#and they all care about each other!!!!! so much!!!!!!

[lamemeduturfu]

oh right

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

[writeriguess]

neemaaa

can i request a katsuki x reader where they are secretly in a relationship? they get caught making out by their friends and then get teased the whole time

Unveiled

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming through your veins as you pressed yourself against Katsuki Bakugo. His lips were hot against yours, moving with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. One of his hands was gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nails grazing the nape of his skin, earning a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your entire body.

This was risky. So damn risky.

Your friends could walk in at any moment. Hell, they were supposed to be here already! But the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of sneaking around, made it impossible to care. You had been keeping your relationship with Bakugo a secret for months, slipping away in between training sessions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at odd hours, exchanging heated glances across the common area when no one was looking. It was exhilarating, having this little secret between just the two of you.

"Tch, you taste good," Bakugo muttered against your lips before diving back in, deepening the kiss. You couldn't help but melt into him, fingers tightening against his skin as you pulled him closer.

That was when it happened.

The door to the empty common room slammed open with a loud BANG.

"OH MY GOD!" Mina’s voice practically echoed through the room, followed by the distinct sound of Kaminari’s laughter and Kirishima’s deep chuckle. You barely had time to react before the two of you jerked apart, but it was too late.

You were caught.

Bakugo's face was a mix of horror and absolute rage, his entire body tensing as if he was about to explode—not figuratively, but literally. You, on the other hand, were frozen in place, eyes darting between your very smug-looking friends.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Kaminari wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. "I THOUGHT YOU HATED EVERYONE, BAKUGO!"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Mina smirked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. "Secret relationship, huh? Oh, this is juicy. You guys have been sneaking around this whole time? How long?!"

"None of your damn business!" Bakugo snapped, but his reaction only seemed to fuel their amusement.

Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Bakugo’s shoulder despite the clear and present danger of being blown to smithereens. "Man, this explains so much! You've been way less of an asshole lately."

"The hell I have!"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just pretend you guys didn't see anything?"

Mina gasped dramatically. "Oh, absolutely not. This is the best thing that's happened all week!"

"Yeah, we're never letting you live this down," Kaminari added, grinning wickedly. "So, tell me, Bakugo, how long have you been secretly making out with our dear friend here?"

Bakugo twitched, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you genuinely feared for Kaminari’s safety. "You wanna die, Dunce Face?"

"Relax, man, I think it’s kinda cute!" Kirishima piped up, and Bakugo turned his death glare toward him instead.

Mina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others! You know this means the whole class is going to grill you, right?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, but it was futile.

"Oh, I dare," she teased, winking. "I give it five minutes before everyone in 1-A knows."

Bakugo groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to god, I will kill all of you."

But the teasing didn't stop there. By the time the rest of your classmates found out, it was pure chaos. Sero and Kaminari wouldn't stop making exaggerated kissing noises every time you and Bakugo were in the same room. Todoroki, in his usual deadpan tone, commented, "I always assumed Bakugo was incapable of romance. This is surprising."

Momo and Iida, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy for you both, though Iida did remind you that public displays of affection should be kept to a minimum.

It was insufferable. It was embarrassing. It was never-ending.

And yet, despite all the teasing, Bakugo still found ways to sneak you away, to press you against the walls of empty hallways, to steal quick, heated kisses when no one was looking.

"They can tease all they want," he muttered one night, his lips brushing against yours, "but that doesn't change a damn thing. You're mine."

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[minicy]

[ID. A Reddit post on r/AITAH by u/WokeBeans.

"AITA for pretending to think beans in chili are "woke", to prank my Cousin who is obsessed with being "anti woke" and who loves chili?

My cousin is known for making chili. And he's good at it. He makes his own chili flakes from his "secret combination" of various dried chilies, it has a very nice kick. lt's like the perfect amount of spice, it's hot but not too hot. He also always adds kidney beans. Not canned beans either.

Anyways for the past 2 or 3 years my Cousin has become obsessed with all this bullshit about what is or isn't "woke" and how "woke" things are the end of the world. He's always been a good dude so I don't know what his bag is but he is completely obsessed. It's annoying.

So the other weekend I was at his place and he was making his famous chili. So I got the idea for a little prank. I was like "I'm surprised you still put beans in your chili." He was like "What? Why?" I was like "Beans in chili are so woke. Everyone is saying so. He was like "What do you mean?" And he was like genuinely concerned. As if this was something serious.I said something like "Yeah beans in chili are woke, the original conservative Texans who made chili only used meat and chili. San Francisco liberals started adding beans to chili in the 60's because so many hippies were vegetarian. Now all the woke scientists are saying beans are a better protein source than meat." He didn't say anything to that.

I kind of just assumed he'd know I was fucking with him and get the joke. We have always fucked around with each other and jokes about and all. But he was quiet all dinner.

Just yesterday I was back again at his place and he was making his chili again. There were no beans. It was a totally different chili. This guy has been making his chili with beans for like 15 years. I was like, whats up? "Where's the beans?"

He was like "I don't fuck with that woke shit." I was like "What?" He was like "Beans in chili are woke. Even you know that.'"

Everyone else was like what?  Because.... what? I was like dude I was just fucking with you. He got REALLY angry. He dumped his chili in the sink and told everyone to go home. I thought he was pranking me back or something but he was serious. The dude totally lost it.

He texted me later and said this exact thing: "I researched this online and it turns out u really were lying to me, beans r not woke. How could u do this?"

We went back and forth for a bit. His position is even though we have historically pranked each other I went "too far", that I "betrayed him", that I "made him question his chili", I tried to ask him if this at all made him think he cared too much about "woke", like what if beans in chili WAS woke, so what? He ignored that and demanded I apologize.

Did I take this too far?"

End ID.]

"I would never jeopardize the beans" pales in comparison to it's newest successor, "beans r not woke. How could u do this?"

[witherby]

I need anything and everything of jason being Mouses favourite. (The Littlest Wayne AU)

They get a snack/ meal - Jay Jay has to take a bite first before they eat

They have a new toy- Jay Jay has to see and play

I’ll take anything you can think of.

I am obsessed. The AU is amazing

-🤍💜

Say less! I love Jason Todd and so does Flittermouse! By the way the word count is 3100+ lol oops

The Littlest Wayne: Fist Bumps

Masterlist is Here!

"This is stupid."

"Shut up, you're just mad you won't get picked."

Tim kicks Damian in the shin, who retaliates by kicking him back much, much harder in the ankle. Tim cries out, about to start a fight, but one stern look from Alfred settles them both down. They continue to sit beside each other without fuss, and soon everyone is all neatly lined in a row while Hal uses his ring to keep you safely suspended in a bubble, playing with a little rattle.

"Alright," Dick says excitedly, "we're going over the rules one more time! No jingling any shiny objects for Flitty to chase after, no getting out of line to get closer to them, and Bruce, no bare skin! We're gonna have Hal set them down and see who they come to first."

"This isn't gonna go the way you think it's gonna go," Bruce says, endlessly amused. "Please, none of you get your feelings hurt."

"Nobody's gonna start cryin', relax," Jason says, lounging on the floor between Damian and Hal. "Kay, we ready?"

A chorus of agreement follows, and Hal gently lowers you to the floor. They all immediately call your name, or variations of your nickname, waving their hands and patting their laps to get you to come to them. Your eyes widen, startled by the sudden rush of noise, and turn your head to assess everyone across the room.

You lock on to the man you want, the binky in your mouth bopping up and down excitedly, and you start speedily crawling to Jason.

"I KNOW that's fuckin' right!" He yells, scooping you into his arms and gently tossing you in the air a couple inches, then peppering your face with kisses. "I'm the favorite you little freaks. Kiss my ass."

"Okay, whatever, we knew that already," Dick says, "now it's time to see who the second favorite is. Put them down and go away so we can play again."

"Be nice to your brother," Bruce says. Dick flicks Bruce in the ear and he scowls. "Ow. Be nice to me."

"Fine. Gotta know who my competition is for the number one spot in Mousey's heart, even if I'm winning by a landslide." Jason carries you across the room and sets you back down. "You stay for a sec, kay? Pound it." He picks up your chubby arm and makes you give him a fist bump, then walks away from you.

Before they can even start a second round of the game, you're shuffling after him again. Christ, it's adorable.

"It's because they can still see you, Todd," Damian says, scooping you up to put back in starting position. "Duck behind the couch."

Jason rolls his eyes but complies, bending down until he's out of sight. When the rest of the family calls for you again, you shuffle forward like you're going to crawl to Hal, but you veer past him and around to the back of the couch to get to Jason again.

"Oh my god, they've developed object permanence already," Tim says. Jason's triumphant laughter fills the room as he lifts you up to give you more kisses. His endless delight and your happy squealing softens the blow to everyone else's egos.

"This game sucks anyway," Dick mumbles, crossing his arms in defeat. "What idiot even came up with it in the first place..."

--

"You ask."

"Uh, no? You ask? I don't care."

"Yeah but he tolerates your questions. I don't wanna get my jaw blown off."

"Then don't ask, dumbass. It's so easy."

Jason clears his throat, causing the two goons to stiffen up and turn to face him. One of them looks upset that he was caught unaware, and the other looks one wrong move away from pissing himself.

"Hi, boss," they both greet.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Jason asks, taking a half-step closer. "Cause last I checked, I sent you both over here to do quality control on our newest drug shipment. And I'm not seeing a lot of that gettin' done."

He turns to the more frightened man. If he didn't have his helmet on, he would've sneered at him.

"So what's the hold up? Need me to sew some mouths shut? Hmm? Want me t'cut out your fuckin' tongue? That'll motivate you real fast, I bet."

"We'll get right on it, boss," the other, clearly smarter, henchman states. "We were just. Uh. Wondering why there's... why there's a baby strapped to your chest."

Jason looks down at you. You stare right back at him, making a soft cooing noise around your Red Hood-themed binky, and reach up for his mask. He gently takes your hand instead, feeling your tiny fingers curl around the leather of his gloved pointer. He's smiling sweetly at you, despite no one being able to see it.

"This is M," he says by way of an answer. "Won't be an everyday occurrence — couldn't find another babysitter so I assured the dad I'd keep 'em safe for the night."

He doesn't mention that your dad is also his dad, and that when Jason tried to leave to do his vigilante work, you screamed the house down and would only calm down in his arms, therefore he had no choice. So here you are, strapped to his chest in a onesie padded with kevlar and vital-tracking tech, while your favorite brother carries your diapers and formula around in the same duffel he stashes his guns.

And because you're his favorite, too, he secretly hopes you throw more fits so he gets to hoard you all to himself again. Taking a few minutes to tickle your tummy or gently rock you in his arms stops him from losing his patience and blowing out the brains of several subordinates tonight — which his men clearly catch onto, because they all start telling him how nice it is to see such a cute and perfect and pleasant, life-saving baby hanging around.

Fuck yeah it's nice. S'cause you're the coolest baby ever. Jason gently makes you fist bump him.

--

"AHHH!"

Jason is out of his chair and bolting across the Manor before his brain fully registers your screaming through the baby monitor. There's surprised exclamations and footfalls not far from him as his thunderous steps stir up a commotion, but he doesn't care about that.

There are very few times in his life when he's moved this fast. Large, expansive rooms fly by him in a blur of color. He takes the stairs six at a time. If a door he needs to get through is closed, he's breaking it down with a well-placed hit with his shoulder and moving on.

When he gets to your room, he stops to yank the door open because he doesn't know if you're near it, and darts inside with a sharp shout of your name.

"What's wrong!?" He pants, zeroing in on you immediately. You've rushed into your wardrobe and climbed inside it, red-faced and crying as a crow flaps haphazardly around the bedroom. The shattered glass on the floor gives him the missing context, and he snatches the bird out of the air with more force than necessary while the adrenaline spike is still scrambling his nervous system.

Bruce is the second person to rush into your room just moments after, crouching by your hiding spot with furrowed brows and a soft, slightly winded voice.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. You whimper but shake your head, fat tears rolling down your little cheeks, and lift your hands. Bruce picks you up without hesitation and stands up.

"Jaylad?" He says, still in that gentle tone. "You alright?"

Jason doesn't answer. He's not alright, not really. The rage he'd built up thinking someone was in here hurting you is still burning through his veins, and with no outlet for it, he's struggling a bit.

Bruce doesn't take offense to his lack of response. He just offers you a small, reassuring smile and bounces you a bit in his arms.

"Let's go find Grandpa and snuggle up with some hot chocolate," he murmurs. "Jay-Jay will hang back and make sure your bedroom is safe for you."

"No!" You sob, leaning around your father's broad shoulders to reach for Jason. "Want Jay-Jay!"

"You can spend time with him in a little while, Mouse," Bruce says, starting to carry you out of the room. Your protests get louder and more frantic, pushing against him to no avail.

"Want Jay!" You repeat, sobbing openly. "Jay-Jay! Want, p'ease!! Jay-Jay!"

"Bruce," Jason utters through grit teeth. His father stops, only a few steps down the hallway, and turns back to him. "It's fine. I'll take 'em, you clean up the mess."

"...are you sure?" Bruce frowns, visibly cautious. He looks down at the bird still flapping helplessly as Jason holds it by the neck, firmer than strictly necessary.

Jason takes a step towards the broken window and tosses the crow out. After a second of frantic flapping, it straightens itself out and flies away with panicked sqawking.

He turns to you and holds out his arms. They're only trembling a little bit, but the edges of his vision are still tinged with green. Bruce hesitates to pass you over.

"I've got it," Jason murmurs, "I'm calm enough. Gimme my fuckin' sibling before you piss me off worse, B."

Bruce nods slowly. He brings you back into the room and hands you off to Jason. Your arms circle his neck and cling on tight, and you bury your face in his chest as you cry. It breaks his heart that you had such a bad scare. He can see the half-completed Lego build you were playing with on the floor in front of the window and hopes Bruce can get all the glass shards out between the bricks and carpet.

Jason carries you out of your bedroom and down the corridor to his. He leaves his door cracked open and flicks on lights as he goes, then brings you to the en-suite bathroom.

"Okay, Mousey," he mumbles, trying to set you on the sink's vanity. You clutch him tighter and whimper, and it drives a spear right through his chest. "Kid, I'm not goin' nowhere. Jay-Jay's right here, I just wanna make sure there's no glass on you."

A little more prodding and the compromise of you holding one of his hands gets you to relent. You sit miserably on the counter as your sobs slowly die down, and Jason tediously checks your hair and clothes for any bits of glass that may have landed on you when the crow crashed into the window. The slow, repetitive motions help quiet the last of his anger until he's just tired and concerned for you. He finds a couple tiny pieces, but your skin is unblemished and when he asks if you're hurt, you shake your head, which then calms him entirely.

"Alright, great job," he murmurs. "Come here, we'll go bother Alfie t'give us an icecream sammy before dinner and then cuddle in the main living room. Good plan?"

You sniffle, wiping the last of your tears away. Your cheeks are flushed and puffy. "Yeah, good pwan..."

Jason kisses the top of your head and offers you his fist. You gently bump yours against his, then lift your arms again to be picked back up. He obliges, refusing to put you back down for the rest of the day. When it's time for bed, you don't wanna go back into your room, so he spends the evening reading his current novel with a dim book light while you snooze away on his chest.

--

He's livid. Jason's got a hole in his leg and he can't run away from the rival gang leader pointing a gun at his head, and he's fucking livid.

"My first death was way cooler," he mutters. "Got blown up and everything."

"What the fuck are you saying?" The other man scowls. "I never could understand you through that thick-ass helmet."

"I'm saying, if you're gonna go down as the guy that killed the Red Hood, at least make the execution something fuckin' noteworthy," Jason rants, the pain making him bitchier than usual. He waves his hands for emphasis, pointing at the gunman much like a mother scolding her child. "Ohh I shot him and watched his brain splatter everywhere! So has every single marksman ever. I'm worth more than a bullet in an alleyway. The fuck do I look like, Bruce Wayne's folks?"

"Whoa, man," the shooter says, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his head. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad I'm gonna kill you. You're that mad I'm not gonna kill you...in a cooler way?"

"Excellent listening ears, bucko! Gold star!" Jason coos, clapping. "Immolation, decapitation, tossin' me in an acid pit — fuck me, I'll take a stab wound over a bullet! D'you know how skilled you gotta be to get close enough to stab Red Hood to death!? If not for me, do somethin' that'll raise your own paltry street cred, shit. You're so fucking boring."

The man doesn't get another chance to weigh his options. The darkness of the alleyway pounces on him, sucking him into the void while he shrieks like an animal. Jason slumps against the wall and watches the shapeless darkness warp and twist, the gun abandoned on the ground in the gunman's initial panic. He feels his heart rate slow when you step out after a minute, wearing a thick jacket over your pajamas and a domino mask over your eyes as you hurry towards him. A flash of irritation makes him scowl as he realizes one of the others woke you up for this, when you aren't even a vigilante to begin with. The culprit's gonna get their ass beat as soon as he recovers enough to track them down.

"Okay," you stammer, kneeling next to him on the ground with a first aid kit. "Okay okay okay...Alf — umm, Agent A? I'm here, what do I do?"

"Remain calm, Flittermouse. All will be well," Alfred soothes you over the comms. Jason feels the adrenaline steadily exiting his body now that he's registered that he's safe. Now, it's a fight to stay conscious so you don't freak out even more than you're currently doing. He's so proud of you for coming out here despite the blatant fear.

Your hands shake as you pop the kit open and pull out the field tourniquet. Alfred instructs you on how to set it up, and Jason gently adjusts it when you wrap it a little too close to the bullet wound in his thigh. He grits his teeth as you tighten it, refusing to make a peep, and gives you a quick thumbs up when you tie it off.

"Okay, I stopped the bleeding. Do I bring him home, now?" You ask.

"As long as he has no other injuries, the medical bay is ready for you to transport him back to the cave."

"M'good, Mousey," Jason says, lifting his fist. "Sorry you had to come rescue your cool big bro. S'not your job."

"I was the one who could get here the fastest," you reply. After a moment's hesitation, you bump his fist with your own. "You're gonna be okay."

"M'gonna be okay," he echoes, knowing you need that confirmation. "Saved my life, kid. I'll do all your chores for the next week."

That gets a wet laugh out of you. You hug Jason tight and the shadows of the alley pool underneath your bodies. Jason closes his eyes and hugs you back, a steady anchor in the free-falling sensation entering your darkness gives him.

"My heroics are only worth a week of chores?"

"S'better than the rest get," he says. "They get one chore. Not even a whole day, just one chore."

You bury your face in his shoulder as the void swallows you and him up.

"You're my favorite, too, Jay-Jay," you mumble. Jason smiles as he loses the battle for consciousness.

--

"Good afternoon; welcome to Truce Juice. Would you like a moment with a menu or are you ready to order?"

Jason leans his hip against the counter and takes a menu off the small, laminated stack you've got sitting there, glancing over the options. Behind the helmet, he smiles as he remembers all the late nights you pulled him and your other brothers into the kitchen to taste test these drinks and snacks, desperate to make things that would appeal to many people. He remembers how proud you were to graduate from your culinary courses and the victory cry you let out when you found insurance willing to cover the building.

You smile warmly at him, waiting patiently for him to choose something off the menu for the first time in your brand new business.

"Black coffee," he says, voice warped by the modulator in the helmet, "two sugars."

"What size?" You ask, tapping it into the screen in front of you.

"Large. And a turkey panini, with avocado and pesto."

"Toasted?"

"What other fuckin' way would anybody get a panini?" He muses aloud. To strangers, he would sound angry, but you can tell he's genuinely asking. You just shrug and keep the soft smile on your face.

"You'd be surprised. Your total's on the screen; will that be cash or card?"

Jason reaches a gloved hand down. It glides past the pistol strapped to his thigh, eliciting nervous gasps from bystanders in the cafe, and into the pocket underneath, drawing out a plain, tri-fold wallet. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and huffs at you to keep the change, then saunters over to the pick-up counter to wait.

He crosses his arms and watches you scuttle around behind the counter, genuinely happy to make food and drinks for anybody that comes in. So far, you're uninjured and you've been able to stop any rising conflicts in seconds, which he's endlessly thankful for.

When his order is ready, you hand it to him with another bright smile.

"Alright, mister Hood, here you go. Have a great day!"

Jason nods, about to turn away, when he sees you hold your fist out in his periphery.

He grins, heart fit to burst, and bumps it back.

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 3

paige x azzi

warning: mentions car accident

word count: 10.3k

A/N: I have literally never written anything like this so I hope it comes across correctly. I swear some of your answers are in this chapter just be patient. Let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

3rd Person POV - Friday

The morning light filtered softly through the hotel curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Azzi blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the bright rays filing in, slowly waking her up to the quiet stillness of the room. Her gaze naturally drifted to Paige, who was still fast asleep beside her, the steadiness of her breathing reflecting her deep slumber.

Azzi watched her for a moment, taking in the sight of her in a way she hadn’t been able to before. The blanket had shifted considerably, low on Paige’s waist, and she was lying on her stomach, her hair a little messy on the pillow. Azzi’s gaze softened as she noticed how naturally beautiful Paige was, the little details that made her feel more real, more alive. The sunlight caught in Paige’s hair, highlighting certain strands that framed her face, even in her sleep.

Her eyes traced the sharpness of Paige's jaw, the arch of her nose, the curve of her lips that were relaxed in slumber. As Azzi looked at her she noticed that there was a scar, small and barely visible, near Paige's hairline. Azzi’s finger itched to trace it, to figure out the story associated with it, but she stayed still, careful not to disturb her. The quiet intimacy of the moment was too precious to ruin with a thoughtless action like that.

Her gaze moved lower, her eyes looking at the scar on Paige’s torso—the one from last night. It was more visible when Paige was facing her, but now, with her turned on her stomach, Azzi could only make out a small portion of it, curving along her side and reaching toward her back just slightly.

In the stillness, Azzi felt the weight of the moment, the growing sense of curiosity she had about Paige. She realized, then, just how little she truly knew about her—the person she had shared what felt like many lingering moments with in the past few days. Still, there were so many layers left to explore, so much left to understand.

It wasn’t lost on Azzi how much she wanted to know, how much she yearned to unravel the mysteries that Paige held beneath the surface. It felt like the beginning of something important, something bigger than just a random night in a hotel room. For now, though Azzi was content to just be here, beside her, breathing in the quietness of the morning as she gathered her thoughts.

Azzi lay there for a moment longer, watching Paige as she slept, it was all so peaceful. It felt weird, she could’ve stayed in that moment forever, but after a while, Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Paige. She slowly reached over the edge of the bed to grab her phone from her pocket, making sure not to make too much noise.

She unlocked it and couldn’t help but chuckle when she saw a text from Caroline pop up first: You still alive? Hope it was good.” Azzi typed a reply, “Yes, I’m alive and please relax.” A few more notifications popped up and Azzi spent a few minutes responding, her fingers moving across the screen.

The next time she glanced over at Paige, she noticed the subtle shift in her posture. Paige’s eyelids fluttered a little, and the quiet signs of waking up were starting to show. Azzi couldn’t help but smile to herself, lowering her phone as Paige slowly began to blink her eyes open.

Paige squinted slightly, clearly still adjusting to the morning light that filtered in through the window. Her eyes, that seemed to be a deeper blue with the way the sun was hitting them, met Azzi’s, a soft glimmer of awareness and curiosity in them. There was something so serene about the way Paige looked at her, a sense of familiarity already settling in, even though they had only known each other for such a short time.

Paige stretched a little, still blinking as she finally spoke in a raspy morning voice, “Morning.” She looked at Azzi for a beat longer, still processing the shift from sleep to reality.

Azzi couldn’t help but grin, the corners of her mouth moving upward as she replied, “Morning. You look like you just got out of a coma.”

Paige’s lips twitched, her eyes still half-lidded as she fought a smile. “Yeah? You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Azzi laughed softly, the moment between them feeling more natural than anything they had shared before. The tension that had once seemed so thick between them now seemed to have lifted, replaced with something lighter.

Paige’s gaze flickered to Azzi’s phone, still in her hand. “Telling your friends how good I was already?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Sure something like that,” she replied playfully. She lowered the phone and moved it to the side before she turned back to Paige. “So, how’d you sleep?”

Paige stretched once more, the slight stretch of her body revealing more of the scar near her side that Azzi had seen the night before.

"Like a rock," Paige said, her voice still a little horse. "You?" she asked, turning to Azzi who had the sheet covering her chest.

Azzi chuckled. "Yeah, better than I’ve slept in a while."

Paige kept her gaze fixed on Azzi, still lying there with her head on the pillow. "So, what now?"

Azzi smiled a little, the corners of her lips curling up. "I was hoping you'd know."

Paige returned the smile, raising an eyebrow. "Me? I thought you were the one with all the answers."

Azzi shrugged, not answering right away. Instead, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "What time is your flight?"

"6:15," Paige replied.

Azzi hummed quietly, not saying anything else for a moment as she just looked straight ahead. Paige, still looking at her, propped her head up with her hand, studying Azzi’s profile as her eyes danced over Azzi’s face.

Azzi shifted slightly, meeting Paige’s gaze again. "Stop looking at me like that."

Paige grinned. "Like what?"

Azzi let out a soft sigh. "Like you just had sex with me last night."

Paige laughed softly, the sound completely unguarded. "I did have sex with you last night."

Azzi smirked, shaking her head completely at a loss for words. The atmosphere between them felt so easy.

Randomly Azzi says, “Tell me something about you.”

Paige chuckled as she sat up, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s. “What do you want to know?” she asked, her amusement with the question clear.

Azzi shrugged, her brown eyes warm but curious. “Anything.”

Paige thought for a moment, tilting her head slightly before offering, “Um…Well I’m 22.”

Azzi immediately cut in, unimpressed. “That’s boring, and I already know that.”

Paige laughed. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azzi smirked, motioning for her to continue. “Alright, go on.”

Paige licked her lips, thinking for another second before continuing, “I’m 22. My birthday is October 20th. Um… I like purple.” She trailed off, her mind suddenly blank on what else to add.

Azzi gave her an exaggerated look before deadpanning, “Wow. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

Paige scoffed, shoving Azzi’s arm playfully. “Shut up.”

Azzi grinned, shaking her head. “I’m serious, that was definitely life-changing information.”

Before Paige could respond her phone ringing cut off her thought process, making both Paige and Azzi glance toward the desk where it was sitting. Paige sighed before pushing herself up, stretching her arms over her head as she walked over in just her boxers and sports bra. Azzi’s eyes lingered for a moment, biting her lip slightly as she took in the way the light outlined the toned muscles of her back.

Paige glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hello.”

Azzi stayed in bed, half-listening as she tried to piece together the conversation once she heard Geno’s voice. She could hear his voice through the speaker, though not clearly enough to make out every word. Something about wanting Paige to come by campus for a bit before her flight since she didn’t have much time to officially meet the team and hangout with them yesterday. Paige hummed in response here and there, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk when she noticed Azzi watching her.

Paige hung up a few moments later, still smiling as she turned back toward the bed. Before she could explain, Azzi’s phone started ringing. She frowned when she saw Geno’s name on the screen, glancing at Paige, who shrugged before disappearing into the bathroom.

Azzi exhaled and answered. “Hey, Coach.”

“Paige is coming to campus in about 20 minutes. I’m sending her your number so she can call you when she gets there. Make sure she feels comfortable,” Geno instructed, his voice casual yet expectant.

Azzi bit back a smile even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t worry.”

Geno seemed satisfied with that and ended the call. Azzi sighed, tossing her phone on the bed before standing up and stretching. While looking for her shirt her eyes landed on Paige’s black oversized shirt from yesterday, thrown over the chair. Without thinking much of it, she grabbed it and slipped it on. It was small, but she caught a faint trace of Paige’s scent on the fabric and it felt strangely intimate. As if they hadn’t just woken up in the same bed.

She walked toward the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as she watched Paige brush her teeth.

Paige caught Azzi’s reflection in the mirror, her gaze flickering down to the black shirt draped over Azzi’s frame before meeting her eyes again. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she mumbled through the toothpaste, “Looks good on you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, shifting her weight against the doorframe. “Please don’t start.”

Paige chuckled, spitting into the sink before rinsing her mouth. She turned around, leaning back on the counter as she reached for the towel. “I’m just saying.”

Azzi scoffed, but there was a slight tug at her lips, betraying what she was about to say. “Don’t get used to it.”

Paige just smirked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Azzi like she knew something she wasn’t saying. Azzi held her gaze for a moment before shaking her head, pushing off the doorframe. “Hurry up,” she said, turning back toward the bed. “I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late.”

Paige watched her go, her smirk still lingering as she wiped her face.

Paige walked out of the bathroom and settled for throwing on a hoodie and a pair of sweats. Turning back toward the bed, she grabbed an extra pair of sweatpants and some boxers and tossed them to Azzi.

Azzi caught them easily saying. “Thank you,” as she slipped them on.

Once they were both ready and Azzi grabbed all of her clothes, they stepped out of Paige’s room.

When they got outside there was a slight breeze as they made their way to Caroline’s car. Azzi unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat while Paige got in the passenger seat, a lingering smile still tugging at her lips.

Azzi caught the look and sighed, shaking her head as she started the car. “You’re still smirking.”

Paige shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look before exhaling a small laugh. “You don’t have to, it's litrally all over your face.”

Paige chuckled but didn’t say anything else, letting the conversation fade into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the car filling the space between them as they drove toward campus.

When they arrived, Azzi pulled into Caroline’s usual parking spot and turned off the engine. They stepped out, making their way up the stairs to Azzi’s suite.

The second Azzi pushed open the door, she was met with Caroline and Ice lounging on the couch. Both of them took one look at her, eyes dropping to the clothes in her hand before flicking to the shirt and sweats she was wearing. Matching smirks immediately spread across both of their faces.

Azzi paused for half a second before exhaling through her nose, already regretting the situation.

Paige followed, moving into view just enough to lift a hand in a wordless acknowledgment. Ice and Caroline’s eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting to see her here, both of them thankful they kept their mouths shut for a second.

Azzi kept her expression neutral as she said, “Geno wants us all to hang out with her today before she leaves.”

They both nodded, but the smirks never left their faces. Azzi didn’t entertain it, instead glancing at Paige for a second. She immediately noticed the shift—how Paige’s energy had seemed to dim. Her entire demeanor was more reserved now, quieter, a stark contrast to how she’d been that morning in the hotel of just moments ago in the car.

Azzi frowned slightly before saying, “You can just come with me until the rest of them get here.”

Paige met her eyes briefly before nodding, following Azzi deeper into the suite and into her room.

When they got to Azzi’s room, she shut the door behind her while Paige settled into the chair in front of her desk. Azzi moved to her closet, tossing her clothes inside before straightening up and turning back toward Paige.

Paige was looking around, taking in the space with quiet curiosity. Azzi leaned against the closet door, watching her for a moment before asking, “Is it what you expected?”

Paige glanced at her and nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

Azzi chuckled, grabbing her phone and sending a message to the group chat, telling them all to come to her suite courtesy of Geno. Almost instantly, the message started getting likes, but she didn’t linger on it. Placing her phone down, she looked back at Paige.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and make myself presentable,” Azzi said.

Paige gave a small nod, and with that, Azzi slipped out of the room, making sure she shut the door behind her.

Left alone, Paige let out a soft exhale, her gaze drifting across the room until it landed on a corkboard hanging on the wall. It was filled with pictures—Azzi’s life in high school and college. Paige leaned forward slightly, eyes tracing over the pictures, and before she realized it, a small smile had formed on her lips.

When Azzi returned from the bathroom, her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She shut the door behind her again and moved to lean against the desk, standing just a few inches from where Paige was sitting, her leg brushing against Paige’s knee.

Paige glanced up at her, eyes flicking to her hair before smirking slightly. “Cute.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Me or the bun?”

Paige shrugged. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the way her lips twitched. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

Paige leaned back in the chair, spreading her legs a bit more. “I know.”

Azzi gave her a look, smiling at her. “Oh, you’re back now, huh?”

Paige tilted her head. “Back?”

Azzi motioned toward the door with her chin. “You got a little stoic out there.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Just wasn’t in the mood to be the center of attention first thing in the morning to strangers.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before nudging her knee with her own. “Well, it’s just us now.”

Paige grinned up at her. “Yeah?” Paige licked her lips as she looked up at Azzi, “So what you wanna do about it?”

Azzi shook her head, biting her lip slightly to stop a smile. “I should’ve left you in the hotel.”

Paige chuckled, tilting her head back against the chair as she looked up at Azzi. “Too late now.”

“Unfortunately.”

Paige kept her eyes on Azzi, her gaze unwavering. It made Azzi shift slightly, the intensity of it throwing her off.

“Stop,” Azzi muttered

Paige raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"

"You’ve had that look on your face since you woke up."

Paige just hummed in response, the smirk never leaving her lips as she continued looking up at Azzi.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking?”

Paige slouched further against the chair, her legs spread slightly, and lazily shook her head. “No.”

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, just studied her, trying to decipher whatever was running through her mind. Paige, still lounging effortlessly, absentmindedly started playing with the hem of her shirt that Azzi was wearing.

Azzi glanced down at her hand before raising an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she swatted Paige’s hand away.

Paige scoffed at the action.

From down the hall, the sound of voices grew louder, the unmistakable clamor of the team filling the suite.

“I think the team’s here,” Azzi murmured, straightening up from the desk as she glanced toward the door.

Paige didn’t respond. Instead she took a moment before she stood up, immediately in Azzi’s space—close enough that Azzi could feel the warmth radiating off her. They both noticed the closeness but neither of them moved, locked in a quiet stare.

Azzi looked Paige up and down with a small smirk playing on her face. “You know if you want to–”

KK’s voice rang out through the suite and interrupted whatever Azzi was about to say, “Azzi, stop hogging the recruit!”

Azzi chuckled, while Paige simply exhaled through her nose. Without a word, she stepped back, casually shoving her hands into her pockets before following Azzi out of the room.

As they stepped out of Azzi’s room, the noise in the suite became more apparent. The team was already gathered, everyone lounging in comfortable clothes—sweats, sweatshirts, sneakers—looking relaxed. No one made any formal introductions again, but the moment Paige stepped into the living room, the attention shifted to her. They all greeted her, some with friendly smiles and others with more playful words trying to immediately make her feel comfortable, but the ease of the atmosphere didn’t seem to reach Paige fully as she sat down on the couch and Azzi walked to the other side of the room.

As soon as Paige sat down KK took a seat next to her, KK’s natural energy radiating off of her as she looked at Paige. “So,” KK said, trying to strike up a conversation, “What makes you not boring like everybody else? Gimme something good.”

Paige glanced over at her, her lips curling up in a small, reserved smile. “Um, I don’t know,” she said, shrugging slightly. “I play basketball. That’s pretty much it.”

KK groaned but pressed on. “Okay, but what do you like to do when you’re not playing? There has to be something interesting about you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away, her gaze flicking to the others in the room as if searching for something to latch onto. Finally, she let out a breath and gave a half-smile, her eyes momentarily flicking back to Azzi who was standing by the counter. “I don’t have much time for hobbies these days honestly. Mostly just rehab and working out, been doing a lot of visits and when I’m not doing any of those I watch my team practice. Homework I don’t know.”

Aubrey nodded, chiming into the conversation. “That’s fair,” she said. “But I mean, everyone has something outside basketball, right? You like any movies or music? Come on, give us something. You sound like a robot dawg.”

Paige’s jaw tightened slightly, and she leaned back a little more on the couch, her posture still casual but distant. “I mean yeah I like music. R&B, mostly, a little of everything though” she replied, her voice steady but a little guarded.

The conversation kept going, but it was clear that Paige wasn’t opening up much. She was here physically, but emotionally she was closed off. There was confidence in her responses—no hesitation, no awkwardness—but not much more. She didn’t offer much beyond what was necessary to keep the conversation moving or to answer direct questions they asked her.

Azzi caught the shift in Paige’s demeanor the moment she looked over and saw Paige staring off into space, her finger absentmindedly spinning the ring on her hand. It was subtle, but Azzi noticed. Azzi pushed off the counter, excusing herself from the conversation with Ashlynn and Jana, and made her way over to where Paige was sitting on the couch.

She lowered herself into the seat next to her, close enough that their legs brushed together.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

Paige blinked, breaking out of her thoughts, and her eyes slowly shifted over to Azzi. A faint smile appeared on her face. She shook her head. “Nothing much.”

Azzi didn’t buy it. “I don’t believe you,” she said simply.

Paige chuckled, a small and unconvincing sound, before her gaze shifted back to the group as the noise around them seemed to fill the air.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Paige quickly shook her head. “Not uncomfortable, just… not much to say really.”

Azzi muttered under her breath, almost too quietly to hear, but Paige caught it. “You sure had a lot to say last night.”

Paige chuckled at this, tilting her head slightly as she met Azzi’s gaze. “I don’t think you wanna get into that with me right now,” she murmured.

Azzi held her gaze, her lips twitching, but before either of them could push further, a voice cut through the moment.

“Yo, Paige!” Aubrey called from across the room.

Paige let the stare linger for a second longer before finally tearing her eyes away, turning toward Aubrey. “Yeah?”

“How tall are you?” Aubrey asked, her expression unreadable.

Paige blinked, thrown off by the random question. “Six foot.”

Aubrey nodded. “You can shoot?”

Paige huffed a small laugh, still confused but playing along. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Aubrey simply nodded again and went right back to her conversation, as if she hadn’t just stopped the room to ask.

Paige frowned slightly, looking over at Azzi, who just shrugged.

Paige’s time with the team went like this for about another hour—mostly talking to Azzi, though every now and then, someone would chime in with a random question that Paige would answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to talk to people. She just didn’t do well with new people, with people she didn’t know. Simply because she didn’t like small talk much. It was one of her pet peeves that had formed some time ago when her step mom would force her to talk through the pain in her ribs with pointless questions and comments.

After a few hours of chilling with the team it was time for Paige to head back to her hotel so she could go to the airport. She stretched slightly as she stood up, glancing at Azzi, who was already watching her.

“You heading out?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Paige didn’t argue, just slipped her hands into her pockets as she followed Azzi toward the door bidding goodbye to everyone before they walked out.

The two of them stood outside waiting for Paige’s uber not saying much. Paige rocked back on her heels, hands in her pockets, glancing at Azzi, who was leaning against the railing, arms crossed.

Azzi glanced at Paige. “So.”

Paige smiled softly, tilting her head. “So.”

Azzi exhaled, watching her carefully. “When are you making your decision?”

“I have to visit a few more schools first,” she admitted. “But soon.”

Azzi hummed at this, nodding slightly. Before either of them could say anything else, the Uber pulled up. Paige stood there for a second, looking at Azzi, searching for something in her expression. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“How do you wanna play this?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now.

Azzi shrugged, her face unreadable.

Paige smiled at that before stepping forward, pulling Azzi into a hug. It was brief but firm, lingering just long enough before they pulled away.

Azzi met her eyes. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Paige smirked. “You have my number Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to text back?”

Paige shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “You aren’t as mysterious anymore. So your little ominous comments don’t work.”

Paige laughed at that, reaching for the car door. “I’ll text you.”

Azzi crossed her arms, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ll text back.”

Paige met her gaze one last time, her expression softer now. “I’ll see you soon, Azzi.”

With that, she slid into the Uber, shutting the door behind her. Azzi stood there, watching as the car pulled away, her arms still crossed, her smile lingering, before she walked back upstairs.

…

After that day, Paige and Azzi kept in touch—not constantly, but enough. Their conversations were never rushed, never forced. A text here and there, one of them sending something random. Azzi sending a meme, Paige sending a highlight clip, both of them sending song recommendations that neither of them ever admitted to actually listening to.

Their texts always stretched over days. It would start off as a constant back and forth, but then one of them would respond hours later, sometimes even the next day, but neither ever seemed to mind. Azzi would send something sarcastic, Paige would respond with something equally dry, and it would spiral into playful messages until one of them finally let it die out—only for another conversation to start days later in the same effortless way.

What surprised Azzi the most during this time was that Paige always answered her FaceTime calls. She’d roll her eyes and act inconvenienced, but she never ignored them. “I told you I don’t like FaceTime,” she’d say when she picked up, usually lying in bed or at a random gym. Azzi would just smirk, tilting her head. “Then why do you always answer?”

Paige never had a real answer for that. She’d just shake her head, fighting a small smile before changing the subject.

Through these scattered conversations, Azzi learned more about Paige. She found out that Paige was at a small Division II school in Minnesota, though she rarely talked about it unless Azzi pried, mumbling about how Azzi asked way too many questions. Azzi learned that Paige hadn’t played her freshman year because of the accident, and after tearing her ACL this past year, she still had two years of eligibility left. Though she planned to use just one—coaches seemed to think that was all she needed to prove that she could still perform on the big stage.

Azzi also learned little things. Like how Paige always listened to music when she couldn’t sleep, nothing too loud, just playing softly in the background so she could listen to the lyrics instead of all the random thoughts swirling in her head. She learned how Paige had a habit of spinning the ring on her finger when she was thinking or when she got a little nervous or uncomfortable. How she spaced off in the middle of conversations and came back to earth like nothing happened. How she only drank coffee if she was desperate, otherwise she stuck to water or the occasional shirley temple.

It was a slow process, getting to know her. Paige didn’t just offer things up freely, but Azzi didn’t mind the wait. The more Paige revealed, the more Azzi realized that, beneath all that confidence and “mystery,” she was someone who chose her words carefully. Someone who didn’t say things unless she meant them.

Paige learned about Azzi just as Azzi had learned about her.

It was almost effortless—Azzi carried most of their conversations, filling in the silences that Paige left behind. That was the first thing Paige realized: Azzi wasn’t necessarily talkative, but with her, she was. Because she knew Paige wouldn’t speak much unless she was eased into it first. If they were ever on FaceTime around Azzi’s team they were the one’s talking and yelling while Azzi usually just sat there offering a small comment here and there.

Paige learned that, despite being one of the healthiest people she had ever met, Azzi had an undeniable sweet tooth—so much so that if she could, she’d probably marry a sweet treat. Paige learned that Azzi loved to read, losing herself in books when she needed a break from the world. She learned that Azzi loved talking about the books she was reading when she was done, even when Paige had no idea what she was talking about most of the time.

She learned about Stewie, Azzi’s dog, and how just talking about him could make Azzi light up. Paige learned about the little things—the things that made Azzi smile, the things that made her laugh, the things that made her feel at home when she was away at school and missed her family.

And now, about a month or so later, they were about to see each other again.

Azzi hadn’t expected to see Paige. As far as she knew, Paige was still making her rounds, visiting schools, weighing her options. They had texted earlier in the day like usual—short, easy messages that stretched over time—but Paige hadn’t mentioned anything about being at the game.

The arena was loud, packed with energy as UConn went through their usual warmups. The rhythm of bouncing basketballs, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, and the music blaring through the speakers filled the space. Azzi was locked in, focused on her silent routine, until a glance toward USC’s bench made her freeze for half a second and do a double take.

Paige was there. Sitting just behind their bench, in nearly the same spot she had been when she watched UConn play before.

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her grip tightening around the ball in her hands as she tried to process the sight. Paige, of all people, at the USC game—against UConn, no less.

Paige, of course, had seen Azzi notice her. And, because she was Paige, she smirked, leaning back slightly in her seat when she caught Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi blinked, exhaling a short breath as she shook her head, trying to fight the smile tugging at her lips. This girl.

…

From the moment the ball tipped off Azzi spent the entire game battling against USC’s defense, which had clearly done its homework on the shooting guard. Every time she tried to move off the ball, two defenders shadowed her. Every screen she ran around, they fought through, or two people jumped at her. UConn’s offense, usually fluid and dynamic with the ball in her hands, felt a little stagnant without her usual rhythm.

Paige could see it—the way Azzi’s frustration built with every contested shot, every missed opportunity. She wasn’t playing badly by any means, but she wasn’t playing as freely as she usually did. From where Paige was sitting, she could see ways Azzi could create more space for herself. Small adjustments, little shifts in movement that could’ve made a difference. But all she could do was sit there and watch it unfold behind USC’s bench.

The game was tight all the way through, every possession feeling heavier as the clock wound down. But in the final minutes, USC managed to stay just a step ahead.

When the buzzer finally sounded, the scoreboard read 83-79 in USC’s favor.

The home crowd erupted in celebration while UConn’s players sighed, some shaking their heads, others already replaying the game in their minds. Azzi, standing near the baseline, exhaled sharply, hands on her hips as she looked up at the scoreboard.

From her seat behind USC’s bench, Paige simply watched it all unfold.

A few minutes after the game, once the immediate post-game chaos settled, Paige and Azzi finally made their way toward each other. Paige had stepped away from the crowd, having a few moments to herself while USC went to have their post-game talk. Azzi, fresh off the handshake line, was still coming down from the intensity of the game.

"You didn’t tell me you were coming," Azzi said as soon as they were close enough. The fans near them yelling to get Azzi’s attention.

Paige let out a soft laugh. "You always lead with something I don’t expect. Never a hello."

Azzi shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I don’t have a lot of time," she admitted, glancing over her shoulder toward the tunnel, where her teammates were heading in. "But I wanted to see where you were staying."

"The Marriott, a few minutes from here," Paige answered easily.

Azzi hummed at this. "Hm. Us too."

Paige chuckled, tilting her head slightly. "Guess I’ll see you later, then."

Azzi was about to respond, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the final straggler from her team disappear into the tunnel. She knew she couldn’t afford to linger any longer, especially after a loss. Exhaling softly, she glanced back at Paige.

"I’ll text you," Azzi said instead.

Paige gave her a small nod. Azzi held her gaze for just a second longer before turning and walking toward the locker room.

…

Later that night, Paige was lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, when a soft knock echoed through her hotel room. She blinked at the door before pushing herself up, already knowing who it was but still peeking through the peephole out of habit.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she swung the door open, revealing Azzi standing on the other side in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Paige’s gaze dropped to the shorts, taking in the tiny red hearts printed across them.

“Nice hearts,” Paige teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips as she reached out and shoved Paige’s shoulder—though Paige barely moved.

Without another word, Azzi stepped inside, her expression expectant as she looked at Paige. Paige furrowed her brows slightly before realization dawned on her features. Without hesitation, she reached out, wrapping Azzi in a long, lingering hug.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh as Paige wrapped her arms around her, melting into the hug like it was exactly what she needed. Paige held her close, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, feeling the tension still lingering in her body from the game.

"Long day?" Paige murmured.

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. "You could say that."

Paige smiled, pulling back just enough to look at her. "So, what? You came all the way up here just for a hug?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow. "Would that be weird?"

Paige shrugged. "Nah. I get it. I’m me."

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she wandered further into the room, glancing around before flopping down onto Paige’s bed like she’d done it a hundred times before. Paige smirked at this.

"You make yourself at home real quick, huh?"

Azzi glanced up at her. "Well, you did say you’d see me later."

Paige huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before pushing off the wall and making her way toward the bed. She sat at the edge, glancing over at Azzi, who was already sprawled out against the pillows, arms tucked behind her head, looking completely at ease.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Paige. “How’d I play?”

Paige shrugged before shifting to lay beside her, mirroring her position. “Pretty good.”

Azzi arched her brow. “Not great?”

Paige shook her head. “No, not great.”

Azzi sighed, tilting her head back against the pillows as she mumbled “I hate basketball sometimes.”

Paige turned her head slightly, studying her before adding, “Their defense was basically ‘anyone but Azzi Fudd’ so don’t think about it too much.”

Azzi let out a quiet groan, staring up at the ceiling. "Tell me about it," she muttered. "Felt like they had three people trailing me at all times."

Paige turned her head slightly, glancing at her. "They did," she confirmed. "But you were still getting good looks. You just weren't creating enough space."

Azzi gave her a side-eye. "Oh, so now you're my coach?"

Paige laughed. "I'm just saying, I saw a few ways you could’ve gotten open."

Azzi rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. "Yeah? Like what?"

Paige mirrored her, facing Azzi. "Couple times, you could’ve used your off-ball movement better. They were biting hard on screens—if you slipped off quicker, you would've had more separation. I don’t know if you had anyone to make the pass but still. And when you did get the ball, you hesitated just a little too long. You let them recover."

Azzi stared at her for a moment, her competitive nature flaring just slightly. "You really sat there analyzing me the whole game, huh?"

Paige smirked. "What else was I supposed to do? Watch USC?"

Azzi scoffed. "Yeah, actually."

Paige chuckled, nudging Azzi’s arm with her elbow. "Seriously though, you played well. USC just had a good scouting report."

Azzi sighed, rolling onto her back again. "Yeah. Sucks, though."

"Would've helped if you had a more consistent shooter."

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, raising an eyebrow. "Ashlynn can shoot."

Paige shrugged. "She can, But if she doesn’t make her first few shots, she’s nonexistent the rest of the game."

Azzi hummed at this but didn’t argue, staring up at the ceiling in thought. After a while she tilted her head to look at Paige who was just staring at the ceiling now. Azzi propped her head up on her hand again as she said, “Enough about me. How was your visit?”

Paige shrugged, not offering anything more.

Azzi gave her a pointed look. "How many times do I have to tell you? Shrugging isn’t a proper form of communicating."

Paige chuckled, finally breaking her silence. "It was alright, I guess."

Azzi narrowed her eyes. "Wow. Raving review. So... USC’s out of the running?"

Paige nodded. "Yeah."

Azzi hummed, studying her. "That was quick."

Paige smiled slightly. "I know what I want."

Azzi tilted her head. "And USC wasn’t it?"

Paige shook her head. "Not even close."

Azzi’s lips curled slightly, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she just traced Paige’s arm with her fingers. "Guess that means you’re running out of options, huh?"

Paige glanced down at her arm where Azzi was touching before saying. "Guess so."

Azzi shifted slightly, resting her cheek against her palm as she eyed Paige. “How many do you have left?”

Paige knew what she was asking—how many visits, how many schools still in consideration. She exhaled softly. “Two.”

Azzi nodded, her fingers idly playing with the string of her hoodie. “Are you actually considering them?”

Paige turned her head, meeting Azzi’s gaze for a brief moment before answering. “Not really…I have to go, though.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Paige laughed. “Because they’ll report all the other schools to the NCAA if I don’t.”

Azzi let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You really have schools breaking rules for these ‘unofficial’ visits?”

Paige just chuckled, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess I’m a hot commodity.”

Azzi laughed at this and the room settled into a quiet stillness, the only sound the faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioning. Paige’s eyes flickered over Azzi’s face, taking in the way the dim light softened her features, the way her lips parted slightly like she had something to say but was hesitating. Azzi, normally composed, seemed almost hesitant now, her fingers playing with the string of her hoodie as she held Paige’s gaze.

Finally, Azzi exhaled. “Can I kiss you?”

Paige smiled a little at the question and gave a small nod.

With the confirmation, Azzi closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing gently against Paige’s jaw before tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a slow kiss. Paige exhaled steadily against Azzi, her hands finding their place on Azzi’s hips.

Not long after the kiss started Azzi tilted her head, deepening it, and Paige followed her lead, nipping at Azzi’s bottom lip just enough to make her sigh.

The sound sent a warmth through Paige’s chest, and before she could process it, Azzi shifted forward instinctively, settling more comfortably in Paige’s lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Paige’s waist.

Paige’s hands slid upward, fingertips grazing the skin just beneath Azzi’s hoodie, tracing patterns. After some time, Azzi pulled back slightly, her lips parting as she exhaled.

“We can’t,” she murmured, her voice breathy but firm.

Paige, still beneath her, let out a low chuckle, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Azzi’s waist. “I know.”

Azzi blinked, slightly thrown off by Paige’s lack of protest. “You know?”

Paige nodded, her blue eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head back against the pillows. “Yeah. You spent all day yesterday texting me about how bad your cramps were,” she reminded her. “And how none of this actually makes sense because men are the ones with Adam’s apples.”

Azzi huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head as she sat back a little, still straddling Paige. “Hm. I sure did say that.”

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, her fingers still lazily circling Azzi’s waist, her touch lingering. She was looking at Azzi in the way she seemed to do a lot lately—like she had her completely figured out.

Azzi shifted slightly, her gaze flickering between Paige’s eyes as she noticed the way Paige was just… staring at her. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but in a way that made her feel like Paige was seeing right through her—like she was memorizing her, like she was thinking about something she wouldn’t say out loud.

Azzi’s voice was quiet when she finally asked, “What do you think about when you look at me?”

Paige’s fingers were still circling lazily against Azzi’s waist, her touch warm. She blinked at the question, lips parting slightly before she simply answered, “Too much.”

Azzi hummed at this, tilting her head slightly. “Why?”

Paige sighed, her expression shifting into something a little more distant. She took a moment, as if deciding whether she wanted to answer, before finally saying, “Don’t wanna make the wrong decision.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, but her silence and the look she was giving her encouraged Paige to continue.

Paige inhaled deeply before saying, “Life has a way of being unpredictable and a little cynical, regardless of your intentions. So I think about everything I’m doing way too much, hoping I can control the outcome… even though chances are I can’t.”

Azzi studied her, processing the weight behind Paige’s words. Without thinking, her fingers moved to the ring on Paige’s finger, gently spinning it the way she had seen Paige do. She hesitated before asking, “Is it because of the accident?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, but the way her jaw tightened—how her fingers briefly stilled against Azzi’s waist—was answer enough. After a second, she gave a small nod.

Azzi kept her touch light as she continued to toy with the ring, her voice even softer when she said, “You don’t talk about it much.”

Paige let out a quiet breath, eyes flickering away for a moment. “Not much to say.”

Azzi shook her head slightly. “I think there’s a lot to say. You just don’t want to.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, but there was no humor in it. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not bad,” Azzi murmured. “Just… something I’ve picked up on.”

Paige exhaled, staring past Azzi for a moment, her thoughts somewhere else. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally admitted, “It’s just… easier. Not thinking about it, not talking about it.”

Azzi watched Paige carefully, noting the way her fingers twitched slightly against her waist. She let the silence settle between them for a moment before asking, “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

Paige’s lips pressed together briefly before she shook her head. “No.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, then looked up at her with a soft smile. “You ask a lot of questions, pretty girl.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. “And you usually answer them, gorgeous.”

Paige let out a breath, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. She glanced away before finally saying, “No point. Every time I try, I just end up thinking about all the different decisions I could’ve made. Doesn’t do me any good.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, just watching Paige as she absentmindedly traced circles against her skin. There was something raw in Paige’s admission, something unspoken lingering between them.

“You know there’s nothing you could’ve done. You can’t control the world Paige.”

Paige nodded, but she didn’t speak, her eyes fixed somewhere past Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi could tell she wasn’t fully convinced—just because she knew it didn’t mean it was easy to accept.

“I know,” Paige finally said, her voice quiet. “But there’s just a lot from that day that could’ve changed things.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”

Paige hesitated. Azzi saw the way her lips parted like she was about to say something before she stopped herself, debating.

But then Paige’s gaze shifted, fully looking at her—the way Azzi was straddling her hips, the way she was still idly playing with the ring on her finger, the way her brown eyes were searching but so patient and warm.

Suddenly, Paige just started talking. “You know my little brother, Drew?”

Azzi nodded.

Paige stared past her for a second before continuing. “That day, he was bugging me all afternoon to go get ice cream. I mean, non-stop—every few minutes for some reason. But I was tired from the games that week, and I had a workout later that day, so I didn’t really want to leave the house before I had to. But I promised him we would go… just not right then.”

Azzi stayed silent, just listening as Paige’s voice took on a more distant quality.

Paige chuckled dryly. “When it was time for my workout, I couldn’t drive because I didn’t put gas in my car the night before, so we all went together—me, my dad, my stepmom, and Drew. Ironically we had never even done that before, that was the first time everyone was coming to one of my workouts. We left a little earlier than we needed to, and when Drew noticed he asked if we could stop for ice cream.” Paige let out a small, humorless huff, eyes still unfocused as she spoke. “My dad looked at me in the rearview mirror and said it was my workout so it was up to me. And I always hated saying no to Drew and I had said no so many times that day already, so I said of course.”

Azzi saw the moment Paige started slipping away, her expression flattening, her words turning mechanical, like she wasn’t even processing them as they left her mouth.

“So instead of going straight, we turned right,” Paige said, her voice distant, like she was narrating someone else’s life. “A few blocks later, one light before we were going to turn into the coldstone, there was this Pepsi truck. I guess he was coming off the highway too fast or something. He couldn’t brake in time, so he ran the light while we were in the intersection.”

She swallowed hard.

“The truck hit the side of the car my stepmom and I were on…They say your brain is supposed to block out things like that. Make it easier. But I remember everything. I just—” Her voice faded, like the words had dried up in her throat. Her eyes were glossy, unfocused, trapped in a memory she couldn’t shake. She blinked once, slowly, then murmured, “And yeah. That was that.”

Paige let out a shaky breath before continuing, her voice rough.

“And I hated the world for so long. Sometimes I still do honestly,” she admitted, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “Because I—I did everything right. I prayed every night, I gave back, I was generous, selfless, I worked hard, I did everything they say you’re supposed to, and that still happened. But then I remember I can’t hate the world. Because we’re all still here and healthy. I still get to play the game I love. I’m still so blessed. So I can’t even give myself the grace to be upset about everything.”

Silence settled between them as Paige just stared into space.

Azzi glanced down at Paige’s hands, noticing how cold they had become. She squeezed them softly, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of Paige’s knuckles, trying to get the blood flowing again.

“Paige,” Azzi said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. She squeezed her hands again, firmer this time, tilting Paige's head slightly to meet her eyes. “Hey.”

Azzi watched as Paige slowly came back to herself, the distant haze in her eyes clearing as she blinked a few times. Her gaze refocused, landing on Azzi like she had just remembered she was there.

“Hm?” Paige murmured.

Azzi softened her hold on Paige’s hands, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to—but she didn’t let go completely. She just held on. “What do you need?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige exhaled, her fingers flexing slightly in Azzi’s grasp. “I’m good,” she said, but there was no real conviction behind it.

Azzi didn’t argue, didn’t push. She just said, soft but firm, “Paige.”

Paige licked her lips, taking a slow breath. “Tell me something about you.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, then nodded, shifting slightly where she sat. She thought for a second before a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head. “During CoVid, my brothers and I got so bored one day that we decided to go out on the patio and I gave them haircuts.”

Paige’s brows lifted slightly, intrigued.

Azzi grinned. “And not just any regular haircuts. I was cutting shapes into their heads. Like, just completely ruining them. I had no idea what I was doing, but they let me do it anyway.”

Paige huffed a small laugh, and Azzi could see the lightness in her eyes start to return.

“I drew a basketball in one of their heads, even added my jersey number,” Azzi continued, laughing at the memory. “It was awful. Just—bad all around. But we were dying the whole time. Even my parents came out to watch.”

Paige chuckled, the sound quiet but genuine. “They actually let you do that?”

“Oh yeah,” Azzi nodded. “We were locked in the house for months; we needed entertainment. I think they regretted it as soon as they saw their reflections, but at that point, it was too late.”

Paige shook her head, smiling softly. “That’s ridiculous.”

Azzi shrugged. “Definitely. But I think it’s one of my favorite memories. Just us being stupid and not caring about anything else.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Sounds nice.”

Azzi gave her hands another squeeze. “It was.”

They stayed like that for a few beats, the weight in the room a little lighter now. Azzi watched Paige carefully, making sure she was really back, that she wasn’t slipping away again.

“You good?” Azzi asked quietly.

Paige nodded, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s where they were still intertwined. “Yeah,” she murmured.

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking softly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first—just nodded again. Then, with a gentle tug on Azzi’s hoodie, she pulled her down, closing the space between them. Their lips met in a kiss that felt different from all the others—not rushed or hesitant. It was just them, existing in this moment, wrapped up in each other.

Azzi sighed into the kiss, her hands moving instinctively to cup Paige’s face, her thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Paige’s fingers curled around the fabric of Azzi’s hoodie, holding her close, like she needed this—like she needed her.

The kiss continued to slowly deepen, neither of them in a rush to pull away. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, one that didn’t need words.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Azzi broke the kiss, her head moving toward the sound as her breath came a little uneven. Paige groaned, her head dropping against the pillow.

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, still slightly dazed as she glanced down at Paige. “You expecting someone?”

Paige shook her head. “No.” She tapped Azzi’s leg, silently telling her to get up. With a small sigh, Azzi slid off Paige’s lap, settling back against the pillows as Paige stood and walked toward the door.

Azzi couldn’t see who it was from where she sat—the way the hotel room was laid out blocked her view—but she heard the confusion in Paige’s voice when she opened the door.

“Wassup?”

A second voice answered, a little sheepish. “I think I left my charger here earlier. And I know you’re leaving tomorrow, so I didn’t wanna be SOL.”

Paige chuckled. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

She stepped back into the room, her eyes scanning for a moment before she spotted a charger near the couch. Grabbing it, she walked back toward the door.

“Thanks,” the voice said.

“No problem,” Paige replied easily before shutting the door behind her.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t realize your hotel room doubled as lost and found.”

Paige laughed as she sat back on the bed. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Who was that?”

“Just one of the girls from the USC team,” Paige said casually.

Azzi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at this, and Paige immediately caught on, shaking her head. “It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Paige scoffed. “It was all over your face.” She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow as she continued, “A couple of them came over yesterday before the game and just chilled here with me because my flight’s early tomorrow.”

Azzi hummed at this, but Paige could tell her mind was still working.

“What?” Paige prompted, watching as Azzi hesitated for a moment before finally asking, “Have you slept with anyone since me?”

There wasn’t a single beat of hesitation before Paige answered, “No.”

Azzi didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze lingering on Paige. Paige studied her in return, waiting, until the silence stretched a little too long.

Finally, Paige spoke again. “There’s no one else, Azzi.”

Azzi looked at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly as if processing the weight of the words. Then, softly, she responded, “I know. I’m just processing why the thought crossed my mind.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back on the bed with a casual smile. “I already told you why…You were way too interested for it to be just one night.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her expression now. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered. “I miss when you didn’t speak unless spoken to.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the bed with a smug smile. “Really?” she teased.

Azzi sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “No,” she said, her voice softening. “I don’t miss it, but it was... easier.”

Paige chuckled. “I’ll remember this when you’re begging me to say more than two words on FaceTime.”

Azzi smirked. “I’ll give you at least three. You probably say ‘I don’t know’ more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Paige’s lips twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You say ‘I don’t know’ just as much as I do. Don’t act like I’m the only one with the habit.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I do not.”

Paige grinned. “You literally said ‘I don’t know’ like five times today before noon.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, though it was clear she was trying not to laugh. “Okay, maybe once or twice,” she conceded, but then pointed at Paige, “But that’s because you’re always asking me impossible questions.”

Paige laughed fully. “Impossible questions? I ask things like, ‘How’s your day?’”

Azzi raised her hand in mock surrender. “Fine, I’m outnumbered.”

Paige smiled, her eyes warm with affection. “Yeah, you are.”

Azzi's phone rang from the nightstand next to the bed, interrupting their playful exchange. She glanced at the screen, letting it ring a few times.

“You gonna get that?” Paige asked with a smirk.

Azzi rolled her eyes but picked up her phone. “I was about to, if you give me a second.”

As Azzi answered, Caroline’s voice instantly filled the room, loud and clear. “Stop having sex with the recruit and come back to the room. CD’s having room checks soon.”

Azzi let out a laugh. “If I was having sex, I wouldn’t have answered the phone, babe.”

Caroline’s voice came back with a sigh. “Whatever. You’ve got like fifteen minutes.”

Azzi sighed, glancing at Paige as she responded, “Okay, bye,” before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto the nightstand, her expression now amused as she met Paige’s gaze.

Paige’s eyebrows were shot up in disbelief. “Sex with the recruit?”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”

Paige stood up, slipping on her Ugg Tasman slippers. “Come on, let’s get you back,” she said, glancing over at Azzi.

“You don’t need to walk me to my room.”

Paige shrugged casually, her usual nonchalance apparent. “I don’t mind.”

Azzi pushed herself off the bed, and as she reached for her phone, Paige grabbed her phone and keycard. The two of them walked out of the room, moving silently down the hall.

The walk to the elevator wasn’t awkward—just quiet. Azzi was lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting to places she hadn’t quite sorted through yet regarding the game.

Once inside the elevator, Paige leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The hum of the elevator made the moment feel peaceful, a brief pause in their whirlwind of thoughts.

It was then that Azzi finally spoke, her voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Paige opened her eyes slowly, tilting her head slightly toward Azzi. She nodded, the motion small.

Azzi watched Paige as they stepped out of the elevator and began walking down the hall toward her room. She raised an eyebrow, noting the quiet shift in Paige’s energy. “Why’d you get all quiet on me?”

Paige glanced at her, a faint smirk pulling at her lips. “I didn’t. I was just letting you think.”

Azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Right.”

When they reached Azzi’s door, she leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed. Paige stood in front of her, looking down the hallway for a moment before meeting Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi hesitated, then said, “I probably won’t see you for a while.”

Paige nodded, not offering much else. Azzi studied her, noticing the subtle shift in her posture. “You did get quiet on me. What’s up?”

Paige shook her head. “Nothing. I’m good.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, not buying it. “You sure about that?”

Paige sighed, looking down at her shoes for a moment before meeting Azzi’s eyes. “I’m just gonna miss you.”

Azzi softened at the admission. “Keep going,” she said quietly, sensing there was more to it.

Paige hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s just—my thoughts are a lot quieter when you’re around, for some reason. It’s just a little jarring going back to that after you leave.”

Azzi’s expression softened as she let out a small pout, tugging on Paige’s shirt, pulling her closer. “You know, you make it hard to leave when you say things like that.”

Paige chuckled softly, a sheepish smile on her lips. “My bad.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the unnecessary apology, her heart softening a little. “Come here.”

Paige hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, the space between them closing. As soon as she was near enough, Azzi reached out, pulling Paige in by the waist to connect their lips.

The moment their lips met, Azzi felt Paige’s tense jaw, the tension still lingering in her. Azzi gently traced her finger along the curve of Paige’s jaw, coaxing her to relax. Paige let out a soft sigh, her body responding as she melted into the kiss, her hands coming to wrap around Azzi pulling her closer.

They stayed like that for several minutes, the world outside disappearing as they simply focused on the feeling of being with each other in the hallway. When Paige finally pulled back, her breath uneven, she murmured quietly, “Thank you.”

Azzi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

The two of them lingered close, their foreheads nearly touching as they just savored the moment in silence, comfortable in each other’s presence. Eventually, Paige stepped back, putting her hands in her pockets, though Azzi noticed how her fingers absently toyed with the ring on her finger.

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re cute sometimes.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Thanks.”

Azzi turned toward the door, her hand moving to unlock it. "I’ll call you tomorrow," she said, her voice carrying the same familiarity that made everything feel a little more comfortable.

Paige nodded, her gaze softening. "Okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The brief silence between them lingered as Azzi slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside. She paused for a moment, eyes meeting Paige's one last time, before closing it behind her. Paige remained where she stood, her expression lingering. The soft click of the door locking was the only sound that followed, leaving Paige standing in the hallway for just a moment longer before she turned to walk away.

[dennisboobs]

standing in front of a firing squad would have been easier than reading this script i need to be shot

[briefeee]

Hello, it is me again, back for more as I work through all of your older arts for this AU, this one might be shorter than most posts. I finished cranking out some kind of analysis paper for uni and wanted to do something more fun with my brain 2333

I get a little obsessive with how much Jazz smiles here, I find his entire body language so fluid and full of trust for/to OP. His playful wink and smile as well, very cute and panda like of him. He's just really cute and carefree, if OP wants something, OP gets (in my head at least).

So much care in how the visor was removed from his face too, some kind of gentle swoop in and grab motion from OP's hands with how it comes clean off and it's really cute to see how OP looks wearing it. He reminds me of those really adventurous cats that love to take part in the things their owners do because it makes them feel a mutual connection (like makeup, showers, eating) a lot; their own way of bonding. I know by now my theory of Jazz knowing about the garment touching was correct (I was already following this AU when it came out), but tbh I always did wonder if he picked up on OP having cried around this time or guessed why and then this moment followed after (if im wrong, im wrong!)) Whatever led to this moment and the expression Jazz had seeing OP in his garment, I find their relationship as friends very endearing and sweet

"Something takes over when I look at you, it's a sudden rush of tenderness for you, so even if it isn't our fate, consider this an act of proclaimed love. In my memory, the moment never ends. For we stay there still looking at each other like that."

Jazz passed the test woohoo!!!! Official apprentice of Nexus Prime!!

I think I'll draw a guide to all the available garments sometime!

New fun fact! If touching was already bad, wearing another House's garment is an absolute sacrilege!! It implies that you're conjunxed to the person belonging to that House or at least, promised to them :D

[revvethasmythh]

listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).

comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.

which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.

so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.

tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave

*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).

[vettelsvee]

I'M SORRY, JULIET | Mick Schumacher

Mick Schumacher x Secret Girlfriend Vettel!Reader

SUMMARY: You're secretly dating Mick, both of you hiding it from everyone in your families until you get so happy about him getting his first points in Formula 1 that your father, Sebastian, ends up finding out

WORD COUNT: 2404

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of teen pregnancy (age 17 from Seb and Hanna), angst. Settled on 2022 British GP

VEE'S NOTES: I missed so much posting about Mick so I had to bring him back... even that means Seb is the "bad guy" here. Hope you like it and thanks for reading! I'll be waiting for your opinions <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You hadn’t attended a Formula 1 race for longer than you could remember, and truthfully, you never thought you would again until Mick Schumacher started turning your world pink.

The boy had known you since you were a child, back when you would occasionally attend races hand in hand with your grandfather, Norbert. Your relationship deepened every time you saw each other in the paddock or at family gatherings, and despite the age difference between you, you grew closer and closer until you eventually fell in love with each other.

Even before your relationship began, you were both fully aware of the obstacles in your way. It wasn’t just the fact that Mick was six years older than you, but also that you were the children of two drivers who weren’t just former rivals and friends, but also were like family.

All of that, combined with the inevitable pressure from the press if they ever found out about your relationship, mattered little to Mick. One afternoon in mid-June, when the Schumachers and the Vettels had gathered together, he had decided to confess his feelings for you. At first, you were completely in shock, hearing from the lips of the very boy you had loved for years that he loved you too.

So, of course, when Mick asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend, you didn’t doubt to say yes.

Neither of you cared what others might say because, for now, no one knew about your relationship.

And there you were now, standing in the Aston Martin garage alongside your mother and your three younger siblings, watching the race with great enthusiasm as Sebastian drove the emerald-green car.

To the outside world, it might have seemed like you were simply there for one of the most important days in your father’s career since it was his 35th birthday. But in reality more than watching your father, you wanted to see your boyfriend.

Hanna noticed the tense expression on your face. Smiling warmly and without taking her eyes off Emily and Matilda, who were playing tag nearby, she stepped closer to you.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You seem like you’re in another galaxy.”

Your body tensed at the question, something that happened every time someone in your inner circle mentioned directly or indirectly your secret boyfriend. You tried to hide what was on your mind, but the combination of your mother’s presence and your nerves made you say more than you actually wanted.

“I’m nervous because I want dad to finish in the points,” you said with as much conviction as possible, though it wasn’t enough to convince Sebastian’s wife. “And well… I’m also worried about Mick.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow, curious, but not pressing. She had once been seventeen too. More than that, she had gotten pregnant with you at that age, and she knew that your concern for Mick went beyond simple friendship. Mothers developed a sixth sense when it came to their children, and she knew you too well to be fooled.

“Mick? Why would you be worried about Mick?” she asked, making sure not to pry too much or reveal how much she already knew.

“Well… he’s having a really good race today,” you replied, lowering your gaze to the floor. “I’d like him to get a high position,” you explained, “even though with the piece of crap car he has we can’t expect much.”

Hanna nodded understandingly, reading between the lines of your words.

“I get it, sweetheart. I was the same way with your dad when he started racing,” she said, deliberately choosing her words to make you overthink. “Mick has a lot of talent, but he’s not in a team that helps him shine, so I understand why you care so much.”

“If you ever need to talk about Mick you know you can trust me, right?”  Hanna added,

You appreciated your mother’s words, though you remained cautious just in case she was digging for something that might expose your relationship. How naive you were to think she didn’t already know you were dating one of Sebastian’s best friends’ sons.

When the checkered flag waved and the twenty cars crossed the finish line, your eyes remained glued to the leaderboard. Not only had Carlos, one of your best friends, taken his first victory, but both Mick and Sebastian had finished in the points, placing eighth and ninth respectively.

Your father earning two points on his birthday was amazing. Your boyfriend earning three? Even better, especially since it was his first time scoring points in Formula 1. Saying you were emotional was an understatement, and no matter how much you tried to hold it in, a few tears escaped down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly to avoid drawing attention.

Hanna, still by your side as she fed the youngest member of the family, noticed you approaching with a hesitant expression, as if you wanted to ask something but were afraid to.

“Can I go to Mick’s garage to congratulate him?” you asked cautiously. “It’s his first time scoring, and I’d like to say something to him in person before we leave for Switzerland.”

“I know you’re excited for him,” your mother said while burping the baby, “but I think it’s better if you stay here. It’s your dad’s birthday, and honestly? I doubt Haas would even let you see Mick.”

You nodded, though sadness crept in. You looked at the monitors, seeing the top three drivers already celebrating on the podium. Even from your location, you could hear the Spanish national anthem playing over the speakers.

“Mum,” you tried again, “come on, let me go congratulate Mick. I’ll be back quickly, and I’ll be here by the time dad gets back!”

Your exaggerated gestures and the way you waved your arms were too adorable, and Hanna couldn’t help but see herself in you. She remembered how she had felt when she started dating Sebastian, wanting nothing more than to see him every chance she had. As much as she tried to be the responsible mother, sometimes she just couldn’t help it. This was one of those moments, one where she gave in to the charms of her eldest, the spitting image of her father.

“Make sure you come back as soon as possible,” she relented with a small smile. “I don’t want your father calling me a bad mother for letting his baby do grown-up things.”

“Thank you, mum!”

With that being said, you sprinted off, weaving through mechanics, fans, and celebrities scattered around the paddock. You checked your phone to see if Mick had texted you, but there was nothing. That only made you hurry toward the Haas garage. Seeing it empty, you quickly turned around and headed toward the hospitality area, which was further away. While dodging anyone in your way, you sent Mick a message telling him you were on your way and that you had to be quick before your father returned.

When you arrived, the first thing you saw was Mick soaked in champagne, holding a bottle in his hand. The Haas team members, including Guenther, were celebrating. You felt out of place and your insecurity crept in, making you want to turn around and leave. But then Mick saw you, and the moment your eyes met, you knew you had made the right choice.

Mick immediately broke away from the group and rushed to your side, hugging you tightly. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, even if just a quick peck, but his rational side reminded him that now was not the place.

“Congratulations, Mick!” you exclaimed, your excitement taking over you. “Oh my God, oh my God! I’m so proud of you!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.

“I finally get to see you, princess. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to,” he murmured playfully. “Although, I’d love to do a few other things with you.”

Your face turned bright red, something you had grown used to ever since you started dating Mick and were used to hear his endless compliments.

“How was the race?” he asked. “Did you like it, even though I probably looked like an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mick!” you scolded, lightly hitting his arm. “You scored points for the first time. If that’s being an idiot, then I don’t know what that makes me.”

“That makes you the love of my life.”

Mick pulled you even closer, and just as he was about to kiss you, completely ignoring the risks, a voice interrupted.

Or rather, someone did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Mick Schumacher?!”

As soon as you heard your father’s shouts, you and Mick pulled apart. You stood frozen, your face turning completely pale as Mick began cursing himself. How was he supposed to explain to the man who was like a father to him in many ways that he was dating you, his daughter?

You didn’t stay silent. You, who had a temper as strong as the man who had given her life, stepped between Mick and your father, trying to ease the tension that had formed over a simple show of affection.

“Dad, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” you exclaimed, nervous but determined.

“What do you mean it’s not what it looks like?” Sebastian scoffed, unwilling to believe your words. “Come on, Y/N, you were about to kiss him!”

“Yes, because Mick is my boyfriend,” you stated without hesitation. “We’ve been secretly dating since last month because we didn’t want to say anything just yet,” you explained without caring about the consequences. “So don’t act like this and use your fucking head and be reasonable for once.”

The Aston Martin driver was stunned, unsure how to react to the news that his daughter had a boyfriend, and that it was none other than the son of the man he considered his best friend, who had once been his mentor.

Mick watched as Sebastian looked at you in disbelief before shifting his gaze back to you, focusing all his attention on you.

“Y/N, this is insane… Mick,” he gestured toward him, “isn’t just any driver, he’s the son of—”

“I already know, Dad!” you interrupted, your tone sharp. “And? Does it matter? I don’t care who his father is, or who mine is, or the relationship between you two,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “We love each other, we take care of each other, and that’s the only thing that should matter to you.”

Mick alternated his gaze between father and daughter, finally mustering the courage to say something. But, before he could even open his mouth, Sebastian raised his right hand, silencing him immediately:

“Stop trying to fix this. You’ve fucked up, Mick,” he muttered as he stepped closer, his voice low enough that not even you could hear it. “My daughter is too young, and you know you could get into serious trouble if this gets out,” he added before stepping away and moving back toward you. “ I just sort of saved you from shit talks about you, so consider yourself lucky.”

“You can’t blame Mick for this, Dad,” you interjected defiantly. “We’re adults, and we can make our own decisions, so just leave us alone already.”

“You are not an adult, Y/N Vettel, you’re still a kid,” Sebastian snapped, his voice filled with unfiltered anger. “Stop acting like you are, because all you are is a reckless little girl.”

“Let me remind you that when you were 17 you fucked mum and you got her pregnant.”

You threw it out without thinking, and immediately, you regretted it, placing your hands over your mouth as if that could fix what you had just said. You knew you had been the most beautiful mistake your parents had, but you didn’t think about the impact it could have in their lives, especially in your father’s.

"I'm sorry, Juliet," the older driver began, trying not to let his anger and, especially, the pain he felt from your comment show. "But it's time to leave."

"Dad..."

"Not 'dad' or anything, Y/N," Sebastian said, raising his voice and making it sound harsher than he had intended at first. "Do you think it’s funny for me to see my daughter rubbing herself up against the one I consider my son?"

Mick paled as he heard his mentor’s words, feeling completely awful because he knew Sebastian was right. You threw him a look, but didn’t have the strength to answer. You were so in shock that you didn’t know how you hadn’t just left yet.

"And you, Mick," he said now, shooting a penetrating look at the young man, "I thought you could show a little more respect for our family and everything we’ve built together all these years."

Having said that, Sebastian took you by your shoulders carefully and started walking back to where the rest of your family was, not giving you or Mick a chance to say goodbye.

"We don't choose who we fall in love with, Sebastian," Schumacher blurted out, still frozen in place.

Your father and you turned around. The look of disappointment on Seb’s face made Mick feel a thousand times worse than he ever thought he could, but it was the sight of your tears falling rapidly that made him start crying.

"I expected you, more than anyone, to agree with this," he continued, pointing at you and himself, "because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that your daughter deserves someone good who can make her life the best it can be. If I can’t be that person because you won’t let us..." he pointed at himself, "...then I’ll be okay with it being someone else."

Vettel swallowed hard, not knowing what to say to the German’s words.

"I just want Y/N to be happy," the boy said again, "and if I have to let her go for now until you can accept and see that I’m really in love with your daughter, and that she’s the love of my life, I’ll be willing to do so."

With that, the young man turned around, trying not to look back, hoping to hear some words from those he had considered his family for so many years.

But, unfortunately for him, you and your father didn’t.

[lewyn-martell]

BRITT LOWER as Helena Eagan and ADAM SCOTT as Mark Scout in SEVERANCE → 2.04 "Woe's Hollow"

You know, there's a kinship between these two people that is innate, and I think what the show explores in all of its scope is the ways in which we're different in different environments, and does that sort of kinship carry over between characters, as you shift from innie to outie?

—Britt Lower, Inside the Episode 204: "Woe's Hollow"

My first instinct is to go to the part of my job that is sculpting the inner life of each of these parts of this same person. So, starting from Season One, I was much more in the headspace and inner life of Helly R, and Helena was seen much more in presentational environments. She's being taped, or she's being watched. […] This is a person, Helena, who has been conditioned into the position she's in. She's trapped within the same company [as the rest of the characters]. I think for Helena, it was this chance to blend into an environment that she doesn't get to be a part of, and to connect in a way that maybe she's never connected before.

—Britt Lower, GQ

I think there is that longing for connection and humanity because she’s been so starved for it. So even though she’s lying, I think there are genuine moments. There are genuine things that she’s filtering through the lens of Helly R.

—Britt Lower, The Washington Post

They're two parts of the same person. So there's obviously an inner rebel inside of Helena. That's an aspect of her that's not totally foreign to her. It is something that she has access to. And in Season 1, we see Helena looking at the innies. We see her studying Mark and Helly's interaction and having this curiosity about them.

—Britt Lower, TIME

That taking on this other version of yourself that maybe you've out-grown or you're at odds with, but it's still there—it's a frequency and a rhythm that you can tap into. Even in the scene where she's kind of laughing at the mythology of the scriptures at the ORTBO, I think that, probably, when she was a kid, she wanted so badly to laugh at these pretty ridiculous texts of her family, but she didn't have the ability. So here she is, through the lens of Helly R, getting to live out that [rebellion].

—Britt Lower, GQ

I think she’s getting a chance to have a laugh about it through this rebellious version of her. She’s like, “This is the filter who would get to do that and not suffer the consequences.”

—Britt Lower, Variety

I think that her meeting the innies has a profound effect on her humanity. And I think that she does share a sense of humor with with Mark, that's natural.

—Britt Lower, TIME

His feelings for Helly have only grown thus far this season […] Helly is a huge part of his life. Huge. And I think that a lot of his identity is wrapped up in how he feels about her and how she feels about him[…]

—Adam Scott, EW

Mark starts to realize: maybe getting Gemma out of here isn't my first objective. Maybe it's a little more important to take care of myself.

—Adam Scott, Inside the Episode 204: "Woe's Hollow"

The two of them are on a path. The two individuals, regardless of the innies or the outies, have been on a path of kindred spirit from season one. There's something physiologically that they have, this innate connection[…]

—Britt Lower, GQ

It's something we talked about a lot and spent a lot of time mulling over, the idea of this sort of triangle that's created with Innie Mark and Helly R. and Helena. For Mark's outie, Helena is someone he finds frightening and who is responsible for so much tumult and grief in his life. Yet, I think these two people, one way or another, have a connection of some sort. I'll leave it at that.

—Adam Scott, TIME

[mushroom-enby]

Yeah y'know after Tumblr's divorce with Twitter... Well he was in a very bad place. Luckily for them, AO3 was around, and helped them get back on his feet.

They became close, y'know, since AO3 basically moved in to help em out. Tumblr was much too devastated to even get out of bed.

AO3 slowly coaxed him into getting up, into taking a shower, and slowly return to their clingy, unhinged self. And Tumblr... Tumblr felt cared for and loved. So they started returning this to AO3.

Sometime along the way, they just... Became what they are. They belong together. Tumblr is helpful to warn AO3 about whenever they get really sad. AO3 brings people together in Tumblr's kingdom, specially whenever they're down. And Tumblr waits for them. And offers the care AO3 showed all those years ago.

Because Tumblr know what it's like to care for someone and being underappreciated. Tumblr knows. And AO3 stayed- despite the mess that was left of him. And they don't want the same happening to AO3.

So they stay together, they help each other- they reign together and guide their people. For where does a writer belong, if not next to a creative mind? They both have weird personalities, and some quirks. Sure. But they are honest. They work like no other.

If Twitter came around, Tumblr is sure; he won't go back to him. They might accept some of his subjects, but they are not unifying again. Never.

For Tumblr found the person they belong with.

I for one think the symbiotic relationship between Tumblr and AO3 is beautiful

[nova-moshi]

Because of the wonky time nature of the Spire of Deceit, I can freely imagine Truthless Recluse following Pure Vanilla and the others back to his kingdom, and Recluse basking in PV's light and compassion, feeling more at home here than the murky nature of the dark side of the moon.

Both sides of Pure Vanilla will always exist, yet Recluse starts believing some things aren't rightfully his anymore. 'His' old friends, 'his' old home, 'his' old memories, so he latches onto Awakened Vanilla believing him to be the only thing he deserves now, and one day he wants to feel like he deserves this same epiphany, this awakening, but it'll take time since his soul and psyche was so messed up by Shadow Milk.

So in the meantime, Vanilla readily accepts his Moon half and makes efforts to include him in his daily life. Pure Vanilla wishes nothing more than for him to be safe and secure in the castle and at ease, by himself and around his friends. Once they got back to the Vanilla Kingdom, Pure Vanilla had an entire wing made private just for Recluse so he can be secluded and away from the world if he so wished.

Recluse stays up in his tower most of the time, feeling a strange attachment to a high space. He reads and studies magic and histories, only ever coming out once in a blue moon to speak to the other citizens and take walks around the castle in somewhat of a mystified daze.

After Pure Vanilla has free time, he'll take tea and food up to his other half, sitting with him by the warm hearth and just talking about his day to include Recluse in things. Vanilla knows they're both bad about eating, so it's both in part to encourage Recluse (who has little appetite) and remind himself as well.

And Recluse starts to brighten over time, little by little, opening up about experiences PV has already felt-with them being the same person-but allows his other half to get these things off his chest. After all, who could relate to such experiences if not the two halves of the same soul?

The sun and moon are now living under one roof and learning to love themselves again. You cannot separate them, as they're both important to each other and intertwined to make Pure Vanilla...Pure Vanilla. They will still have bumps in the road, as recovery is not linear, but their support system is large. If Pure Vanilla can win and find happiness, one day Recluse will find his own version of it as well.

Recluse leaning into the light of his Sun counterpart, and Pure Vanilla embracing the darkness of his Moon counterpart. How they're both so interconnected now...

[prlssprfctn]

I think Jason should be allowed to manipulate his family with the "oh, you are my favourite, actually" line. It sounds very flattering to them (because Jason? Jason-I-Want-Nothing-To-Do-With-This-Family-Todd? Admitting you are his favourite? Oh, the hundred per cent bust of ego!) and more to say, this system of manipulation is eternal.

They can argue with each other as much as they want, but none of them would believe the other — Jason Todd is too tsundere to say something like this aloud, to each of them. So, someone is lying. For sure.

(And they are too self-assured in themselves to doubt that they are his favourite. Also, Jason makes every manipulation, specifically individual. So, it is not like he repeats the same confession and reasons. Very believable. Aka: this family needs someone to be open about their love, so they latch on everything and everyone who is willing to admit that openly)

Dick, slightly frustrated: Why are you asking me this favour? You know, I don't usually do these sort of things, I don't really... I don't know, it is too dangerous, I don't like the whole idea.

Jason, face dropping: Oh... Sorry. I shouldn't ask you, just... Dunno, I thought since you are my only big brother, and... Urgh, I guess I am still too attached to you more than to others. You are right. I'll ask Timbers or—

Dick, with his eyes suspiciously wet: oh-

Dick: NO, no. I'll do it. Don't worry. Big brother got your back, Lil Wing!

Tim, frowning: So, am I getting this right — you want me to hack into some system in someone's high school to fix the diploma of a kid who got a ONE bad grade—

Jason: He needs this scholarship. He is a kid of the streets! He can't do it otherwise, and it is not like the world would collapse if you fix one grade!

Tim: Yeah, I don't care about morals, I am just confused. Why would I want to spend my time on this, I am pretty sure—

Jason, dead ass serious: You know I don't like to communicate with this family. I only ever love talking with you, so sue me for thinking you could do me a favour.

Tim, instantly smirking: Ah, so I am your favourite... Well-well, big brother, I guess I can do this.

Damian: I am *not* going to tell you what our father is planning to do with this specific villain. Who do you think I am? An idiot?

Jason, sighing: Damn, and I really thought we had each other's back since League of Assassins.

Damian, scoffing: Emotional manipulation will not work on me.

Jason, all confused: Why would I manipulate you? From all people? I didn't raise you to fall on shit like this.

Damian: Tt.

Damian: Fine. Since, I guess, I owe you for babysitting me...

Bruce: Jason, I appreciate your... strive to help me, but nothing has ever gone well when you worked on cases like that. Let me handle this, and—

Jason, silently sitting down on the armchair, hands on his head: (sniff)

Bruce, panicked: Jaylad?..

Jason: I get it. I really do. No matter how much I love you, no matter how much I keep choosing you over anyone in this family, you don't love me anymore. I really understand it. I... I came in peace with it. I just wished you would tolerate my work... a little bit. You know?

Bruce: No, no, sweetheart, I— I am your favourite?

Jason, sniffling angrily: Who else it could be, old man?

Bruce: Oh. Oh, Jaylad— (instantly hands him the case)

(The family dinner)

Bruce, mentally humming to himself: Oh, these kids have NO idea that I am Jason's favourite because we are connected like that ^•^

Dick, mentally beaming: Oh, no one here has an idea that I am Jason's favourite because I am his big brother and protector! :>

Tim, mentally laughing evilly: Oh, these flops have no idea that I am Jason's favourite and that he wishes I was his Robin!

Damian, mentally kicking his feet: None of my family members suspect that I am Akhi's favourite because he was practically my nanny through all childhood. Tt.

Jason, munching on food: Lol

[c4toru]

Make Villian Nanami as ur bf hcs ok byee *dies*

i love this reallll bad, i wrote him as a cursed spirit in this but i hope this still satisfies you :p

curse!nanami who was so intrigued by your presence, how you carried yourself so well. you must’ve been one of the good ones, at least that’s how he saw it in his eyes

curse!nanami who found himself purposely re-routing his day to accompany yours, in hopes of seeing your face. he looked forward to seeing how your hair looked, if your aura felt any different from the other 6 days he saw you, all unbeknownst to you.

curse!nanami who would do his daily routines imagining if you would enjoy doing them with him. would you enjoy the daily strolls he takes through his garden, would you stay up waiting for him late at night while he’s out hunting, would you even help clean his wounds after a rough battle?

curse!nanami who started mysteriously leaving wilted roses at your doorstep and workplace only to wait nearby to watch your reaction from afar. at least he’s trying..?

curse!nanami who finally started appearing in your daily life by showing up at the local flower shop you always stopped by, he just wanted to ensure that any other curses knew not to involve themselves with you

curse!nanami who enjoyed your company. he liked the way you rambled on about which flowers you thought smelled the best or even which ones brightened your mood the most. one could even say.. you were enjoying his presence a lot more than he could imagine

curse!nanami who after a full year of enticing you with romantic gestures, comes clean about his lifestyle. all of it, good and bad. you cut off all contact with him for months, begging him to leave you alone forever. . . and he did just that

curse!nanami who started wallowing in his own self pity, forcing himself to go out on multiple hunts per day to drown himself in his own misery. it all came to a halt when you appeared in front of him, sobbing and babbling on how much you miss him near you.

curse!nanami who promises to shield you away from his lifestyle, to only show you the good sides of himself. his chest hurts to see you in pain, wanting to drain all the negativity out of you and dwell in it himself.

curse!nanami who parades you around his garden during the day before setting off to fulfill his evil duties at night. he’s happy as long as you’re content with the life you live by his side, and you were! most of the time . .

curse!nanami who always apologizes first when you get into an argument, he doesn’t usually care for such little matters but he knows how emotional humans are. you’re so delicate, apologizing under any circumstances is the least he could do to make sure his pretty girlfriend is happy

curse!nanami who is now slowly assimilating to you. he wakes up early in the morning with you, gets ready for the day with you, bathes with you, even sleeping peacefully next to you.

it’s one of those nights where you sit comfortably in silence, embraced in each others warmth. you rest your head on his chest while he threads his thick fingers through your silky hair. “kento, i wish you could stay with me tonight.. don’t want you out there” you pout, rubbing circles with your pointer finger on his broad chest.

“i know, i know pretty. next time.” he replies as he shushes you to sleep, rubbing his thumb gently on your cheek. once you doze off, he’s up and gone but you always know he’ll be there in the morning, arms wrapped around you as you soak in his warmth.

a/n : writing this so late at night so it’s all just pure brainrot lol. ty guys for all the reqs, i’ll get to them soon i promise :p

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 4)

The final two weeks before Agatha moves to Albany

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff

The following Sunday, Agatha drives you to Albany so you can look at apartments with her. She found three online that she really likes and is hoping that she can sign a lease today. 

Since her new job starts next week. 

You’ve never exactly known what she does for a living — you never really cared to ask when she was married to your dad and once you got together, she just kind of assumed that you already knew — so you have to ask about three times for what this new position entails so you can try to work it out. 

So far you’ve gotten that she advises the company on how to raise capital, financial modeling, legal and compliance issues, and general advice. She did try to explain what she does when you found her looking over a contract one night, but it went so far over your head you didn’t realize she had stopped talking until she kissed you to bring you back to earth. Agatha did say investment banker once, but even with all the job descriptions, you’re still not sure you actually understand. 

“All right, here’s the first one,” she says, squeezing your hand that’s interlocked with hers over the center console, and parallel parking on the street in front of a high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. You peer into the lobby to take in the crystal chandelier, dark floors, and mahogany wood panels on the wall by the elevator. “See, it’s not that bad of a drive. As long as you leave pretty early Saturday morning, you should be able to get here in under two hours.” 

You look at her and shoot her a smile. Agatha’s been overly nice to you the past week, telling you how pretty you are and how lucky she is and buying you flowers and cooking you all your favorite foods, so you’re trying to just sit back and appreciate it. 

She took the job. You told her it was okay. All that’s left to do is accept it. 

“It’s really nice,” you tell her, turning back to the building. “It’s in a good area, too.”

Agatha turns the car off and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Only about ten minutes from the office, so even better. And it’s not too far from the interstate for traveling to and from here.”

Another thing she’s been doing is talking about how much you’ll be able to come visit and vice versa. It should be reassuring, but it just feels like she’s overcompensating slightly to make the move sound better than it is. 

It’s not fair to still be upset because Agatha is trying. And you are feeling good about this, you feel secure that what you two have is real and strong, and you’re going to start working on your application to the University at Albany this week. If you get in, you’ll start in January, which really only means four months of long distance, and you know you’ll both make an effort to see each other on the weekends and during breaks. 

When you put it like that, the pit in your stomach lessens. Your tendency to overthink and blow up problems in your head is definitely something you need to work on. 

The moment you step out of the car, the first thing you notice is the smell, almost like rotting plants and sewage. You wrinkle your nose and Agatha walks around to you, the same expression on her face. 

“Think you’ll ever get used to that?” you joke and she solemnly shakes her head. 

“Guess I’ll just need to bury my nose into something else until I forget it,” she says with a wink and you laugh before following her up to the glass door of the apartment complex. 

There’s a man sitting at a desk, maybe about ten years older than you and wearing a flannel shirt, typing something at his computer, and he doesn’t look up at you until Agatha clears her throat and taps her fingers on the counter. 

He raises a bushy eyebrow, unimpressed and annoyed that someone dared interrupt him. “Can I help you?” 

Agatha tosses her hair back over her shoulder and straightens up. “My name is Agatha Harkness and I made an appointment to see a two-bedroom.” 

The man sighs and taps his mouse. “Yo, Dottie,” he calls, swiveling in his chair to face an open door to the right of him, “I’ve got a ‘Harkness’ here to see the two.” Whoever Dottie is, you hope she’s friendlier than this man. Even his mustache seems to be frowning at you. 

A tall, blonde woman steps out of the room, beaming brightly at you two, wearing a brightly colored floral dress. She walks around the desk, shakes both your hands, and introduces herself. 

“Wonderful, wonderful,” she claps her hands together and you wince at the loud sound in the otherwise-silent lobby, “let me get the keys and then I’ll show you and your daughter the model apartment on the seventh floor and then the one that’s open, which could be yours! We also have some specials on leases if you sign one within twenty-four hours of your tour, which I’ll go over after this.” 

Dottie waves you along and you catch Agatha’s eye behind her back, mouthing your daughter? at her with an amused smirk. Agatha playfully rolls her eyes and swats your arm. 

You still remember the first time she took you out in the spring, when the waitress had assumed you were a couple. You had choked and almost died from coughing so hard, flabbergasted at the thought that anyone would look at you two and see anything other than a mother and her daughter, even if she was your step-mom. 

But now, it kind of bugs you that someone does see you that way. You’re almost tempted to see what Dottie would say if you kissed Agatha or if Agatha squeezed your ass. 

Dottie’s rambling about the safety features of the elevator as she presses the button and you stare at the reflection of yourselves in the bronze doors, blurring the sound of her voice out. You watch Agatha nodding attentively and you probably should be paying attention, but you just can’t. 

Something about looking for apartments with Agatha seems so surreal. You had helped her pick out the one in Westview and it felt like you were picking out a place for the two of you, even knowing you were going to live at the dorms. 

But now, you’re picking it out for her and she’s breaking her lease on the apartment you shared. 

It’ll be back to being both of yours in January, you remind yourself. 

The elevator doors slide open and the three of you step into it, the tile a fancy black marble with gold cracks and the walls a dark wood with the top half covered in mirrors. Dottie touches the fob to a pad and then presses the button for seven. 

“It only lets you get to the floor that you live on, and the roof for the pool and the game room. We take our security very seriously,” she explains and Agatha hums before looking at you for your approval and you nod like you’ve been paying attention this whole time. 

She takes you down the hall and pauses in front of a door, fumbling with the key ring and then finally inserting one into the lock. She pushes it open and lets you and Agatha step in first. 

The floor is a cool gray color, all white walls except for the blue accent in the living room, and it’s pretty spacious. The kitchen has an island with quartz countertops that match the other counters against the wall, all stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a hood over the stove. The backsplash is green and blue and gray tiles. There’s a deep sink and three pendant lights over the island.  You have to admit it looks really good.

“Wow,” Agatha says, tracing her fingers over the countertop and crossing the threshold into the living room, where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city of Albany. It’s the model, so there’s comfortable-looking couches around a coffee table and a rug, facing a television on an entertainment center. Even with all the furniture, it’s easy to imagine exactly where Agatha’s stuff would go. 

You follow her into the first bedroom, the bigger one. It has the same windows as the living room and your only thought is that Agatha will certainly need to invest in some curtains if she picks this place. It’s a huge room; Dottie tells you that the bed in there is king-sized and there is still plenty of space for the nightstands and lamps and dressers. The walk-in closet is probably half the size of your dorm room right now, and there’s a standalone shower next to a tub across from the double vanity in the bathroom. 

“This is nice,” Agatha whistles and you nod your head in agreement. 

“Let me show you the other bedroom,” Dottie says and leads you to the other half of the apartment. “This door closes off the hallway to the second bed and bath, so plenty of privacy. Will your daughter be living with you?” 

It’s hard not to laugh when you and Agatha glance at each other out of the corner of your eyes. “Um, no, I go to college in New Jersey. But I’ll be visiting a lot,” you answer, and then, just for the fun of it, add: “How thick are the walls, though? Like, apartment to apartment.” 

Agatha stifles a laugh that turns into a cough and Dottie looks back over her shoulder. “We don’t get a lot of noise complaints. If you’re worried about the TV being too loud, it shouldn’t be a problem because the living room is in the middle of the two bedrooms. But if you’re watching something in either bedroom, there’s a chance a neighbor might be able to hear a bit of it.” 

“That’s exactly what I was worried about,” you mumble and Agatha nudges you, even though she’s smirking too. 

The second bedroom is a bit smaller than the other, but still a good size. This one has a window-sill and only one long window and the closet is only about half as big. The bathroom has an alcove tub and matching countertops to the other bathroom and a lot of cabinet space. 

Dottie also shows you the three extra closets for extra storage and then takes you to the empty apartment on the ninth floor. 

Agatha walks around, gesturing wildly with her hands and pointing out where things could go, while you trail after her like a lost puppy, occasionally adding a yeah and I like that and I think that’ll look really good. 

Seeing her plan the space feels like a hammer in your gut going it’s happening it’s happening it’s happening over and over again until it almost overwhelms you, but Agatha is so engaged in it that she doesn’t even notice. You’re being completely irrational. Everything is fine.

“So, what do you guys think?” Dottie asks when Agatha finally stops and comes to stand next to you as you’re leaning on the island and picking at your fingernails. She puts a hand on your lower back and you stiffen, eyes darting up to look at Agatha, who’s looking back at you inquisitively. 

“Could you give us a second, Dottie?” It’s clear from Agatha’s tone that it’s not a question and Dottie gives you both a tight smile before leaving the apartment. 

You rub your forehead, trying to stave off a headache you can feel slowly budding, and walk over to the windows. Her footsteps are soft and then she’s wrapping an arm around you to pull you into her and kiss your head. 

“You know what I’m thinking about?” she asks and you hum inquisitively. “Fucking you against these windows so anyone down below could look up and see how well you take me. See how good of a girl you are for me.” 

A burst of heat flashes through you but you smirk, not being able to pass up the opportunity to make a joke. “That’s quite an inappropriate thing to say to your daughter.” 

Agatha snorts. “Good thing Dottie isn’t here.” And then she softens against you. “Do you like this place?” 

You shrug. “It’s pretty nice. Aren’t we going to go look at the other places though?” It’s a stupid thing, but you feel like it’s not real until she signs a lease. And maybe you just want to keep it not real for a little bit longer. 

She makes an equivocal sound. “This one did look the nicest online. And honestly, I really like it. I can definitely see myself living here. I can see us living here.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, melting on the inside. As long as she’s picturing you here with her, you’d be good with anywhere. “I think this is the place, then. Let’s go tell Dottie, mommy.” You go to move but instead, she turns you by the shoulders and grabs your cheeks, pulling you in for a long kiss and then gives you another one for good measure. 

“You are so perfect,” she says against your lips. “I l—” 

The door opens and you jump back from Agatha and whirl to find Dottie standing there. Your cheeks heat up, but she doesn't look scandalized so you’re guessing she didn’t see anything. “How’s it going in here, ladies?” 

Agatha gives you one last look-over, giving you all the time in the world to object, but you just swallow hard and nod. “Dottie, we’ll take it,” she says and you plaster a smile onto your face when Dottie gasps and exclaims excitedly. 

She ushers you back to the lobby and leaves you sitting at a desk while she runs off to go print out papers. You’re tapping your foot impatiently when your phone buzzes. 

Thinking it’s just one of your parents — you didn’t actually tell either of them that you were going to New York — you pull it out of your pocket. 

Hey, it’s Carol. Want to get dinner tonight? You vaguely remember giving her your number the night of the party last week. You’ve only seen her once or twice since then and the first time, she asked how you were feeling, and the second time, she shot a finger gun at you. 

“Who’s Carol?” Agatha murmurs, having leaned over your shoulder. You fight the instinct to turn your screen and type back, Sorry, out of town tonight. Rain check? before slipping it back into your pocket. 

“Just this girl that lives in the dorms. She was the one who drove me to your place when I was hammered last Sunday.” 

“Ah.” She’s opening her mouth to say something else when Dottie comes back over and plops down a thick packet and starts rattling off the rules of the complex, the extra fees, and where to sign. Dottie says because you’re not living here full-time, you don’t have to fill anything out and you inwardly sigh in relief. 

Agatha barely looks at the papers before signing her name in big cursive letters and you can’t help but long for that kind of financial security and stability, where you don’t even have to worry about the cost of rent. When you do transfer and if you do end up living with her at any point, you know she won’t let you pay for anything, but you make a mental note to start looking at jobs, maybe even just part-time, so you can buy her things with your own money. 

“Perfect, let me just run a quick background check on you, make sure your credit is good, and then I’ll get back with you. And you want to move in…?” 

“Next Saturday would be great,” Agatha says and your foot starts bouncing even more erratically. Dottie leaves to go back into the office and Agatha’s head drops back to look up at the ceiling. “That means I need to set up electricity, water, internet, I need to schedule movers, I need to talk to my complex.” She groans and sits back normally, rubbing her face with her hands. 

You’ve done the whole moving thing a few times and it absolutely sucks so you reach over to pat her leg. It’s the first time you’ve seen her even the slightest bit overwhelmed with all this and it’s honestly refreshing. “I’m here. Anything you need, I want to help.” 

She gratefully smiles and leans across her chair to give you a kiss on the head. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“Um, you married my dad.” Agatha wrinkles her nose but laughs anyway, resting a hand on top of yours that’s still on her thigh. It’s an anchor for both of you and neither of you move until Dottie comes back about five minutes later. 

“All right, you guys are all good! We will see you next week. Any more questions?” 

Agatha stands up and shakes Dottie’s hand. “I think we’re okay. Thank you so much for all your help.” 

The drive back to Westview is filled with mindless chatter and no mention of the move. You make plans for the week — you’ll stay with Agatha every night, she’ll cook dinner, movie night on Tuesday, picnic in the park on Thursday. She knows that school is starting to pick up for you, so it goes unspoken that you’ll be doing homework with her. 

“And of course, plenty of sex,” you add when she asks you if there’s anything else to plan for. 

“Oh, sorry, was that not implied?” Agatha simpers and her hand sneaks its way into your lap, dipping under the seat belt to play with the elastic of your leggings. 

You let her slide inside and let out a small moan when she brushes a finger against your clit through your underwear. “Better keep your eyes on the road, mommy,” you say tightly.

“I can multitask.” 

She rubs your clit and you shift in your seat to give her easier access to you. It’s an odd angle — her wrist is bent in a way that is surely uncomfortable — but Agatha is determined to make it work. She teases you slowly and before long, you can feel how wet you’ve become. Your breathing has deepened, cheeks hot, and you start to roll your hips to get more stimulation. 

“Mommy, please,” you beg, and she looks over at you to say something when the car in front of her stops suddenly. Your stomach lurches. “Watch out!” 

Agatha slams on the brakes, sending you both flying forward, the seat belt putting an immense amount of pressure on you, and she yanks her hand out of your pants to put her arm in front of you. 

The car screeches to a halt about two feet from the one in front of you. You’re both panting and Agatha tosses her hair back before assessing you. 

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly. You nod, still gripped by a cold sweat. She takes a deep breath and puts both hands on the steering wheel when the cars begin to move again. “I think we’ll save car sex for another time.”

You huff out a laugh in agreement. “It went pretty well that one time. But we were in a parking lot on the way to get pizza in rural New Jersey, not on an interstate in New York.” 

“Who would’ve thought there’s a big difference,” Agatha quips and the tension from almost getting into a wreck lifts the more she drives. You’re back to giggling and talking in no time, although you both keep your hands to yourself. 

The rest of the day passes quickly, with Agatha busy setting up everything she needs for her new apartment while you finish up some homework for the upcoming week. 

On Tuesday, you’re leaving your dorm after your third class of the day to go to Agatha’s for the night when you run into Carol. She brightens when you see her and you give her a quick smile, determined to keep moving. 

“Hey, where are you off to? You still owe me that dinner,” she says, catching you by the arm. 

“Yeah, sorry, this week is going to be a little tough,” you tell her apologetically. “My…girlfriend is moving on Saturday so I'm just trying to spend as much time with her as I can.” You’ve never really had to define your relationship with Agatha, but it seems natural to call her that. 

A stormy look flits across her face before she’s back to normal. “The same girlfriend who broke up with you?” 

You hadn’t exactly found the time to fill her in on the whole story. “Turns out she wasn’t cheating, it was me jumping to conclusions. She had a job interview in Albany and she got it! So she starts next Monday.” 

“Be careful with long distance,” Carol warns, instead of being happy for you like you thought she would be. You raise an eyebrow. “It always starts out so nice and happy and everything is okay…but then the distance sets in. Texting and calling aren’t the same as just being able to see them and talk to them in person. Traveling becomes exhausting. The traffic makes you mad and then you’re in a bad mood and you can only think about the drive back and—”

“Stop,” you snap, stepping away from her. This is possibly the worst thing you could hear right now and you can’t take it any longer. “That’s not how this is going to go, okay? Agatha and I are different. We’re solid. And besides, it’s probably only going to be like this for a few months. She trusts me and I trust her. We’re going to be fine.” 

Carol scoffs, a cold look in her eyes. “You trust her? Is that why you were so quick to believe she was cheating on you?” 

The blow knocks the wind out of you and you just stare at her blankly. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

She softens, realizing that she cut deeper than she intended to. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is your relationship and I should’ve stayed out of it — I’m sure you’re right, okay? You guys will be fine.” 

But you don’t want to hear anymore from her, so you turn on your heel and walk to your car. The rest of the night, you’re a bit out of it and you can’t stop cursing Carol for putting those thoughts in your head. 

The next few days fly by in a blur with classes and homework and avoiding Carol around campus, but your evenings are absolutely perfect with Agatha.

She keeps the light low in the kitchen while she cooks for you each night while you sit at the table and ramble on about whatever you’re learning. She hums at all the right times, but when you take a break to look up at her, she’s staring at you with a fondness in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

Each time it happens, you think it must be what love looks like. 

Growing up with parents that should’ve been divorced, you never had a good model for what love was. You used to think that everyone’s parents were like yours — cold, didn’t actually like each other, and just stayed together for their children. You thought that love meant complacency, or even that maybe there was no such thing as it. 

You weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to fall in love and be loved back. But with Agatha, there’s an intimacy your parents never had. You didn’t know what that was like until her. 

And you know that you love her more than anything in the entire world, and when she gives you that look, you think she might feel the same. 

The three words are constantly on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you just can’t say them again. You don’t even say it when she makes you cum, which is a lot of times over the week. 

She bends you over the countertop and fingers you. She shoves you against the wall after you get back from your picnic on Thursday, gets on her knees, and eats you out. She makes you sit on her strap while you finish your essay and then pushes you onto all-fours and pounds into your pussy until you’re crying. She fucks you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the living room — even in her car and your car. Both while you’re safely parked in an abandoned lot, of course. 

It’s like she’s determined to give you as many orgasms as she can before she moves, and she’s doing an excellent job of it. 

Saturday, after everything gets moved into the new apartment and you’re finally done unpacking most of the stuff, Agatha takes you to a fancy Italian steakhouse in Albany. The atmosphere is romantic, with classical music playing softly and candles lit at every table. Agatha looks absolutely stunning in a tight black dress and curly hair, and you’re wearing your best outfit as well. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” she asks and your cheeks heat up as your head ducks down shyly. 

“Once or twice,” you answer coyly, finally meeting her gaze again. 

She holds out her hand across the table and you take it, feeling the normal electricity that her skin on yours always gives you. “We’re going to be okay, you know that, right? I know you’re more worried than you’re letting on. I know how you’re feeling — I know how easy it is to get swept away with doubts. But I really appreciate you telling me to take this job and I promise we’ll be okay. I care about you far too much to let anything happen to this.” 

You nod and squeeze her hand. “I do know. I feel the same.” 

“Oh — that reminds me. I got you something,” she says and digs around in her purse before pulling out a small black box with a red bow neatly wrapped around it and handing it to you. “You might want to open it beneath the table. Might be embarrassing if someone sees it.” 

Brows furrowing in confusion, you dip the box under the white tablecloth and undo the bow quickly before lifting off the lid. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shoot up to meet hers. 

“Agatha,” you hiss, flushing. 

Resting on stretched out cotton in the box is a small, purple vibrator, curved to be able to rest on your clit while also vibrating against your g-spot, with a gold engraving along the side that goes inside you: Mommy’s cunt. Your clit throbs.

She holds up what looks like a small key fob and presses a button and the toy starts vibrating. You drop the box into your lap while gaping at her and she smirks triumphantly. “Works from anywhere in the world,” she says casually and your stomach sears with heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” you rasp. You’re suddenly feeling very excited about this move. Something about the distance, about the anticipation and the teasing and the pining that it will bring, doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

Suddenly, the food can’t come fast enough and then you’re both in the car, Agatha speeding while you sit on your hands so you don’t distract her, and then she throws the car into park and you both race into her apartment. 

Her mouth finds yours the moment you step through the door, pushing you against the wall as a muffled oomph slips out of you, and she sucks on your tongue and then bites your bottom lip and then kisses her way down your neck. Your brain is going foggy and your underwear is soaked and you quickly tug her into the bedroom. 

Agatha tears off her dress and then pounces on you, knocking you onto your back on the bed, hands coming up to cup your breasts and you keen. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan and she scrapes her teeth against your neck. It’s so good, but it’s also your last night before everything changes. “Wait, fuck, stop.” 

She jumps back like she’s been burned. “What — is everything okay?” 

You nod, panting, and run your hands up and down her hips. “Yeah, everything’s great. I just…can we just cuddle tonight? I just want to be close to you.” 

Agatha runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, her eyes going glassy for a moment before she blinks, and she chokes out, “Of course, honey. Whatever you want.” 

Smiling gratefully, you take off your clothes and slide under the covers next to her so you can feel all of her warm skin against yours before she tucks an arm around you. You nuzzle into her body and your face twitches with restrained emotion. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly and she presses a kiss to your head. “I know it’ll be okay though. I’m almost done with my application to the University at Albany.” 

She hums and kisses you again before breathing in your scent deeply like she’s making sure she doesn’t forget it. “I have no doubt you’ll get in. And then it’ll be us in our own little world.” 

“That’s right.” 

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, and eventually, Agatha’s breathing starts to even out. A quick glance up at her face confirms that she fell asleep. 

You know you should too, but you’re reluctant to let this moment go. Right now, it feels like you’re frozen in time, just the two of you. 

So you stay up as late as you can, just soaking in the feeling of her. 

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