#and for like a good 5 minutes she was debating

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt. 6 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: fluff, softness overload and pure romance

Chapter Summary: Soft, effortless intimacy – The kind of love that makes the simplest moments profound. Bittersweet nostalgia – Acknowledging how long it took to get here but knowing they were always meant to arrive. A love that’s anchored, unwavering – No more fear, no more hesitation. Just certainty.

Word Count: 2.3K

a/n: anddddddddd that's a wrap, i had so much fun writing these two even though the slow burn was long as hell lol 😩 i really hope i did their ending justice - thank you to everyone who stuck around 🫶🏾

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4 & Pt 5

Six months had flown by in a blur of late-night unpacking, weekend furniture shopping, and quiet, stolen moments that made a house feel like home.

The place smelled of fresh paint, takeout, and something unmistakably theirs—a warmth that settled into the walls, lingering in every quiet moment.

Moving boxes were still stacked in corners, some half-opened, others untouched. A single wall in the living room remained unfinished, the two of them caught in an ongoing battle over the perfect shade of blue. It was a small thing, but the debate had turned into something else entirely—a running joke, a playful point of contention, another reason for Aaron to grin at her and say, “You just like having a reason to argue with me, don’t you?”

Their home was still coming together, but the foundation was already set. Not just the brick and mortar, but the way Aaron absentmindedly placed her favourite mug on her side of the counter, or how YN instinctively draped a blanket over his chair before he could sit down. Tiny, unspoken habits—proof that they belonged here.

Aaron, halfway through unpacking yet another box, shot her a look when she leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’ve been staring at that box for ten minutes,” she teased. “You gonna open it, or are you waiting for it to unpack itself?”

His lips twitched. “Nah, I was just waiting for you to boss me around about it first.”

She huffed, nudging his leg with her foot as she passed by, and he caught her wrist, tugging her close just to press a lingering kiss against her temple.

This was their life now—soft, effortless, intertwined. And as they moved through the space together, something unspoken settled between them. The quiet understanding of how far they’d come.

They were building something, piece by piece.

Aaron lifted a bookshelf into place, his biceps flexing under the strain, and when he turned around, he caught her staring.

His smirk was immediate. “You good over there, sweetheart?”

YN, not even a little embarrassed, simply shrugged. “Just appreciating the view.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before stepping closer, resting a hand against her waist. “You know, you could help instead of just watching me sweat.”

She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that?”

Aaron groaned playfully, pressing his forehead against hers. “Unbelievable.”

Moments like this made it feel real—not just the moving in, but the life they were creating inside these walls.

“What do you think?” YN asked, stepping back and motioning toward the now-filled shelf.

Aaron tilted his head, studying the arrangement. “I think…” He reached forward and moved one book slightly to the left. “Perfect.”

YN gasped, nudging his shoulder. “Aaron.”

“What?” He grinned. “I was just helping.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

A few minutes later, she was sorting through another box when she felt warm lips graze the back of her neck, Aaron’s deep voice murmuring, “What’s ours is yours now, baby.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle into her bones.

This wasn’t just a house—it was home.

As they continued unpacking, YN rummaged through a small box marked personal and pulled out a worn envelope. Her breath hitched when she realised what it was.

“Aaron,” she called softly.

He turned, his expression shifting when he saw what she held.

It was an old, faded note, one he had written years ago—back when their feelings were still unspoken. A reminder of a moment neither of them had acknowledged at the time but both had felt deeply.

As he took it from her fingers, his thumb brushing over the creased edges, he exhaled a quiet laugh.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he murmured.

She nodded. “And yet, somehow, it feels like yesterday.”

They stood there for a moment, the past and present colliding, reminding them of how much they had grown—how much their love had evolved.

Aaron lifted his gaze back to hers, his eyes warm, sure.

“No regrets?” he asked.

YN smiled, stepping into him, pressing her palm flat against his chest. “Not a single one.”

YN and Aaron finally settled on the couch, the chaos of unpacking momentarily forgotten. Two wine glasses sat between them, the soft clink of the glasses marking a brief moment of quiet before the words came rushing in.

“You remember when you swore we’d never work together?” YN teased, lifting her glass to her lips with a knowing grin.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes softening as he thought back to the early days. “Yeah, I thought it’d ruin everything, being around you all the time. But look at us now.” He paused, a more serious look creeping in. “Turns out, I was just scared of having everything I ever wanted.”

YN’s gaze softened, her heart swelling at his words. “What changed?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she studied him.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “I realised that it’s not a bad thing to want everything with you. I just had to stop running from it.”

There was a moment of silence, as if they were both lost in the reflection of their own past—those in-between moments where feelings were buried under confusion, where each tiny step forward had been a leap of faith. They were miles away from the days when they had danced around their feelings, avoiding the inevitable, not realising it was already happening.

YN smiled, her thoughts drifting to the time when they had first held hands without thinking, how her heart had pounded in her chest when their fingers brushed. “Remember when you almost told me you loved me, but didn’t?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron snorted, clearly remembering. “I was just trying to protect my pride. I couldn’t let you know you had that much power over me.”

Her eyes twinkled with fondness. “And I almost said it too, before I was sure. But once I did... I never wanted to stop saying it.”

Their fingers intertwined, a silent promise between them. Those small moments had led them to this—this life, this love, this home.

The conversation shifted as naturally as breathing, from memories of the past to dreams of what was yet to come. The future seemed endless now, and their plans spilled out between teasing glances and tender words. Their love felt unbreakable, a quiet certainty settling between them.

Aaron rested back into the couch, stretching his legs out comfortably, his hand finding hers as he casually mentioned, “You know, when we’re older, we’ll probably still argue over the right shade of blue.”

YN let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand before leaning her head on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure of it. But I’ll let you choose everything from now on to save time. We’ll skip all that back-and-forth drama.”

Aaron smirked, his gaze softening as he turned to her. “You say that now. But you’ll be back to fighting me for the final decision once we’re decorating our next place.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him with her elbow. “Only if you promise to let me pick out all the throw pillows. You know that’s non-negotiable.”

He chuckled, the easy banter rolling off of them, but beneath the teasing tone, there was a realness that spoke of the life they were building together. “Fair enough,” he said, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “But let’s get through this one first—no more boxes to unpack, no more shelves to adjust. We’re good here, right?”

YN smiled, resting her cheek against his arm. “Yeah, we’re good. This feels like home.”

There was a soft pause, a moment where the weight of their love hung between them. Then, as if the thought had been in both of their minds for a while, she turned her head to look up at him. “You ever think about a wedding date?” she asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Aaron didn’t miss a beat. “Already picked one. We’re getting married on a beach, somewhere beautiful—just the two of us.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “You’ve already decided?”

He grinned, that familiar, playful glint in his eyes. “Of course. You think I wouldn’t?” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s already in my head, baby. A sunset, white sands, just us.”

Her heart swelled at the thought. “And what about kids? Got names picked out for them too?”

He took a moment to think, his expression softening as he imagined their future. “One boy. Maybe a girl after that. I’m thinking something strong… like Elijah, or Rumani.”

YN smiled, her heart fluttering at the idea of them raising a family together. The thought of their children, her and Aaron’s love passed on to them, filled her with a warmth she couldn’t explain. “I like those names,” she whispered, her voice quiet with emotion. She shifted closer, pressing her cheek against his chest as if grounding herself in the future they were building.

“I used to think love was supposed to be complicated,” Aaron murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you… you make it easy. Waking up next to you every day? That’s all I’ll ever need.”

YN’s heart swelled at his words, and without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her voice trembled as she replied, “I feel the same. I’ve never known love like this, Aaron. It’s everything I never realised I needed.”

The room seemed to fade around them as they sat in that quiet moment, the weight of their love and dreams filling the space. It was simple—no grand gestures needed, just the shared understanding that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

And that was enough.

The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet. The house was mostly unpacked now, the last picture frame waiting to be hung. But for a moment, Aaron and YN found themselves alone by the window, watching the fading light of the day slip away, replaced by the soft glow of their home.

Aaron turned to her, his expression softer than it had been all evening. The playful banter, the teasing about furniture and paint colours—it had all slipped away, leaving only the real weight of their love.

“You’ve made me realise that home isn’t a place,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet vulnerable. “It’s you.”

YN’s heart skipped at his words, the truth of them sinking deep within her. She looked at him, her hand instinctively finding his, fingers intertwining as she searched his eyes.

“I used to worry about what the future would look like. The uncertainty... everything we couldn’t predict,” she admitted softly, her voice a whisper in the quiet room. “But now? Now I know I can handle it—because I’m not doing it alone. I’m doing it with you.”

Aaron pulled her closer, his hand gently cupping her face as his thumb brushed over her cheek, as though he were memorising the softness of her skin. He pressed his forehead to hers, feeling the deep connection between them.

“You and me,” he whispered. “That’s all I need. Forever.”

There was no need for further words. The silence that followed spoke volumes—of the promises they had made, the love they had nurtured, and the life they had built.

With a quiet but shared sense of anticipation, they walked over to the last box, where the framed picture from their first holiday together rested. It was a moment captured in time—both of them smiling, carefree, wrapped in the joy of their love.

YN smiled softly as she held the frame, her fingers tracing the glass. “I think this is it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “This is the moment I want to remember. This is us.”

Aaron nodded, taking the frame from her hands to carefully place it on the wall, their home now complete with a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

They stood back to admire it, taking in the sight of their smiles frozen in time, the image a perfect reflection of their love. The way they looked at each other in the photo was exactly how they looked at each other now—full of love, understanding, and endless possibility.

Aaron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and they stood there for a long moment, the quiet hum of contentment filling the space around them.

“May we look at each other like that, forever,” they murmured together, their voices soft, but certain. The words felt like a vow, one that would live in their hearts for as long as they both lived.

YN smiled, the weight of the moment settling deep in her chest. This home, this life, this love—they had built it together, and it was theirs. And no matter where they went in the future, they knew one thing for sure: their home would always be where they were, side by side, hand in hand.

With one last kiss, they held each other close, the world outside forgotten as they stood together ready for the future.

As they gazed around their home—now complete in every way—they realised it wasn’t the walls or the furniture that made it theirs. It was the shared laughter, the quiet mornings, the small moments that built the foundation of their life together. They didn’t need to go anywhere to feel home; home was right here, with each other.

Aaron squeezed her hand gently, looking down at her with that same look of certainty, love, and playfulness that had first drawn her in.

“Let’s make this our forever,” he whispered, his voice low, but filled with more than just hope. It was a promise.

YN nodded, smiling up at him. “Forever sounds perfect.”

And in that moment, they knew: no matter where life took them, no matter what came next, they had already found their forever.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[sugaredparchment]

made my hypeman pick between her favorites of my ocs for a spoiler reveal and it was genuinely so funny (she picked to save her absolute favorite's spoiler reveal for later for the ✨suspense✨)

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ways they show they love each other pt. 2 - Lewis Hamilton

Other 5 snippets of fluff (part 1 here)

Also there's a bunch more just like these ones if you like them - Ways to say I love you p1 / p2 ; All these little things - p1 / p2 ; Small firsts

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4k

a/n: Hope you guys like the other 5❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

A shared laugh

The garage hummed with its usual controlled chaos—engineers calling out last-minute adjustments, mechanics moving with practiced precision, and the soft hiss of machinery setting the stage for another session of free practice.

It was the kind of environment where every second mattered. And yet, in the corner, just a little off to the side of it all, there was a pocket of something entirely different.

Y/n leaned against the side of a counter, arms folded across her chest, a teasing smile playing at her lips. She was watching him as he stood in front of her, half-dressed in his race suit, the top half still hanging loose around his waist.

His arms were bare as he put on his fireproofs, and his face seemed relaxed—a quiet playfulness reserved only for moments like this, where no one was looking too closely.

Except, of course, someone always was.

And now the video was on every Mercedes’s social account for everyone to watch too.

“You’re actually serious right now?” Y/n voice could be heard, tinged with disbelief as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lewis grinned, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m telling you, it’s true.”

“No way” she replied, shaking her head. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

“I’m not making it up!” He insisted, stepping closer, his hands animated as he tried to explain whatever ridiculous story he’d just finished telling her. “I’m not the only one who thinks that a burrito is technically a sandwich.”

Y/n burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer. “A burrito?” she managed between giggles, wiping at her eyes. “Lewis, I swear, this is the dumbest debate I’ve ever had with you.”

Lewis was laughing too now, the deep, contagious sound of it filling the space around them.

It was the kind of laugh that made anyone within earshot want to smile, even if they didn’t know what the joke was. And right now, the joke didn’t matter—it was the shared absurdity of the moment that had them both in stitches, doubling over in the midst of all the seriousness around them.

One of the engineers glanced up from his workstation, catching sight of the scene. He looked confused and amused by the way Lewis looked at Y/n, the way they bounced off each other’s energy so effortlessly.

They were in their own bubble, and it was hard not to notice how much lighter the air felt around them.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n said, holding up a hand as if to stop herself from laughing any further. “You win. Burritos are sandwiches now. You’ve officially lost your mind, but fine.”

Lewis chuckled, leaning against the car beside her, still catching his breath. “Took you long enough to come around” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the fondness in her expression.

Just then, the race engineer called out to Lewis, signaling that it was time to get back to business. The moment was over, but the laughter still lingered between them, a spark of something light and easy in the middle of an otherwise intense environment.

Lewis straightened up, pulling his race suit fully over his shoulders and zipping it up. The smile was still on his face, though, and Y/n noticed how it softened as he glanced her way again before putting on his helmet.

“Good luck out there, burrito boy,” she called after him, her tone teasing but warm.

He paused, helmet in hand, and shot her one last look over his shoulder. “Sandwich,” he corrected, his grin unmistakable.

A comforting touch

The morning air could be felt as Lewis stepped out of his hotel, greeted by the familiar sight of eager fans gathered just at the entrance.

Their energy was something for 8 in the morning, a mixture of excitement and admiration that seemed to surge towards him in waves.

Y/n stood a few steps behind, her presence almost unnoticed by those who didn’t know where to look.

As always, Lewis paused at the threshold, scanning the crowd. It was a ritual of sorts—a moment to gauge the atmosphere, to read the room, even if the room was the open air of a city street.

His expression was calm, composed, but Y/n could see the weight of the day ahead in the slight tension in his shoulders. She knew this routine, knew how the spotlight both invigorated and drained him.

Y/n caught his eye, offering a small, reassuring smile. It was a silent nudge, a gentle encouragement, and she tilted her head slightly towards the fans as if to say, Go on, they’re waiting for you.

Lewis hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, stepping forward to engage with the crowd. His smile widening as he reached the fans, his demeanor the charismatic champion they all adored.

Y/n watched as he moved from person to person, signing caps, taking photos, exchanging a few words that would become cherished memories for those lucky enough to be there.

She could have stayed back, let him handle it alone—he was used to this.

But instead of going for the waiting, she found herself pulled towards the crowd, her own steps unhurried.

There was no grand gesture, no need to make her presence known. She simply started gathering the items people held out as if she was her assistant —caps, shirts, posters—creating a small pile for Lewis to sign as he worked his way down the line.

As she turned to pass the cap to Lewis, their hands brushed—just a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to draw his attention.

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes, and she responded with a soft squeeze of his hand, a silent affirmation that she was there with him, sharing the moment, supporting him somehow.

To anyone watching, it was just a brief interaction, lost in the flurry of excitement. But to those who knew it was a glimpse into something that had been kept a secret for a while.

There was a rhythm to it, a dance of sorts, as they navigated the crowd together. She would hand him a cap or a poster, and he would sign it, occasionally looking her way with a subtle smile that only she could read.

It was in these moments, these quiet exchanges amid the chaos, that the depth of their connection became visible, not just to each other but to those around them.

One of the fans, a woman in her mid-thirties, watched them with a curious expression. She wasn’t there for Y/n—she was there for Lewis, like everyone else—but she couldn’t help noticing the way they interacted.

There was something so natural, so effortless, in the way they moved together. It was like watching a well-rehearsed play, each knowing their role without needing to speak their lines.

Lewis finished signing the last few items, Y/n handed back the cap to a young girl, who beamed as if she had just received a priceless treasure. Lewis watched the exchange, his eyes softening as he saw the way Y/n knelt to speak to a young girl, making sure she felt seen, valued.

When Y/n stood up again, Lewis was there, closer than before.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, a gesture so subtle it might have gone unnoticed if not for the way she instinctively leaned into it. They didn’t need to say anything; the touch was enough, a grounding force amidst the buzz of the crowd.

And for those who caught that, it was clear: this was love, not in the grand declarations or the flashy displays, but in the small, comforting touches that passed between them, the ones that said, I’m here, I’m with you, we’re in this together.

A supportive gesture

The stretch of road at kilometer 30 was lined with spectators, their cheers echoing off the buildings as runners powered past in the late stages of the marathon. Signs of encouragement waved in the breeze, cowbells chimed, and the occasional horn blared from the sidelines.

Among the crowd, faces blurred together, but one figure stood out—though he tried his best not to.

Lewis disguised in a plain black hoodie and sunglasses, stood at the edge of the barriers, holding a bottle of hydrolites and a couple of gels in his hands.

To most people, he was just another supporter, cheering on the runners like any other fan. But to the few who managed to catch a glimpse, a double-take revealed the truth.

The F1 superstar, one of the most recognizable faces in the world, was standing quietly, trying to blend into the crowd.

He wasn’t there for the attention though. This wasn’t about him. Today was about Y/n.

She had been training for months, putting in the hours and the sweat. And Lewis had been right there with her every step of the way, in the background, supporting her as she chased down a goal that had nothing to do with racing or Formula 1.

Today, she was the one in the spotlight.

As the runners passed by, his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for her familiar figure. She usually held a strong pace in the early stages, and he knew this was where the race got tough.

Kilometer 30 was her hardest wall, where fatigue set in, muscles burned, and the mental battle began.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his grip tightening on the bottle, his heart pounding in rhythm with the runners' footsteps.

He’d been tracking her progress the whole way, checking his phone for updates on her pacing and timing it perfectly so he’d be waiting when she rounded the corner.

And then she came into view. Her face set in that expression Lewis knew so well. The one that said she wasn’t giving up, no matter how tough it got.

Without a word, Lewis stepped forward, arm outstretched with the bottle and gels. Y/n’s eyes flickered up as she passed, and for a second, their gazes met. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.

She just grabbed the bottle, took the gels, and in one smooth motion, continued her pace.

It was a split-second exchange, a tiny moment in the grand scheme of her marathon. But it was more than enough.

“I’ll be waiting at the finish line!” Lewis blurted out, his voice louder than intended as she disappeared into the sea of runners ahead.

Y/n turned around slightly, not breaking her stride, flashing him the briefest hint of a smile curl at the edge of her lips.

He couldn’t help but smile back, the fans behind him snapping pictures, likely posting online about how they had seen Lewis waiting at the side of her marathon.

The moment didn’t even last a minute. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t flashy, but it was his way of showing up for her.

But what they didn’t see—what no one but Y/n could truly understand—was that this wasn’t the guy they knew. This wasn’t the F1 superstar, the champion, or the media personality.

This was just Lewis. Her boyfriend, the guy who would stand on the side of roads with a bottle of Hydrolite and gels. To make sure she gave her best.

The fans only caught glimpses of it—the way he waited patiently just for her. The way he smiled and encouraged her. The way he leaned in close to make sure she knew that he was here for her and her alone.

A few people around him had started to whisper, some with wide eyes realizing who he was, but he didn’t care. Not today. Today, he was just a guy standing at the 30-kilometer mark, cheering on his girl, making sure she had what she needed to keep going.

As he melted back into the crowd, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up a little tighter, a couple of fans tried to approach, cameras raised in anticipation. But Lewis gave them a polite nod and quietly slipped away before they could ask for anything more.

He wasn’t here to be the F1 star today. He was here for her.

And he had to reach that final gate.

Because no matter what, he knew one thing for sure: he’d be waiting for her at the finish line, just like he promised.

A helping hand

The car door swung open to noise and flashes, cameras popping off in the crisp evening air. Fans lined the walkway outside the event, eager to catch a glimpse of Lewis Hamilton and Y/n as they arrived.

Y/n smoothed the fabric of her dress, taking a steadying breath as she prepared to step out of the car. She was a pro at these types of events, but it’d be the first they would attend a fashion week as a couple and the attention always came with its own blend of nerves and excitement.

She reached for her purse, but before her hand could graze the leather strap, Lewis had already scooped it up, holding it casually in his free hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He did it without thought, without hesitation—like it was instinct.

Outside the car, he stood tall, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his confidence and poise effortless, as always.

He extended his hand to her, the gesture so simple yet filled with quiet care. Y/n placed her hands in his, feeling the warmth of his palms as he helped her step out, guiding her gently. His touch steady, reassuring—a message that said, I’m here. I’ve got you.

As they began to walk toward the entrance, cameras continued to capture every step, but it was Lewis’ small, subtle actions that seemed to draw the most attention.

Y/n could hear whispers from the crowd, murmurs of admiration at how Lewis wasn’t afraid to carry her things, how comfortable they seemed in each other’s presence.

A fan shouted something playful about how lucky Lewis was, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh under her breath, stealing a glance at him as they walked.

“You know, you’re going to set unrealistic standards for these guys” she teased lightly, her voice low so only he could hear.

He glanced at her a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “They can keep up.”

But it wasn’t just the purse. As they neared the door, Lewis held onto her hand a beat longer, squeezing gently before letting go, just enough to remind her that he was by her side, not just as a partner but as someone who always had her back.

The way his fingers lingered on hers, the way his touch communicated support without the need for grand gestures—it was the kind of thing only those paying attention would notice.

It wasn’t until later, when they were inside the venue, mingling with the crowd and the night was in full swing, that Y/n realized just how much attention that small gesture had garnered.

Her phone buzzed in her purse—now safely back in her possession—and she saw her social media lighting up.

Photos of them stepping out of the car, Lewis holding her purse and helping her out, had spread like wildfire.

It was funny, really, how such a small, everyday act could spark so much conversation. But that was the beauty of it.

It was the quiet moments of care, the ones that others caught glimpses of, that truly showed the depth of their love.

And maybe the world had taken notice only tonight, but for Y/n, it was just another reminder of the kind of love they shared—the kind that lived in the small, supportive gestures that made all the difference.

A shared secret

The video started with the usual buzz of the garage during race weekend—mechanics working on the cars, team members hurrying around, and the faint hum of engines in the background.

The camera panning over the scene, capturing the lively chaos as the reporter filming moved between the crowd, searching for any interesting snippets.

And then Lewis and Y/n were spotted.

Standing close, slightly out of the way, their heads leaned in towards each other.

From the angle, it was clear that whatever they’re talking about was private.

An undeniable tension in the air around them. Didn’t look like an argument but something that made the space between them feel intense.

The reporter’s camera zoomed in. Their faces a bit blurred, but the body language spoke volumes.

Y/n’s arms were crossed loosely in front of her, and Lewis had one hand resting on the back of his neck, his expression serious as he listened.

Their conversation was low, and while the reporter couldn’t hear what they’re saying, it was clear they were focused entirely on each other.

The camera caught Y/n leaning in a little closer, saying something under her breath that made Lewis nod in response. It was one of those moments that looked important, but it was impossible to know exactly what was being said.

There was a flicker of understanding that passed between them, the kind of shared look that only comes when two people are on the same wavelength.

For a while they didn’t even notice the camera. But then, like a switch flipping, Y/n’s eyes dart toward the camera.

She spotted it first, her body tensing just slightly before she looked back at Lewis, who followed her gaze.

Lewis glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with the camera for a split second. He said something quickly to Y/n, and the shift was palpable.

Whatever secret they were sharing, whatever private moment they were having, it was clear they didn’t want anyone else intruding on it.

Without any other word, they turned, Y/n subtly tugging at the sleeve of Lewis’s race suit as they moved towards the inside of the garage.

The camera followed them for as long as they could zoom, capturing how closely they walked side by side, their hands intertwining as they turned a corner.

The air between them was thick, and it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t over yet—it was just being moved somewhere out of sight.

As they disappeared into the garage, the camera lingered for a moment, catching some of the engineers also looking at them leave.

And before the screen cut to black a whisper could be heard on the video  “What was that about?”

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

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[endlessfuckup]

feel slightly better about the election but i am still worried

Watching this debate has me like this rn

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16. - Chapter 17. - Chapter 18

Word Count: 1786

Chapter 18:

After you healed the boy, you all helped put him down on some leaves and let him rest; waiting until he would wake up to check up on him once again.

There was no hurry to move to the next trial, and after the tiring trial, you all finished, rest, and a break sounded good.

While the witches settled down and started to gather ingredients for a fire, you chose to go find Agatha; who had not let the boy's side, showing everyone a far more sensitive side they did not have her for.

Except for you. You knew she had it in her, simply hiding beneath sarcasm and the fake persona of an evil person; a defence mechanism to protect her already wounded self from further harm.

Your steps made faint noise against the wet ground and dead leaves, drawing her attention from the sleeping teenager.

"Hey," you greeted softly, as if approaching a baby deer.

"Hey, sugar" she greeted, doing her best to hide her worry but you easily saw right through it.

"He will be fine, you know" you said as you sat next to her, shoulders touching against one another. "My magic is not that weak"

Agatha offered a weak smile. "I know it's not. It never was, " she commented and glanced at the sleeping boy. "Thank you again. I know you don't like taking such risks"

You gently nudged your shoulder with hers, earning her attention. "Well, someone once told me; there is no fun in life if I don't take any risks"

She could not help but crack an amused smile, remembering the many times she had told you those exact words.

She took a good look at you at the same time, remembering the young girl she had taken under her wings all those years ago.

Back then, you were more innocent and shy; often hesitating to show your magic or use it, afraid you would be judged or make a mistake.

It took a lot of effort from Agatha and patience to make you trust her enough and listen to her. Then, you truly had your fun with your shenanigans, your crazy plans, and ideas.

Of course, you also got into plenty of trouble, but Agatha never let you feel guilty about what happened.

You did not speak anything else for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and the fact that you were next to each other. Agatha, even, leaned andrm rested her head against your shoulder; your presence always having this supernatural energy that calmed her down.

Sometimes it was what she needed, when her own mind was torturing her with thoughts and scenarios. Sometimes, it was what she craved when she needed to stop for a moment and breathe; think carefully of what she wished to do next.

And sometimes... it was what she feared. Being so quick to let go of her defences and open up to you, being so willing to lay in your arms and sleep; without worrying, you might harm her while she rests.

She feared feeling vulnerable and attaching to you, for you might as well turn and betray her one day or perish and leave her with another crack on her already wounded heart.

As if feeling the turmoil of emotions within her, you dared to spread your hand and hold hers; fingers interlocking into a secure grip. Your thumb gently caressed her skin, and you noticed the soft smile that formed on her face.

However, despite that sweet moment between the two of you; you had to speak up, and you had to take the step.

"Ags" you started gently, earning a faint humming response from her. "This boy... who is he? The sigil is not your design"

Agatha took a moment to answer, clearly debating everything in her head. "I... I don't know, honestly. I just feel like I know him"

You frowned faintly. "You think he might be Little Nicky?"

The nickname left a bitter after taste in your mouth, being so long since you had called her son that way.

It was a nickname you had come up with when you first met, and you had used it a few times for the time Agatha and him spent time with you. Then, out of the blue, Agatha had to leave and took the boy with her.

You had declined the offer to join, thinking it was not a good idea. Now, you regretted it.

You had no idea what happened to the boy, but you felt that had you been present, had you joined back then... that boy might still be alive.

Agatha pulled her head from you, an instinctive reaction to block any affection when she felt a wound reopening. However, she kept her hand locked into yours; offering the faintest of hope.

"I... I don't know, " She confessed, leaving a heavy sigh. "I mean... he could be, right?"

Considering she never told you what happened to him, you were not exactly the best person to answer that question. But you could see that Agatha needed closure; she needed reassurance.

So, you dared to play along. "Maybe" you lied.

It was then a faint groan let Teen's lips, earning your attention. Immediately, Agatha was on alert; letting go of your hand.

You stood up, choosing to let her have her time with the boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You did not walk astray, always remembering what would happen if you did. However, the Road gave you the feeling you had walked quite far; time being a mere illusion to you now.

You came to a halt, suddenly feeling on alert, but your gaze never stopped looking forward. Your hair at the back of your neck stood on end as a familiar presence and voice seemed to come directly from your own shadow; choosing to approach you from your most blind spot.

"Why the sour face, baby?" Rio asked, her hand slowly dragging itself across your back, making you shiver.

"I don't have a sour face," you argued, taking a few steps forward to remove her hand and put some distance between you and her.

Sometimes, it confused and infuriated you how both your magic and your body were reacting to Rio's presence.

You finally turned to face her, back in her normal earthy colours. "You did before. I guess the situation between Agatha and the Boy is not sitting well with you, " she said, her word sounding slightly more comforting and sincere, rather than the mockery you would expect.

Tired from everything, you could not help but sigh. "Come on, you can't tell me it doesn't sit odd with you," you said, and suddenly, something popped up in your mind.

You slowly walked towards her, steps condifent as there was this gleam in your eyes; one that akwsys intrigued and challenged Rio.

"I mean." You started, never breaking eye contact with her. "You made it so clear that you saw me as an obstacle between you and Agatha. Who says the boy isn't one as well?"

Perhaps it was wrong, to try and throw Teen under the bus that way. Perhaps you would regret it later on, considering what Rio was capable of. But you could not help it.

You had nothing against the boy, but perhaps you were tired of letting Agatha and everything slip through your fingers, always too afraid to tighten your grip and hold them there... hold them with you.

With the way the Road was going, you realized this might be the last chance for you to actually be brave and take the step... and that's what you were intending to do.

Rio watched you as you halted in front of her, neck craned up faintly as you stared deep into her dark eyes, no sign of fear; never fearing her, even when you first met.

"Because the boy is not hers," she replied.

Her gaze was not mocking, and neither was prideful at that moment, opposite of what you expected of her. Instead, you swore you saw regret in them; something you had rarely seen in Rio.

"How do you know?" You asked quickly, trying to save your futile attempt, but the moment the words left your mouth; you felt like an idiot. "Of course you do know," you sighed.

You felt her hand gently caressing your cheek, going as far as to gently push some of your hair away from your face and neck. The move was gentle, careful, and yet her cold skin made goosebumps appear on yours.

"You should be wary, baby girl," she started, taking half a step closer. "The way you are heading, you will get hurt again"

You focused on her, trying not to react or focus too much on her touch; which you swore was slowly growing bolder. "Only if I choose to stay behind but I don't have such plans. I am done being a coward," you confess, your voice threatening to crack by the last sentence.

"You are not a coward for doing what was expected of you," she cooed, words so sincere and caring you would not believe would come from the same witch that came through a freaking grave. "You are not meant to be here, Y/N."

You frowned at the certainty of her words. "What? Why?"

Rio didn't answer your question, holding back the answer you suddenly needed. "Join me, instead. Let me show you what you truly are meant to do."

Those words made you have a sense of dejavu, unlocking a memory locked at the very back of your mind.

The very first time you had heard her say those words, you stood between corpses of men; tired and blooded.

They were dead, and she had come to collect, having also enjoyed your magic outburst that ended your tormentors. Your magic was glowing and flowing wild, bright white eyes staring at her form.

She had told you those exact same words back then, trying to lure you intl trusting her; into giving in. You fought her at first and even later you never truly accepted.

Though you will admit, her lessons and influence had rubbed on you; helping you with your magic but also making you more careful of her 'true' nature.

"You and I are nothing alike" you managed to comment, feeling your self restrain getting more and more lost thanks to Rio's touch; that had moved towards your tie and threatened to take off some buttons from your white shirt.

"Aren't we?" Rio smirked, eyes landing on your parted lips as her hand stopped moving; fingers holding the side of your upper arm to ensure you would not move away.

Before something could take place, someone cleared their throat.

Chapter 19

[n30nwrites]

Fetch (Shifter! Tf141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 4 of Good Doggy

Masterlist

Tw - Drunk Assholes (inspired by real stories from me :)), Slight blood warning, Language (its a COD fanfic??), OKAY SO LIKE I GUESS SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE STUFF?? I WANTED TO MAKE IT LONGER. A SMALL SCENE OF NSFW BUT NOTHING TOO DEEP BUT STILL PUTTING A WARNING, ITS IN BETWEEN THE NSFW GRAPHICS. Gaz has a praise kink.

Beta Reader/Editor - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Updated: 3/5/2024

The bar is filled. It’s a Friday night, of course it is but you hate it. You don’t like dealing with assholes. Not after the conversation with Maya.

“I cannot serve you anymore. If you don’t decide to leave I will call the cops.” The man in front of you shouts profanity after profanity, angered by the law. Humans were stupid that way. “Here’s a water.” You slam it down, annoyed.

Idiots. Drunken idiots.

Yeah by Usher starts playing. The club you worked at was loud, you have ear plugs in just so you wouldn’t be overstimulated by everything, but you could still hear enough.

“Why do you have a mask on?” He's irritated already which means that this conversation will not end well. You usually strive to give your coworkers the assholes, not caring that he'll have to deal with it. 

"It's to stay safe, I don't want to get sick-"

The man cuts you off and you debate on spitting in his drink, "That's not gonna keep you safe, the only way to stay safe is to build your immune system." He keeps yelling, and some spit leaves his mouth. You place down the menu in front of him as he keeps yelling, "That's the only way to stay safe, not a stupid mask!" 

You walk away, going to your coworker and telling him to get his order cause if you do you'll be fired. You instead went over to the list of music that was going to play and put on a favorite song of yours, not caring for some disgruntled noise from other patrons as you bobbed your head to the beat, distracting yourself from the day you had.

"Ye lik' this song mo gaol?" It's the familiar accent and the way the hairs on your arms stand makes you more irritated. It was roughly 1 a.m. and most people would be tired. You'd reckon it would start slowly down in 20 minutes, which meant you could get some work done.

You turned to face Soap.

"I'd hope so, I chose it." You tell him as you get closer to him. "You still stalking me?"

"Ah'ahmnot a stalker, juist wanted a drink." He smiles boyishly, as if he wasn't Sergeant John ``Soap" MacTavish with more confirmed kills than unconfirmed.

"At the bar I work at?"

"Juist a coincidence"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." You told him while you mixed a drink. "You obviously have something for me."

"A'm in loue wi' ye"

"Not possible." You tell him, interrupting his "confession". You set the drink down in front of him. "$13" You tell him the price.

"I didnae orda a drink?" He looked cheeky, and you wished some part of you didn't find him attractive. But he looks up at you and you can't help but imagine other scenarios, particularly some where you're both naked.

"Well you can either pay for the drink and drink it, or pay for the drink and I'll drink it and talk with you some more." Soap immediately puts down two 20s.

"Th' rest can go to mah bartender." You slip the extra cash into your pocket, going to your POS system and breaking out for your thirty minute break that was required. You grabbed the drink on the counter and left your work area, Soap following behind like a puppy. You found a booth in the corner most people avoided. Sitting down at what could fit five others at most. Your mind goes back to Maya, who’s probably taking care of Icarus, your dog, and Marigold, her familiar. Maya worked as well, but it was an in-house job where she dealt with customers in need of assistance.

"You hurt our feelin`s earlier," He says first as you take a sip of the drink you made. "Hae we dane something tae offend ye?"

"Don't want to get your hopes up." You tell him, "I'm not one for soulmates."

"So ye know?"

"Of course I do. You reek of wolf." He starts to sniff himself and you want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks. "You wouldn't be able to smell it. And it's not a bad smell, just obnoxious cause there's four of you."

"So ye aren't human." 

"Nope, never was."

"What are ye?" You never felt shame in what you were. Didn't feel shame in general, it took Maya for you to start walking around in clothes. 

But you didn't want to tell him. 

"None of your business."

Gaz knows that Price is going to talk about the bloodshed in the morning. He knows that Price already knows but doesn't care to stop it tonight. Price is just too drunk, Ghost doesn’t care, and Soap is who knows where. It wasn’t like he killed humans tonight, just some animals that were definitely going to get the town's attention (He might’ve killed a bear) but not the hunters.

He's decorated in blood and he loves it. It soothes some messed-up part of him. His teeth still have specks of flesh in it, that he licks clean

He smells you. Heavenly you. You who smells like some plant burning. He didn't understand it, but he loved it.

You're next to Soap, and Soap has the biggest grin as you walk together. 

Though you probably don't see it as together. You probably see it as him stalking you, but you don't seem to have your usual air of distaste. You have sunglasses on, something he hates cause he can't stare at them. Your mask is black, and you also have a hood on. You look perfect, he just wishes you were in his bedroom.

Preferably naked and-

Nope.

He kind of hates it at the same time though. Soap getting so close to you, still determined to find a way to be with you. Soap didn't lose hope, not like Gaz did. But he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He lets out a growl, standing menacingly as he runs forward, towards both of you, knocking Soap down as he growls at him, his teeth snapping. If Gaz doesn't get to be happy, Soap shouldn't either.

He just wasn't expecting your reaction.

"Get off him." He followed your command, staring up at you and following your eyes when you bent down to be eye level with him. "God you are so..."

"Cute." Your voice gets higher as you gently rub behind his ears, the blood not bothering you at all. Gaz almost forgets how you looked at him earlier, your words that cut him melted away and he just thinks he has a chance.

You loved dogs, who wouldn't? Even if that dog was actually a grown (hot) man. 

"Look who's such a pretty boy." You kept rubbing his head as Soap just stared in shock. "Such a handsome boy, who did you eat?" You coo at Gaz, who leans into your touch and praise, enjoying everything about this moment. Gaz has to take a moment to remember himself, that the praise you give him is nothing.

But he can't help but imagine scenarios in a different setting.

NSFW Start

It's such a simple setting. In his room, the lights are low. He's flushed, shirtless and on the floor, while you sit above him.

"Can't you be a good boy for me?" You lick your lip before biting it, you stare at him, your eyes actually showing, looking at him with lust and love. A perfect combination, and your lips, god, you were perfect for him. "Come on, you know you want to." You lower your shorts and Gaz gulps, he stares at your cock, mesmerized.

"You're hungry for it, aren't you whore?"

NSFW End

"Arr ye fecken' kidding me?" Soap says, breaking the peaceful moment, and Gaz's daydream. "A' it took wis a wolf fur ye to lik' us?" 

"I still don't like you all, but dogs are always a great company." You keep petting him, Gaz's eyes closing slightly, and Soap sits up. 

"Ah can do that toh." His accent gets thicker as he rushes to grab your hand, forcing it away from Gaz and instead putting it in his hair. Which was mostly shaved on the sides.

"You aren't a cute puppy right now." You yank your hand away.

"He's fooken' bloody!"

Gaz licks your face, and you slightly smile.

----

NEXT

Listen, hating people is one thing but I could never hate a dog, let alone a wolf. Reader still doesn't feel comfortable around the boys, but he does like the dogs.

[sonotkari]

Meaningless

Hanni Pham x Fem reader

[ Synopsis ]

When, Where, and How did you and Hanni become so close? What was the start of the yapping duo's relationship?

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.6k

[ a/n ]

I'm struggling with my other fics so in the meantime I'm dropping this off to feed my children (I'm sorry I just need MORE TIME) This was just something I wrote without my two brain cells actually functioning so heads up for that info! /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

My dearest and my loved ones dis for u bae <3

Somewhere in your mind, you'd wonder how everything started but never recall the moment. Maybe it was that one time way back in March when she sent you a picture of pudding flavor ice cream because apparently, it reminded her of you. Or maybe it was when you ranted about how you had volleyball practice almost every day with no breaks making you lose your shit soon. The question of how you became so close with Hanni had come up in your mind from time to time but it would always end up with no answer. It's really not that big of a deal, where an answer was needed asap, no, it was like those shower thoughts or maybe those random questions coming up in your head at 3 am while listening to music on your headphones, something like that. Regardless, whatever or however the conversation started, you were very grateful for it because now you have someone on your side who would listen to your random yappings whether it was about that hallway crush or that annoying History teacher who mostly talks about his life rather than teaching the class. 

The memory recalls when that one time she asked about your MBTI which was trending off at that time for who knows why. You did it once before it became popular and didn't think much of it since you never really understood a thing. You just did it anyway because TikTok told you so. So why not? But to think of it now, you made a good life choice of taking a 15-minute survey with just two of your brain cells working. Because now you both were texting each other nonstop knowing you were matching MBTI's with her. "I knew it. You sound like an INFP" "What's that even supposed to mean" And in the very end, Hanni fell asleep in the middle of texting, debating whether fairies are real or not. 

Most of the time the text messages and everything else were random. Except for that one time when she got into a (not so) fight with her best friend, giving her the cold shoulder. It was about something that triggered her which made her feel uneasy. You remember clearly how Hanni had asked you to come to school earlier than you usually did because she wanted company. And how she confessed she wanted to get things back to how it used to be with her best friend while crying on your shoulder in the bathroom. Encouraging her to speak her feelings to her best friend, after some days she was smiling excitedly rushing her way to you, grabbing your arms, saying she finally "did it" telling her best friend how she felt, and now they're back on track. 

In class, she would be seated beside you and always giggle about small little things making you hold on for your dear life to not suddenly burst out laughing in the middle of the session because, for some reason, you were so easily affected by her. Her smile makes you smile, her laugh makes you laugh, and her cheeky grin addressed to you makes you roll your eyes and look at her in a sidelong look with a small smirk on your lips. Others would point out or look at you both with dumbfounded expressions because you both wouldn't stop giggling every 5 minutes and everyone in class already knew whose voices the giggles belonged to because of how frequently it would happen. 

It was before summer break had started and you were ranting at Hanni about how you won't be seeing each other once the break starts. "You'll miss me, right?" became a habit of yours to say in your everyday convos, and her replying with a "Will I tho?" made you smack the girl's arm as a set, and that also became another one of your (bad?) habits. You wanted to squeal and jump around hearing her respond "Of course" to your ask if you could randomly call her because of how you'd probably miss her a lot and feel sad out of the blue due to the lack of her presence. Talking on a call wasn't your thing because you only have two brain cells that don't function well and you left your vocabulary somewhere making you end up in a stuttering mess but, you'd rather be a stuttering mess to Hanni than spend 2 months without hearing her voice. 

One memory from another, you recall another happy moment with her. She was in the cheerleading team and you promised you'd see her cheer on the day of the game but sadly you got a high fever the night before and had to inform her you couldn't get to see her first cheer on her first game. You couldn't help but think about the disappointment in the girl's face especially when she was eager for you to come and watch. The temperature got a bit better the next day and you were debating to yourself. Yes, your head was panging in pain, yes your body was a bit hot, and yes you feel numb moving and basically doing anything. But will it be worth it to bear everything just so you could see Hanni's surprised happy expression when you go and watch her? Oh yes. You know damn well everything's worth it when it's about Hanni. 

There you were in a rushing mess, running around your room while trying to get dressed, finding the other lost pair of socks while holding a cooling gel sheet for your forehead in your hand. Running wasn't good for you since it'll make your temperature go high again but all the rushed efforts will go to waste if you missed it. Is there any other choice? Of course not, silly. By the time you got to the gates of the school, all you could hear was the rhythmical beat of your heart with your panting, trying to calm yourself before you entered the gym. Of course, she was the one who noticed you first. There it was. The face. The expression. The dimples that would show every time she smiled. Excitedly rushing to you and showering you with questions about your fever state. "Weren't you not feeling well? What are you doing here― are you okay? Are you about to pass out?" "I just couldn't miss your cheer. I for sure would've regretted it if I stayed home" Your (maybe not so bad) habit had definitely influenced her as you felt a gentle smack on your arm along with a soft giggle from the girl.

The leaves began to lose their vibrant colors, crisping up and slowly falling down with the cold breeze flowing by in November. You asked Hanni to go out and hang out in this cafe your friend told you that had the best pudding in town, which she happily agreed to, and now both of you were walking in circles at the same place lost. Having no sense of direction and the Google map not being useful at all, you decided to give up going to the place. But someone doesn't seem to be happy about it. "What do you mean, let's go to a different shop?" "No, it's fine we can just go in another time. Besides it's cold and you're not very good with the cold" You looked at the flushed red tip of Hanni's ears and nose as you mumbled. "I'm not giving up. You were so excited about the pudding, so we're going to eat that goddamn pudding" And now you were walking again with Hanni by your side but this time, you were holding hands to "keep me warm if you're that worried" 

"What are you smiling so giddily about?" You snap out of the memories and look at the girl looking at you with concerned looks. "You look creepy to be honest babe..." "Oh shut up" Replying with a playful snicker you stood up from your seat and walked your way to your girlfriend hugging her from the side, resting your chin on her shoulder. "Hey, do you remember how we became friends?" Shifting your gaze to her, slightly tilting your head as you asked so. "Uhh... I don't... think so..." She now looked at you with a puzzled look. "I think we just went with the flow" "Haha, wow I went with the flow and got a girlfriend? Must be a mastermind then" Smackng your arm, Hanni outed a chuckle. "Hey, remember when I used to smack you like that a lot but now we switched positions" "Oh I'm definitely influenced by you. Bad and good" You mocked an offended expression, holding your chest dramatically. "What's that supposed to mean...!?" Hanni laughed again and went back to making her coffee. "I definitely remember that one time you came to see me cheer with a fever" It was your turn to out a chuckle hearing her recall the memory. "Hey how about that one time we went out but then got lost midway?" "Yeah, and you insisted on finding the place, even making excuses to hold my hand" "Aaahhh shush! Shut up! I was 16 leave me alone!!" Hanni sheepishly laughed which made you laugh again as well. 

"We had meaningless conversations all the time, talking about random stuff" Sighing softly as you linger your thoughts about your past friendship with Hanni. "What do you mean, meaningless?" Hanni was now stirring her coffee, blowing it occasionally as she fixed her gaze at you. "All the conversations we had, meant everything to me" She took a sip of her coffee along with a sigh and stared at you again. You could feel the affection from her gaze and can't help but feel your chest get warmer every second with the small smile and the little dimples on her cheeks showing.

Every moment we spent together means more than anything to me than you'll ever know. 

Hanni secretly, quietly thought to her mind, while smiling at the woman she loved most.

yappers falling inlove r so cute

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

It's episode 4 If I Can't Reach You / Let My Song Teach You, time for two of my favorite things: glam rock and homosexuals. which are basically the same thing if you think about it.

she's like damn, billy, that was ruthless. honestly this is going to make her care about billy even more, not only he's powerful, not only he reminds her of nicky. now he's a murderer too?? perfect son is perfect. I love how she's studying sharon's body with her detective Agnes face, her mind is going a million miles a minute

her third-wall-break winks destroy me. and that poor hairdo. all gone expect for the giant turd on top.

alice being truly and genuinely sorry about sharon. lilia and jen being gossiping hags

agatha honey you're so dainty and feminine, look at you. and that's an interesting and not at all painful tree shape you picked. (I would have never noticed any of this without brightening the scene, it's outrageous. everyone involved in this show is amazing except the lighting department. shame on you lighting department)

whatever alice does openly and sincerely, agatha does secretly or as a joke. parallels, parallels

jen is like, can you believe this bitch

without being asked, alice goes to help digging the grave

that is the idiot I fell in love with and I'm way past regretting my choices at this point!! I know how rio feels now

"coven two" is one of those lines that make you laugh on first view and shreds your heart in a million tiny pieces at every following rewatch. this show HAS to be watched at least twice, don't ever trust reviews or complaints by ppl who didn't, because they missed at least half of what makes it great.

a clown running from the tragic truth that her son wrote the Ballad, making sad clown noises all over the Road

when alice is called to referee as the Resident Ballad Expert and agatha looks at her expectantly hands in pockets, somehow extremely obnoxious, extremely gay and extremely sad at the same time

alice is SO above bickering. jen is being a baby because she's mad at agatha, lilia is being a baby cause she's grumpy and a contrarian, billy is sixteen, agatha is, well, agatha. alice is the only adult in the building

just one, huh? that's fine. that's fine. who needs a heart anyway.

the common gypsophila or baby's breath symbolizes sincerity, purity, innocence. does it symbolizes sharon? or is billy leaving it on her grave a metaphor for his naivety and good intentions gone wrong?

billy's romantic ideals of what it means to be in a coven have just been shattered. he set out, consciously or not, to teach something to these witches and of course it didn't work. he is the one who needs guidance, he is the one who's making a mess of things. he's just a kid.

agatha going !! when billy says he wishes he could go home. agatha covertly pointing out that he has a replacement body and she would really like to know how. she's observing him so closely, trying to puzzle out the mystery. exactly like she did with wanda inside the Hex. not revealing her cards just yet, testing and manipulating him. when that strategy blew up in her face so spectacularly the first time! she's so smart and so reckless it makes her practically an idiot

case in point: she's making up stupid rules trying to manipulate billy into shaping the Road the way she wants. that's right, agatha. let's summon another poor victim you can siphon, wonder who's gonna show up! (and she KNEW sharon was laying dead ten feet away and SOMEONE was bound to be in the neighborhood. dumbass.)

aww he's so proud of himself for having brought the spellbook. he's being helpful! he's made his four moms happy!

check, debatable, check

debatable and debatable

I'm gonna give that one a BIG check

yes I know advil spells "vidal", thank you tumblr for letting me know that one. also same, alice.

'esse viridis non es facile' IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! oh I knew my high school latin was bound to come in handy at least once in my life

(by the way the set + costumes combo is giving me such hocus pocus vibes, but you could never tell because the SCENE IS SO FUCKING DARK) (NO I WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT)

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH

I mean girls, you chose to follow the head clown, you have to travel in the clown car. that's on you.

WHY IS THE PRINT SO SMALL???? I LOVE YOU PATTI LUPONE

admit it we all wished it was sharon for a moment

oh?? is that mayhaps someone you know, agatha???

and that's a wrap, see you guys tomorrow!

no, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm doing another one tonight. I need to shove all the rio scenes in my eyeballs NOW

go to episode 4 part 2

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

view all 15,982 comments

fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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[yesimwriting]

could maybe possibly do a blurb of farleigh being protective of bestfriend!reader like maybe someone was talking shit about her and before felix can even defend her farleighs beating him to it? idk if that makes sense but i love love LOVE your fics you’re SO GOOD at writing felix

this is the kind of thing farleigh would do by accident while drunk and then the reality of the situation would hit him so hard he'd decide to be sober for at least a week 😭

sidenote this was sooo fun to write omg

"Okay so it's--" Lacy (or Lizzie, or maybe even Lyla, Farleigh lost the girl's name at some point between between round 3 and 5) giggles as she squints at the tab. "It's--if we want to do an even split..."

She had been so happy to race to the bar when Felix first brought up leaving and continuing the night elsewhere. As if being the one to physically pick up the tab and hand over cash and cards to the clearly irritated bartender would cement her place, would make her a part of the night's inner workings.

The desperation had been so apparent that when Farleigh nudged your arm, you immediately whispered a sharp, "Stop it." You only react that strongly when you're already fighting for your life to keep your halo shiny.

"Hey." You extend the single syllable, voice hinting at a tipsiness that could explain your boldness. You're not exactly shy, but you tend to let the main group do as they please, content to do whatever as long as Felix is by your side. It's nauseating, but reliable.

"Do you mind if..." You trail off, lifting a hand to gesture towards the receipt. Lacy blinks, giving you a look that Farleigh's gotten used to. A subdued, jealous disdain.

Your ignorance would be endearing if this was some made for TV romcom. But it's not, so even though Farleigh knows that you mean your end of night comments that reek of insecurity because the new girls never like you, he'll still poke fun of you for it.

You let go of Felix's arm, walking forward until you're close enough to Lacy to read over her shoulder. You glance at the receipt, and then at the group. In less than a minute, you're announcing, "47 each."

Farleigh has been around you long enough to no longer be surprised. Tipsy division loses its shock value after awhile, and if Farleigh knows you well enough to no longer think twice about it, Felix definitely has no reason to be impressed. That doesn't stop Felix from beaming at you, expression truly lovesick. It's sweet enough to make Farleigh's stomach ache.

"A genius," Felix breathes, extending his arm as far as he can without falling off his stool, "My girl's a genius."

You try to glare, but there's too much softness in the look. "Am not." A response that could technically apply to the 'my girl' part as much as the 'genius' part. There's a hopeful beat in which the girls that aren't used to competing with you for Felix's attention seem to be waiting for a clarification that never comes.

Farleigh's lingering nausea is slightly alleviated by Lacy's pout. She must think that the praise and Felix's undivided attention should be hers. That they would be, if it wasn't for your interference. The thought feels laughable. Felix would have just as easily paid off the entire tab to avoid a frustrating debate. He isn't complimenting the solution, he's complementing you.

Felix pulls your hand towards you, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. "Next round's to you."

What's left of Lacy's mask of indifference crumbles. She glares briefly before remembering her place.

"Next round's somewhere else." You manage the correction through a soft giggle. "You wanted to go, remember?"

Felix blinks twice before nodding. Farleigh has a feeling that Felix's quick concession is more a result of his cousin's faith in you than his own memory. "Yeah, we're going..."

"To Austen's place, I think." Felix tugs on your arm, his attention more focused on squeezing your hand between both of his than actually figuring out what he's moving the group for. "It's closer to campus, he promised you weed."

Felix nods again, this time the motion a little more assured. He pulls on your arm gently. You laugh. "Lex."

"What?" The question is a halfhearted attempt at feigning innocence. Felix's free hand finds your other forearm. "Come here."

"Wait." Despite your protests, you do nothing to escape his grasp. "I have to--I have to go to the bathroom before we leave."

Felix frowns. Farleigh resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Y'want me to go with you? Show you where it is?"

"I'm okay," you mumble, voice sweet and slow as honey, "Stay here, figure out the cash thing. I'll be right back." Carefully, you untangle yourself from Felix's hold. "You have my purse, right?"

Felix lifts the small bag off his lap, a genuine hint of pride coloring his expression. The two of you get more unbearable by the day. "You need it?"

"No, but you can take out my wallet so no one has to wait for me to get back."

Okay, Farleigh actually has to roll his eyes at that. It's a routine that you insist on, trying to pay even though it's clear that Felix would rather you not even attempt to touch a wallet. That's what makes the least sense about you, Felix lets you get away with not giving him what he wants.

"It'll be settled by the time you get back."

Your eyes narrow at his wording. "That doesn't sound like--"

"Lovie, go before we leave you here."

An empty threat. Felix would sooner lose the group than abandon you for a second. You roll your eyes, but seem to accept defeat. "You're impossible."

Farleigh smiles to himself before you can disappear into the crowd, "Kept woman, are we?"

You flip him off without looking back. The joke is typical. The topic would be cruel if you couldn't afford to keep up, but you're from enough money to sustain your own nightlife. You're not from a wealth that equals the Cattons, but the father you're always hesitant to mention works in finance. Farleigh doesn't have the details, but it's clear that you're comfortable enough to not need Felix's charity. Unlike Oliver.

"Was it just me or was that '47' a little...?"

To Lacy's credit, she's smart enough to realize that openly insulting you would only alienate Felix, so instead of embracing the clumsiness of her friend's comment, she brushes a strand of hair off her shoulder. "She's nice," she hums, "A little loud, but nice."

"Loud as in her voice or what she's wearing?"

Vultures picking at bones, too ravenous to consider tact. They'll attack whatever they can think of in an attempt to cope with the fact that you're the one with Felix wrapped around your finger. Farleigh knows that's all it is, and yet it digs at him.

Your outfits, your uncertainty in certain social situations. Those are all fair shots, fair comments for Farleigh to make.

"Clara," Lacy mumbles, an attempt at virtue signaling.

"No," the patience in Felix's voice seems to drain them of their good humor, "Answer the question. Explain what you meant."

Lacy laughs once, the sound awkward and strained. Her uncertainty is oddly gratifying. "Oh, nothing, really." She tilts her head, eyes innocent yet alluring as she stares at Felix. "She's sweet, really Felix, I like her. She's darling." The last sentence is said the same way one would to describe a puppy. "But she--she's not like us." Lacy takes a step forward. "C'mon Felix, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"Lacy means," Farleigh's own voice surprises him, "That she's the kind of girl you actually go home with, and Lacy isn't."

Wow. Okay, technically true because you do go home with Felix, it just--accuracy feels like the least important part of what just came out of his mouth. Farleigh can't tell who's more shocked--Lacy and her gaping friend, Felix, or himself. Did he--did he just defend you of all people?

He blinks. You, the voice of reason that's always willing to point out when gossip crosses the line between catty and cruel, who maintains a 4.0 without trying, who paints their nails bright colors, who scrapbooks. That's who Farleigh stood up for?

This could be the rockbottom alcoholics always talk about.

"Lizzie," her friend begins sharply, "I think our--our friend's waving us over."

With that, Lizzie-not-Lacy and her friend abandon their places by the bar in favor of the anonymity of the center of the bar. Farleigh's too distracted by self disgust to note their expressions.

Felix steps towards him awkwardly, eyes unable to meet his. "That was--uh, good of you, mate."

Farleigh lets Felix's praise have its usual affects for a brief moment, embracing the warmth as Felix throws an arm around his shoulders. Then, reality hits Farleigh all over again. One word about this, and you'll be making him a friendship bracelet. "If you tell her about this, I'm telling her about how you didn't shut up about her all of Christmas break."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Miss Me, Miss Me Not

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

And it hits me when the lights go on (shit, maybe I miss you)

(In which a lazy writer somehow still manages to make her deadlines, much to her own shock)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff

Words: 5.8K

TW: Swearing (once again I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I'm not gonna lie til about an hour ago, I very much did not think I was gonna give y'all a Monday update but here we are! A couple of housekeeping things, I went back and added months to the years so hopefully that's more helpful. I lowkey dislike this part but I felt like the fic needed it and I'm excited to write the next part. Ngl, the editing on this is pretty nonexistent because trying to read this back lowkey killed me so please feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, and disliked and anything you wanna see going forward. I really appreciate all of y'alls feedback and the long reviews make my day! Have a good rest of your week lovies <3

September 2017

Azzi: just got home :) 

It’s a simple text and it should be easy for Paige to conjure up an equally simple reply. Instead she finds herself typing and deleting, over and over, because nothing sounds quite right. There’s this hollow feeling thrumming in her chest, that has only gotten stronger every passing minute since she’d said goodbye to Azzi at the airport. If she tries hard enough, she can still feel the remnants of their last hug lingering against every inch of her skin. She wants to memorize that feeling and create a blanket out of its threads to numb the ice cold shiver that’s been repeatedly running through her veins from the second Azzi had gotten on that plane. But even that might not be enough. Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison. 

Paige lies to herself that it’s an accidental slip of her fingers, that she’d meant to press send not call, that she had every intention of hanging up the facetime on the first ring itself. 

But then Azzi picks up on the second one.

And really it would be rude to hang up. 

“Hey what’s up?” Azzi’s face fills the screen, tired eyes staring intently at Paige through the screen. 

“Oh um-” Paige fumbles for words, awkwardly shuffling her feet that are dangling off the side of her bed, “I just wanted to ask how your flight was?”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “you couldn’t have texted me that?”

“Too tired to text,” Paige lies and the words i just wanted to hear your voice stay stuck, burning hot, in her throat, “gotta save these money-making fingers for more important things.”

“Yeah I’m hanging up-”

“NO-” it comes out far more forceful than it should and if possible, Azzi’s eyebrow shoots up even farther, as Paige clears her throat, “I mean- uh- you didn’t tell me how your flight was.”

Paige is too busy cringing at herself to notice the light blush that tinges Azzi’s cheeks. She’s too busy wondering why this girl brings out this nervous bumbling side of hers to notice the fond smile that almost cracks through Azzi’s lips. 

“The flight was okay. I actually got to sleep this time,” Azzi says pointedly and Paige laughs. 

“So what you’re saying is it was boring as hell.”

“I’m saying it was really peaceful not having someone yapping in my ear while I was trying to sleep.”

“So you didn’t miss me?” Paige presses, trying to keep her voice teasing despite how desperately she wants the admission. 

Azzi hesitates, as if she’s debating with herself, before, “I didn’t say that.”

It’s a little ridiculous how large Paige’s grin is but it’s okay, because Azzi’s smiling back, soft and shy. They’d look foolish to anyone else, the way they’re so intently gazing at each other through a screen as if there’s no barrier between them at all. 

“It’s gonna be weird going to the gym without you tomorrow morning,” Paige confesses after a second, moving to lay down on her stomach. 

“I bet. You’re gonna get absolutely nothing done without me,” Azzi teases dramatically before her eyes soften, “it’s weird that I’m not gonna see you at all tomorrow.”

There’s something gut-wrenching about that admission and yet, there’s something in it that heals a part of Paige’s heart that she hadn’t even known needed to be fixed. It means something to her that Azzi must feel it too. Because if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been just a little afraid that maybe the connection was just in her head, that maybe Azzi was simply tolerating her presence out of kindness. 

“You should just move to Minnesota,” Paige replies finally, “much nicer than Virgina or whatever.”

“Have you ever even been to Virginia?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she flips herself to lie on her back, holding her phone above her in a way that lets Paige see entirely too much and yet not nearly enough. 

“No but it sounds boring as fuck.”

“Not with me,” Azzi says, biting her bottom lip sheepishly as soon as the words are out. 

Paige smirks, suddenly filled with a brand new confidence, “yeah? You’d make Virgina interesting for me Fudd? What would we do?”

Azzi licks her lips and Paige feels her mouth go dry. 

“We’d be together,” the younger girl says finally, averting her gaze as the depth of her words begin to make Paige feel like she’s being flooded by an ocean of emotions she’s not quite ready to feel yet, “anything can be interesting if we’re together.”

It would be so easy to come up with a sarcastic quip or tease Azzi for being a sap and yet there’s a certain sincerity in this moment that feels too fragile for Paige to feign nonchalance. 

“Is Virginia nice in the winter?” she asks finally, hands fidgeting with the hair ties secured around her wrist, “Minny’s a little too cold sometimes.”

Azzi’s eyes shine and Paige wants to try and read them, find the little clues hidden in her irises and solve the mystery lingering behind the crimson flush of her cheeks. But the truth is that Paige is a little scared of what she’d find, a little scared that discovering Azzi might mean discovering herself too. 

“You should come find out some time,” the brunette says, casual tone filled with intricacies of something far deeper. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to saying anything of actual substance and they tip-toe around saying what they both want, daring the other to ask first. 

“I dunno,” Paige says, determined to win the game, “I’m not in the habit of showing up to places without a proper invite.”

Azzi scoffs, “a proper invite? Are you expecting someone to send you a carrier pigeon with a gold letter addressed to her royal highness or something?”

“That would be nice,” Paige surmises and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Does your back ever hurt from carrying that ego?”

“Only hurts from carrying my team.”

“Oh my god you’re so full of it.”

“Full of talent? Yessirrrr.”

Azzi huffs, “Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige hums. 

“Do you wanna come visit me in Virginia during winter break?” Azzi says finally, a small smile playing on her lips like she’s okay with losing this game as long as it’s to Paige. 

“If I must,” Paige says dramatically, shrugging her shoulders and everything as Azzi lets out an offended squeak. But inside, her heart flutters at the offer, at the idea of seeing Azzi again, even if it feels like a lifetime away. Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes. 

“Actually you know what nevermind, you don’t gotta come,” Azzi concedes bitterly,  scrunching her face (and Paige would never tell her this but she thinks Azzi looks just a little too cute when she’s mad and so maybe she riles her up on purpose)

“No takesies backsies Az,” Paige sing-songs before her lips uptick from a smirk into something more sincere, “hey Az,” she whispers, giggling to herself when Azzi pretends to ignore her, “I’d really like to come see you in Virginia during winter break.”

And as a brilliant grin dazzles across Azzi’s face, Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige. 

“Good,” Azzi whispers as they fall into a comfortable silence. 

There’s this serene sense of calm that laces itself around Paige’s nerves. Her normally fidgeting body is content to be perfectly still, an anomaly to her usual demeanor. The truth is that Paige isn’t the kind of person who’s okay with just existing; she likes to spend every second in motion, living out the high. There’s a part of her that’s scared of missing moments, scared that the people around her will leave her behind if she doesn’t chase them. But it’s different with Azzi. The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind. 

“Wait,” it’s a little while before Azzi pipes up, shaking Paige out of her thoughts, “what time is it?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to the time on her phone, confused by the line of questioning, “it’s almost 9 why?”

“Don’t you have a team party or something to go to tonight?” Azzi asks, face scrunching, “I swear you told me you had something tonight.”

“Oh-yeah- Amaya’s back to school thing,” Paige sheepishly scratches her neck, suddenly feeling itchy in her flannel shirt. She’d forgotten she was wearing that instead of her daily clothes. Hell, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be going somewhere in the first place, too occupied with other thoughts. 

“Bro get up,” Azzi orders, “you’re already late.”

“Nah it’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Paige says and she thinks she should probably feel a little more guilty about it. 

“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Azzi asks in disbelief, “dude you’re the star of the team. You have to go.”

“Amaya will understand besides-” Paige drags in a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as the next words fall out in a quiet whisper, “I don’t wanna hang up yet.”

“Paige c’mon we can talk tomorrow,” Azzi tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I wanna talk right now,” Paige argues, “you don’t wanna talk to me?”

For a second Paige thinks Azzi might just say no, might just chip away a little bit of heart with a well-intentioned rejection, but she doesn’t, “always wanna talk to you P.”

“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me.”

And Azzi does. All night. 

Two weeks laters there’s a letter, in an envelope with a picture of a carrier pigeon, that arrives in the Bueckers’ mail box. 

To her royal highness, 

Unfortunately I couldn’t find an actual carrier pigeon (I swear I tried) so this envelope and the mailman will have to do. 

~ You are formally invited this winter break to the Fudd family residence in Virginia. ~

(And you better show up Bueckers)

Yours, 

Azzi

February 2033

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Ice whines petulantly as she makes herself comfortable on the couch across from where Paige is getting her makeup done, “this is parental neglect.”

Paige laughs, eyes closed, her makeup artist does her mascara, “you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that” Ice argues, plucking a grape from the fruit basket before segueing into a rant about how boring Arlington, Texas is. 

Paige is grateful for the distraction her younger friend is providing. Her nerves had been on edge since the moment she’d woken up this morning, anxious to get the impending farewell press conference over with. She’d already started accepting that the Wings weren’t the right place for her but that feeling had only been heightened by her trip to the Valkyries. And ever since she’s come back, Paige feels a little bit like she’s sleepwalking through her final moments in Dallas. If she’s honest, she’s probably rushing things a little bit. There’s still plenty of time before she really has to move to Oakland but it had been her choice to move there as soon as possible. Paige had always been good at conjuring excuses and she had plenty as to why she needed to be in California so soon. But at the end of the day it isn’t about training or team bonding or any of the other hundred justifications she’s given anyone who’s asked. It’s about a little girl who’s eyes had been brimming with tears when saying goodbye, a little girl who had made Paige pinky swear that she’d be back as soon as possible. 

Really, Paige thinks she should be applauded for her restraint, because truth be told, the second Stephie’s lower lip had trembled, Paige had been prepared to ask Ice to just ship her stuff to Oakland so that she’d never have to let go of the little girl’s hand. 

And here’s the thing, Paige is willing to admit she wants to go back to the Bay Area for Stephie. It’s that pesky little part of her that’s desperate to go back for Stephie’s mother, to go back for one more hesitant yet lingering touch, that she won’t ever share with anyone else. 

“I never thought I’d live to see you and Azzi willingly playing together again,” Ice says as soon as Paige’s makeup artist leaves the room, “KK and I didn’t even try betting on it, we were that sure it wouldn’t happen. Shit I should have. I totally would have won.”

“Don’t y’all get tired of betting on my life?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the first part of what Ice said. 

“Betting on your life has made me hundreds of dollars bro,” Ice says, before a more earnest  look crosses her face, “but genuinely P, are you sure about this? There’s a lot of history there.”

Paige sighs, “it’s not about our history. It’s a basketball decision. And we’re both mature adults who know that. I’m just tryna win. Nothing else.”

“It’s never nothing when it comes to you two.”

“It is this time,” Paige argues adamantly and Ice raises her hands in surrender. 

“I just don’t want another set of teammates to have to deal with y’alls bullshit,” the younger girl teases, but it’s laced with a hint of seriousness that sends a flare of guilt shooting through Paige’s body. 

“Ice-” she begins.

But Ice is quick to change to a lighter subject, “can’t believe Jana’s the one that gets mom and dad back together. I always knew she was the favorite.”

“We didn’t have favorites,” Paige plays along, thankful for Ice and her ability to always keep the tension to a bare minimum. 

“Oh don’t lie. We all know you did,” Ice scoffs and then lets out a chuckle, “and now Azzi’s actually a mom. That’s kinda insane. And you met the kid right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Paige says and she can’t help the way her entire face breaks into a gleaming smile as her thoughts turn into memories of Stephie. She doesn’t even realize she’s gotten lost in a different world until Ice coughs, an amused grin playing on her lips. 

“You’re so royally fucked Paige,” Ice shakes her head, “the only person I’ve seen you smile that big for before is Azzi.”

“She’s a cute, smart, adorable kid, that’s why I’m smiling,” Paige tries to defend herself. 

“She’s Azzi’s cute, smart, adorable kid,” Ice counters. 

“That has nothing to do with it,” Paige protests again but it rings hollow to her own ears.

“Oh my god I needa call KK and get this bet started. It’s only a matter of time for real,” Ice says, more to herself than to Paige, as she whips out her phone, probably texting KK. 

“A matter of time till what?”

“You’ll find out Paigey,” Ice says gravely with a mocking smile, patting Paige’s head, “all in due time.”

***

The Dallas Wings media room is buzzing, reporters desperate to ask Paige questions and the blonde tries to maintain a smile despite the fact that her heart is lurching in her throat right now. Her opening speech had been short and sweet, parroting basically the same thing that had gone out on her social media the night before; she’d been desperate to just get it out. Generally, Paige is pretty good with the media, having been immersed in the spotlight since basically forever. The attention and how to maneuver it has always come naturally to her so she’s not sure why she feels so unnerved by it all today.  From the back of the media room, Ice sends her a thumbs up and a reassuring grin and Paige lets out a breath, glad to have at least that comforting presence with her. 

“Aidrian Ginsburger with Bleacher Report, Paige, you’ve obviously spent all of your career so far with the Wings, can you tell us a little bit about the impact this organization has had on you?”

Paige smiles at the question, letting her brain skim through pages and pages of fond memories she has of time spent with this team. It might be time to move on but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of cherished moments. 

“Yeah um- this place has really shaped who I am as a person. Since day one, the front office, obviously it’s a different one to the one I came in with, they did a lot to make sure that I was comfortable. My teammates through the years have been incredible and I wouldn’t be the player I am today without them. And of course the fans you know, they always showed out for the team, for me. Always supported me in anyways and I hope that I was able to give back the love to them that they always gave to me,” she says, suddenly nostalgic for the team that had started it all. 

The next questions are similar in nature and Paige’s answer varies only in words but not substance. She feels herself start to settle into it, now fielding the expected questions about the Wings and Valkyries with an air of confidence. There are a couple questions about Azzi that make her heart thump, but that was to be expected. It’s a pretty brilliant story in the making, two MVPs who used to play on the same college team coming together. Talia had warned Paige in advance that there was no avoiding it. But for the most part the questions have an easy answer about how Azzi’s a brilliant player and she’s excited to play with her old friend again. That is until a familiar hand shoots up and all the tension that had previously dissipated, comes roaring back with a vengeance. 

“Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News, Paige, as others have said today, you and Azzi Fudd played together at UConn and you were best friends.” Olivia’s eyes glint viciously, “I mean it’s pretty well documented how hard you tried to recruit her to UConn. But despite being best friends, the two of you have been never seen hanging out, outside of games and formal events, unlike your other teammates that is-”

“Is there a point to this?” Paige asks, hands fisting in her lap as she tries to keep herself calm. 

Olivia smiles, sugary sweet, “I was just wondering if maybe there was some tension and how that would affect your on-court chemistry at the Valkyries?”

“There’s no tension,” Paige lies through gritted teeth, “we didn’t hang out because we live far apart. There isn’t much else to it. And even if there was, Azzi and I are professionals. We wouldn’t let anything off the court affect our goal to win.”

“You lived far apart before UConn too, but that didn’t seem to stop you guys. What changed?” Olivia presses.

“Time did. Our lives did. There’s nothing sensational here. It’s just a case of two people drifting apart,” Paige says and the fabrication feels heavy on her tongue. If only it really had been that simple. 

“But clearly not that much,” Olivia says, and Paige glances at the moderator, desperate for an intervention, “there were plenty of fan pictures of the two of you out getting ice cream with Azzi’s daughter. It seems like you’re already fitting into that Bay Area life-”

“I’m not hearing a question at the end of your sentence,” Paige hisses and she can practically already hear the scolding she’s going to get from Talia once her agent gets wind of how this press conference had gone. The entire media cohort is watching the exchange with wide eyes, no doubt questioning whether they were embarrassed or impressed by their colleague. Ice is mouthing something to Paige, probably something along the lines of please keep your shit together, but Paige is steaming. Really, she should have expected this. 

“Well if you’d let me finish,” Olivia snarls, the façade of innocence dropping, “even if the two of you have drifted, as you put it, clearly there’s still a relationship there. How big of a role did Azzi Fudd play in your choice to move to the Valkyries?”

Paige sucks in a deep breath, nails digging into her palm at the question, “Azzi is the best shooting guard in the country. That was her role in my decision to move to the Valkyries. I don’t know what else you’re trying to imply, but I want to play with her because we play well together. That’s it,” she stands up and there’s pin drop silence, “thank you all for coming but we’re done with this press conference. 

***

Paige is seething as she exits the media room, Ice hot on her heels trying to calm her down. The sane part of her knows she should head back to the makeup room or even to her car, instead she finds her feet carrying her in the direction of where she knows Olivia Reynolds will be, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine like she always is. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Paige spits as she comes to a halt in front of the reporter. 

“I know you think playing basketball is the only job in the world Paige, but that was a reporter doing her job,” Olivia says, her calm and composed voice only furthering Paige’s irritation. 

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Paige sneers, “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.”

Olivia cocks her head, “oh so you do remember who I am to you then?”

“Oliv-”

“Because if you did remember, I’d like to think you’d have the courtesy to at least personally tell me that you were moving to your,” she drops her voice, “ex-girlfriend’s team instead of letting me find out with the rest of the world. You don’t think you owed me that?”

“That’s what this is about?” Paige sighs, “Olivia we’ve been divorced for almost three years now, I don’t owe you-”

“You didn’t owe Azzi anything either,” Olivia whisper-yells, the calm in her voice replaced by the same anger that had tainted the last year of their marriage, “but when we first started dating, you kept us a secret for months. You wouldn’t even tell your fucking teammates cause you were so scared she’d find out,” her eyes drift towards Ice who looks like she wishes she’d made a different decision rather than following Paige out here, “you said she deserved to hear it from you but apparently I don’t-’

“I didn’t mean it like that Olivia. Look, I meant what I said up there. There’s nothing between- ”

“Spare me,” Olivia says, as she stuffs her notepad into her bag, “you can lie to all those other reporters out there about how all of this is a basketball decision. You can even lie to yourself if you want. But you can’t lie to me, not when I spent four years fighting to keep our relationship from getting crushed under whatever it is that Azzi is to you.”

***

It doesn’t matter how far Paige burrows her head into her pillows, she can’t seem to stop herself from hearing Olivia’s words reverberating through her ears. The two of them had done well at co-existing in their social circles after the divorce had been finalized. While no one could quite call them friends, they’d done a good job at being friendly, being able to converse and share an occasional drink when in their combined friend group. And if Paige is honest, she knows she’s fucked up, knows she probably did owe Olivia a call. But calling Olivia would have meant calling someone who would inevitably make Paige face the truth, just like she had today. The truth that, even with the deal Talia had concocted with the Liberty hanging in the background like a dark presence, the move to the Valkyries was about a lot more than just basketball for Paige. 

She’s so entrenched in her thought that she doesn’t bother checking who it is when the facetime rings, irritation seeping into her voice as she answers it, face still buried in her pillows, “WHAT?”

“Miss Buecks?” a tiny voice comes through the phone and for a second, Paige thinks she must be dreaming, until she finally lifts her head to look at her phone, and Stephie’s small face lights up the whole screen. And it’s like she can feel little hands on her shoulders, slowly unknotting her tightened muscles. 

“Stephie,” she breathes out, a sudden sense of serene calm washing over her previously tense body. 

“Hi Miss Buecks,” Stephie says happily before she squints at the screen, “you sleep weird.”

Paige laughs, “and why’s that?”

“You’re not wearing pajamas and it’s only seven. ‘Dults don’t sleep at seven,” Stephie says matter-of-factly. 

“It’s actually nine here,” Paige says, a little surprised by the time; she hadn’t realized she'd been moping in her bed for that long. Ice had forced her to get lunch together, not wanting to leave Paige alone after the encounter with Olivia. Once she’d finally gotten back to her apartment, Paige had flopped on her bed, taking out her frustrations on her poor pillow. 

“That’s not poss-ble,” Stephie scrunches her face, “Mama’s phone says it’s seven.”

“It’s seven in California, it’s nine in Texas,” Paige tries to explain though by the way Stephie’s looking at her, she thinks she’s probably just confusing the girl more, “how’d you figure out how to call me babe?”

Stephie gives her an exasperated look, “Miss Buecks I’m five. I know how to use facetime.”

“And does your Mama know you're facetiming me?” Paige asks, eyebrows raised.

“She’s in the shower,” Stephie whispers, grinning sheepishly. 

As if on cue, Azzi appears on the corner of the screen and Paige feels her mouth run dry. The darker skinned woman is clad in a light pink fluffy bathrobe that ends right above her knees, giving Paige the perfect view of her long, toned legs that seem to shimmer despite the shitty quality of the facetime. Rivulets of water cling to her neck, delicately cascading down the valley of her breasts before disappearing from sight. And Paige must be dehydrated because never has she wanted to taste a drop of liquid more than she does right now. 

“Stephie,” Azzi groans, as she walks towards the phone and Paige gulps, heart beating faster with every step the other woman takes, everything about her becoming clearer and clearer, “what did I say about using my phone.”

“Only in em-a-gencies,” Stephie recites, “but Mama I had an em-a-gency.”

Azzi tilts her head, eyebrows raised as she gives her daughter a knowing look, “and what was your emergency?”

“I really, really, really, this much” Stephie stretches out her hands as far as they’ll go,  really, really, really, miss Miss Buecks.”

Paige feels her heart flutter. Stephie’s words feel like a hand carefully pulling her out from under the pile of stress she’d been buried under the whole day. It’s like the little girl is pushing away the rubble pressing against her lungs, turning the rocks into dust with a light touch and Paige feels like she can finally breathe. 

“Sounds like a pretty big emergency to me,” she says, relishing the way Stephie’s face lights up at the admission, “cause I really, really, really miss you too Steph.”

“See Mama,” Stephie says, placing the phone against a wall so can place her hands on her hips and look up at Azzi with a pleased smirk. 

Azzi rolls her eyes before glaring at Paige, “you’re a bad influence on her.”

“I’m the best influence on her,” Paige argues, sending Stephie a conspiratorial wink, “just you wait Az, I’mma teach her all the good things.”

Something unreadable flashes across Azzi’s face before she’s back to looking at Paige with an unimpressed arched eyebrow, “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.”

“We’ll see,” Paige says slowly and Azzi shakes her head before turning to Stephie. 

“Alright Stephie bean time to go brush your teeth. It’s almost bedtime babes,” she says with a stern look 

“But Mama-”

“No arguing, you have school tomorrow missy,” Azzi reminds the little girl and Paige can’t help but marvel at the mother that Azzi’s become. And it makes her heart ache for the fantasies she’d dreamed of when she was in her early twenties. She’d always known Azzi would be a great mother; Paige had just naively thought she’d be there alongside her too. 

“Can Miss Buecks stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” Stephie asks, peering up at Azzi with big doe eyes, “please Mama pleeeease.”

“I’m sure Miss Buecks has other things-”

“I don’t,” Paige cuts in far too enthusiastically, clearing her throat to get back some semblance of restraint as both mother and daughter turn to look at each other, “I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can stay till you fall asleep Stephie.”

“YAYY,” Stephie cheers enthusiastically while Azzi studies her with a weary look, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then you can read me, my story Mama.”

With that, the little girl runs in the direction of what Paige can only assume is the bathroom, skipping with childlike joy as she sing-songs about something Paige can’t quite make out. 

“You know you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks right?” Azzi says slowly as she grabs her phone and sits on the couch. 

Paige shrugs, “I have time to stay.”

“Do you?” Azzi asks skeptically, “because from what I heard the Wings are having a little farewell party tonight, for you.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “and how exactly did you hear that?”

“I have connections.”

“You talked to Ice.”

“I talked to Ice,” Azzi concedes, “and I’m pretty sure you’re already an hour or so late for it.”

“Exactly. I’m already an hour late so why bother,” Paige says, sitting up so she can rest head against her headboard, “why were you talking to Ice?”

“I can’t talk to my friend?” Azzi asks slowly. 

“Of course you can but why specifically today?” Paige presses 

Azzi bites her lip, “I um- I watched your press conference today. You uh-” she averts her gaze, “you seemed really stressed at the end and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A soft grin upturns Paige’s lips before she can stop it, “were you worried for me Fudd?”

“That’s not-” Azzi groans, “shut up.”

Paige smirks, “you were worried for me.”

“I was concerned for my future teammate," Azzi huffs, “besides,” her face hardens, “she was way out of line.”

Paige sighs at the implied mention of Olivia, “maybe but maybe I deserved it.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi protests and that oh so familiar protective tone in her voice carves itself into every crevice of Paige’s heart, “no one deserves to be put on the spot like that. She was being unethical trying to dig into your personal life like that.”

“This is nice,” Paige says softly, unable to help herself. 

“What is?” 

“Seeing you get all defensive over me. It's nice to see you still care. I didn’t know if you still did.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looks at Paige, “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.”

There’s years worth of unsaid words lingering in the silence between them as they breach some unspoken rule they’d both inadvertently agreed to. And they both know that they shouldn’t be saying things like this to each other, that they’re teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss that has nothing but destruction at the bottom. But Azzi’s words feel like sunshine, like heat waves across her skin and Paige is so tired of feeling cold. 

Before either of them can say another word, Stephie comes back into the room, crawling into Azzi’s lap.

“I’m back,” she beams, completely unaware of the way the two adults are scrambling to act normal around her. 

“Here baby,” Azzi hands the phone to Stephie, “take Miss Buecks to your room. Mama’s gonna go change and then she’ll come read to you okay?”

“‘Kay Mama,” Stephie complies, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s cheek before running towards her room. For a second Paige’s screen is blurred in motion until Stephie fixes her again and Paige catches a glimpse of Stephie’s room, specifically the walls that are painted the perfect shade of Valkyrie purple. 

“I love your walls Stephie,” she compliments.

“They’re pu-ple,” Stephie exclaims, “that’s my favorite color.”

“First the ice-cream, now the color, you’re stealing all of my favorites kid,” Paige teases but she’s secretly pleased by this revelation. It’s dangerous how fast Stephie’s starting to whittle down Paige’s walls and build herself a permanent shelf in Paige’s cabinet of my people. 

“Can I tell you a secret Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, bringing her lips closer to the phone. 

Paige smiles, “of course you can.”

“I think Mama misses you too,” Stephie says softly and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat, “I heard her tell Nanna on the phone.”

“Can I tell you a secret Stephie?” Paige lowers her voice, leaning into her phone. 

“‘Course you can Miss Buecks.”

Paige swallows as the admission falls from her lips, “I really miss your Mama too.”

I miss her always and I think I’ll miss her forever. 

“What are you the two of you whispering about,” Azzi’s voice cuts in as she tucks herself next to Stephie, a children’s book in her hand. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says immediately, winking at Paige through the phone. 

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, ignoring her erratic heartbeat, “nothing Azzi.”

Azzi looks between the both of them, clearly aware she’s being left out of something, but doesn’t push further. Instead she flips open the book, pulls Stephie closer into her arms and starts reading. If anyone were to ask Paige later, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea about a single word in that damn book. Because as Azzi’s soothing voice begins to lull Stephie to sleep, and the younger girl, despite her yawns, holds the phone up so the blonde can be included in every second of it, Paige feels herself being pulled into a dream she has no right to dream. She dreams of being in Stephie’s purple bedroom. She dreams of her and Azzi lying against Stephie’s lilac bedspread, their hands entwined in the middle over Stephie’s little body. She dreams of a forever that she’d long forsaken.

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 1

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

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I've been fucking stressed this week, so instead of shouting at the people around me, I've made this anguish here!

CW: Implied abortion

═══════════════════════════

Okay, but A!Ghost and O!Soap, where Soap accidentally gets pregnant and tells Ghost, thinking that everything will be fine and that the two of them will work things out together, but Ghost, after hearing about the pregnancy, swears and kicks Soap out of his room, calling him a cheater and other things.

Soap tearfully asks in despair what happened, why Simon is acting like this, but Ghost doesn't answer from inside the room. 

Several weeks passed, each time Soap tried to talk to the lieutenant, but each time Ghost ignored him as if Soap didn't exist, Ghost no longer had lunch or dinner with Soap, the two no longer smoked together behind the barracks, even every time Soap entered an environment where Ghost was, the lieutenant always ran away quickly.

The omega needs the minimum of comfort from his alpha, just a piece of clothing with his fragrance, or just a pat on the shoulder, but his alpha doesn't care about him anymore. The two weren't mated either, which made matters worse.

Gaz, Price and Laswell, and a few other soldiers noticed the change between the duo.

Gaz tried to talk to Soap, but Soap, afraid, didn't say anything about the pregnancy and just said that he and Simon had had a bit of a row, but didn't elaborate.

Price tried to talk to Ghost but the man said it was nothing, even though he knew there was something Ghost and Soap weren't telling him.

Laswell also tried to talk to Ghost but it didn't work out, as the man asked to be sent on a mission, and Laswell, unable to do much, allowed it.

After two days without seeing Ghost at the base, Soap decided to ask Price, and Price told him about Ghost's solo mission, that he would be away for at least a week or two.

And at that moment, Soap just bowed his head and thanked him for the information, and then ran to his room, and when he arrived and locked his door, he collapsed, crying gallons of tears inside his nest while hugging an scentless sweatshirt that Simon had forgotten there.

At some point he fell asleep, and hours later he woke up to his mobile phone vibrating under his pillow. When he answered it, Soap heard his mother's voice, and again he burst into tears, remembering that his own mother had been abandoned by Soap's alpha shitty father before he was born.

At that moment he told his mum everything that had happened, about Simon, the pregnancy, everything. The smell of stress and melancholy wafted through the room, anyone in there would throw up or run to give the omega a cuddle.

His mother was very understanding, listening until the end and calming him down as Soap had little anxiety attacks. In the end, Soap asked what he should do, his mother remained silent, debating for a moment what to say to her son.

After a few minutes she said calmly. "If you bring that child into the world, you won't be able to work in the army any more and you'll have to find another job that pays a lot less, plus you'll be forever linked to that alpha who hurt you."

"But he's not bad, Mum." Soap whispered.

And on the other end of the line his mum sighed. "If he was someone good, he wouldn't have treated you like that, darling." A harsh reality that Soap wished were a lie.

She was right, if Simon cared about Soap he would still be here and on his side.

"You should think about what you want to do, you have to think about what's best for you." -She said gently.

They exchanged a few more words before Soap hung up and stayed quietly inside his room and nest, staring at the ceiling and running his hand over his belly.

Gradually, everything about the pregnancy, from the time he found out to the recent weeks he spent alone, sad and abandoned in his nest without his alpha to comfort him, and together with the conversation he had with his mum earlier, Soap made up his mind.

In the gloom of his room, with his hands wrapped around his belly, Soap mumbled with small tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to bring my first son or daughter into a world where he or she will have to be raised by a dysfunctional family..."

Soap was going to look for a clinic this week and someone to accompany him there...

═══════════════════════════

Idk if there's gonna be a pt 2, I just wanted to take my anger out on something. If u want, say something i guess?

Love u all! 😀

[httpsdana]

I don't know if you write for Kenan Yıldız, if you happen to can you please write with prompt #33, thank you

Game On~Kenan Yildiz

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I waited for the day I get a kenan request and now I got two 🙏🏻

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

33-"I hate you" "love you too sweetheart"

Whoever knew Kenan, knew that he was one competitive guy. Whether it was in real life on the pitch, or at home while playing Fifa.

So obviously when he started dating y/n, the first thing he did was teach her how to play. Which ended up with them having constant competitions, so they can settle the debate of which one of them is better.

"who are you playing with?" Kenan asked y/n, as they were choosing their teams.

"obviously barca. you know I have to choose then went hey have Pedri on the team" she teased, knowing how much Kenan hated whenever she mentioned the Spanish midfielder.

"haha funny" Kenan rolled his eyes, scrolling through the teams until he stopped at real madrid, knowing how much his girlfriend hated them.

With a smirk, he selected the team, watching how her face dropped.

"now you're being funny" she said sarcastically, already going to fix the line up.

When they both fixed their teams, their match started. Kenan had a rough start as y/n scored a goal in the first 2 minutes.

"ha! take that! my boy Pedri is just too good" she said dramatically, making Kenan scoff.

"he's not your boy" he mumbled, muttering some incoherent words under his breath.

y/n laughed at him, before they continued their game.

After a few moments, y/n managed to score another, this time with Raphinha.

"you're playing with the fastest players and can't even score against me? when have you gotten this bad baby" she teased, knowing she was getting under his skin

"whatever just skip the celebration" he mumbled

By the end of the first half, it was already 3-1 to y/n.

"I'm gonna get you back. you're gonna see" her warned, making her chuckle.

"we'll see about that" she said.

As the second half started, Kenan already scored his second goal, of course not skipping the celebration.

"I thought he hated vini" she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"yeah I don't like him. but I know you don't too so I'm celebrating with him" he said, making y/n huff.

Then y/n started the game, already finding herself in the box of the opponent. She was about to shoot her shot, a player from Kenan's team did a harsh tackle on the player

"Hey penalty!" she said, pointing to the screen

She ended up getting a penalty, while Kenan was trying to sneak a peek at where she was gonna shoot the ball.

She aimed to the right, and for her luck, Kenan's gk jumped to the same side, saving the penalty.

"no!" y/n groaned, as Kenan was jumping u and down

"yes! I knew you were gonna shoot it there" he cheered, making y/n cross her arms

"just continue the game" she mumbled.

The match ended with Kenan winning 5-3

"haha! I told you I'm better than you" he teased y/n, as she sunk into the couch with a pout.

"i hate you" she mumbled, turning her head away from him.

"love you too sweetheart" he said in a teasing tone, making a smile curl up her lips

She quickly hid her smile, trying to act mad at him. He chuckled silently moving closer to her. He held her chin with his fingers, turning her head so she was looking at him.

She still had a pout on her face, and Kenan couldn't resist not kissing her pout away. He leaned down pecking her lips a few times, making her finally smile

"I promise I'll let you win next time" he teasing, making her push him away playfully

"i wouldn't need you to let me win. I'll do it myself" she challenged him, making him raise his hands up in surrender

"if you say so" he said in a teasing voice, leaning over to press a kiss on her cheek.

[revvethasmythh]

Have you witnessed discoursing about Orym in the past several months? Would you like to be more well-informed about the subject matter? Well, then, do I have a post for you! As a reference for myself and potentially for others:

A Comprehensive Write-Up Of Relevant Times And Contexts Where Orym Has Brought Up His Dead Family While The Group Discusses The Vanguard/Predathos--With Receipts

Disclaimer: these are all of the instances in which I was able to find independently through the Critical Role transcript search, not from rewatching everything. It is therefore possible there are some instances unaccounted for.

Episode 34. Post-resurrection after being killed by Otohan Thull, he brings up the fact that Otohan had a hand in killing his family to emphasize to Imogen how dangerous Otohan is and that she may potentially continue to be an issue for her specifically due to her apparent interest in Imogen (exalting her during the battle in the previous episode)

2. Episode 46. An early God Talk™️, prompted by Ludinus using (presumably) Feeblemind on Professor Kadija Sumal. He holds his opinion until the very end of the conversation, after entertaining Imogen's idea that "they make some good points" and listening to the group discuss if the gods are good or bad for several minutes.

"I don't need to debate it. I lost my husband and father to these people, I'm not on board. Some of the gods are terrifying, and some of them have put their thumbs on the scales for people for centuries, even in the last few decades. Who are they, who are we to decide who lives or dies, god or mortal or otherwise? I don't think they have any good points."

3. Episode 49. He brings them up combatively ("Well, Imogen, I wish. my family didn't have to die for their brighter tomorrow"), against Imogen's statement of, "What if it's not that bad? [...] What if what we're doing is just fighting change?" after she solely received a vision of a Utopia-like future from her mother. Imogen backs down quickly after his reproach and acknowledges that the vision was likely a part of cult brainwashing.

4. Episode 61. Orym pulls Prism aside, after she asks the party and Elder Abbadina if Predathos would cause a world-ending event, or if it would only be bad for some (the Elder did not know anything about Predathos at all), to say, "I don't think we know anything [...] The only thing I have to go on is the track record of the guys trying to bring Predathos out. And that track record is not very good." At further prompting from Prism about if he ever thought the Vanguard's ideas were right, he says, "Prism, I don't understand the gods. I don't know anything about the titans. I don't know an eidolon from eyeliner. [...] But I'm a widower, because of the people who want to bring this about. So it's hard for me to wrangle with the other side."

5. Episode 61, pt. 2. Orym listens to the party converse with Elder Abbadina for a little while longer before silently sneaking out "to go think about his dead father and his dead husband."

6. Episode 77. Another God Talk™️ with the whole party, prompted by FCG asking what everyone's motive was in going to the moon. For his reasoning, he says, "We don't know what's going to happen to any inch of this world if Predathos is unleashed. Yeah, this started with my husband and my father. It's so much bigger than that. If my life can secure the lives of everyone who comes after us, well spent."

7. Episode 92. After the death of another loved one to Otohan Thull, in response to Liliana's statement that temples might hunt down Ruidusborn in the theoretical event that Ludinus' plot is foiled, "Cold comfort for my family in the ground."

8. Episode 92, pt. 2. In response to a throwaway, thoughtless comment Ashton made that, "I hope [Liliana] is right. I really do. I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable." Orym has Chetney bring out Otohan's sword, jams one into the sand and declares, "This is the sword that killed my father and my husband. She is not right."

UPDATE: 8/14/24

9. Episode 102, during the confrontation with Ludinus. Interjected during the ongoing conversation, specifically during some bantering between Chetney and Ludinus as to the last time they met (when Chetney attacked him as a werewolf). He says, "You put a hit on my family, a successful one, fuck you. Fuck you." Ludinus later apologizes for the deaths of his family, claiming Otohan was "overzealous in her methods." Both Imogen and Laudna respond immediately that he was responsible for Otohan's actions.

10. Episode 103, during yet another God Conversation. Orym tries to redirect conversation about Ludinus and the gods, stating that they are different topics. Ashton concurs, and Imogen states that she agrees with Orym that Ludinus doesn't get to decide for everyone. Dorian then interjects, "But the gods do?" Which prompts Orym's blunt response to him specifically that, "If Ludinus had sent people to your home, and taken brother and your father and countless others, how philosophical would you be about it, Dorian?"

-

So, with all of the information in front of us, what conclusions can we draw from them? When asked by others to assess if the Vanguard has valid points, Orym repeatedly abstains from having an opinion. Whether or not the Vanguard has a reason to be upset is irrelevant to him--what is relevant is the loss of life they have incurred along the way. Orym takes no stance on the gods, he repeatedly states he doesn't understand them or know anything about them or harbor much of a connection to them. As far as he is concerned, his role in this is to oppose the violence being done to the people of Exandria. Why waste your time debating the merits of a cult's ideology when you know, in the end, you will have to fight against them to end the slaughter? To protect people?

And for what it's worth, in almost every instance, Ashton has effectively taken the same side as Orym. I have not included all of these moments, but they are easily located if you wanted to search up these moments on your own. The continual focus on de-legitimizing Orym's opinion seems strongly tied to the fact that he has a personal reason to hate the Vanguard. But facts being facts, Ashton hates them just the same--and he has no love of the gods, either. He hates the Vanguard based on their actions, same as Orym. In fact, Ashton and Laudna have both expressed outright dislike for the gods, and all other Bells Hells except for FCG expressed ambivalence. This is not about the gods. Not for Orym, not for the others who remain. This is about no more bodies on the pyre of Ludinus' machinations.

P.S. if you know of any other instances this topic has come up that I have not included, please feel free to let me know! I want this post to be as comprehensive as it can be, but I am fallible and may have missed something. Don't be afraid to tell me about a scene I missed!

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

summary: fate brought them to you

you've been in munich for two weeks now, and life has been surprisingly calm. 

after the chaos of packing, traveling, and settling into your new apartment, you've finally found a routine. the apartment is cozy, mid century themed and tucked away in a quiet nice bavarian neighborhood with everything you need nearby. 

maple, your tabby cat, has settled in just as well as you, spending most of her days lounging in the patches of sunlight that filter through your windows. sometimes she lays on your balcony when it is warm outside.

remote work has kept you busy, but it’s not the same as the constant stream of activities back home. you've spent most of your free time exploring the neighborhood, finding comfort in the little things—like the coffee shop at the corner of your street. 

the barista already knows your order: iced mocha coffee with strawberry cold foam to have with a plain bagel with butter. it’s become a morning ritual, something you look forward to each day.

despite the quiet life you're living, you’re still in touch with the girls from the group chat. they’ve kept you in the loop, sending memes, talking about football, and, most importantly, making you feel like you’ve got friends here in munich. 

you’ve especially bonded with sydney, who’s given you tons of recommendations on places to eat and visit. you haven’t met any of them in person yet, though. 

the thought of it makes you a little nervous. would they be as friendly in real life as they are in the chat? would they recognize you?

this morning is no different from any other. you wake up, stretch, and check your phone. a few messages have already popped up in the group chat.

georgia: guten morgen guys! practice soon ugh, i’m so tired from the sprints last night. i need caffeine

sydney: always need caffeine. 

sydney: hey y/n 

you: hi good morning! 

sydney: try the new place i told you about yet, y/n?

you: not yet! i was planning to check it out this weekend.

tuva: y/n, if you don’t check it out soon, we’re gonna have to drag you there!! 

you laugh to yourself as you get out of bed. maple stirs from her spot on the windowsill, stretching her little legs before hopping down to rub against your leg. 

"hey, maple," you say softly, giving her a gentle scratch behind the ears before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

within thirty minutes, you're dressed and heading out the door, your mind already on that iced mocha. the walk to the coffee shop is short, and you smile at the familiar sight of the cozy little café as you approach. 

it’s not too crowded this morning, just a few people scattered around with their laptops and books at the wooden glossed tables.

you step up to the counter, already knowing your order by heart. as you wait for the barista to finish up with a few other customers, the bell above the door rings, signaling someone’s entrance. 

you glance over out of habit, not thinking much of it—until you see a familiar face.

georgia stanway. from the group chat.

you freeze for a second, your brain trying to catch up with what you’re seeing. she’s dressed casually, a grey hoodie pulled over her head with matching joggers, but there’s no mistaking her. 

she’s one of the girls from the bayern munich chat, and she’s just walked into your coffee shop. you’re not sure what to do—does she even care enough to want to talk to you in person? you’ve never spoken to any of them face-to-face, aside from a few private messages with sydney about food spots.

you’re still debating what to do when georgia looks up and catches your eye.

for a moment, you're sure she doesn’t recognize you, but then her face breaks into a smile.

"y/n?" she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

you nod, unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face. 

"yeah, hey!"

before you know it, georgia’s quickly walking over to you, pulling you into a quick hug. 

"oh my days, i didn’t think i’d run into you here!" she laughs, stepping back. 

"i’ve been waiting to meet you. what are you doing at this café?"

you chuckle nervously, still a little stunned. 

"i live just down the street. this is my usual spot."

georgia’s eyes widen. 

"no way! i live right down the street too. this is my favorite café."

"seriously?" you laugh. 

"i’ve been coming here almost every day since i moved."

"well, i guess we’re neighbors now," georgia says, still grinning. 

"small world, huh?"

you nod, feeling the nervousness melt away. georgia’s warmth and friendliness are exactly how she was in the group chat, and you’re already starting to feel comfortable.

"what are you getting?" georgia asks, stepping up to the counter with you.

"an iced mocha and a plain bagel with butter," you reply.

georgia raises her eyebrows, impressed. 

"fancy. i’m just going for a regular iced coffee today. practice from last night has drained me."

the two of you place your orders and find a table near the window, settling in for what turns into an easy conversation. 

you talk about the neighborhood, about your favorite spots so far, and about how surreal it is to finally meet each other in person.

"i can’t believe we live so close," georgia says at one point, shaking her head. 

"i knew you were in munich, but i didn’t think we’d run into each other like this. we were all planning to invite you to the games in order to get the chance to see you!"

"oh my– and me neither," you admit, smiling as you sip your iced mocha. 

"but this is nice. makes the city feel a little less big, you know?"

georgia nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"so, what have you been up to? besides chilling at this café."

you shrug. 

"mostly work. i’ve been working remotely, so i spend a lot of time here or at home with maple."

"maple?"

"my cat," you explain with a laugh. 

"she’s a tabby. super lazy."

"cute. i’m more of a dog person, but cats are cool!" georgia says, leaning back in her chair. 

"speaking of lazy, i have to head to practice soon, but we need to hang out again sometime. we all think it’s nice having a non-football friend."

you smile at that. 

"yeah, i’d like that."

before you leave, georgia pulls out her phone. 

"we need to send a pic to the group chat. everyone’s gonna freak out that we met in person!"

you laugh as she leans in for a quick selfie. 

"okay, ready?" she says, holding the phone up. you smile, and she snaps the photo. within seconds, it’s posted in the group chat.

georgia: *one photo attachment*

georgia: look who i ran into!!

the chat blows up immediately.

sydney: NO WAY.

klara: LUCKY???!!!!!

tuva: i’m dying omg 

lena: jealous af rn 

sarah: this is too cute. i can’t 

you laugh as the messages roll in, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you hadn’t expected to feel this connected to them, but here you are, genuinely happy that you’ve met georgia.

"i knew they’d freak out," georgia says with a grin, pocketing her phone. 

"anyway, i gotta head to practice, but let’s hang out soon, yeah?"

"for sure," you reply, standing up as well. 

"i’m heading to the gym anyway."

"perfect timing," georgia says, pulling you into another quick hug. 

"see you later, neighbor."

"see you," you say, waving as she heads out the door.

as you walk back home, you feel a strange sense of contentment. you hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly in munich, but here you are, part of a group of girls who seem genuinely happy to have you around—even if the way you met was unconventional.

later that afternoon, after you’ve finished your workout and settled back in at home, you check your phone again. more messages have piled up in the group chat, and you scroll through them with a smile.

tuva: y/n, you should come to our game this weekend. we’re playing frankfurt at home

sydney: YES. you have to come. it’s gonna be epic.

lea: you don’t really have a choice y/n 

you blink, surprised by the invitation. you hadn’t even thought about going to one of their games, but now that they’re asking, you find yourself grinning.

you: lea i’d love to anyways! count me in.

the excitement in the chat is immediate.

kathi: yessss! it’s gonna be so fun.

sydney: we’ll hook you up with tickets and the seating stuff. don’t worry about a thing!

lena: you can sit with kathi and i! we can’t play because of our acl injuries

y/n: ouu

y/n: ouu to the seating, not you and kathi being injured

klara: don’t lie y/n

   kathi: ?? 

   lena: ????? 

klara: i’m kidding!

y/n: LMAO

ana g: see you soon y/n!

the day of the bayern munich vs. frankfurt game arrive a few days later. you’re feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. this is your first time attending a professional football match, and it’s not just any match—it’s your new friends’ match. 

these girls, whom you’ve gotten to know through a mistaken group chat, are now part of your life, and you’re here to support them. its out-of-body to you.

you stand outside the stadium, ticket on your phone, which sydney had sent to you earlier in the week. as you walk in, you can’t help but take in the electric atmosphere. fans are streaming in from every direction, wearing red and white scarves, chanting and singing in excitement. 

the energy is contagious.

after buying a pretty bayern-themed scarf from the merch stand, you wrap it around your neck for good measure. it feels like the perfect way to show support for your new friends, even though you’ve only known them for about a month. 

they’ve been so welcoming, and you can’t help but feel grateful for how things have turned out.

you glance at your phone, double-checking the seating section sydney had mentioned in her text. the ticket leads you to the family and friends section, which surprises you. 

you didn’t expect to be sitting somewhere so special for the team. then again, you didn’t expect to be here at all a month ago.

when you reach your row, you notice that the seats directly beside you are still empty, but that’s okay. you sit down, adjusting your scarf and the brown bomber jacket you’d chosen for the game. the late evening breeze is cool, but the jacket keeps you warm as you watch the girls warm up on the pitch below.

as you look out at the field, you spot all of the familiar faces from the group chat—they’re already practicing. you can’t help but smile, knowing you’ve gotten to know these players beyond just their professional personas. 

the same moment– you see two figures walking together along the bottom of the family and friends section, heading in your direction: 

lena and kathi.

you try not to stare, pretending you’re just casually looking around as they get closer to the section where you're seated. 

it’s impossible not to notice when they head directly toward you. your heart skips a beat, unsure of what to expect.

"y/n!!!?" kathi grins, stopping beside you. 

"hii its nice to finally meet you!"

"oh, hey!!!" you stand up, a bit flustered but smiling. 

"it’s so good to finally meet you guys in person."

kathi pulls you into a hug, and lena smiles as she steps closer, giving you a quick hug as well. 

"we were wondering when we’d run into you," lena says, her voice warm and teasing.

"same here," you laugh nervously. 

"i wasn’t sure i’d see any of you outside the chat."

"well, now you’re stuck with us," kathi jokes, sitting down on your left, while lena settles in on your right. 

"this seat taken?"

"nope, all yours," you reply, staying cool despite the fact that you’re suddenly sitting between two bayern stars. 

"so, you come here often?" lena asks, nudging you lightly as she adjusts her scarf.

you grin. 

"this is my first time at a soc- sorry, football match, actually."

kathi raises an eyebrow. 

"wait, you’ve never been to a football game?"

"not really," you admit, feeling a little sheepish. 

"i know how the game works, but i’ve just never watched it. i played basketball growing up in the states."

"basketball? that’s cool," kathi says, her eyes lighting up with interest. 

"i could never get the hang of basketball. too many rules."

"too many rules?" lena laughs, shaking her head. 

"you’re a footballer, and you think basketball has too many rules?"

"okay, fair," kathi grins, giving lena a playful nudge from around your shoulder.  

"but come on, football’s just easier to follow."

"yeah, yeah, whatever," lena says with a grin. 

then, turning back to you, she asks, "so. .y/n tell me– do you have any other friends in munich? or maybe… a boyfriend?"

you laugh, not expecting the question. 

"oh, no. definitely no boyfriend."

lena raises an eyebrow, intrigued. 

"really?"

"yeah," you nod, still smiling. 

"i don’t swing that way."

kathi lets out a quiet snicker, and lena shoots her a quick look—one of interest. 

kathi just rolls her eyes playfully, clearly aware that lena is trying to flirt. 

you, of course, are oblivious and continue chatting as if nothing is unusual.

"good to know," lena says, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

before the conversation can continue, kathi jumps in, steering it away from lena’s not-so-subtle flirting. 

"so, any hobbies? other than being in random group chats with footballers?"

"actually, yeah," you say, smiling at the memory of your last project. "i do ceramics."

"no way," kathi says, clearly impressed. 

"that’s awesome. i’ve always wanted to try something like that."

"you should! there’s a ceramics studio in downtown munich. i’m going to a class next week if you guys want to come with me on wednesday."

"i’m in," kathi says instantly, grinning.

"i’d love to, but i’ve got a thing with adidas that day," lena says, frowning slightly. 

"but next time for sure."

"no worries," you say, understanding. 

"it sounds like you guys are always busy with something."

"pretty much," kathi sighs, leaning back in her seat. 

"but hey, at least we get days like today to relax."

you glance over at lena and kathi, both of them sitting out of this gme due to their ACL injuries. 

"how are you guys doing with the injuries, by the way?"

"we’re getting there," kathi says with a small smile. 

"it sucks, but we’re doing okay."

"yeah," lena adds. 

"it’s tough watching from the sidelines, but we’re handling it."

just then, a loud cheer erupts from the crowd as the game kicks off. you turn your attention to the field, watching as bayern and frankfurt begin to battle it out.

about thirty minutes into the game, georgia breaks through frankfurt’s defense and scores a stunning goal. the crowd screams, and you, kathi, and lena all clap enthusiastically.

"that’s our girl," kathi grins, clapping as she watches georgia celebrate with her teammates.

you lean over slightly, grinning as you point towards georgia. 

"so how does someone kick a ball that far? seriously, that was impressive."

lena smirks and leans in a little closer to you, her eyes playful. 

"how do you shoot a three-pointer?"

you laugh. 

"practice, lots of practice. you’ve just got to get the right angle, arm strength, and—"

"so basically, the same thing as kicking a ball from outside the penalty box?" lena teases.

"i guess you could say that," you reply with a grin, enjoying the playful banter.

the three of you settle into the game, chatting in between plays and cheering for bayern.  

as you talk, you can’t help but notice people around you taking pictures. kathi and lena are well-known, and while you’re not used to the attention, it’s clear that people are curious about who you are. 

who’s the girl sitting with two injured bayern players? whispers and glances are cast in your direction from photographers and fans, but you try not to pay it any mind.

by halftime, the score is still 1-0 in favor of bayern, and lena and kathi stand up to stretch. 

"we’re going to the lounge," kathi says, glancing down at you. 

"you coming?"

you hesitate, unsure if you’re even allowed. 

"i thought that was just for family and players?"

lena laughs. "you’re on the list. we put you down as one of our guests. you’re our friend."

"seriously?" you feel a smile spread across your face, touched by the gesture. 

"that’s amazing. i had no idea."

"come on, let’s go," kathi says, waving you along. 

"you’ve got to see it."

you follow them to the lounge, which is a lot fancier than you expected. plush couches, tables lined with snacks, and a relaxed atmosphere for family and friends of the team to hang out during halftime. 

"you know– it’s so nice to have a friend who’s not a footballer," lena speaks. 

"i’m glad you guys like my presence," you admit, still in awe of how quickly everything’s changed since that random group chat.

“oh, i definitely do.” lena smirks. 

kathi roles her eyes at lena while smiling. 

"it feels like you’re one of us now." kathi says, nudging you. 

after the break, the three of you head back out to your seats just in time to see bayern score another goal. this time, it’s klara who fires a screamer from way outside the penalty box, sending the ball soaring into the back of the net. the crowd erupts, and you clap along with lena and kathi.

lena glances over at you with a playful smile. 

"i’ve got to say, y/n," she starts, her voice light but with that familiar teasing edge, 

"you’re really pulling off that look. the brown bomber jacket, the bavarian scarf—you're fitting in with the bayern fans already."

you laugh, tugging at the scarf and feeling a little flustered by the compliment. 

"oh, thanks. i wasn’t sure if i could pull off the whole ‘bayern fan’ look, but here we are."

"oh, you’re pulling it off," lena says, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you expect. there’s something in her tone—something that makes your heart skip a beat—but you shrug it off, thinking she’s just being friendly.

kathi, sitting on your other side, shoots lena a knowing look. 

"careful, lena. you’re laying it on pretty thick," she says, grinning as she leans forward to catch your eye. 

"she’s just messing with you, y/n."

you chuckle, completely oblivious to the flirtatious undercurrent. 

"well, it’s working. i feel like a proper football fan now."

"you look like one too," lena adds, her smile widening as she casually adjusts the scarf around your neck. her fingers brush lightly against your skin, and for a brief second, there’s a flicker of something more in the way she’s looking at you. 

again, you chalk it up to her just being playful. after all, you’ve only known these girls for a month—there’s no way lena’s flirting, right?

"okay, okay," you laugh, trying to shake off the slight awkwardness you feel. 

"i get it, i look the part. but you two are the real stars here."

"oh please," kathi says, rolling her eyes. 

"we’re benched, remember? lena and i are just here for moral support. you’re the real star for coming to your first game and surviving sitting with us."

you smile, feeling comfortable with them even though you’re completely out of your element. 

"honestly, i’ve had so much fun already. i didn’t realize how intense football could be."

"you haven’t seen anything yet," lena says, nudging your arm. 

"this is just a regular league game. wait until you see the champions league.” 

"yeah, lena’s right. the energy in those games is something else," kathi adds, leaning back in her seat and stretching.

you nod, already imagining the bigger games. "i can’t wait to see more."

"and now that you’re here in munich," lena says, leaning a little closer, 

"we’ll have to make sure you come to more games. maybe we’ll even get you onto the pitch someday."

"me? on the pitch? you guys would concede twenty goals before the second half." you laugh, shaking your head. 

"i’m just here to watch. you guys are the pros."

"oh, i don’t know," lena says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

"you’ve got the look down, you’ve got the enthusiasm. all you need now is a little practice."

"practice?" you raise an eyebrow, amused. 

"i don’t think i’d last five minutes on the field."

kathi grins, leaning in from the other side. 

"i think you’d surprise yourself. plus, you play basketball, right? you’ve got the coordination."

"it’s not the same thing," you say, laughing. 

"i’ve never even kicked a ball before."

"we’ll fix that," lena says confidently, her hand brushing against your arm again. 

"next time we’re at the training grounds after our injury rehab, you should come. we’ll show you how it’s done."

kathi watches the exchange, clearly picking up on lena’s flirty tone, but you remain completely oblivious. 

you just smile, nodding along as if they’re simply making friendly suggestions.

"yeah, i’m sure i’ll be a natural," you joke, but lena’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer, and kathi gives her a subtle nudge.

by the time the final whistle blows after the game, bayern has secured a solid 3-0 victory, and the atmosphere in the stadium is electric. you clap and cheer along with the rest of the fans, feeling proud of your friends on the field.

"let’s go down and meet everyone," lena says, standing up and stretching.

"wait, meet everyone?" you ask, your eyes wide.

"yeah, come on," kathi says, grinning as she grabs your hand and pulls you toward the field. 

"we’re taking you down to meet the whole team."

you can hardly believe this is happening. as the three of you make your way onto the pitch, your heart races. you’ve seen these girls on instagram or in the group chat, but now you’re about to meet them in person.

as soon as they spot you, georgia, sydney, tuva, and the rest of the team come running over, laughing and cheering.

“y/n!!” sam kerr squeals as she jogs over.

"it’s the wrong number girl!" tuva jokes, pulling you into a hug. 

"i was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination." the norwegian continued. 

“no no, i am real!” you laugh as she patted your shoulder. 

"y/n!!!!" 

you look over to see sydney sprinting to you from the benches.

she nearly tackles you as her strong body pushes yours into a hug. shes happy just as you were. you’ve talked to her more individually than the rest of the girls throughout the month, so you are most familar with syd. 

sydney pulls back from the hug but keeps her hands on your shoulders. 

"finally! it’s so good to meet you in person."

you smile, feeling the warmth of her welcome. 

"yeah, it feels surreal, honestly."

"how’s munich treating you so far?" she asks, genuinely interested, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"it’s been great," you reply, nodding. 

"i’m still getting used to everything, but it’s such a beautiful city like you’ve said. i’ve just been trying new places, you know?"

"that’s awesome," sydney says, giving you an approving nod. 

"i’m glad you’re settling in. you’re gonna love it here once you get into the groove. georgia mentioned you live near her?"

"yeah, just a few streets down, actually."

"perfect!" sydney says, her smile widening. 

"do you have a ride home? i can give you a ride home if you want. i’m heading that way anyway."

you blink, surprised by the offer, but then you nod, grateful. 

"i was just going to take the bus home but that’d be great syd, thank you so much."

"no problem," she says, waving off your thanks. 

"plus, tomorrow, you should join us for lunch. by us i mean me and sam. we are going to get pizza if you’re interested!?” 

"that’s awesome, i’d love to" you say, clapping her hands together once as sydney pulls you in for a last hug– just happy to see you after speaking for a full month. 

you laugh, feeling a sense of ease settle in. sydney’s kindness wasn’t surprising since she has always been kind and humorous in her messages. 

a hand touches your shoulders and you see lena’s bestfriend– lea. the woman’s blonde hair and blue eyes complimented each other and you couldn’t help but smile.

"lea!!!" you laugh, hugging her.

"it’s so good to meet you," lea says, smiling warmly against your shoulder. 

"its nice seeing you in person rather than in pictures on my phone." lea continued. 

you blush, overwhelmed by how kind they all are. it feels like you’ve known these girls for years, not just weeks. 

as the hugs and introductions continue, you can’t help but feel like you’ve found your friends here in munich.

pernille and magda walk over, and you freeze slightly. of course you’ve talked to them in the groupchat but you’ve recently discovered that they’re one of the most iconic couples in women’s football. 

"so, you’re the famous y/n," pernille says with a grin, her arm coming to wrap around your shoulders. 

"uh, yeah, i guess that’s me," you say, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"you’re adorable," magda says, giving you a once-over before flashing you a smile.

"thanks," you mumble, feeling your face grow even hotter. these girls are all so effortlessly cool, and you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that they’ve accepted you into their world.

after chatting with the team for a while, discussing the game and making jokes, you realize just how lucky you are to have stumbled into this friendship. 

sure, it started with a wrong number, but now, standing on the pitch surrounded by these incredible women, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

as the night winds down, sydney meets you after changing and showering in the locker rooms. she grins as the both of you walk to her car, georgia already waiting. 

sydney agreed to take the both of you home. since you and georgia are neighbors and sydney lives a couple of minutes away.

"so, what do you think y/n? are you a football fan now?"

"definitely," you laugh, glancing around at the team. "i can’t believe you guys play that amazing sport."

“It's exhausting sometimes though.” georgia says from the passenger seat as you settle in the middle seat in sydney’s car. 

“i feel you. i mean i’m not a professional footballer, but i did play basketball for many years.” you say. 

“that's not shocking, you look athletic.” sydney says as georgia nods her head.

“thank you! i can’t believe the one and only sydney lohmann is complimenting me.” you joke and georgia laughs. 

"believe it," sydney says, reaching over her drivers seat to pat your left knee. 

"we’re not letting you go anytime soon."

part three here