’s chair scraped back and she stood, calm in the way a storm is calm before it breaks open the sky.

“That’s not what she said,” Paige said, voice like gravel under pressure.

The guy turned, sizing her up—and then smirked when he caught the bruise along her jaw. “Jesus, you look like someone already handed you your ass tonight. You sure you wanna get in another round, pretty girl?”

Azzi and Rickea didn’t move, both a little terrified for the man—Paige’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack her teeth, knuckles ghosting over the edge of her seat.

Her voice was almost surgical. “You got three seconds to get the fuck outta my face before one of your friends is carrying you outside.”

She started to step forward when Cam was suddenly between them, hand braced flat against Paige’s ribs like it wasn’t the first time.

“Hey,” Cam said, firm but easy. “You don’t need another lawsuit tonight.”

Paige didn’t look at her. Her eyes stayed locked on the man’s. But she didn’t move forward either.

The guy gave a dry, uneasy laugh. “Whatever. Crazy bitches,” he muttered before melting back into the crowd.

Without saying anything, Paige picked up her glass and tossed back the last of it, ice clinking against her teeth. “I’m going home,” she muttered, already turning away. Her shoulders were stiff, her jaw tight, and the bruise on her face was darker under the bar lights. None of them tried to stop her.

Cam returned a few seconds later, sliding into the chair with a sigh and grabbing a fry from Rickea’s plate. She caught the way Azzi’s eyes lingered toward the door Paige had just walked through.

“Don’t worry.” Cam said, chewing. “That wasn’t bad she’s fine.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow.

Cam shrugged. “She’s always been like that. Bad temper—quiet until she’s not.”

“She ever actually do anything?” Azzi asked.

“Couple of things,” Cam replied dryly. “Mostly in high school. Nothing wild, but enough that my dads best friend—her dad—got her into fighting when she was fifteen. Said if she was gonna throw punches, she might as well learn to do it right.”

Azzi nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place.

Cam grinned. “She’s probably just going home to hit a bag. With the lights off and no music on. She’s real dramatic like that when she’s pissed.”

“Guess that explains why she left without saying bye.”

Cam laughed. “She always does. Paige doesn’t do long goodbyes. Or small talk. Or...people, really.”

Azzi tilted her glass thoughtfully. “But she’s close with you two.”

Cam shrugged. “We’re not people. We’re furniture at this point.”

Rickea laughed. “Background noise she tolerates.”

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh, eyes lingering on the door Paige had walked through. “She ever crazy a smile?”

“Sure,” Cam said, then squinted. “Like...twice a year. Usually when she knocks someone out faster than she expected or when she’s had a few drinks and a stupid dog video shows up on her phone.”

Rickea added, “Besides us, the only person she even tolerates is probably DiJonai.”

“I wouldn’t even say tolerate—she loves that girl.”

Azzi glanced between them. “DiJonai Carrington? From the Wings?”

“Mmm,” Cam nodded. “No clue how or why, but she always has Paige laughing like it’s nothing. It’s kind of freaky.”

Azzi smiled. “So it’s possible.”

Rickea chuckled. “Barely.”

Cam leaned back, watching her. “Why? You planning something?”

Azzi’s smiles “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Cam laughed into her drink. “Good luck. Just try not to lose a tooth in the process.”

Azzi grinned. “No promises.”

…

A few days later the sun hung high over Beverly Hills, casting golden light on the modern homes lining the hills. Paige’s place sat a little higher—tucked back from the others, quiet and unbothered. It was sleek, clean lines and glass, concrete softened by manicured greenery.

Cam led the way through the side gate without knocking, as if she'd done it a thousand times. Azzi followed with Rickea close behind, the faint echo of music drawing them around to the backyard. There, offset from the house, was a sleek, glass-and-metal shed—if you could even call it that—more luxury gym than anything makeshift.

Cam pushed the door open and air rolled out to greet them—along with the rhythmic snap-snap-snap of a speed bag being worked over.

Paige didn’t look up right away.

Her skin gleamed with sweat, the muscles in her shoulders shifting constantly under the light, ponytail hanging down her back. She didn’t miss a beat when they stepped in. Just kept going.

Only when she hit her final strike, hand catching the swinging bag in its path, did she glance over. Her eyes flicked to them. Then she turned away to unstrap her gloves, breathing even, back rising and falling calmly like she hadn’t just been keeping the rhythm of the speed bag for the past 15 minutes.

“Didn’t know we were making this a group thing,” Paige said, voice indifferent, like it didn’t matter—but she definitely noticed.

Cam tossed her bag down. “You knew I was someone. The more the merrier, right?”

Paige wiped her face with a towel completely unimpressed. “That’s probably the most bullshit saying I’ve ever heard.”

She finally turned toward Rickea and Azzi, giving them a small nod in greeting. It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but it was something.

Rickea deciding to start the day of bothering Paige smiled, eyes running over Paige purposefully. “You know, you actually look kinda pretty without the bruise blondie.”

Paige blinked once, slowly, then shook her head as she turned back to the bag. “You spend way too much time with Cam.”

Rickea just laughed, dropping to the mat with Azzi and Cam to start stretching. “That’s not a thank you, by the way.”

“I didn’t hear a compliment back either,” Cam added, reaching overhead.

“Y’all are loud as hell for two people who can’t throw a punch,” Paige mumbled, already back at the bag. The sound of her fists striking the leather echoed in the gym rhythmically—despite her bare knuckles.

Cam crossed her arms. “Gloves, Madison.”

Without missing a beat, Paige shot back, “My bank account tells me it doesn’t matter.”

Cam scoffed. “That bank account’s not gonna matter when you break your hand being hard headed.”

“Then I’ll fight southpaw. Problem solved.”

She didn’t look at anyone as she spoke, didn’t even pause her movement, but Azzi’s eyes lingered on her. It was another glimpse of her personality—dry and quietly cocky. Her expression remained unreadable, but that hint of personality cut through.

Azzi found herself smiling, just a little.

Paige didn’t look in her direction—didn’t have to. Her hands moved faster on the speed bag, before she finally spoke. “I promise you won’t survive if you don’t stretch.”

Azzi arched her eyebrow, dropping into a lunge. “You threatening me?”

One last hit. Then Paige caught the bag mid-air. She turned—just slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet.

“Warning,” she said. “Threats usually come with follow-through.”

Her tone was dry, but something flickered there—amusement? A challenge? Whatever it was, it made Azzi’s smile grow.

“You really are a sweetheart,” Azzi said softly, voice filled with sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Paige said, tone just as dry. “I really do try.”

Azzi tilted her head, continuing the banter. “No, really. The warmest presence in the room. I felt it the second we walked in. Like sunshine.”

Paige exhaled through her nose. “That’s just the heat coming off the lights, but sure.”

Azzi laughed. “Do you wake up this grumpy or do you warm up to it?”

“Depends who’s talking to me before 9 a.m.,” Paige replied, catching the bag again after a few hits. She glanced at Azzi, that unreadable look still etched into her face.

Azzi pressed her some more, voice a little playful. “So I should text you at 8:59? Make sure you start the day right.”

Paige let the bag hang, tilted her head slightly. “You text me at 8:59, I’ll block you by nine.”

Azzi fake pouted saying, “Aww but I’ll miss you.”

That got a reaction—slight, but there. A dry chuckle slipped out of Paige’s mouth before she turned away like it didn’t happen. No smile. No change in expression. But it was something.

Azzi caught it. And she grinned. “Noted,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Rickea looked between them, her eyes squinted. “Did…did Paige Madison just laugh?”

Cam blinked, then grinned. “Swear I heard it too. Thought it was the ceiling creaking.”

Paige didn’t acknowledge them at first—just shook her head, grabbed her towel, and muttered, “Alright. I’m done.” She tossed it over her shoulder and jogged toward the door without another word, adding dryly as she passed them, “Keep up, or don’t bother.”

Cam laughed. “There’s the ray of sunshine we all love.”

Rickea snorted, grabbing her water bottle.

The three of them followed her out, the soft sound of their running shoes echoing through the gym as the door swung shut behind them.

The trail was quiet except for the rhythm of their sneakers hitting dirt and gravel, the cool morning air crisp against their hot skin as they ran. Paige led the group with a pace that wasn’t brutal—but definitely not gentle. No one spoke much, the silence broken only by the occasional breathless grunt or snap of twigs under their feet. After about a mile, she slowed, glanced back once, and wordlessly turned around, leading them back the way they came.

By the time they returned to the house, sweat clung to their clothes, and Paige didn’t waste a second getting them started on the workout.

The workout moved fast—jump rope intervals, rounds on the assault bike, steady sets on the rower. Paige moved through it effortlessly, only occasionally glancing over to make sure they were keeping up. No weights, no high-impact movements. Just conditioning.

Halfway through, Rickea groaned, flopping down dramatically beside the bike. “You’re evil for this. Like genuinely sick in the head.”

Paige didn’t even look at her. “Cardio builds character.”

“Fuck you,” Rickea shot back.

Without missing a beat, Paige mumbled, “James prolly wouldn’t fuck with that.”

Rickea blinked, caught off guard before bursting into laughter. Cam doubled over, wheezing. Even Azzi let out a surprised laugh, looking at Paige like she was discovering a new layer.

Paige barely reacted—just adjusted her ponytail, grabbed a towel, and moved on to the next station.

After the workout they settled on the turf just outside the gym, the morning sun higher in the sky now, burning off the last of the chill. Everyone was stretched out, legs extended or crossed, bottles of water in hand. The air was quiet in that satisfied, post-workout way—tired bodies, endorphins still buzzing.

Cam sat up a little straighter, eyeing Paige from across the turf. “When’s the next one?”

Paige reached for her water bottle, unscrewing the cap without looking up. “Month and a half.”

Cam blinked, clearly shocked. “That soon?”

Azzi glanced between them, eyebrows slightly raised at Cam’s tone.

“You just fought, like…two weeks ago,” Cam said, frowning now. “Why the hell are you getting back in the cage already?”

Paige took a long gulp of her water, then looked at her. “Someone challenged me.”

Cam threw her hands up. “So? You don’t have to accept every dumbass who thinks they can hang with you.”

Paige shrugged, wiping the sweat from her neck with the towel draped over her shoulder. “You know I’m not turning down a fight Cam.”

Cam shook her head, exasperated. “Jesus. One of these days, someone’s gonna call you out just to test that stubborn ass pride of yours.”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Well I’d hope they’re ready.”

Rickea, still sprawled on her back, let out a low sound. “You’re gonna give me anxiety before the playoffs.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige. “Who challenged you?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to her for a moment, then back to her water. “Some girl out of Houston. Up and comer. Had six fights—all KO or TKO apparently.”

That made Cam sit up fully, the tension tightening across her shoulders. “All six? And you still said yes?”

Paige didn’t answer, just took another sip.

“Paige,” Cam pressed, voice changing. “You can’t keep signing up for these reckless ass matchups just because someone talks shit.”

“She didn’t talk,” Paige said evenly. “She signed the contract.”

“That’s even worse,” Cam shot back. “You know how this goes. They line up someone with hype and a perfect record hoping to make a name off you. You know all they care about is the damn check.”

Paige’s jaw ticked slightly, but her voice stayed level. “Then she picked the wrong name.”

Cam blew out a breath clearly frustrated. “You act like you’re invincible—”

“I’m not,” Paige cut in, eyes lifting to meet Cam’s for the first time. Her voice didn’t rise. “I know exactly what I am. And I know exactly what I can take. So if you’re trying to talk me out of it, don’t. I’m fighting.”

The group went quiet for a moment, the air thick between them. Even Rickea wasn’t cracking a joke.

Azzi, still seated on the ground with one knee pulled up, studied Paige. Trying to figure out a fraction of what she was thinking.

Finally, Cam leaned back again with a sigh. “You’re gonna give me gray hair.”

“You already got two,” Paige mumbled, tossing her towel over her shoulder again as she got up and turned toward the house.

Rickea snorted. “She’s not wrong.”

As Paige disappeared through the sliding doors back into the house, the three basketball players sat in a loose triangle on the turk, still catching their breath.

Cam ran a hand through her hair and exhaled hard. “That girl’s gonna get herself killed one day because of fuckin pride.”

Rickea leaned back on her palms, still slightly winded. “You still think she takes fights just because of pride?”

Cam nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. Paige would say it’s about proving something, about staying sharp, whatever—but really? She hates the idea of someone thinking they can take her. It’s like a switch flips.”

Azzi’s brows drew together slightly as she stretched her legs out in front of her. “So she’s been like that since you met her?”

“She’s not always like this,” Cam said, softer now. “She’s just a little more intense around fight time. Gets short. Coiled up like a rubber band about to snap.”

Azzi rubbed her thumb over her ankle, as she thought. “But she’s not reckless like that in the ring.”

“No,” Cam agreed. “She’s calculated as hell. She’s just competitive to a fault. Wants to win everything.”

Rickea snorted. “Honestly, sounds familiar.”

Azzi tilted her head. “To who?”

Rickea smirked. “To you.”

Azzi gave her a look but didn’t argue, just rolled her eyes. After a second her eyes lingered on the house where Paige had disappeared.

The three of them sat there stretching for a few more minutes but as they started packing up, Cam stood and stretched, wincing a little. “Damn, I forgot to grab the protein bars I have in there. They're in the kitchen by the fridge—Az, can you grab 'em? If I go in there it’ll be World War III.”

Azzi glanced at her, then at the house. “Sure.”

She wiped her face with a towel and walked across the backyard, slipping inside the house. The interior was just as modern and minimal as she expected—clean lines, neutral tones, cool air against her skin. The kitchen was easy to spot, but what caught her attention first was Paige, standing at the sink with her back to the room, filling a glass with water.

Azzi paused not wanting to scare her before realizing how ridiculous that sounded. Instead she decided to announce her presence by speaking. “You always put people through hell and act like it doesn’t faze you?”

Paige didn’t look over. “Would’ve gone easier if you stretched more than you looked at me.”

Azzi tilted her head and smiled. “Maybe you’re interesting to look at.”

Paige drank from her glass, then set it down. “I have blonde hair and blue eyes. You can find that all over LA.”

“It’s more interesting when it comes with a side of asshole.”

That earned her a small huff—it was the closest thing to a laugh she’d gotten. Paige still didn’t smile.

Azzi crossed the kitchen, leaning against the counter directly across from her. “Do you purposefully not smile?”

Paige looked at her. “Yes.”

“So what’s that about?”

Paige held her gaze. “Every facial expression’s a tell in fighting. So I try to control em when I can.”

“I’m gonna get you to crack a smile eventually.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, finally giving her a full look. “Why?”

Azzi shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging up. “Because I think it’d look good on you and I like looking at pretty women.”

Paige stared at her for a moment, unreadable as ever. Then she pushed off the counter and turned toward the hallway. “Tell my sister to lock the door on the way out.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

Azzi just smiled before finally grabbing what she came in there for.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you and paige get caught

liked by user1, user2 and 384,293 others

paigebueckers fit check

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user3 yes paige! give us nothing!

user4 she been soft launching for two years give us a crumb please 😩

azzi35 you're welcome

paigebueckers you a real one

kamoreaarnold girl boo! we get it

paigebueckers don't be salty that you single and i'm not

user5 hard launch already

user6 leave her alone

liked by azzipriv, notkka and 26 others

ynpriv possessive much?

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paigenobuckets all mine

azzipriv guys there are children here... kk look away

notkka girl boo i am an adult nikanotmuhl kk lying is bad notkka not you roasting me all the way from seattle space needle

paigebueckers posted on her story

paige was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone. she was already dressed, just waiting on you, who said they were going to be done ten minutes ago — twice. 

“baby! we gotta get going soon!” paige tucked her phone into her pocket, moving towards the bathroom where you were. just as she was about to open the door, you pull it open, stepping out, messing with your hair.

“how do i look?” you run your hands down your sides.

paige’s jaw dropped, always in awe of you. “damn, ma. give me a twirl.” you did. “you look beautiful.”

heat crawled up your neck to your cheeks. walking towards her, your reach up, placing your hands on her cheeks to pull her down for a kiss, which she happily lets you. 

“let’s go?”

“let’s go.”

paige drove through the streets of downtown los angeles, left hand on the steering wheel, the other gently gripping your thigh.

“you sure no one’s gonna recognize you there?” you ask, hands playing with paige’s fingers.

“people probably will, but we take about it. it’s about time they find out the hot ass woman i’m with.”

“oh, stop. we been together two years, you don’t gotta woo me anymore.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you laugh, a hand coming to rest on the back of paige’s neck, thumb stroking her jaw.

the lights in the packed arena shone bright, casting a golden glow over the court as the game was about to start. you and paige decided to sit away from the court, not wanting to be seen right away if they were court side. you were excited to say the least. any chance to be out in public with paige was rare, always looking over your shoulder for cameras, but for once you didn’t care.

your relationship with paige had been private since the very beginning, but not secret. paige was a public figure, everything she did was put under a microscope. you, on the other hand, was just a student at uconn, catching her eyes as you watched her play from the crowd. 

between her growing fame and the scrutiny of the media, it was easier this way. no unnecessary drama, no outside pressure — just the two of you, safe in your own little bubble. but tonight, after a long talk, you both agreed it was time to step out of that bubble and what better way to do so than a basketball game, just two fans in a sea of thousands.

dressed in hoodies and caps pulled low, healed comfortably in the suite. your legs crossed together as you sat, paige’s hand finds its place on your thigh. 

“okay nil money,” you say looking around the private suite. “you being my sugar daddy huh?” she shrugs, playing it cool, rubbing her hands together. “if you keep doing those rizz hands i’m gonna break up with you.”

“c’mon ma, don’t be like that.” she wraps an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her. “you love me too much.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night.”

the game has been going amazingly. the sparks making all their shots. everything was going smoothly until the dreaded moment.

the arena’s jumbotron lit up with the words kiss cam, the camera panning over various couples as the crowd cheered each time a pair kissed. you watched absentmindedly until some familiar faces filled the massive screen.

your face.

and paige’s

your stomach dropped when you realized what was happening.

“oh shit,” paige mumbled, trying to stop a smirk from showing on her face. you shove her away hiding your face in your hands.

the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles as the camera lingered on your both, broadcasting your stunned expressions to the entire arena.

paige turned to you, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and and amusement. “well… this is awkward.” 

your heart raced, heat creeping up your neck as the attention of thousands of fans bore onto you. you could already imagine the headlines, the videos, the endless speculation. but then paige did something that made your breath hitch. 

she smiled.

not the nervous, camera-ready smile she flashed for interviews, but the one reserved for you — the soft, knowing one that said i got you. 

screw it.

you grabbed the front of her hoodie, pulling her close as your lips met hers in a soft but unmistakable kiss. the crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, filling the arena with noise. when you finally pulled away, paige was grinning, her fingers tightening around yours.

“well,” she said, leaning in as the screen switched to a different couple. “i guess the secret’s out.”

you laughed, squeezing her hand. “yeah, but at least we got to choose how.”

“we?” paige gave you a teasing shocked expression. “what do you mean we? it was you!”

“shut up,” you mumbled, hiding your face in her neck. she pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your head before turning her attention back to the game.

liked by ynpriv, azzi35 and 1,374,863 others

paigebueckers the kiss cam kinda outed us tho @/ynpriv

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user1 HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

user2 we waited two years for this!!!

azzi35 y/n baby leave her and let's get married

ynpriv baby i do paigebueckers uh... hello??? no you do not azzi35 call me miss steal yo girl paigebueckers THERES NO STEALING

user3 we love an overprotective gf

kamoreaarnold girl i was CACKLING when i saw y'all on tmz

ynpriv did i look good? kamoreaarnold you looked hot paigebueckers you people need to stop flirting with my girl

nika.muhl ugh i miss her so much

ynpriv nika baby come home the kids and i miss you paigebueckers im done

[starsinthesky5]

diamond in my eye || joe burrow x reader

description: everybody’s watching her, but she’s only looking at him. in which our lovebirds attend a lakers game in the offseason, and our songbird is asked to sing the national anthem

a/n: blurb as requested! inspired by that adorable photo of him video the mopsters from last week. oh my baby boy...never change

series: you are in love

word count: 2.2k

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @softburrow @yelenasbraid @burrowbarbie @lovelyburrow @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @definitelynotdomanique

warnings: language, suggestive references

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

the energy in the arena was electric, a current of excitement buzzed through the crowd as they waited for the game to begin. cameras flashed with no end in sight, the jumbotron cycled through shots of celebrities in the crowd, and the unmistakable bass of the stadium speakers hummed through the floor. and funny enough, they were playing out of the woods. 

one of her songs. 

and joe couldn’t help but hide that cheeky grin of his. knowing that they were playing something of hers, something she worked so hard on, made him the proudest man in that sold-out arena. it wasn’t uncommon for her music to be played like this, but every time he heard it—whether it was in the gym, the grocery store, the radio, here—he was acting like it was the first time. like she was some hidden underground artist getting a shot at the big stage, even though she literally had an autographed basketball in one of the display cases in one of the luxury suites from when she sold out this very arena for her previous tour. 

this time, the lovebirds found themselves in LA for a casual off-season getaway, a much-needed breath of fresh air. they had grown restless, tired of staring at the same walls, the same stretches of greenery surrounding their home. the usual drive to columbus had lost its charm, the same college-town nights out feeling repetitive, the same five hiking trails too familiar, the go-to spots for food and drinks no longer holding the same excitement. LA was something new, something different—a change of scenery that felt like a reset, and they were soaking up every second of it together.

they hadn’t had many trips to the city of angels together, so this felt exciting and fresh. something about being here, under the glow of the skyline, the sound of the city wrapping around them, made it feel like a getaway in the truest sense. away from routine, away from the cold, away from the stuffy ohio air. just them, indulging in late brunches, strolling through melrose, sneaking kisses between shopping bags, and slipping into the rhythm of the city as if it was second nature. 

joe was beyond excited for the lakers game they were attending tonight—not just because he got to watch one of his favorite sports outside of football, but because he got to do it with his girl by his side. this was the perfect kind of night for him—courtside seats, a cold drink in hand, and her tucked into his side, looking as effortlessly stunning as ever.

a pink alo hat sat low on his head, an attempt at keeping things low-key, paired with a casual hoodie that did its best to help him blend in. but there was no hiding when you were joe burrow. the cameras always found him, flashing his face across the jumbotron, earning a wave of cheers from the crowd. so naturally, he gave a tight-lipped smile and a small wave before turning his attention back to her.

because tonight isn’t about him.

it’s about her.

his songbird, his love, his extremely talented girlfriend, standing center court, mic in hand, poised to sing the national anthem in front of thousands.

he’s seen her perform a hundred times before—just the two of them, in the quiet intimacy of their world. late at night in bed, humming softly against his skin. in the studio, lost in the music, unaware of anything but the melody. in the car, singing along without a care, her voice effortlessly weaving through every note. and when she’s on stage in front of thousands, it’s like she was born for it. she thrives under the limelight, feeding off the electric energy of the crowd screaming her name, basking in the glow of the stage lights like they were made just for her.

but tonight? tonight was different.

she wasn’t in a sold-out arena or stadium with thousands of her fans singing her lyrics back to her. this was a new kind of pressure, a different kind of crowd, and he saw it in the way she rolled her shoulders back, in the way she took a controlled breath before the first note.

and then, she sings.

her voice soars through the arena, effortless and pure, wrapping around each note with the kind of grace that makes time slow down. the crowd becomes silent, entranced by the angelic sound of her voice. phones rise to capture the moment. even the players on the court stand taller, hands over their hearts, their expressions softened by her beauty.

everybody’s watching her.

but she’s only looking at him.

joe feels it the second her eyes find his. a tether, invisible but unbreakable, pulling her back to him even when she’s standing under the pressure of thousands of eyes. he’s never been jealous of her success—he’s in awe of it. but in this moment, with her singing like this, looking at him like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

from his seat, phone out, a huge smile on his face, he records every second, wanting to bottle this moment up forever. she’s breathtaking—like a living, breathing greek goddess, bathed in the golden glow of the arena lights, standing tall in all her glory. he feels it deep in his chest, the way his heart swells with pride until it almost aches. he always knew she was special. but seeing her like this, watching her do what she was born to do? it’s overwhelming in the best way. moments like these were why she did it, why she continued to do it no matter what happened. 

it almost makes her laugh, the way he’s watching her like a lovestruck fool, but she bites it back, keeping her composure. still, the sparkle in her eyes gives her away. joe catches it, sees the way her lips twitch like she’s fighting a grin, and he knows.

he looks so damn cute, and she’s never loved him more.

by the time she reaches the final note, the crowd erupts, a thunderous cheer rolling through the arena. she smiles, that radiant, heart-stopping smile, as she dips into a quick curtsy before stepping off the court.

joe’s already waiting for her by their courtside seats, standing before she even reaches him. the second she’s close enough, he’s pulling her in, pressing a kiss to her temple, murmuring, “damn, baby. made me wanna stand up and pledge my heart to you instead,”.

she laughs, shaking her head. “shut up, burrow,” and then presses a kiss to his lips, contradicting her playful annoyance. “did you really record the whole thing?” she asked, peeking at his phone.

“obviously. gotta keep it forever. might even make it my ringtone,”.

she rolled her eyes while laughing, but the warmth in her chest grew with each look at him. “they shoulda played ‘god bless america’ right after, ‘cause god definitely blessed me,” he winked, his eyes trailing over her gorgeous figure. how the jean’s she wore highlighted her perfect ass, how his inital was resting right above her cleveage which was on display because of the lacy corset top she had on. how she was practically glowing in front of him. a true living, breathing, angel right here in the city of angels. and he had the pleasure of going home with her. 

could it get any better than this for him? probably not. and he was 100% aware of it. 

she groans, but he sees the way she bites back a smile. she nudges his side, slipping into her seat beside him. “you’re ridiculous,”.

“and you,” he says, voice softer now, his hand settling on her thigh as the game gets underway, “are everything,”.

as the game started, they fully leaned into the date night experience. she’s curled up into his side, legs tucked up slightly, one of his arms draped over her shoulders. joe murmurs commentary in her ear, explaining plays and breaking down strategies because he played basketball in high school, even though she already knows most of it. it’s just an excuse to keep talking to her, to keep her tucked in close. they even shared a big tray of nachos, his hand occasionally bringing one to her lips without thinking. she got her revenge by stealing a sip of his soda, the straw lingering between her lips as she gave him a cheeky grin.

“that was my last sip,” he pouted.

“should’ve thought about that before dating a thief,” she grinned.

“mm. you’re lucky you’re cute. the only thing you stole was my heart,” he sighed, leaning close to kiss her cheek while he stole the last bite of the nachos from her.

she had never felt this at ease in a situation like this, and it was all because of joe. stepping back into the public eye after nearly a year away was daunting—there were still moments where the noise felt too loud, where the attention felt suffocating rather than welcoming. but with him, it was different. he made sure she never had to carry the weight of it alone.  

he was her anchor, the steady presence beside her, always reminding her—silently, effortlessly—that she was safe. that he was here. and if, for even a second, she felt uneasy, he’d move mountains to fix it. he was the man who’d walk through fire to get to her, who’d shield her from every prying eye if he could. hell, he’d steal someone’s car and get them out of there if she so much as looked at him with a flicker of discomfort.  

she wasn’t just easing back into all of this—she was finding her way back with him by her side. and with joe, she knew she’d be just fine.

and the way this night—although tainted by the flashiness of it all—felt like a normal, casual basketball date with her boyfriend?

that made her heart skip a beat. she yearned for this. for casual love. the kind of love she saw in the movies...on the big screens.

and finally. finally it was hers.

as the game went on, they exchanged soft smiles and quiet comments—her making fun of a particularly bad free throw, him pretending to be offended when she called one of the players hot.

but only to make joe feel a teeny bit jealous…because well. it was hot and she needed him to be a little…riled up for later.

then, during the break, the jumbotron continued panning over to celebrities in the audience, and eventually, it landed on them. “oh, great,” she muttered as the camera zoomed in, their faces suddenly lighting up the massive screen overhead.

the crowd cheers as the camera zoomed in on the way she’s nestled into him, his arm wrapped securely around her, fingers tracing absentminded circles on her arm. she glances up at him, and he dips his head, murmuring, “think they’re jealous?”.

“of us?” she teases, then looks around at all the fans in the crowd around her, watching as they held their phones up and screamed her and joe’s names. “definitely,”.

his smile widened, dimples peeking out, and he pressed a slow, heated kiss to her jaw, lingering just enough to make the crowd go even wilder. but then he leaned back, eyes flicking toward the court, smirking like he hadn’t just set the internet on fire with that risque moment. “back to the game, sweetheart.”

she rolled her eyes, knowing full well he was enjoying every second of this.

as the game continues, he steals glances at her between plays, admiring how effortlessly she fits into his world, and how much she’s become the center of it. she’s the diamond in his eye, the brightest thing in the room, and it has nothing to do with the cameras or the lights. 

she’s just her—his girl, his heart, his forever.

a little later, there was another break, another jumbotron moment.

this time, the camera lingered a little longer on them, the bright screen making their faces impossible to miss. the crowd roared, the cheers turning into chants, urging something more. joe chuckled, shaking his head before tilting her chin up with two fingers, eyes dark with something deeper than amusement. “guess we gotta give ‘em what they want, huh?” his voice was raspy, teasing, just for her.

before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, his hand splayed warm against her thigh. she sighed into it, fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his sleeve, and for a second, the rest of the world faded away.

the stadium, however, erupted. cheers, whistles, and laughter filled the space around them, but all she could hear was the rush of her own heartbeat. when she finally pulled back, her cheeks were warm, and she shook her head at him, lips still tingling from his touch.

“you’re such a show-off,” she murmured, trying for annoyance, but the way her voice came out soft and breathless? she wasn’t fooling anyone.

joe grinned, the crinkles around his eyes deep, tapping his fingers against her thigh with a cocky ease. “nah, baby. just showing ‘em what winning really looks like,”.

because in a sea of thousands, in a stadium full of eyes, she was the only one that mattered.

the diamond in his eye.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

my tiktom for some reason has been showing me kiss cam videos all the time, and i just thought about how cute it would be to have a kiss cam in NRC, so i came here to make a request of kiss cam w the first years and/or the housewardens (ill leave for u to choose since ur the writer 🤭🤭)

COMMENTS: I'm not American, so all I know about Kiss Cams is what I can find on the internet and have seen in movies or something. I think the freshmen are more likely to go to a game like this than the Housewardens, which is why I chose them. And I thought it would be more fun with them.

This also doesn't takes place in NRC, but somewhere in the stands of a game.

I hope you and all enjoy 💋

CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss (duh)

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character

In case you don't know what this is and according to Wikipedia: “The kiss cam is a social pastime that takes place during arena, stadium and court sporting events in the United States and Canada. A 'kiss cam' camera scans the crowd, and selects a couple, their images being shown on the jumbotron screens in the arena.”

CONTEXT: All five of them would have some kind of interest in watching a game live, and of course, they really wanted you to go with them. Obviously you sit next to the guy you like the most and it seems like the Kiss Cam loves seeing the two of you together.

The break arrived and the Kiss Cam was announced. Having the Kiss Cam choose the two of you was kind of something Ace already wanted to happen. They started choosing couples and showing them on the giant screen in the middle of the stadium when Sebek asked what that was and what kind of purpose it had. Ace and the others explained to him (and to you if you weren't familiar with it either) what it was.

You see the couples on the huge screen in the center of the stadium and you notice that the camera is quite fast and imagine the pressure that the people may feel when the camera is pointed at them.

You see that most of the chosen people kissed without any problems and were laughing, having fun with it. Those who weren't couples either made a negative gesture with their hand or found a funny way to get around it, like kissing the cup of drink they had instead.

And then it happened! Ace was distracted arguing with Sebek for being boring for only complaining about that cam when you nudged him to attention. You point at the screen, he looks and see the two of you.

He was immediately flustered and laughed awkwardly. It all happened very quickly. He looked at you with that same smile, but with an encouraging vibe. Understanding that you showed no signs of opposing the kiss, he put one of his arms around your shoulders, leaned in and kissed you. It was only two or three seconds, but you felt his lips pressing against yours with some intention. People applauded.

He'll keep his arm around you and watch your reaction. When he sees you smile and lean toward him, he'll lean back in his chair and let you lean against him however you want. He won't take his arm off you for the rest of the game.

“What? Jealous?” He smirks at the other four who are looking at you in disbelief. And he'll even kiss you on the cheek again to intensify their shock.

After the game he would receive a nosy call from his brother.

The break arrived and the Kiss Cam was announced. They started choosing couples and showing them on the giant screen in the middle of the stadium when Sebek asked what that was and what kind of purpose it had. Deuce and the others explained to him (and to you if you weren't familiar with it either) what it was.

You see the couples on the screen and notice that the camera is quite fast and imagine the pressure that the people may feel when the camera is pointed at them.

You see that most of the chosen people kissed without any problems and were laughing, having fun with it. Those who weren't couples either made a negative gesture with their hand or found a funny way to get around it, like kissing the cup of drink they had instead.

And then it happened! Deuce was distractedly agreeing with Sebek about it being a bit intrusive when you nudged him to attention. You point at the screen, he looks and see the two of you.

Deuce was immediately flustered and embarrassed! People around you encouraged you to kiss. Even Ace messed with Deuce, insinuating that he didn't have the courage, not even for a kiss on the cheek. It was then that you felt a quick and shy kiss on your cheek.

But people wanted more because they realized you liked each other and everything was happening very quickly. However, Deuce didn't want to move forward because he didn't know if you wanted too. He's not very good at understanding your signals. So you're the one who leans over and kisses him. People applauded.

This makes him petrify in surprise. He blinks several times until he finally looks at you. When he sees you smiling, he smiles back and can't stop himself from kissing you back. Not because of the camera, because they had already passed on to another couple, but for himself.

“OI! It's done! The camera is no longer on you.” Ace said in a 'get a room' kind of tone.

Deuce suddenly straightened up as if he had come back to reality and felt a little embarrassed, but he didn't regret it at all.

After the game he would receive an excited call from his mother.

The break arrived and the Kiss Cam was announced. They started choosing couples and showing them on the giant screen in the middle of the stadium when Sebek asked what that was and what kind of purpose it had. Jack and the others explained to him (and to you if you weren't familiar with it either) what it was.

You see the couples on the screen and notice that the camera is quite fast and imagine the pressure that the people may feel when the camera is pointed at them.

You see that most of the chosen people kissed without any problems and were laughing, having fun with it. Those who weren't couples either made a negative gesture with their hand or found a funny way to get around it, like kissing the cup of drink they had instead.

And then it happened! Jack was distractedly agreeing with Sebek about it being a bit intrusive when you nudged him to attention. You point at the screen, he looks and see the two of you.

Jack’s ears immediately lowered in surprise and flusteredness. He rubs the back of his neck when he sees you looking at him, waiting to see what he would do. With all that pressure mixed with your expectant gaze and his desire to do it, he placed one of his hands on the back of your neck and kissed you. People applauded.

It was a quick kiss, one or two seconds, but very affectionate. However he remained embarrassed, he was not a fan of public displays of affection. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking away from you and down at the floor.

Ace and Epel started messing with him until you leaned on his shoulder. Only then did Jack's tail start wagging. Now rest assured that the feelings were mutual he put an arm around you.

After the game he would most likely receive an excited and curious call from his parents.

The break arrived and the Kiss Cam was announced. They started choosing couples and showing them on the giant screen in the middle of the stadium when Sebek asked what that was and what kind of purpose it had. Epel himself knew little about it because he had never been to one of those stadiums and had only heard about it, so he was one of those who listened to the explanations of others.

You see the couples on the screen and notice that the camera is quite fast and imagine the pressure that the people may feel when the camera is pointed at them.

You see that most of the chosen people kissed without any problems and were laughing, having fun with it. Those who weren't couples either made a negative gesture with their hand or found a funny way to get around it, like kissing the cup of drink they had instead.

And then it happened! Epel was distractedly agreeing with Sebek that it was a stupid thing that served no purpose other than being embarrassing when you nudged him to attention. You pointed at the screen, he looked and saw the two of you. Epel practically jumped in his chair.

“WHAT IN TARNATION?! ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME?!”

At first he is completely against it until you look at him and he realizes that the pair the camera chose for him was you. At that moment he fell silent and pondered, blushing. The people around were encouraging him and you were looking at him with an expectant look yourself. With all that adrenaline he simply leaned in and kissed you almost abruptly. People applauded.

It was a relatively quick kiss, a second or two, and then he straightened up again, all his muscles tense and his face flushed. You couldn't help but giggle, finding it cute. He sulked seeing you laugh at him.

“Hey! At least I didn't chicken-”

You shut him up and reassure him with a kiss of your own. When you broke the kiss he was still looking at you in surprise, but with a new confident glint in his eyes. He laughs and puts an arm around you to hug you.

After the game, two calls will clash to reach Epel's phone: one from his grandmother and the other from Rook.

The break arrived and the Kiss Cam was announced. They started choosing couples and showing them on the giant screen in the middle of the stadium when Sebek asked what that was and what kind of purpose it had. The others explained to him (and to you if you weren't familiar with it either) what it was.

You see the couples on the screen and notice that the camera is quite fast and imagine the pressure that the people may feel when the camera is pointed at them.

You see that most of the chosen people kissed without any problems and were laughing, having fun with it. Those who weren't couples either made a negative gesture with their hand or found a funny way to get around it, like kissing the cup of drink they had instead.

And then it happened! Sebek was distracted arguing, mainly with Ace, about it being just another stupid human custom with no purpose or sense when you nudged him to attention. You pointed at the screen, he looked and saw the two of you.

 Sebek almost jumped in his chair, but he was firm in putting his foot down (almost literally) and refusing. At first. He couldn't have been more sure that he didn't want to take part in that nonsense, until he saw the way you looked at him. Suddenly an indestructible pillar of certainty wavered, realizing that the pair the camera had chosen for him was you.

People were already booing sadly until they saw him hesitate and go back to trying to encourage him to kiss you. Only now had he begun to blush.

After that, everything happened very quickly. He looked at you with his arms crossed from before, now undecided whether to keep his decision or not, and the pressure from the people was joined by Ace and Epel, insinuating that he didn't even have the courage to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Seeing from your expression that you were not objecting, he said: “VERY WELL THEN!” Held your head by the chin with one hand and kissed you decisively. People applauded.

It was a relatively quick kiss, a second or two, but you could feel his passion on his lips. However, when he broke the kiss, he didn't take his face away from yours for a good while, letting you admire his piercingly navy green eyes for a moment.

He straightened up and crossed his arms again as he suddenly remembered he was in public. He looked away from yours and chose to close his eyes instead of simply looking down or ahead.

“There! I partook of your silly ritual.”

The others will tease him until you reach out to give him a kiss on the cheek and he widens his eyes in surprise. Despite this, he will continue to contain himself, but will allow you to lean on him however you want.

After the game he will receive an extremely curious call from Lilia.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[v6quewrlds]

I know requests are closed (sad face) but can we get a quick blurb of reader being at the bengals game tonight. reader cheering Joe on. dealing with the rollercoaster of emotions. meets him in front of the locker room and congratulates him. once they arrive home, reader rewards him with some sexy timeeee. plz plz plzzzz

i need to learn how to say no to y'all 😭 anyways, it’s much longer than i anticipated. second person (she/her) because i wasn’t feeling you/your. hope you enjoy anon <3

She stood in front of the suite's glass wall, her heart racing as the final minutes of the game ticked away. The stadium lights cast an orange glow on her skin as the Cincinnati Bengals and the Broncos battled it out on the field below. She was consumed by painful anticipation, her eyes glued to field, watching the home team's every move. Each play felt like an eternity as she silently cheered for him, unable to sit down since halfway through the 4th quarter.

As Joe took the field for the final drive in overtime, a cold shiver shot down her spine. The tension was palpable, even from this high above the action. She and Robin held onto each other, eyes darting between the jumbotron and the field. The crowd's roar grew deafening as Joe dropped back into the pocket, his eyes scanning the field like a hawk hunting prey. Then, with a grace that defied the chaos around him, he released the ball in a perfect arc towards Tee Higgins.

Tee's fingers stretched out, catching the football just as he crossed the goal line, securing the victory for the Bengals. She had barely processed what she was seeing when the stadium erupted into a frenzy. Her scream melded with the cheers around her, her eyes brimming with joyous tears. She turned to Joe's mother, Robin, and they shared a moment of pure elation, their arms flying around each other in a tight embrace. Joe's father Jimmy and her own parents - were equally ecstatic, pumping their fists, exchanging hugs, and shouting into the buzz of the celebration.

She couldn't stop her fidgeting even as the game ended. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing the rhythm of the fans' chanting below. She watched Joe jog off the field, the weight of the moment etched on his sweat-drenched face. It was a victory they all needed, a victory that tasted so much sweeter after such a rollercoaster of a game. As the players began to disperse and head towards the locker room, she couldn't wait any longer. She had to be with Joe.

The wait to see him after showers and locker room debriefs and post-game pressers was agonizing. She paced in the makeshift reception area for the Bengals' family members, the sixty degree Ohio air outside somehow feeling like a blast from a sauna compared to the cool suite. Her legs trembled slightly with pent-up energy, her eyes darting to the clock on her lockscreen that seemed to tick away in slow motion. Every bubble of excited noise from the lingering fans outside the stadium walls was like a tease, a reminder of the victory she hadn't yet been able to share with Joe.

When Joe finally emerged, his eyes locked onto hers from across the walkway. The chaos of the celebration around them faded into a distant hum as he made a beeline for her.

It was unusual, Joe was never one to break tradition, typically greeting his parents first, then her parents, and then her. But today, the desire to claim his victory with her first was too intense to resist. His stride was purposeful, his eyes dark with a hunger that sent a jolt of anticipation through her core. As he reached her, she nearly gasped out loud as he pulled her into his arms, his grip around her waist tight and possessive.

Their eyes met, and she could see the fire in his gaze, a reflection of the passion that had fueled him on the field. Without a word, he leaned in, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. The taste of victory was on his lips, and she devoured it hungrily. Her hands roamed over his shoulder, feeling the muscles that had propelled him to greatness just minutes ago. The smell of sweat, grass, and victory melded into a scent that was uniquely his.

When they finally broke apart, she whispered against his cheek, "I can't wait to get you home." Joe's grip tightened, his voice gruff with desire as he replied, "You and me both."

He turned to greet the parents, his arm still wrapped tight aroundher waist. They all offered congratulations, a mix of pride and relief in their eyes. The stress of the long game lingered in the air, but Joe's win had brought them all together in a shared triumph.

She playfully groaned as her mother demanded she pose with Joe for a picture, the flash of the camera phone blinding them briefly. The excitement in the air was contagious, and she felt a thrill run down her spine as she leaned into his side, her hand poised on his broad chest. The fabric of his Dior jacket was cool, mirroring the gentle December chill, but it was the heat of his body beneath that truly scorched her. His heart thundered against her palm, a tempo that matched her own racing pulse.

Once the flurry of photos and congratulations had died down, Joe whispered in her ear, "Let's get out of here, I need to get my hands on you." His breath was hot and sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't agree more. They parted, deciding to ride with their respective parents back home, hoping the distance would help cool their need for each other.

By the time they each pulled into the driveway, the heat between them was returning in full force. The moment they stepped inside, Joe's hand found hers, squeezing upon contact as if promising that the wait was almost over. They settled into the living room, surrounded by the warm glow of Christmas lights and the faint scent of evergreen from the tree. The conversation was a blend of excitement over the game and their belated holiday festivities planned for tomorrow.

Their parents, caught in their own chatter, didn't notice the way she leaned into Joe, her legs resting over his parted thighs, her head resting on his broad shoulder. Every so often, Joe would lean down to whisper something into her ear, something that made her skin tingle and her breath hitch. His hands wandered over her body, exploring under the guise of comfort and casual affection. She felt her resolve to wait until their parents retreated to their rooms wavering with every brush of his fingers.

Finally, the night grew late and the conversation began to wind down. With a yawn, Jimmy suggested everyone get some rest before the festivities tomorrow. Her parents agreed, their eyes sparkling with the same excitement she felt.

"Goodnight, you two," Robin said, standing up. "We're so proud of you, Joey. We'll let you two lovebirds have some time to celebrate privately." She winked, gaining a reciprocal laugh from her mother.

The parents disappeared into their designated guest rooms, the click of the doors echoing through the hallway like a starting gun. She and Joe looked at each other, the anticipation thick enough to cut with a knife. "You heard the woman," Joe said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm fuckin' you into our mattress tonight."

He took her hand and led her upstairs, their footsteps barely audible on the plush carpet. The house was still, the only sound their heavy breaths and racing hearts. They reached the sanctuary of their bedroom, and Joe closed the door with a gentle click. "Strip," he ordered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Keep that jersey on, though."

She smirked, the heat in Joe's eyes making her skin sizzle. She peeled off her jeans and bra, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. Standing in nothing but her panties and Joe's oversized jersey, she felt both exposed and incredibly powerful. His gaze roved over her, imagination running wild as he picture her hidden curves before returning to her face, his eyes dark with need. She took a step between his spread thighs. Joe reached out, his thumbs hooking under the band of her underwear. With a firm tug, they were around her ankles and she stepped out of them.

The room was filled with a charged silence as Joe took in the sight of her. His hands kneading the soft, brown flesh of her ass, pulling her closer to him, the heat from his touch radiating across her skin. She felt like she could combust from the intensity of his gaze. She leaned over him, humming softly as he took in the sight of her, the jersey riding up, exposing her plush thighs.

"Mm, you're so fuckin’ beautiful," Joe murmured, his breath hot against her skin as he reached up to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples harden under his touch, a warmth pooling between her legs. She leaned down, her mouth capturing his in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding, her tongue dancing with his as he unbuttoned his jacket. Her hands pushed the fabric of the expensive material away from his body, revealing the bare muscular physique that had carried him to victory today.

"I fuckin' knew you were naked under here," she murmured as she straddled him. His hands slid under the fabric of the jersey, caressing her smooth, bare skin, his fingertips grazing her waist and sliding up to cup her breasts. She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs brushed against her sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Joe's own need was palpable. "God, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he continued to palm her breasts. She felt the tension in his shoulders, the power coiled in his arms as he held her close, his kiss growing more urgent by the second. She could feel his cock, already hard and insistent, pressing against her through his pants.

With a smirk, she slid off Joe, standing before him as she sank to her knees, the jersey riding up even more. She reached for his belt, her eyes never leaving his as she unbuckled it and pulled it free from his waist. The sound of his zipper echoed through the room as she slowly pulled his pants down. His cock sprang free, thick and proud, and she couldn't resist the urge to lick her lips.

Joe's breath hitched as she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaning in to kiss the tip. Her warm breath ghosted over him, making him twitch in anticipation. She took her time, savoring the taste of him, the smell of his arousal, the feel of his hand in her hair, his gentle tugs guiding her rhythm as she took him deeper into her mouth.

Her tongue swirled around the head, teasing him mercilessly as she sucked him in further. The wet sounds of her ministrations filled the room, a stark contrast to the quiet outside their door. Nyla's eyes never left Joe's, watching the way his pupils dilated with pleasure, the way his jaw tightened and his breathing grew ragged. His hands gripped the bed sheets, cursing under his breath before deciding to stop fighting the urge to take control.

With a groan, he pulled her off him, standing to remove the last of his clothing. She watched, eyes hooded and mouth watering, as Joe's muscular body was revealed to her. He slowly ordered her to stand, his voice gruff with desire. He took her face in his hand, thumb pressing against her plumb lips. "I've been thinking about this all night," he confessed, his voice low and urgent.

"Yeah?" she responded, her voice equally thick with want. She allowed his thumb to push past her lips, sucking gently, her eyes never leaving his. The hunger in Joe's gaze was unmistakable. He stepped closer to her, their bodies no longer apart, the heat from their desire warming the nonexistent space between them. He bent his head, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body arching into his as their tongues tangled together. His hands trailed from their place on her waist, down to her ass, squeezing and lifting her to wrap her legs around him, making her whimper.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. His eyes never left hers as he positioned himself between her legs, his cock brushing against her wet folds, teasing her entrance. "Gonna be sweet for me?" he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and ragged. She nodded, biting her lower lip as his hand slid between them, guiding himself inside her with a slow, deliberate stroke that made her toes curl.

They began to move together, their bodies fitting like two pieces of a puzzle made for one another. Each thrust was a silent declaration of victory, a celebration of passion that mirrored the game's intensity. Her hands clawed at his hair, her breaths coming out in soft whimpers as Joe's pace remained steady. His hips grinded into her with an agonizingly slow pace, their gasps and moans dissolving into each other's mouths.

The bed's springs squeaked faintly with each movement, a rhythmic tune that matched their muffled sounds of pleasure. They had to keep it down, their parents just a few walls away, but the urgency of their union was too great to be fully contained. She felt her orgasm building, the tension coiling deep within her like a tight spring.

He really was fucking her into the mattress, and she was loving every second of it. The way his body felt over hers, his weight pressing her down into the bed, was like nothing she had ever experienced. Her pussy tightened around him, eager for more, and Joe responded by picking up the pace. The headboard knocked gently against the wall, but the sound was muffled by the intentionally selected thick walls and their hushed moans.

Joe's muscular thighs flexed with each thrust, his skin slick with a sheen of sweat that made her hands glide over his body with ease. Her legs were wrapped around him, her heels digging into his back as she held on tightly, her nails digging deliciously into his skin. His cock filled her completely, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She could feel the veins along his length, throbbing with his pulse, the heat of him setting her alight from the inside out.

Their movements grew more urgent, their kisses more desperate, as their orgasms approached like a runaway train. Her breath was hot against his neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his ear. He groaned, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine, his hips moving faster, the head of his cock brushing against her g-spot with every deep thrust.

Joe's eyes bore into hers, the blue depths dark with need. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss as he pushed into her harder and faster, the urgency of their passion growing with each passing second. His skin slapped against hers as his hips switched from their slow, deliberate pace to a more bruising tempo that had her eyes rolling back in her head; his hand coming down to squeeze at the sides of her neck. She felt the coil of pleasure tighten within her, the sweet ache of a climax that was just out of reach.

As if it wasn't enough, Joe paused for a moment, distracting her with a nibble on her earlobe before flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her back towards him. She gasped in surprise and pleasure as he buried his face into her neck, his teeth grazing her skin lightly. His cock slid into her from behind, filling her completely, and she had to bite the pillow to keep from screaming out.

He began to move again, his strokes deep and forceful, her body jolting with each impact. The jersey she was still wearing had ridden up, exposing her round, firm ass to him, and he couldn't help but admire it as he took her. Her hands clutched the bed sheets, body straining with the effort of keeping their passionate sounds contained. Her voice broke through their muffled silence, a string of curses and pleas for more, more, more.

Joe's hand slid down her spine, his fingers dancing over her curves, his grip tightening as he pulled her ass back into him, holding her tight against his pelvis, the angle of his thrusts changing to hit her in just the right spot. She felt the heat building inside her, a pressure that grew with each stroke. Her breathing grew erratic, her body tightening around him as the orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She bit down on the pillow, muffling her scream as her muscles clenched, her pussy pulsing around Joe's thick cock.

"Mmm, fuck, baby," Joe groaned, feeling her walls spasm around him, pushing him closer to his own release. "You're so goddamn perfect." His rhythm grew erratic, his hips slapping against her ass as he lost control, leaning over her blissed out body, entrapping her with a growl. She could feel the tremors of his approaching climax, the tension in his body a delicious prelude to what was to come. She pushed her ass back into him, urging him on, her own breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Joey," she moaned, arching her back to meet his dark gaze. "You played so good today." Her words were breathless, a gentle praise that sent a shot of pride through Joe's veins.

He leaned further, teeth grazing her skin as he goaded her lowly, "Keep talking, baby. Tell me how good I was tonight."

Her cheeks grew hot, the heat from her climax still simmering as she whimpered into the pillow, her voice shaky with passion. "Fuck — best fuckin' quarterback in the league. You were a god out there, baby. Carrying the team on your back, ‘m so fuckin’ proud, baby." Joe's strokes grew more fervent at her words, the praise driving him closer to the edge. He loved how she talked dirty, how she'd moan and writhe under him, telling him exactly how she felt.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his cock still deep inside her. His teeth grazed her ear. "You think so?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You think I deserve this prize?" She nodded, her body trembling as she felt him swell even more. "Come on, baby," Joe urged, his hips slapping against her ass with more force. "Gimme my prize, come for me again, make a mess, pretty girl."

The pressure grew, her body tightening around him as he pumped into her. She could feel her orgasm building once more, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Her nails dug into the bed, her breaths coming out in pants as she neared the peak. "Fuck, Joe, I'm dammit—" she began, but her words were cut off by a muffled cry as she climaxed again, her body shaking beneath him.

Joe groaned, his own orgasm following closely behind. He thrust into her one final time, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her. His grip on her hips tightened as he held onto her, his breath hot against her neck. The quiet was only pierced by their harsh breaths and the sound of their skin slicking against each other as Joe slowly pulled out of her.

She collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, Joe following closely behind, his body heavy and satisfied. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, the sticky warmth between them a testament to their passion.

"I've never come like that before," she confessed with an embarrassed laugh, her voice still shaky with pleasure as she lay sprawled on the bed, Joe's arms around her waist. She felt his chest rise and fall with his labored breaths, the weight of him a comforting pressure.

Joe's lips curled into a smug smile against her neck. "My ego just tripled in size," he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. He rolled onto his side, his arms still wrapped around her.

She turned to face him, a goofy grin on her face. "You didn't need me for that," she said, brushing soft curls from his face. "My mom was saying you looked like your LSU self. Like you were possessed or something."

He chuckled, his eyes glazed with the aftermath of pleasure. "I guess that explains the griddy," Joe teased, kissing her gently.

[demie90s]

nika x model reader!!! maybe nika is the one that does the spoiling and they always go shopping together for matching fits, ig posts blow up, and reader shows up to a fame with custom rings for nikas number that nika bought her and is shown on jumbotron

𝙁𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙚

𝙉𝙞𝙠𝙖 𝙈ü𝙝𝙡 x 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙈𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙡!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

MASTERLSIT | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: nika spoils you like it’s her job—but tonight, you flip the script and make sure the whole arena sees who really owns your heart.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: luxury, teasing, possessiveness, light PDA, viral internet moments

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.3k

Everyone thinks you do the spoiling. You’re the model. Verified on every platform. Always showing up in glam with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. You walk like the room was built around you.

But if they looked a little closer, they’d see it. The Cartier bangle? Nika. The Chrome Hearts jacket you wore at fashion week? Nika. The limited-edition silver 10 on your finger? Nika.

You didn’t even have to ask.

“You’re mine,” she told you once in the Louis Vuitton fitting room, hands on your hips, voice low in your ear. “So you’re gonna wear it like you mean it.”

⸻

Y’all go shopping like it’s tradition.

Side by side in matching cargos and sleek tops, arguing over whose style goes harder while the staff brings out racks just for you two.

She always pays.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say every time the card hits the machine.

“Shut up and carry your bags,” she grins, sliding her arm around your waist. “You’re the accessory.”

⸻

Game day? You show up dressed for war.

Hair laid, soft-glam beat, full look styled around her team colors. The cameras flash the moment you step through the tunnel—but tonight?

Tonight you’re wearing the rings. Silver stacked on three fingers. Sleek, icy, loud enough to glint under the Jumbotron light. Each one custom-carved:

“MÜHL.”

“#10.”

“PROPERTY OF.”

She hasn’t seen them yet. You wait until halftime—right when she glances up at the crowd—and you lift your hand, biting your glossed lip, rings on full display while the jumbotron zooms in.

The whole arena reacts.

Someone yells “YO SHE GOT THE NUMBER ON HER FINGER!”

Nika freezes mid-step. Mouth open. Then she laughs, all teeth, all disbelief.

Presses her hand to her heart like she’s down bad in front of 20000 people.

She dropped 22 that night.

And the whole time? She kept looking for you. Every steal. Every dime. Every bucket—eyes up, jaw clenched, like she had something to prove to the girl in the front row wearing her number on her hand.

After the final buzzer, you met her in the tunnel like always. But this time she didn’t wait.

Didn’t say “hey.” Didn’t say “what’d you think?”

Just grabbed you.

One hand on your waist, the other on your face, rings cold against your cheek as she kissed you—hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It was hers. Pressed in. Mouth parted. A little messy, all claim. You kissed her back with both hands curled in her jersey, like you needed something to hold or you’d melt right there in the tunnel.

The staff walked past. Cameras clicked. Someone whistled. Neither of you pulled away. When she finally let up, she rested her forehead against yours, breath hot and lips flushed.

“You wore the rings,” she whispered.

“You bought them.”

“You really tryna make me lose my mind out there, huh?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over her mouth.

“Next time I’ll wear your jersey number on my back,” you said. “Just make sure you keep playing like that.”

She licked her lips, grinning.

“Baby, I play like that because you’re watching.”

And before you could say another word, she kissed you again—softer this time, but longer. Slower. Like the game was over but this was her real win.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[onlyquinns]

Hi!!! Could you write a Quinn x Popstar fic? Like it’s her first time going to one of Quinn’s game or meeting the family? (Hughes bowl???)

you walk between the rows of bleachers in roger's arena, hair down to cover your face, and your friend trailing after you. you're holding a beer, dark red nails curling around the aluminum can in a way that looks borderline sinful. before you can get even see the seat number, you're suddenly bombarded with an enthusiastic welcome.

"oh, my gosh! hi, hon!" mrs. hughes--ellen--greets. you look up at her with a warm smile, remembering that quinn said he'd got you seats next to his parents.

ellen wraps you into a tight hug, pressing you to her chest with more love than you should be given by someone you've just met. you hold her back, inhaling her shampoo and gentle perfume and feeling like everything's right in the world.

when she pulls back, she keeps you at arm's length and takes you in. her eyes aren't scrutinizing or judgmental as she sweeps over your form, filled only with care and something like admiration. she introduces you to jim, quinn's dad, and you introduce her to your friend. conversation flows way too smoothly; the four of you talk nonstop, never leaving a silence empty, even though comfort rests in it.

when it's finally time for the game, the scoreboard timer countin gdown to a few seconds, ellen turns to the ice. her hand rests over your's, squeezing as the announcer calls out her boys' names: jack, luke, and--finally--quinn.

he looks ethereal on ice, hair tucked under his helmet and his face glowing with a smile. he goes through all the pictures so easily, reveling in his role as captain and as an older brother getting to play with his younger siblings—even if he's playing against them.

your friend squeals next to you as the game starts, waving the smallest new jersey devils flag you've ever seen. you laugh at her antics, elbowing her teasingly for rooting for the other team.

when the first period ends, the devils winning thus far, the arena suddenly fills with loud cheers--louder than when the buzzer went off. your friend shakes your arm and points, drawing your attention to the jumbotron as the announcer says your name.

"looks like we've got a rockstar in the house!" he says, earning more cheers and applause. you wave at the camera, ruby red lips curling into a gorgeous smile. you adjust the collar of your leather jacket, making a little enamel '43' pin suddenly visible in the thick fabric. "and it looks like pop idol, y/n, is cheering for our captain; canucks fans lets make some noise!"

you giggle behind your palm as the arena suddenly doubles in volume, your face disappearing from the big screen. ellen chuckles next to you, pulling you into a warm side hug.

"ugh, so proud of you," she says as she lets go.

your face warms at her words and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling bashfully. "thank you, but you should be proud of your boys--they're incredible."

ellen smiles and turns back to the ice, players getting ready for the second period. "oh, i am."

after the game, you wait in the parking garage for quinn. you're leaning up against the passenger side of his car, phone in hand as you scroll through twitter, when he finally turns the corner. quinn's exhausted face morphs into a warm smile at the sight of you, large hands reaching up to pull his hair free from the dark beanie on his head, and long fingers brushing through the thick locks.

"hi," he murmurs softly as he approaches. his smile doesn't falter as he settles warm palms over your hips, beanie still between his fingers.

quinn leans forward and your eyes flutter shut, uncaring of paparazzi in the moment. you feel the rush of air as he lets out an airy chuckle before slotting his lips over yours, humming softly at the taste of your fruity lip gloss. before you can tilt your head to deepen the kiss, quinn slides his lips off of yours and you hear the car door behind you click open. he's got one hand on your hip, squeezing and protective, and the other holding the door open behind you.

"continue this at home?" he asks softly, all sour thoughts of the game gone just for now. he's got all the time in the world to mull over what-ifs and poor plays, but time with you is rare due to messy work schedules.

you nod and let him help you into his dark porsche. "of course, baby," you say, and quinn shuts the door after you.