#i think it’s important they take a while to warm

[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 🫶🏼

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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.

[gold-onthe-inside]

contingency operations

n. def. - a situation requiring military operations in response to natural disasters, terrorists, subversives, or as otherwise directed by appropriate authority to protect US interests.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: when a former navy SEAL threatens your base of operations, your safety is the only thing on spencer's mind. content warnings: jealous and pining spencer, gun talk, spencer kind of manhandles you, spencer getting cockblocked by jj word count: 1.8k a/n: don't hate me, i didn't have his confession speech planned.

It’s not that far a stretch for you to be the first person he thinks of — while JJ’s negotiating with her DoD contacts to get them a look at a classified operation, he’s gone upstairs to look for you. Working in counterintelligence meant you had access to all kinds of information, whether that be domestic or international. Spencer carefully carried the cup of coffee, file pinned under his arm, aiming to find you at your cubicle, except you’re standing at another one, perched on the table while you talked to another person.

Spencer’s not the kind to get jealous, or so he thought, except the guy you’re talking to isn’t like the others who occupy the floor — he’s got broad shoulders and an easy smile, and at least if he was blond, he wouldn’t have been competition. He just had to be a brunet, charming to top it off. Spencer doesn’t know if he’s ever made you smile unless you were teasing him.

The longer he stands there, the more awkward he feels, and he eventually gets the nerve to knock on your desk and make you look up — an improvement to a year ago where he would have just pretended to look lost and leave. His stomach turns when he watches you place your hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing as you walk away.

“Is that a bribe I see?” you asked, the corner of your lip curling as you spied the coffee in his hand.

“Nope, it’s completely unrelated to the favor I came to ask,” Spencer said, earning a rueful look as you take it and sit in your chair.

“What do you need?” you asked, sipping the coffee that was made perfectly to your liking — he'd gotten to know your preferences better over the last year, spending more time together since the Doyle case. You'd been an escape from the suffocating emptiness of the bullpen, and he'd been good company when you had been barred from Penelope's lair for 6 months.

“Anything you might have on Dorado Falls,” Spencer said, his voice rising an octave in hope that you might help as you go through your files.

“And Pen can’t do this because?” you asked, pulling up your file directory.

“She doesn’t have clearance,” Spencer said, lacing his fingers together and twisting it in his nervousness. As expected, you turn your head to look at him.

“You want eyes on a classified op you don’t have the clearance for?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

“Yes?” He's got this puppy-eyed look, like when he asks if you have lunch plans, or if you want to see a 4-hour long sci-fi film that's only available in Russian.

“Reid,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I can’t just—”

“He killed 8 people in one day,” Spencer insisted in a hushed voice. “He’s got a U.S. General as a hostage, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He watched your folded lips, your contemplative look, and he can finally take a breath when you turn your chair and acquiesce.

“You people are gonna get me fired one of these days,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer leaning over your shoulder as you find the file you’re looking for. “Navy SEAL operation, 2003, this what you’re looking for?” you asked, his breath fanning over your cheek, warm and coffee-tinged. If you turned your head, you could probably kiss his cheek — not that you would. But the thought crosses your mind as he nodded.

“That’s the one,” he said, and moved when you had to reach for the drawer, copying the file onto a clean flashdrive before ejecting it.

“I like my job, Reid,” you said, turning to look at him, which you could do forever with his coiffed hair and blue sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with a grey vest. “If I get fired, you’re paying my rent,” you continued, pressing the flashdrive into his hand and his lips break into a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he replied, closing his hand over the drive and leaving you to your work, and you watched him walk until he got to the glass doors, holding back a laugh as you watched him break into an awkward run for the elevators.

The next time he goes to your floor, he doesn’t bother waiting for the lift, running up stairs as fast as he can to get to you before the unsub does — even though it’s wholly unprofessional. He needs to be with his team, ready to talk down the unsub at a moment’s notice, but his focus shattered the moment he found out you hadn’t evacuated yet. Instead, you were focused on activating a failsafe program, in case anyone other than the members of your division moved to access the network on your floor.

“What are you still doing here?” Spencer yelled at you, almost skidding to your cubicle.

“Almost done, give me a second,” you said, gritting your teeth, fingers flying over your keyboard as you authenticate yourself. “Jesus Christ, I need to make this program faster,” you muttered and Spencer swears that if the unsub doesn’t kill you, he might.

“Really? There’s a Navy SEAL breaking into the building, and you’re thinking of more projects to work on?” he demanded, his hands pressed to his revolver.

“There’s a Navy SEAL on his way and you think a cowboy pistol’s gonna save you?” you retorted sharply.

“What do you have against my gun?” he asked, his voice rising in octave again.

“Uh, how about the reload for one,” you said. “What, do you carry around spare bullets in your pocket? Plus the recoil rules out rapid fire. What are you gonna do if you get pinned down?”

“I’m gonna keep you from getting killed,” he said, reaching out to grip your bicep. “You’re right, I don’t have the firepower of an uzi, what I can do is get us out of this room,” he finished, tugging your arm.

"Hold on, it's almost done," you muttered.

"No, I'm dragging you out of here now-" He said, but you just shrugged, still tapping away at the keys with only your left hand free.

"No, you can't," you said idly as you continued to work. "You haven't the strength to get me to move without cooperation, and I'm not leaving until I finish this."

“I-“ he opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he going to say? That you were being stubborn for the sake of it? That your life was more important than this task? That you should get up, and run with him? That he’d save you? He couldn’t voice any of those. You both knew them all anyway, and you’d be able to rebuff them with ease. “Just hurry, please.”

He leaned closer to you, trying to ignore the soft scent of your hair.

"Oh, well, now that you've told me to hurry," you responded dryly, turning your face to look at him, inches away from his. The proximity surprised him, but he barely had time to think about it before you were hitting return and taking your hand off the keys.

“Done,” you announced, standing up. “Time to run. Unless, of course, you want to argue about that too?”

"Can we?" he asked, pulling you along the corridor. "I do have a list of complaints about your recklessness."

"You have a list of complaints about everything," you retorted as he opened the fire escape door for you. You stepped through, Spencer closing the door behind you both.

"Your general attitude is up there," He admitted, running down the stairs and pulling you after him. "Your inability to keep yourself safe, your tendency to throw yourself into danger for the sake of a project—"

"Jesus Christ, Reid, if we find out a rogue operative is going to break in, you don't think we'd have a protocol for it?" you argued, frustrated.

"Yes, I believe the protocol is to evacuate," he reminded you, reaching the landing. He kept you close, though he'd never admit that it was to reassure himself.

"God, for a genius, you really are daft," you muttered, rounding the corner to another flight of stairs. "You think we'd just leave the entire network open for him?"

"No," he allowed, following your hurried footsteps. "But I don't think your life should be worth the risk. No data is worth you dying."

"Yeah, how about dozens of classified operations and cover identities that need to be kept under wraps?" you snapped at him. "I was doing my job, you're the one who came looking for me when you should be with your team."

"The team knows my priority is with you," he admitted, then immediately regretted it because that was information that he hadn't been planning to tell you.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. "What does that mean?"

His eyes widened and he backtracked. "The team knows that if you're threatened, the likelihood is I'll disregard protocol," he said. Well, it was the truth, even if it wasn't really what he'd meant. "We should keep moving," he said.

"No, you can't keep doing this," you demanded, pulling at his arm. "Every time, every time, you say this cryptic coded thing that I don't know what to do with. Just say what you mean, already!"

"I-I don't..." Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes wide. The truth was, he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to know where you stood with him... but the fear of rejection would stop him every time. He was in love with you. He hadn't had the courage to admit it yet. His earpiece interrupts him, and for once in his life, Reid is almost glad to have his earpiece interrupt his thoughts.

“Reid, we’re seeing movement on the 7th floor, where are you?” JJ asked, her voice rushed.

"I'm in the stairwell with the most stubborn woman in the world," he said, looking pointedly at you as you scowled at him.

“Get back up here,” JJ replied. “We need all hands on deck.”

"I'm coming," he said, and looked at you. "So much for getting you out," he murmured. "If you run now, can I trust you won't go back to your desk?"

“Believe it or not, I have no interest in facing a 6 ft Navy SEAL,” you replied dryly.

"So that's a yes," he says, smiling despite his attempt to remain serious.

I'm in love with you, he thought, but he wasn't brave enough to say.

I don't want to lose you. He was even less willing to voice that.

"Don't stop running till you're out," he told you instead, his voice as firm as he could make it.

"Don't get killed by a SEAL," you replied, your sense of humor never failing you as you add, "Although, it would be a cool way to go out."

"I'm sure you'll be very smug about it at my funeral," he said, but neither of you were really smiling anymore. "I'll be okay," he promised you. "Get out of here."

You take one last lingering look at him, then started running down to the exit, leaving him behind.

It took him a full 5 seconds to start moving after you finally left, and the feeling of emptiness in his chest only grew with each step up the stairs.

He was in love with you, and he was determined to tell you.

Just not yet.

[harmonysanreads]

oh to baby the ever handsome flawless hero,,, phainon you deserve to be handfed and get your cheeks pinched and cooed at. i need to cut fruits for him i need to make sure he stays warm in cold weather. please maintain your whimsy if he loses that boyish smile i will END IT ALLLLLL

“You're so... cute.”

Being caught by surprise spells death for a warrior and you are a master at enacting that incantation every time. Phainon would've marinated in the bafflement of it all for a while longer, if his reflexes hadn't acted faster, arms springing forward to catch your figure — deliberately pushed towards himself.

“Haa — mmf?” his must look like a visage worthy of jeer, but his attention is too flighty to focus on anything less important than the press of your palms against his cheeks, mushing the flesh together to your whimsy.

It wouldn't be difficult to push you away, if his left hand hadn't been occupied with securing your balance on his lap, firmly coiled around your waist. But it would be incorrect to assume his wishes lay anywhere in that territory, his very free and very much functioning right hand dangling by the side seemed to provide evidence to his prominent disinterest in severing the contact.

Light falls on your back, veiling your exact expression from his curious eyes. But he can tell that you've leaned closer, feel the absence of heat from where your hand parted ways from his skin and settled amongst the ivory strands of his hair.

“How can a man be this... this adorable?” there's a frightening mix of endearment and frustration in your voice, unless he's losing his mind. Your vigorous ruffling of his hair next, assures him that he has not.

“It should be illegal to be this precious.” the pout that he's most certain exists on your lips bleeds its way to your admissions of how endearing he apparently is. He's unable to force words out of his parched mouth, blood clogged around from his ears to his cheeks — where you deliver a sharp pinch to, rouging the skin further.

His winch is promptly muffled by your skin, the abrupt pull your hand causing him to crash straight into your embrace. He can feel the barely-there weight of your cheek brushing against his hair, utterances of a line of words he vaguely recognizes as abstract terms of endearment bounces off his ears. You try to rock him like a newborn child, he assists by melting further in your arms.

The grip you have around him is by no means strong, but the thought that he could take advantage of it to liberate himself from this embarrassing situation does not once cross his mind. He doesn't even find it the least bit flustering, in fact.

Just as quickly as it started, you pull him away from your arms and all the muscles in his face drop. It does not seem like you thought it vital to be acknowledged either, focusing instead on scooping a few grapes from the bowl of fruit that Phainon cannot even recall you putting down.

“What are you thinking about? Open your mouth.” his jaw slackens at the command, at a speed that'd no doubt give many people whiplash. If wind passed by at that moment, it'd no doubt whistle in his head.

You push one after another piece of mouthwatering fruit, but his braincells scurry away from processing the tastes of them. Bright blue eyes cradle the pleased curve of your lips with utmost caution, caress the purse between them whenever he appears slow in following your motion. He feels moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. Your smile, your warmth, the timbre of his voice, all so heart-wrenchingly ethereal —

“Tsk, look at how messy you are, can't even chew a piece of fruit cleanly.” you suddenly remark, purposefully smearing some pomegranate juice on the corner of his lips. He blinks at the shift in your expression, you tilt your head to address his confusion, nearly burning the remnants of his conscious mind.

Your titillating gaze flits to the scene of your creation next, tracing over the arch of his lips and returning back to gauge his stare — challenging him to speak, to break free, to deny you as you lean closer, fixated on the stain of fruit residue you painted your intentions with.

He answers by decreasing a breath worth of space, the hand that rested so far in serenity on your back pushed you closer, while his right hand wrenched the dagger away from your knuckle tight clasp. Gone is the veil of dew that you cloaked yourself in thus far, expression scrunched in what he can only assume is incendiary displeasure.

He watched as your disgruntled eyes followed the twirl of the dagger now dancing between his fingers, “So close! I must admit, you're getting more and more creative with your approaches, melite!” his energetic response did nothing but worsen your existing disappointment.

You crossed your arms in petulance, no longer interested in keeping that searing eye-contact, “Maybe just poison my food next, eh? Definitely much easier than going through all this trouble.”

The casual lilt of Phainon's suggestion appalls you, compelling you to turn around to face his stupid wide smile, “What are you saying? Didn't you always want a Hero’s death?”

That puts a dent to his disturbing playfulness, he throws away the excuse of a dagger somewhere without care. Eyes glossing over in realization, “You remembered...!”

That earns him nothing but a deadpan.

A boom of laughter fills the air, “Okay, okay, I'll stop ‘messing around’, as you like to say.”

Traces of his amusement linger and gather round to form one last wink, “But I wasn't joking, it really did touch this little heart of mine.” he cradles the mentioned organ in cue, getting a seasoned eye-roll in response.

Now it's his turn to gather you close, you do your duty in pushing against the embrace, like you've done so many times before — losing before his strength like every time.

“And I also wasn't joking when I suggested that you can use more underhanded methods to kill me for good.” he looks directly at you, through you, trapping you in place to match his steps in continuing this charade.

“Why?” you feel compelled to ask and to your bewilderment, Phainon's smile softens.

“Because death by your hand, no matter the way, would be my greatest honor.”

[blxxmingrose]

sensing the quiet stirring that signaled june was awake brought a smile to hans’ lips, his husband finally come to be with him on the day of their wedding. “hi,” he said with awe in his voice, as if he was seeing june for the first time and he had fallen in love with him all over again in that brief meeting. 

but the truth was that hans felt his soul had fallen in love with june even faster—even before they really started to have the kinds of conversations that brought them closer together. the quiet gestures, the feeling of safety he felt in june’s presence, they only grew stronger as time progressed, as he got to know him better. perhaps that was how love felt like for soulmates, he thought to himself as he watched june’s fingers trace the engraving on their rings just as he did moments ago. 

he laughed airily as june propped himself up and repeated the most important event of the day. they were getting married. he was pliant as june pulled him close, his body only wanting the very same closeness, june's thumb caressing hans’ cheek like a force of habit. 

“i do still want to check that the suits fit and the flowers are all there,” he added in a lighthearted tone, recognizing the worries that threatened to spill if he let them. “but i know everything will be perfect even if we have none of those. it’s you and me—that’s all we need,” he whispered in the shared space between them, june’s breath warm on his cheeks as their foreheads were pressed together. "i suppose i need to check if your voice works enough to say your vows too..." he teased.

hans had always thought his wedding would be a formal event that was so devoid of character he would hate it. he did not even care to think about how he wanted his wedding to look like, knowing there would be decisions out of his control, including the person he would marry. it was so against what he wanted deep down, to share a special moment with someone he loved, to look at everyone smiling at them offering support, and he had given up on that kind of dream—until june. 

with his hand finding june’s, entwining their fingers together and watching them fit perfectly, hans couldn’t help but sigh deeply. “i’ve never been so happy. i’ve never been so sure of anything else. you are the other half of my soul.”

having this, having june and the wedding they both wanted, it was so much better than everything he could ever dream of. and it was his reality. “i love you too, my june. you’re everything i want.” as they stayed in bed just a little longer, letting the world slowly wake up while they take their time, hans could only see their future ahead and how more mornings like this would wake him up and remind him over and over that he was loved. 

june stirred before he even opened his eyes, his body shifting instinctively toward the warm presence beside him. it was a quiet kind of waking, the kind where the world hadn’t fully settled into motion yet, where everything was still wrapped in the softness of early morning.

hans was there. always there. close enough that june could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the warmth of him pressed against june’s side, and the quiet hush of his voice as he whispered words that sent something deep and quiet and certain through june’s heart.

my husband.

the words settled in his chest, warm and unshakable, and a smile found its way to june’s lips even before his eyes fluttered open. he didn’t rush. he let himself stay in that moment a little longer, let himself exist in the space between sleep and wakefulness, where hans’s voice echoed in his mind and the world still felt slow and untouched.

then, finally, he opened his eyes. and there was hans was looking at him — watching him with a kind of tenderness that made june’s breath catch in his throat. it wasn’t a new sight, but today, today it felt different. today, everything felt different. there was something reverent in the way hans held the small box in his hands, something so deeply felt in the way his fingers traced over the bands.

june exhaled softly, shifting so that he could prop himself up on one elbow, his gaze flickering between hans’s face and the rings that rested in his hands. his chest felt full, overflowing with something that he had no name for, something too big for words. “we are getting married today,” he echoed, and he didn’t even try to stop the wonder in his voice.

the words tasted real on his tongue, no longer just a dream they had spoken about in hushed voices between shared laughter and whispered confessions. this was their reality now. this was the life they had built, the future they had chosen.

june reached out, his fingers brushing against the back of hans’s hand before carefully taking the box from him. he held it with the same care, the same weight of everything it meant. and then, slowly, he ran his own fingers over the bands, feeling the engravings. his throat tightened. he had never been one for sentimentality, not in the way hans so easily embraced it, but this ��� this moment had his heart threatening to spill over.

his voice was quieter when he spoke again. “it feels like we’ve waited forever for this.” his lips curled into a small smile, a teasing to lighten the ache in his chest. “i thought you’d wake me up by panicking about the flowers or the suits, not whispering sweet nothings first thing in the morning.” but even as he teased, his touch remained reverent, his gaze impossibly fond.

he let out a slow breath, closing the box with the same care hans had opened it with, and then he reached for him. tugged him close until their foreheads touched, until he could feel hans’s breath against his skin. “i love you,” june murmured, his thumb brushing over hans’s cheek. “and today, i get to marry you.”

the day may have been waiting for them, but for just a little longer, june was content to exist right here, wrapped in the warmth of their beginning.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (LI)

Chapter 51 : ‘Here begins a new life’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for a romantic honeymoon!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3084

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

La Vita Nuova

In that book which is My memory . . . On the first page That is the chapter when I first met you Appear the words . . . Here begins a new life

Dante Alighieri, quote from La Vita Nuova

It was warm. Too warm one could say, and yet you didn’t have the heart to complain, and neither did Andrew.

The sunset in Florence was a sight to behold. It coloured the Ponte Vecchio with golden hues, catching in the windows of the houses built there. The bridge stretched above the river, that seemed to glimmer with gold. And above the building on your right, further away, the Florence Cathedral rose above everything else, the globe of its roof tainted with an even brighter shade of orange than its usual hues because of the dying sun.

It was magical, truly. You had spent your day visiting the Galleria dell’Academia, and even now, a few hours later, you still couldn’t believe that you had seen Michelangelo’s David with your own two eyes…

You licked some of your gelato, as it was about to drip on your hand. Sweet, perfect to cool down in the hot air of late summer in Italy.

God… when had you gotten so lucky in life?

An arm was draped over your shoulders, bringing an answer to your question.

“I know that it’s still pretty early,” Andrew said, his voice quiet and soft, his usual tone that you loved so much. “But I have to admit that I’m absolutely knackered. Is that alright if we go back to the hotel after that ice cream?”

“Gelato!” you corrected him, making him roll his eyes, but his grin was giving him away.

“Right… gelato.”

“Hmm… I love when you speak Italian.”

“Do you, now?”

“It’s sexy.”

You looked away as Andrew’s eyes lit up, and he pulled you closer.

“I’ll learn how to speak Italian. The second we go home, I’m booking a class or something.”

You laughed at him.

“You’ll definitely need it, considering how limited your vocabulary is in that language.”

“I still know how to say the most important things,” he argued. “Per favore. Grazzie mille. Pasta. Pizza. Gelato. Museo. Ciao. »

He made sure to stare into your eyes when he added another word.

“Ti amo.”

You giggled, and you were almost embarrassed by how much of a schoolgirl you sounded like. But then it was Andrew, he always had this effect on you.

“Mia moglie…” he trailed off, slowing the pace of your walking to steal a kiss.

My wife. God, you were not used to being called that, yet.

“Hmm… you’re right, these definitely are the most important things.”

It was your time to steal a kiss.

“Think so too. So, what do you say, we go back to the hotel?”

You nodded, eating some of your ice cream, and licking at some of Andrew’s to steal some of the strawberry flavour he had chosen. He merely chuckled breathily as you did.

You kept on walking a little longer, taking in the view, the atmosphere, the busy street, while you and Andrew were taking your time. You were on your honeymoon, after all. You had time. A three-weeks long trip across Italy, that would show some of the places you had always dreamt of visiting.

And you got to do it all with the love of your life, how wonderful was that?

You walked back to the hotel as the night was falling for good on the town. You had eaten already, getting high on red wine and lasagna, and then bought a gelato as a dessert. So, when you stepped into your hotel room, you expected for Andrew to ask if you wanted to shower first, to quickly go to bed out of exhaustion after your long day. So, you took off your shoes, took in the view of the room, the large bed covered with white sheets, your bags tugged away in a corner, the small desk, the chair, and the large window with linen curtains that were letting in the last of the light for the day, thinking about cuddling with Andrew before falling asleep in his arms…

… until you heard the click of the lock on the door, the shuffling of Andrew taking off his shoes behind you, and felt his fingers on your arm, gently pulling to make you turn around. You instantly yielded, turning to him with a questioning look, only to be met with a stare that you knew all too well. Dilated pupils, stare intense, focused on you, with something tender and adoring in their light…

Before you could say a word, Andrew was holding your face in his hands, and crashing his lips against yours. If you were surprised, kissing him was second nature by now, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, going to your tiptoes so he wouldn’t have to bend too much. He moved a hand down your body, all the way to the small of your back, to pull you closer to him and help you keep your balance. You were soon out of breath, but kept on kissing, kissing, and kissing again, while Andrew softly pushed you backwards, making you move towards the bed.

You finally pulled away when he started unfastening your dress, pulling the zipper down and making your head spin with his fingers grazing the bare skin they revealed…

“I thought… I thought you were tired,” you whispered, barely breathing at all.

Another kiss, breathtaking, shaking all of you, down to your very soul, the earth-shattering kind of kisses that showed you his love, his adoration even.

Your dress fell at your feet. He ran a hand through your hair.

“I might have lied a little on that one, my love,” he confessed, something cheeky in his smile, and you kissed that tinge of cockiness away.

“So… you just wanted to get me in your bed, huh? I’ve found your secret,” you chuckled, although your knees were growing weak as Andrew’s hands moved across your bare skin.

He laughed as well, lips a breath away from yours.

“Indeed, that was my plan all along. Can you blame me though? I’m on my honeymoon with my beautiful wife…”

You couldn’t help but shy away a little at his words, and Andrew used your movement to gently hold your earlobe between his teeth, making you moan.

You had arrived in Italy three days ago, and all the two of you had been doing aside from seeing the sights was enjoying each other’s bodies.

Andrew seemed to still be as insatiable though… and you were definitely not complaining.

“So, what do you think about this plan of mine?” he whispered into your ear, voice suave and deep, almost hoarse, while he rubbed soothing circles into your hips.

You looked up at him, staring right into his hazel eyes.

“I think my gorgeous husband is wearing way too many clothes now.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice…

Andrew was dozing off. It turned out he was tired, and even though it was just 11pm, he was about to deeply fall asleep. You knew he was. It was easy to recognize the signs. His breathing had slowed, his eyes were closed, and the crease on his brow had disappeared. You noticed how his lips slightly parted. His hold on you loosened, but remained unmoving. For once, the night owl was the first to fall asleep, so you seized the occasion to admire him properly. Studied how his long hair was spread on the white pillow, listened to his soft breathing, admired his long eyelashes. You reached out to trace the edge of his nose with your fingertip, your touch barely there at all. He slightly scrunched his nose, moved his body closer to yours, and remained asleep, making you grin. You ran your fingers through his hair, careful not to wake him, gently kissed his closed eyelids, breathed in his scent…

Despite your long day, though, you weren’t sleepy. Your head was buzzing with the artwork you had admired during the day, and your legs were growing a little numb in the messy tangle of limbs you and Andrew had made in your cuddling time.

So, gently, slowly, you started to untangle yourself from Andrew’s embrace, stopping a couple of times when he stirred. Eventually though, you got up, grabbed a bathrobe and opened the large window, stepping onto the tiny balcony. There was barely enough room for a flower pot, a couple of tiny chairs, but it didn’t matter. The streets were still pretty busy, the shushed buzzing of conversations and traffic humming above the city. A gentle breeze made you shiver, but you didn’t want to walk back inside for now. Instead, you admired the view, took in the lights that stained the night. You could see the Ponte Vecchio from your window, the splashes of light it created on the river. It was magical, beyond words…

You turned around as you heard shuffling in the bedroom, and you saw Andrew putting on a bathrobe as well, smiled at how tiny it looked on his long frame. He smiled when he caught your eyes, walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, pressing his chest to your back.

He kissed your hair, played with the belt of the bathrobe, ran his fingers on the little embroidery there, the same decorating his own, the initials of the hotel…

“What are you doing?” he asked, kissing your hair again.

You could hear the tiredness in his voice.

“Just admiring the view. You can go back to bed, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I always notice when you leave our bed.”

You smiled at the simple confession, a mere statement of a fact. He rested his cheek on the top of your head, admired the view as well.

“It’s so beautiful here,” he mumbled without thinking.

“Hmm… it is.”

“We should move here.”

“Here?”

“We could say goodbye to the rain and the cold…”

“And our jobs.”

“We’re academics. We’re international, babe.”

You chuckled at that, but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m sure we could find a couple of spots, with a bit of patience.”

“You would have to really book these classes to learn the language,” you teased, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Hmm… about that… I don’t know if it’s worth it, me doing that.”

“Really?”

“Considering our evening, it seems I don’t need to speak Italian to seduce you.”

You really looked for a cheeky comeback, but your brain was mushy feeling him grin into your hair, tightening his hold on you, imagining the light of mischief in his eyes.

He chuckled lowly, before letting out a long exhale.

“I think I’d still prefer to go home,” you whispered, and Andrew hummed as an invitation for you to go on. “This is so nice, but… it feels like a fairytale, like… like it’s not real. I can’t imagine myself filling up taxes in a place like this, you know? Or running late for work, or doing laundry… And this honeymoon is amazing, don’t get me wrong… but it’s not real. And I want to do real life with you. With the boring stuff too. Do you see what I mean?”

“That you really love filling up taxes? I’ll let you do all the work at home then,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, pinching his arm in revenge, making him giggle.

“Andy! I’m serious!” you admonished.

“I know, sorry. No, I do understand what you mean. I want to do the boring stuff with you too. The simple stuff. The day-to-day stuff.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“But for now… we’re here, on our honeymoon. And in four days we’ll leave for Venice, and a week after that for Rome…”

“We really outdid ourselves with this trip,” you grinned.

“We did. And we don’t have to fill our taxes, so… let’s go back to bed. Tomorrow we’re going to the cathedral. And I want to eat at this tiny pizzeria we saw this afternoon. I had a good feeling about it.”

“Sure, we can do that.”

“Come back to bed… please, love… come back to bed…”

Your eyes lingered on the night sky, on the moon and the inky infinite beyond, on the tiny stars sparkling across it, on the lights of the city, vibrant with life, on the bridge that crossed the river and the sparks it ignited over the water.

You turned your back to it, facing Andrew. Your husband. God, you were still not used to the idea… you had gotten married less than a week ago… how crazy was that?

“Are you realising?”

“Realising what?”

“Like… is your brain registering the fact that… we’re married. We’re married, Andy. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. And we’re going to spend the rest of our lives loving each other. Isn’t that crazy?”

His hand rose to cradle your face, touch gentle, filled with tenderness. His gaze softened, and he didn’t have to say the words for you to feel loved.

“Honestly? The fact that you said yes when I proposed hasn’t sunk in yet, let alone the fact that you actually said I do…”

You laughed at that, rising to your tiptoes to drop pecks on his lips.

“No… no, I still can’t believe we’re married,” he shook his head, and you kissed the corner of his lips as he smiled. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough for you to love me.”

You rewarded him with a kiss, long and intimate, feeling him lean into you, seeking your touch and your embrace.

When you pulled away, you looked up at him, stared at his hazel eyes. They looked fully brown in the dim orange of the streetlights.

“I can’t realise yet, either. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey.”

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” you nodded, and let him pull you into the hotel room again.

You closed the window, climbed back into bed. You chuckled and rolled your eyes when Andrew took off his bathrobe and asked you to do the same.

“And here you go… just to get me naked in your bed again.”

He gave you a cheeky grin, toothy and almost boyish, so pleased with himself as you complied and slipped under the sheets fully naked.

He held you close the second you had settled into the bed.

“To be fair,” he whispered into your ear, voice deep, so deep it made a shudder travel up your spine and your head spin, “I just want to feel you against me. It’s reassuring and… intimate. To touch your skin. Not in a sexual way but… to simply feel close to you. Does that make sense?”

You heaved a sigh.

“How come you always say things that make me fall even more in love with you, huh? Even after all this time?”

He laughed, nuzzled his face against yours.

And soon enough, you were both fast asleep, your night filled with happy dreams…

“Love, hurry up! We’re gonna be late.”

Andrew was hurrying already, as he mumbled angrily under his breath. He stabbed his toe in the kitchen chair, cursing loudly, grabbing his lunchbox and hurrying to the hallway, where you were impatiently waiting for him.

“I know. No need to say anything,” he warned you, clearly annoyed, and you merely crossed your arms before your chest as he grabbed his jean jacket.

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” you said in a neutral tone, grabbing his bag as well as yours and walking outside the house.

Andrew hurried behind you, locking the door of your shared home and hurrying in the driver’s seat of his car.

It was your first day back to Trinity, back to reality, after your honeymoon, and he couldn’t pretend that it was going smoothly so far. It was his fault, to be fair, he and his inability to be on time…

He was surprised when you rested your hand on his thigh.

“Let’s not fight or get mad this morning,” you said, offering an olive branch. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have rushed you so much.”

He took a deep breath, and found it easy to relax while your fingers traced circles into his thigh through his blue jeans.

“I’m sorry for being always late,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you?”

He let out a long exhale.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before he had to place his hand back on the steering wheel.

A comfortable silence filled up the car again, until you turned on the radio. Van Morrison’s voice filled the vehicle, making Andrew smile.

“How many ‘congratulations’ do you think we’re gonna have to go through today?” he asked, making you chuckle.

“Like you’re not going to enjoy every single one of them…” you teased, giving his thigh a squeeze.

“I do enjoy the reminder that you accepted to marry me, out of all people.”

You leaned across the car to kiss his cheek, making his skin turn a little pink.

“Do you think the students are gonna notice?” he asked after a short silence.

“Probably. Especially for you.”

“Me?”

“You rarely wear rings,” you reminded him.

Andrew nodded, brushing his hair away from his face and readjusting his glasses.

“The chaos our love causes,” he chuckled, and you soon joined him.

“Tell me about it,” you teased, making him roll his eyes despite his grin.

“I give them a week,” he said, but you shook your head.

“You’re underestimating them, especially this group we’ve been teaching for years now... the ones who caught up on us dating.”

Andrew laughed at the memory of your students losing their minds in the cafeteria a couple of years before when he had kissed you in front of them. It was common knowledge on the campus that the two of you were a couple by now, but that you were newly-weds…

“Maybe,” he conceded. “Three days?”

“Aren’t you supposed to see Saoirse this afternoon?”

He nodded with a hum as an answer.

“Then the entire campus will know by tomorrow morning.”

“You think so?”

“Oh… yes…”

Andrew thought you were exaggerating. He didn’t notice how his student’s eyes grew round when she noticed his new wedding-band, nor the way she kept on looking in your direction during her time in your office, trying to spot your own ring.

But you were wrong. The entire campus knew by the end of the afternoon.

The whatsapp group had never been more active, a tidal-wave following Saoirse’s message.

THE LOVE BIRDS ARE FUCKING MARRIED!

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, your PA series is amazing! Can you write a fic about the team celebrating a big win and some people try to flirt with both PA and Jamie but they are so absorbed by each other they dont even notice other people? And the team notices and starts a bet when they'll stop being idiots amd get together, so Richard decides he wants to win and a couple days later he starts flirting with PA (because I imagine Richard flirting with women is his only way of comunicating with them) so PA is not bothered and thinks 'oh just Richard being Richard', Jamie is so confused he's speechless and the team has a laugh. And afterwhards Jamie shyly tries to find out from PA or Richard what the hell is going on.

Thanks :)

Bet On It

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting, suggestive language

A/N: Thank you for this awesome request. The bet part is going to be very important to Jamie and PA's story, so thank you for that! Also it is a very long chapter and I've been writing it for ages, I don't wanna spam so I'll schedule it for some day...

The pub is buzzing with energy. AFC Richmond had just secured a massive win, and the entire team, staff, and their closest friends had taken over their usual spot at the Crown & Anchor. Pints were flowing, chants were being sung off-key, and spirits were soaring.

Y/N is there, obviously. Jamie had made a whole thing about how she had to come—something about “ya can’t celebrate a win if ya don’t have the best PA in the league with ya”—so she hadn’t stood a chance.

In the middle of of the bustling chaos celebration, Jamie and Y/N were exactly where they always were—next to each other.

They had claimed a small corner booth, sitting so close their knees brushed under the table. Their drinks sat untouched as they laughed over something ridiculous, because, of course, Jamie had ordered the most absurd drink on the menu: the 'Red Card', which came with a tiny plastic whistle attached to the straw.

Y/N was still giggling as Jamie twirled the whistle between his fingers. “Oi, don't laugh, this is class,” he said, grinning as he took a sip.

“It’s literally just a vodka cranberry with a fancy name,” Y/N teased, shaking her head.

Jamie gasped dramatically. “No, it’s got passionfruit syrup. Proper exotic.”

“Oh wow, passionfruit? That totally justifies the fact that it came with a side of gummy footballs,” Y/N deadpanned, picking up one of the tiny candies.

Jamie smirked, leaning in slightly. Too close, too warm. “Bet ya won’t eat it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“‘Cause they’ve been sittin’ in that jar at the bar since the 2014 World Cup,” he said, nodding towards the counter.

Y/N immediately dropped the gummy. “Jamie!” she shrieked, laughing.

Jamie cackled. “See? You need me to keep ya safe.”

“Oh yeah, protecting me from stale candy is really heroic,” she quipped, rolling her eyes.

They were wrapped up in each other, completely oblivious to everything else happening around them. They barely even noticed when Sam and Dani slid into the booth across from them, smirking.

“You two are disgusting,” Sam declared, taking a sip of his beer.

Jamie frowned. “Nah, this drink’s actually well nice. And we didn't even eat the gummies, so.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam muttered under his breath, exchanging a knowing look with Dani.

But before Y/N could question it, Keeley and Rebecca waved her over from across the room.

She nudged Jamie’s knee with hers as she stood. “I’m gonna go talk to them for a bit.”

Jamie pouted dramatically. “Oi, don’t be gone too long, yeah?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of pink on her cheeks. “Try not to get another ridiculous drink while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Jamie called after her, grinning.

And that’s where everything started to spiral a little bit.

The evening kept going on and on. Spirits were high. The music’s loud, drinks are flowing, and Richmond is riding the high of a victory that had the entire stadium on its feet.

Jamie, of course, is loving it.

He’s alone now, perched at a booth near the bar, lounging back like he owns the place, sipping his ridiculous drink. A girl—tall, blonde, very much into footballers—leans against the table, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“So,” she says, all sultry. “You were incredible tonight. Saw the game on the telly.”

Jamie flashes her a quick, polite smile. “Yeah, I know.”

She laughs, clearly thinking he’s flirting back. "You must be exhausted. You should let someone… take care of you."

Jamie blinks. "What, like a physio?"

She pouts. "Like me."

But Jamie isn’t paying attention anymore, because across the room, Y/N is also getting hit on.

Some guy—tall, good-looking in a finance-bro kind of way—is leaning way too close, grinning down at her like he’s won the lottery.

"So, what do you do at Richmond?" the guy asks, flashing a cocky smile.

"I'm Jamie Tartt's personal assistant," Y/N replies easily, taking a sip of her drink.

The guy raises a brow. "Oh? That must be… exhausting. Bet he has you running around all day."

Y/N smirks. "Yeah, well, he's a handful. But I keep him in check."

Finance-Bro laughs, taking this as an invitation to keep going. "Bet a girl like you deserves a little break. How about I buy you a drink?"

Jamie physically flinches.

The almost-forgotten blonde girl notices. "You alright?"

Jamie waves her off. "Yeah, yeah—hold up, sorry, what'd you say?"

But she’s already gone, rolling her eyes as she walks away.

Jamie doesn’t care.

Because now? He’s glaring at that guy again.

Across the pub, the Richmond boys watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Y/N had returned to the booth after her chat with Keeley and Rebecca, sliding right back into her spot next to Jamie as if drawn by some unspoken gravitational pull. The two were locked in their own little world again—laughing, teasing, Jamie leaning in way too close just to whisper something in her ear that made her swat at his arm with a smile.

It was painfully obvious to everyone watching. Except, of course, to them.

Sam, beer in hand, shook his head in disbelief. “Are they serious?”

Dani sighed dramatically. “So in love and yet, so blind!”

“Unbelievable,” Colin scoffed, arms crossed. “They’re literally flirtin’ with each other every day, but the second a random person tries, they’re suddenly deaf to it?”

The team had just witnessed it firsthand.

Not five minutes ago, some bloke in an expensive-looking jacket had been chatting Y/N up by the bar. She had been polite—maybe even a little amused—but completely unaffected. Meanwhile, across the room, a girl had been twirling her hair and giggling at everything Jamie said, and he hadn’t even noticed. Jamie Tartt hadn't even noticed!

Jamie had barely glanced at her, too busy craning his neck to see if Y/N was coming back.

They were ridiculous.

Jan Maas huffed. “Five quid says they’ll keep doing this for at least another month.”

Isaac perked up. “Oh, we bettin’ now, bruv?”

He immediately stood, cracking his knuckles like this was serious business.

“Alright,” Isaac declared, pointing at Jan Maas. “One month. Jan Maas. Noted.”

Dani grinned. “Two months.”

Colin tapped his chin. “One month. No, wait—three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Sam echoed. “That’s bold.”

“I’m an optimist,” Colin said, shrugging.

Jan Maas scoffed. “You are a fool. They will never confess because they are cowards.”

Isaac let out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“I am only honest,” Jan Maas replied.

“Two weeks,” Isaac announced, crossing his arms. “Tops.”

The boys all turned expectantly to Richard.

But Richard just smirked and swirled his wine. “Oh, no. I will simply… speed things along.”

Thierry nudged him. “You’re not betting?”

Richard shrugged, ever the picture of confidence. “Why would I bet when I can guarantee a win?”

The team exchanged wary glances.

They all knew exactly what that meant.

“...Richard,” Sam said cautiously. “What are you planning?”

Richard simply took a leisurely sip of his drink. “You will see. Put me down for one day.”

The rest of the team watched him suspiciously as he glanced over at Y/N and Jamie.

Jamie was currently leaning in close, again whispering something in Y/N’s ear that made her laugh.

Richard smirked. Time to make things interesting.

As expected a day later, Richard makes his move.

It starts at lunch.

Y/N is mid-bite when Richard slides into the seat beside her, all effortless charm and intentional mischief.

"Ah, ma chérie," he croons, reaching for her hand dramatically. “How is it that every time I see you, you grow even more beautiful?”

Y/N barely looks up from her sandwich. "Mmhm. Thanks, Richard."

Undeterred, he tilts his head, smirking. “You know, I have written poetry about women like you.”

Y/N finally looks at him, lips twitching. “Yeah? Lemme guess. ‘There once was a girl from London town…’”

Richard chuckles. “Non, non. More elegant. More… French.”

Jamie, sitting across the table, furrows his brows. His fork is frozen halfway to his mouth as he watches this unfold.

What. The. Fuck.

Richard keeps going. “Ah, you do not believe me? Perhaps I shall recite it for you, oui?”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Jamie blinks.

Wait. That’s it? That’s all she’s gonna say?

Richard is laying it on thick, calling her ‘ma chérie’ and acting like some French Casanova, and she’s just laughing? Richard can't believe it.

Jamie however shoves a bite of food into his mouth, chewing aggressively.

But it only gets worse.

Later that day, it happens again.

This time, in the locker room.

Y/N is talking to Will when Richard casually drapes an arm around her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah, la plus belle femme du monde,” Richard sighs dreamily. “You must tell me, how is it possible that you are here every day, yet I still lose my breath when I see you?”

Y/N snorts. "Alright, Romeo. How many times have you used that line?"

Richard gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Y/N.”

She pats his cheek. “Aw, you’re such a cutie, Rich.”

Jamie short-circuits. His entire body goes rigid. Because—what the actual fuck?

Did she just call him cute?

Colin, sitting nearby, is already cackling.

Jamie snaps his head toward Sam. “Oi.”

Sam looks up innocently. “Yes?”

Jamie gestures wildly at Y/N and Richard. “The fuck is goin’ on?”

Sam blinks. “What do you mean?”

Jamie waves a hand. "He’s bein’ all… French at her! He don’t usually do that, right?"

Sam shrugs. “Oh, you know Richard. He flirts with everyone.”

“Yeah, but—not her,” Jamie argues. “Like—not this much.”

Sam tilts his head. "Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

Jamie freezes. “What? No. Just weird, innit?”

Sam hums, suppressing a grin. “Interesting.”

Jamie glares. “It’s not.”

Sam just smirks. Because it very much is. And Jamie Tartt?

Jamie Tartt is about to lose his goddamn mind.

Later, in the locker room, Jamie corners Sam, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

"Oi," he says, voice low and serious. "Don't fuck around with me right now. Be honest, Sam. What the fuck is goin’ on with Richard?"

Sam looks up from tying his laces, blinking innocently. "I literally have no idea what you are talking about, Jamie."

Jamie gestures wildly. "He’s obviously flirtin’ with Y/N! Am I fuckin' goin' insane right now or are you lot just blind?"

Sam tilts his head. "And what if he was flirting?"

Jamie lets out a sharp scoff. “What d’you mean ‘what if he was’? That's not okay, right? Like—she's mine—my assistant I mean. And mans is callin' her ‘ma chérie’ and shit.”

Sam barely holds in a laugh.

"It's not fuckin' funneh!" Jamie insists, voice rising slightly.

Sam studies him, amused. "It bothers you. Do something about it."

Jamie opens his mouth—then immediately closes it.

Because the statement was very obvious.

But he can’t just say that.

He scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Sam. "It don’t. She can do whatever she wants, so yeah."

Sam hums, way too entertained by this. "Right."

Jamie glares. “Fuck you, mate.”

Sam smirks, but says nothing.

Because at this point, Jamie is digging his own grave.

The locker room is nearly empty when Jamie spots Y/N grabbing her bag from the bench. He hesitates, heart racing for reasons he can't fully explain, but he has to do this.

Jamie walks up to her, trying to act casual, but his voice comes out a little more strained than he planned.

"So," he begins, shifting on his feet. "You and Richard, yeah?"

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not quite sure what he’s getting at. "What about me and Richard?" she asks, her tone curious but not overly suspicious.

Jamie scratches the back of his neck. "Y’know… he’s, uh… been flirtin’ with ya."

Y/N lets out a short, surprised laugh, not a bit phased by the whole situation. "Oh, please. That’s just Richard."

Jamie blinks.

"What?"

Y/N shrugs, clearly dismissing the concern as nothing. "Jamie, he’s Richard." Her voice softens, almost like she’s explaining something obvious. "He flirts with everyone, especially me. He’s a flirt. It’s what he does. You’ve known him long enough."

Jamie stares at her, a mix of confusion and relief battling inside him.

So… she doesn’t like him? Richard’s flirtation is just… a thing Richard does?

It’s almost like a weight lifts off his chest, but that weight is immediately replaced by an even heavier, more uncomfortable feeling—one that Jamie can’t quite put a finger on yet. His mind starts to spiral.

“Right.” He rubs his face, trying to come off like it’s no big deal, but Y/N can see through it. She can always see through him.

"Jamie, you okay?" she asks, her voice soft but teasing. She knows he’s not acting like himself.

Jamie glances away quickly, his heart thumping harder than it should. He’s so relieved that he doesn’t have to worry about Richard and Y/N becoming a thing. Still, he’s struggling to make sense of why it felt so wrong when Richard was all over her.

But then his eyes flicker up, and he notices something he hadn't before.

The team.

Standing at the entrance to the locker room. Watching.

Watching him.

These idiots were fucking with him.

He turned back to Y/N. "Yeah, I'm all good. Just Jamie bein' Jamie, yeah?"

Y/N looked at him, now equally confused. "I guess."

"You want to grab a pint?" Jamie said, not letting her answer the question and quickly grabbing her by her wrist. "Alright, c'mon then,"

They walked past the whole team, Y/N wasn't even wondering why they all stood there. Jamie just mouthed a 'Fuck You' towards all of them and pulled Y/N along.

Richard is officially the first to lose the bet.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Quinn Hughes

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

For Quinn, this often involves spending some time together, cuddling on the couch and chatting about what they just experienced. He may also offer physical gestures of affection, such as taking a warm bath together or giving each other massages. Overall, he is a very attentive and responsive partner who always takes the time to check in with his partners and make sure you are feeling good.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Quinn, is very proud of his strong and muscular body, and loves to spend time in the gym working out and training. His favorite part of his body is his thighs

His favourite body part of his partner is definitely your hips, as he finds them incredibly attractive.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

His favorite ways is either deep inside of you or on your chest or abdomen since It also creates a lasting visual reminder of your lovemaking.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Quinn would have to say his favorite dirty secret is how much he loves being in control. He is a very dominant partner in the bedroom, but he doesn't always feel comfortable talking about it without the right audience. He is worried about coming across as too aggressive or making his partner feel uncomfortable, so he tends to keep that side of him on the down low.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Quinn has been in a few different relationships before, so he wouldn't be considered a "complete" novice. He's definitely learned a thing or two about what he's doing and has a pretty good idea of what to expect, but he is always willing to listen to feedback from his partner and ask questions if he is unsure about something. He may come off a bit too confident at first, but really he's just trying to put you at ease and make sure everyone is having a good time.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Quinn's favorite position is probably one where he has a lot of control, so something like missionary with your legs over his shoulders or cowgirl. He loves being able to see the different expressions on your face as things progress, and it's really hot to have your body so up close.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Quinn is definitely more on the serious side of things, but he will also throw in some light banter to help make the mood a bit lighter. He may crack a few jokes and make some silly faces, but he's not one to totally drop the seriousness of the moment. He thinks there's a time and a place for humor in a relationship, and the bedroom definitely isn't the right place for it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Quinn keeps himself very well groomed and trimmed. He definitely does his best to keep up with any body hair he grows, especially in places where his partners may want to touch. He definitely keeps his carpet and drapes matching, as he believes it is an important aspect of overall hygiene. He is definitely not a fan of having a full on forest down there, so he makes sure to keep things nice and tidy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

During the moment itself, Quinn is definitely on the romantic side of things. He likes to take his time and really take the time to express how much he's enjoying himself. He might hold you close to his chest as he whispers little compliments in your ear, or give you a little kiss on the forehead or cheek every so often. He wants you to feel like there is nothing more important to him than being intimate with you at that moment.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It's something that's definitely not talked about very much, but Quinn absolutely enjoys a little solo time every once in a while. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, it's more of a private indulgence for him. He doesn't have any specific techniques that he likes, it's more of a spontaneous thing that he's just in the mood do some days.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage

Impact Play

Spanking

Marking

Praise, both ways

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Quinn would have to say his favorite location to do the deed is somewhere private, preferably his own place. He likes to have a little bit of privacy and not have to worry about anyone interrupting or walking in on you both. He usually likes to set the mood and get comfortable on the bed or couch, somewhere he can relax with his partner without any worries.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Quinn is pretty much up for anything, so it's hard to say exactly what turns him on in the moment. However, he always gets a bit excited when you are vocal and responsive, he loves to hear the things you like and how you feel in his arms. He also loves when you initiate things yourself, it makes him feel like you're really into it and not just going along with what he's doing.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There's not one thing that Quinn would really be opposed to doing, he's pretty much open to anything. However, there are a few things that he does like to avoid. He's definitely not a fan of doing anything that's too rough or aggressive, he doesn't want to hurt you in any serious way. He also doesn't really like things that are loud or messy, he likes things to be simple and intimate. Other than that, he doesn't really have any strict no's.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Quinn is definitely more on the giving side, he loves to take his time and make sure that you're feeling good. He's got a pretty good skill level too, he knows exactly how to use his tongue and how to get you all worked up. He might not be the best in the world, but he definitely puts in the effort to make sure that you're feeling absolutely ecstatic.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Quinn likes to mix things up depending on the moment. Sometimes he'll go pretty rough and fast, others he'll take it slower and enjoy all the little details of being intimate with you. Overall, he wouldn't say he has a set pace or a set style that he always sticks to, he just likes to go with the flow and do what feels right.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quinn is definitely all for quickies, sometimes a little "quick action" is exactly what the situation calls for. He doesn't see it as an either/or choice, he sees it as an option that's sometimes just exactly what's needed. He definitely prefers regular, longer sessions, but he won't say no to a shorter one if that's what the moment calls for. He doesn't mind either way, as long as he's getting a bit of action in, he's happy.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Quinn loves to try new things and take risks, he's not one to do things the same way over and over again. He always likes to keep things spicy and exciting, and he wouldn't mind trying something out in a place or situation that's a bit different than usual. He's not afraid to take a risk if it means that things will be extra exciting and feel a little more risque for the both of you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Quinn is definitely pretty high energy when it comes to things like this, he's not one to slow down easily. He can definitely go a few rounds without getting tired or needing a break, and he's got a pretty high stamina so he'll keep going for quite a while. He'll only stop when he feels like you are also getting worn out, he doesn't want to push it too far.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Quinn's definitely got a few toys that he likes to use when the mood strikes. He doesn't use them all the time, it depends on what he's feeling like, but he does enjoy the occasional toy session. He doesn't mind using them on himself, or on a partner, or maybe even a little bit of both together.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Quinn definitely loves to tease, he gets a real kick out of getting you all worked up and then not following up with anything. He likes to make you want more, to get your brain all foggy with desire, but then he stops before giving you what you really need. It's a form of torture he really gets off on.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He has a tendency to make a pretty nice mess of sounds, ranging from soft grunts and moans to louder, more guttural sounds. He's not necessarily super loud, he's not a screamer, but he definitely doesn't hold back and make sure you hear what's going on.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Quinn actually has a bit of an exhibitionist streak. He loves the idea of doing something intimate and passionate in a public place, maybe somewhere hidden but where there's always the risk of getting caught. He gets a rush from just the thought of having something so intimate and forbidden in a place where people could walk by at any moment.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

It's about seven inches long. The shaft is fairly thick, not too skinny but not overly bulky either. There's a bit of a curve to it, making it stand out a little when hard. The head is quite pronounced, almost like a mushroom cap, and there's a small slit right in the center that glistens whenever he's excited.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's got a pretty healthy and active libido, and he definitely needs a bit of a release every now and then. He'll often get a bit restless and antsy if he doesn't have a good way to take care of himself, and he'll definitely start to look for a little bit of action from time to time.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually feels pretty satisfied after a good session, and he can definitely fall asleep pretty quickly afterwards. He'll wrap his arms or legs around you, pull you closer to his chest, and just doze off after a good bit of physical activity.

[sheithfictioncatalogue]

Not sure if you're still active but do you happen to know any fic featuring an older time traveling Keith and a younger Shiro? I have a hankering :3

Yes, there's a bunch!

Equalize - stardropdream

11k. Teen.

Shiro watches as Keith (Keith, different, with long hair in a braid, broader shoulders, and older face) looks around the room wildly, trying to place where he is. Then he closes his eyes and laughs, a soft, disbelieving chuckle. Shiro watches the tension ease from Keith’s shoulders. “Right,” Keith whispers. “I remember this now.” Or: Keith from the future ends up in the present. Shiro copes the only way he knows how-- by squashing all his feelings back down again.

you can always find me here (the coming home remix) - perfectlyrose

7k. General.

Keith continues to watch himself fade and flicker. He’s staring straight at Pidge’s terrified face watching her form words that he can’t hear when he blinks out of existence. There’s a long moment of darkness, endless and complete, before he fades back into physical existence. He blinks into the dim light and recognizes the dull metal walls and purple glow in an instant, stomach sinking to his feet. Just his luck that the failed wormhole transported him straight into a cell on a Galra cruiser. A quintessence experiment gone wrong sends Keith skipping backwards through time, back to a Shiro he hasn't seen in years, and one he's never seen. Keith just wants to get back to his Shiro and his time.

Up and Down Memory Lane - SaltiSnacks

8k. Mature. Contains: Shiro/Curtis, Keith/OMC

A time-traveling Keith is on board the Atlas. Shiro overhears a conversation. The house of cards crumbles.

Yesterday, We Begin - arcadenemesis

13k. Explicit.

"Where did you come from?" Keith huffs a laugh. "A long, long way from here," he says, plucking the cherry from his glass. Shiro's eyes follow it all the way to his lips, and Keith watches his throat bob when he bites down and plucks the stem. It's an evasive answer, but if Shiro had any follow-up questions, Keith thinks they're long gone. "Do you want that?" he asks when the silence drags, gesturing at Shiro's cherry. It seems to snap him out of his trance. "N-no! You can take it," Shiro stammers, pushing the glass toward him. "Please."

A mission takes Keith back in time, and leads him straight to Shiro.

Stars Fading - zjofierose

2k. Teen.

Keith knows where to go because Shiro had told him, knows the little house by sight from the many pictures Shiro would scroll through when he was feeling melancholy or nostalgic. He’s been waiting for this chance his whole life, wondering when the moment would come - the second his ship breaks orbit above Earth while simultaneously displaying a date in the past, Keith knows: it’s time.

twenty-thousand leagues above the ocean - ErinNovelist

8k. Teen.

“Please,” he begs, glancing up at Keith again, heart throbbing against his ribs. Bare bones are the only thing stopping him from throwing himself at the man he’s known forever. “Just tell me who you are.” Keith looks up at the silver sky, at the worn jacket Shiro clenches close, at the shaky hands shoved into deep pockets to keep warm. “My name is Keith, and I know that doesn’t mean anything to you right now, but someday you’re going to be someone very important to me.” He sighs and tightens his grip on Shiro’s shoulder, leather soft beneath his fingertips. “You already are, and you’re the only reason I’m not lost right now.” “I don’t understand,” Shiro tells him because he doesn’t know what else to say. Keith only cocks his head and smiles. “I’m lost in time, Shiro. And… well, you’ve always been my guiding light, I guess.”

Life We Chose - stardropdream

3k. General.

Not too far out from the Kerberos launch, Shiro finds an unexpected guest waiting outside his quarters, both familiar and unfamiliar.

Stuck in Gravity - stardropdream

11k. Explicit. Contains: Keith/Keith/Shiro

Keith thinks that everyone should be a little more concerned about this supposed "future" him. He's just not buying that any version of himself could be so confident, so happy... so clearly loved. (Or: the "I had to go back in time to teach my younger self that he's worthy of love" time-travel threesome.)

Only an Echo - stardropdream

10k. Explicit. Contains: Shiro/Shiro/Keith/Keith

Shiro should have guessed that things were about to get weird when a wormhole opens up in his bedroom and out step the future versions of Shiro and Keith. “Right,” the older Keith says, smiling a little. “Well. There’s no easy way to explain it.” “We’re—” the other Shiro begins. “— here to fuck you,” the other Keith cuts off. “Not quite how I’d phrase it, baby.”

Or: Recently married Shiro and Keith decide that the best wedding present they can give each other is "let's go back in time and fuck our past selves." So they do.

[strawberryfloofs]

i wanna be treated like the age i regress to!!! (toddler based) if you have something to do, set up an activity for me to keep me occupied while youre doing grown up stuff! help me get dressed, even if i argue im a big girl and i can do it! (i cant and if you believed me, id whine and make grabby hands for my mama to help) im fussy about bedtime? "oh i know doll, but lets get those teethies brushed and mama can read you a story, hm? how about a warm baba too?" instant distraction = no fussiness

give me snacks and cut up my fruit for me! bonus points if its cute shapes :D if im being left alone, check on me time to time and feel the dread if you hear no more giggles and playing (better hope im feeling sleepy or watching a show and not getting into trouble...) try to answer my random questions about everything like "wy mama has big gir cup an no floofy?" "Because mama is a grown up that doesn't spill drinks, and you're her little baby thats a little clumsy n she loves you just the way you are!" - "doeses dinosaurz hab woving mommies and daddies toos?" "Hm, I think so- how else would they have gotten so big and strong back then?" you wanna watch a grown up show on the tv? get me some toys ands set up a little area in the living room for me, or even give me a device temporarily understand my big emotions over seemingly small things and comfort me! (totally not projecting because i also didnt totally call Clovey the lion a big meanie poo head [she is not one] bc I wanted Bingo as a nini stuffie instead of her [Bingo was across the room] and started whining and getting upsetti spaghetti) make me hold your hand or something else (like a grocery cart buggy) in public because if not, I might get distracted and wonder off. understand it might take a while to get my attention and be hard to sustain it/get me to listen because im really tiny! "bubs, can you look at mommy? you can play after this, i promise, but its reallly super duper important!" (i cant be the only one whos brain is totally clouded with tiny thoughts and urges right? who wants to listen to a grownup when you can stack blocks instead-) just writing this makes me feel sorta tiny eee

[onegayastronaut]

Through Your Eyes

Requested by @edgessunflower: Can I have Amelia Shepard x Fem reader with the prompt "You're not like the rest of them" where Amelia comforts the reader who is autistic and shows her that she's beautiful?

Words: 1250

Amelia Shepherd strode into the coffee shop, her leather jacket slightly damp from the misty Seattle weather. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint hum of conversation, creating a cocoon of warmth against the dreary chill outside. She was there for a brief reprieve from the chaos of Grey Sloan Memorial, and she’d already decided on her usual order. But as she approached the counter, her attention was caught by someone seated by the window, partially obscured by a tall stack of books.

You were scribbling furiously into a notebook, your brow furrowed in concentration. A cascade of notes, diagrams, and color-coded tabs spilled out from the pages, creating a labyrinth of thought that Amelia couldn’t help but admire from afar. You seemed entirely engrossed in your work, your fingers tapping a rhythm on the table that seemed to ground you. She noticed the way you tilted your head slightly, a quiet self-soothing motion that only someone observant might catch.

Her curiosity got the better of her. Coffee forgotten, she found herself moving toward you. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, flashing a small, genuine smile.

Your head snapped up, startled by the interruption. You blinked at her, taking in her striking features and the way her blue eyes seemed to hold an ocean’s depth. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out right away. Social interactions weren’t your strong suit, and this beautiful stranger’s sudden appearance didn’t make it easier.

“Um… sure,” you finally managed, shifting your books to make space. Amelia slid into the seat across from you, her movements casual but deliberate.

“You look like you’re working on something important,” she said, gesturing to the organized chaos on the table.

You hesitated, unsure how much to share. Most people didn’t understand your passion for detail or the way your brain worked in patterns and layers. But something about Amelia’s demeanor put you at ease. “It’s… a research project,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m trying to map out how different environments affect sensory processing.”

Her eyebrows lifted in genuine interest. “That sounds fascinating. You must have a brilliant mind to tackle something like that.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. “I don’t know about brilliant,” you murmured, looking down at your notebook.

“Hey,” Amelia said, her tone gentle but firm. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m a neurosurgeon. I know brilliance when I see it.”

Your eyes darted back to her, surprise flickering across your face. “A neurosurgeon?”

She nodded. “Amelia Shepherd,” she said, extending her hand. “And you are?”

You gave her your name, your hand brushing hers in a quick handshake. Her grip was warm, grounding. For the first time in a long while, you felt seen—not just noticed, but truly seen.

Over the next few weeks, Amelia found reasons to frequent that coffee shop, and it wasn’t long before your paths started crossing regularly. She’d ask about your research, and you’d tentatively inquire about her work at the hospital. A rhythm developed between you, a dance of questions and shared stories that neither of you wanted to end.

One rainy evening, as the coffee shop began to empty out, you confided something you’d rarely shared with anyone. “I… I’m autistic,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s why I’m so focused on sensory processing. It’s something I live with every day.”

Amelia leaned forward, her expression softening. “Thank you for telling me,” she said sincerely. “That must take a lot of courage.”

You shrugged, fiddling with the edge of your notebook. “Most people don’t get it. They think I’m… weird or difficult. Like I’m too much or not enough at the same time.”

“They’re idiots,” Amelia said bluntly, making you blink in surprise. “You’re not weird or difficult. You’re… you. And you’re not like the rest of them. That’s what makes you extraordinary.”

Her words hit you like a warm wave, melting away some of the walls you’d built over the years. But there was still doubt lingering in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you said. “Sometimes I feel like being different means being alone.”

Amelia’s gaze softened even further. She reached across the table and placed her hand over yours. “You’re not alone,” she said firmly. “Not while I’m around.”

As your connection deepened, Amelia made it her mission to show you just how beautiful and valuable you were. She learned about your preferences, the things that made you feel safe and calm. She respected your boundaries and celebrated your quirks, never once making you feel like you had to hide any part of yourself.

One evening, after a particularly overstimulating day, you found yourself at her apartment. She’d noticed your overwhelmed state and quickly suggested a quiet night in. Now, you were curled up on her couch, a weighted blanket draped over your legs as soft music played in the background. Amelia sat beside you, her presence grounding and reassuring.

“You know,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.”

You turned to her, startled. “Why would you think that?”

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you see the world in ways I never could. You find beauty and detail in places most people overlook. And you care so deeply about understanding the things that matter to you. That’s rare. That’s beautiful.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you looked away, overwhelmed by her words. But Amelia gently turned your face back to hers. “Hey,” she said softly, her thumb brushing your cheek. “Don’t hide from me. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe her.

The turning point in your relationship came one sunny afternoon, during a trip to the botanical gardens. Amelia had suggested the outing, knowing how much you loved nature and its calming effects. The vibrant colors, intricate patterns of leaves, and the soothing rustle of the wind through the trees were a balm to your overstimulated mind.

You walked side by side, your hands occasionally brushing. Amelia was patient, matching her pace to yours and giving you space to process your surroundings. When you stopped to admire a particularly intricate flower, she watched you with quiet admiration.

“You see the details,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “Things that most people don’t even notice.”

You glanced at her, surprised by her observation. “It’s just how my brain works,” you said with a small shrug.

“It’s a gift,” she countered firmly. “The way you notice the world makes it more beautiful.”

Her words lingered in your mind as you continued your walk, and by the time you reached a secluded bench surrounded by blooming flowers, you felt a surge of confidence you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Amelia,” you began, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I want to thank you. For seeing me, for accepting me… for everything.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It’s easy to accept someone as amazing as you,” she said. “But you don’t have to thank me. Just promise me you’ll start seeing yourself the way I see you.”

You nodded, your heart full. For the first time, you felt like you could.

As months turned into a year, your relationship deepened. Amelia became your rock, your confidante, and your biggest advocate. She celebrated your wins, no matter how small, and held you through the tough days.

[st4ytiny]

Cause I don't wanna be in love with another, even in another life

AN: I'm having ateez and stray kids brainrot rn. Rewatching all of skz code and wanteez... LORDDDD IM LEGIT SOBBING I LOVE THEM ALL <33333

Mentions of soft San, fluff with a sligth slice of angst and implied nsfw. Mostly teeth rotting fluff, self indulgent (sorry not sorry)

Sannie who is the kindest guy you've ever met. Many think he's tough and mean, but once you get to know him a bit more, he's actually just a ball of sunshine. He's warm, comforting, gentle, nurturing and healing. Somehow he always has something to say no matter your problem. He has the most gentle touches. Jokes and laughter is also a big part of your time together. He enjoys having his hair played with while he reads. Head in your lap while you do random stuff.

Sannie who loves poetry and loves writing for you. Even if he doesn't have the courage to show it to you. I feel like he's the type of boyfriend to leave you notes around the house with words he can't say in person. The type of boyfriend to crush on his partner, who goes above and beyond to make you feel better if life is shitty atm. He enjoys being your safe haven and feels safe being with you. The boyfriend who can't handle alcohol so whenever you two are out, at an event or dinner with his group, he ends up taking care of you. If he is drinking I have a feeling he's gonna end up in your lap, clinging onto you for dear life. (I feel like he cries alot when he's drunk? THAT ONE TIME HE GOT SCARED BY THE MEMBERS IN THAT WANTEEZ EP. AND CRIED. I LITERALLY SOBBED, MY SANNIE)

Sannie who needs a stong bond to the people he surrounds himself with. I feel like he's attracted to individuals who are older than him. Preferably if you enjoy working out, being outside or is a bit of a nerd. Love has no boundraries for him though. He likes feeling like he's stronger than you, just because he likes being protective. Even though you both know who's gonna be ordering for you two. He is the type of guy to act intimidating if someone approaches you when you're on a date. Then afterwards he's gonna be like "Woah, did I look intimidating just now?", "Woah, Hyung/Noona didn't I look totally badass?" (SOBBING I NEED A BF LIKE HIM, SORRY THIS IS SO SELF INDULGENT)

Sannie who loves being praised for small things. He thives of being helpful for you. ESPECIALLY IF HE IS TALLER THAN YOU. He enjoys watching you while doing the most mundane things. He enjoys the smell that your parfume leaves in the bathroom, or the fog on the mirror. He enjoys seing your favorite colour next to his favorite colour when he's out shopping. Sends you pictures of it with "This is us" attatched to it. I don't feel like gift giving is is biggest love language. BUT i do think he's the type of guy to give you a pretty rock because he thought about you when he saw it.

Sannie who gets stressed and insecure easily. Reassurance is important in your relationship. As well as gentle reminders that you think he is the awesomest. Joking around with him when he's stressed is something that makes him let go of the tension in his shoulders. He loves just sinking into your warm touches at the end of the day. When he's touring or busy, he forces wooyoung to cuddle him while he wants to cry because you're not there. If you're an idol aswell, i believe San would cheer you on alot. He'd be so proud whenever he saw you absolutely devour the stage. You two might also write lyrics/poetry together.

Sannie who can be rough when it comes to being intimate. But when he's stressed, exhausted, sad or insecure, he definatly enjoys you being soft, praising him and a tiny bit of body worship. He likes having his hair played with and i have a feeling that his some of his sweet spots are his arms, neck and thighs/calfs?? I don't know. He likes recieving but also giving. Definatly soft dom leaning though.

Songs I listened to DIMPLE - BTS, HURT - NEW JEANS, HEAVY - THE MARIAS, VAMPIRE EMPIRE - BIG THIEF, HEAVENLY - C.A.S

[sirdolraan]

Meditations

((DWC Feb 2025, Day 1, Hypnotic/Star, @daily-writing-challenge CW: None ))

Beledar's light shined brightly down on Dolraan as he stood on the wall, gazing up at the giant crystal. Some part of, aspect of the worldsoul, filled with life-giving light, as well as terrifying shadowy power that tempted the great evils of the world. And a song that could only be heard by those who were attuned to the Light, like himself. Lorellai, Spiru, even Janosis once they'd dug him out of Azj'kahet, couldn't hear it, even though the Radiant Song had come to all of them. But here, in Hallowfall, he could hear the crystal's song, soothing his mind and warming his heart.

No wonder the Arathi had decided to live here. It was, in every way that mattered, a blessing unlike any other. Beautiful. Affirming. Almost hypnotic.

"Penny for your thoughts, champion?" Dolraan turned to see Quartermaster Steelstrike walking up behind him, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. "Saw you head up here, thought you might like something warm to drink."

"That's very kind of you, Quartermaster," Dolraan smile as he received the mug, taking a sip of the tea. "As for my thoughts, too many and not enough. Questions that just lead to more questions. Even by my standards, this has been a very eventful time."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or worried, considering your stories. And please, we've shared a dinner table, you can call me Auralia, I won't tell the general," she said, winking. Her gaze turned up to Beledar. "You know, you'd think after years and years you'd get used to it, but it's still just so… magnificent. I'm glad to know that you outsiders can also look to Beledar for peace while you think."

"It is among the most remarkable things I've ever encountered, and I can say that with confidence. I think I agree with your historians; that you were brought here to safeguard it. I can't say that we'd have been able to stop Xal'atath's assault on it if not for the Arathi having established yourselves down here so well."

"I certainly like to think so. After all we've been through, all we've lost," she said, looking down and rubbing a ring on her finger, "having it mean something is important."

"I think it would have meaning, even if it was just a fluke. Because you gave it meaning. You made a decision, you built homes and families, and you work every day to keep everyone safe and happy. That's the Light, back where I come from."

"You have a real talent for making things big things seem simple," Auralia chuckled.

"I've spent the last five years teaching and training, I had to get good at it or I'd be embarrassed by my students, or ridiculed by my squire. Can't stand that thought."

"Well, I can understand that motivation. A toast, then. To keeping everyone safe and happy, even if it's as simple as sharing a warm mug of tea."

As Dolraan tapped his mug with Auralia's, Beledar shined brightly down upon the paladins below, her song audible to those who could hear it, echoing with notes of safety, and happiness.

[r7leee]

shout | d.f.

this idea has been eating away at me oh my GOD

pairing: top!dominic fike x bottom!fem!reader

summary: complaining about being away from dominic, you accompany him on a trip to the studio. little do you know what that’ll entail

warnings: cursing, smut!!! teasing???, breast play, fingering, oral (m and f receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), lots of fun stuff

word count: 3,051, should take about 23 and a half minutes to read (whoops)

“WHAT’S THAT ONE do?” you were currently standing in the recording studio with your boyfriend after he begrudgingly allowed you to accompany him. you were standing at the control panel, eyes wide in awe from the array of buttons.

dominic snickered at you, fascinated. “honestly? i have no fuckin’ clue.” you turned around, a small look of suspicion in your face.

“for real?” he nodded.

“for real.” you shook your head with a small tsk.

“you think there’s like, an owner’s manual or something in here?” you were part joking and part serious, genuinely curious as to what the the button did. dominic laughed as you searched around the room. his arms rested lazily on your waist as he spoke.

“it’s not a car, y/n.”

“let me entertain myself,” you whined, turning around to face him.

“entertain yourself? you need to entertain yourself after you begged me on your hands and knees to come?”

“what? no, i don’t beg.”

dominic knew you were bullshitting. he knew you were because, for one, you had been just a few hours prior.

it was a calm morning. you were laying in bed, drinking your morning tea and scrolling through your phone. dominic was on the other side of the room, changing out of his clothes. it wasn’t like him to get ready so early; he usually didn’t change until noon. “you going somewhere?” you asked, looking up at him.

“ya. needa head to the studio today and start working on the album.” your face immediately turned into pout.

“but i don’t want you to leave…” you watched as he slipped off his shirt and threw on a new one, undoubtedly staring at his toned physique. you knew you’d yearn to lay your head on his chest, staring up in his eyes.

“i’m sorry, babe, but i’ve gotta get this done. actually feeling like going today.”

“but dommmmm,” you whined, your phone fully down. “we can just, like, watch a movie. i have off today.”

he always found it cute when you did this. if he had half a brain, he’d get right back in bed with you and kiss you senseless. but he knew he couldn’t. “you can’t say anything to make me not go,” he said, sliding a tee over his shoulders.

you knew how important this was to him, meaning you probably shouldn’t press him to stay. so, you took an alternative. “can i at least go with you?” you pleaded with him.

his eyebrows raised at the prospect. honestly, it wasn’t a bad idea. but, he knew you’d be clinging to him the whole time, trying to be next to him. if you could just sit there and look pretty…

“okay. but only if you promise to not be a bother.”

“when am i ever a bother?” you asked, though your words were lighthearted. you knew you could never truly annoy him.

he just shook his head. “don’t be coy.”

so, ya, you were lying. dominic retold the story to you as he turned the controls on, prepping for his work. you, on the other hand, were stunned. “that’s not begging!”

“that is like, the textbook definition of begging, babe,” he said, trying to make his point heard. he was busy getting set up and ready to recording.

you just shook your head and sat back. “make it sound like i have some dignity,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. though, you swore you could see a hint of a smile on his pretty lips.

after a little while longer, dominic was finished setting up and ready to record. he opened up his phone to the notes app, where he kept all his ideas. he scrolled through, softly humming as he found the song he wanted to record.

begrudgingly to you, he walked away and into the studio. with the click of a button, a quick vocal warm-up, and after putting on headphones, he was ready to start. he took a deep breath before singing softly into the microphone.

this song was new. unlike anything you’d heard before. an obvious perk of being dominic’s girlfriend, you heard all his songs before anyone else. you were glad for that because you were sure this one was bound to be one of your favorites.

after a little while, he stopped to take a break. the loss of contact was getting to you, and there was just something about him when he was singing…

dominic strode over to you, the door to the recording room still open, and grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip. meanwhile, you snuck up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “you’re doing good…like, really good,” you mumbled lowly.

he smiled, turning around so now he was facing you. so now he was the one holding your waist. “when am i not?” he quipped, though his tone was lighthearted.

you glared at him, though again, it was light. “shut up.”

“make me,” he shot back. so you did.

without a second thought, you pressed your lips against his. he was a bit taken aback, but he quickly melted into it, kissing you back. at first it was soft and simple. just a little contact.

but, that quickly changed. some kind of fire lit inside you both that could only be put out by closeness. you sloppily pressed your lips against his as you backed him against the wall.

he pulled away for a second, leaving you cut off. he reached to trace your bottom lip gently with his thumb. “see…i know you beg.” his hand slid down to cup your jaw. “i know because if i were to just…” his hand ventured farther. down your side and to the waistband of your sweatpants. he took the elastic between his fingers, pulling softly. “you’d want me to take them off. wouldn’t you?”

you wanted him to be wrong. but the way his fingers just teased the outside of it, pulling the fabric just to let go and have it snap back in place…

you shook your head, wanting to win this little game. “you wouldn’t fuck me in here,” you said, biting your lip. all he did was snicker softly.

“you sure?”

for a couple seconds, the only sound in the room was your panting and ringing in your ears from your heart pounding. your heart pounding because you knew he was right. he always was.

so you wrapped your arms around his neck. tangled your fingers in his hair. and with a sigh, your voice almost a whisper, you asked. “please?”

and he did. within a second, your lips were on his in a messy tangle yet again. it was all teeth and spit. his hands fumbled, cupping your boobs. he kept kissing you, feeling you up. god, it made you clench your thighs tight.

he pulled away just for a second to mumble, “take it off f’me.” quickly, you became distracted with the straps of your tank top.

in those split seconds, dominic had an idea. it made his heart start pounding just a bit faster. without thinking, he quickly reached over the console and pressed a button.

you didn’t even notice, too busy slipping the shirt up and over your head. he mumbled a soft “fuuuuck” at the sight of you in your lacy, black bra. “just fuckin’ teasing me, baby…on the couch.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. immediately, you were laying on the small, leather couch on the other end of the studio. dominic quickly followed, trapping you to the couch. his toned arms always came in handy for things like this.

immediately, his lips were back on yours, the intensity still evident. when he pulled away, your lips were red, puffy, and shiny from spit. his lips didn’t leave you, though. instead, they trailed down your neck, his breath hot and heavy in his wake.

a long, guttural groan was pulled from your throat as he pressed a deep kiss on that one spot on your neck. the one that made you shiver. “fuck…” you softly whined, your hands finding their way into his soft curls.

he just looked up at you with a shit-eating grin. fucker.

he didn’t take up much time there, though. he had other plans.

dominic slid his hands behind your back, propping you up on the couch. he sat up as well, quickly freeing your tits from the confines of your bra. he took them between his rough, calloused hands.

he just kneaded for a couple seconds, causing you to bite your lip. he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over your nipples in tight circles, making their peaks stiffen.

you felt the heat between your thighs grow, shifting so you could rub them together for a bit of friction.

he was quick to notice with a snarky remark. “so impatient, huh? just want it so bad, i’m sure.” his hands slid softly down your sides, resting on your hips before taking the fabric of your sweatpants and pulling them down.

with one swift motion, your panties and pants were discarded, somewhere on the floor. that was an issue for later.

dominic’s hands slowly trailed down your thighs. you swore he couldn’t go any slower. once he finally reached where you were waiting for, he slid your legs apart.

it was no surprise you were soaking. you could have been leaking onto the couch. dominic just chuckled and placed a single finger on your clit.

with the slightest bit of pressure, he rubbed in a small circle. once you started whining and bucking your hips, he extended the circle like a spiral, leading out. denying you what you wanted.

his finger traced the outside of your lips before stopping entirely. you looked up at him, all the air gone from your lungs. “dom, what the fuck-”

“hey, hey, hey. i’m gonna get there, dontchu worry. patience.”

he often did this: just teased you senseless. but you knew it would always end up with you being more than satisfied.

he repeated his actions, but this time, going back in. going from tracing your lips back towards your heat, until finally, he reached your clit.

his finger traced it, pressing down, eliciting the tiniest little moan from you. with his other hand, he teased your entrance in the same little circles. it drove you crazy.

you were about to retaliate, to tell him to hurry it up, but your words caught in your throat as his fingers dipped inside you. the syllables dissolved and turned to a soft groan, ripping through you.

slowly, his finger worked inside you, hitting your walls so nicely. it didn’t take long for him to add another, going a bit faster.

you bucked your hips so greedily when he hit that spongy spot inside of you. he chuckled, low and satisfied. “ya? that feels good, huh?” he kept curling his fingers up.

all the while, his other finger kept circling your bud. you swore you could feel shock waves from it. it felt so good it hit you hard when he stopped. your eyes snapped open, only to be met with the sight of his head. now between your thighs. holy shit.

without any warning, his lips were now around your clit while he kept working your pussy. you swore you could cum right then.

his eyes looked up at you so sweetly, a stark contrast from the absolute damage he was doing to your clit. licking and sucking and pulling it between his teeth.

his mouth combined with his fingers still curling inside you made it hard for you to stay together. “dom, dom, i’m- fuck, i’m close.”

he pulled away from your pussy for a second? “then do it.”

with his permission, your thighs clenched around dominic’s head so tight you were sure it would pop right off. your moans got louder until they got stuck in your throat, the ecstasy washing over you.

after a couple seconds, you could feel only the bliss from your orgasm. but, eventually, the white faded and dominic let off of you. you sat up as he looked in your eyes. “you’re hard, aren’t you?”

with the straightest face you’d ever seen him have, he replied. “ya.” that made you burst out in laughter. dominic looked down at you, surprised.

“what? you asked!” you kept laughing, clutching the couch.

“i know! it’s just…damn, okay.” he just stood there, mouth open before shaking his head.

“you’re a mystery.”

“no, i’m not. take off your pants.”

the sudden switch caught him slightly off guard, but he complied, zipping the fly of his jeans down and pulling them off. he pulled his boxers along down with them, revealing, as he’d expected, his hard on.

he sat back on the couch, while you kneeled on the floor below him.

you started slowly. just licking a single line up the shaft. he groaned, immediately wrapping his fingers in your hair.

you worked your way back down, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting the precum that lay there. it was then you decided to take him.

your lips wrapped so perfectly around his dick. he always loved that. seeing you take him in your mouth. he thought it was the hottest thing ever.

you bobbed slowly, up and down, up and down. “fuuuuuck, baby. ya, that’s it. that’s it, you’re doing good…” the praise went right between your thighs, making you shuffle around again.

his hands continued to weave in your hair. they pushed your head further, further, until you could feel the drool running down your face. he loved when your face was sloppy like this.

he kept this up for a bit before he suddenly pulled away. “i don’t wanna cum like this. come on, up.”

yes.

you quickly got up to join him on the couch. “come on, on your back.”

you listened to his command and laid on your back. legs spread. ready for him.

and, god was he ready for you, too.

it took him all but a few seconds to get inside you and bottom out completely. the sudden adjustment made you let out a long moan. this was where you wanted to be. wrapped around him. literally.

he gave you a few seconds to adjust, moving to get in a better position. when you let out a shaky “okay,” he was ready.

he started slow, but deep. his strokes hit just the right spots in you. making you swear you could feel it in your stomach. you threw your head back as he, too, moaned. “you feel so good around me baby. sooo fuckin’ good,” he sang praise.

his pace only heightened from there. getting faster, his thighs started to slap against yours. your body moved back, tits bouncing as he got rougher. faster. harder.

the whole time, you were in bliss. feeling his dick pound into you. you had completely forgotten you were there: fucking on his studio’s couch. there wasn’t any thoughts in your brain besides him and his dick filling you up then going out then filling you up all over again.

and even if you could think, you wouldn’t care. not when he moved your legs to wrap around his waist, hitting a completely new angle. one that made his tip press against your cervix.

his breathing was hot and heavy. you could tell he was getting close. and dominic was a gentleman; you always needed to cum before he did.

so, to help him out a little, you reached down and started rubbing your clit. the bundle of nerves ached under your touch, but it only made you moan louder. you weren’t sure how nobody was hearing this.

it didn’t take long for you to get close again, too. certainly not with the way his hips were all but slamming into you now. “you close, baby?” he asked, feeling you tightening around him.

“ya…ya, ya, dom, keep doing that.” you felt yourself getting closer to the brink. the feeling of his thrusts intensified tenfold.

boy, did he listen. his grunts increased and your moans became higher and higher pitched until you couldn’t take it anymore.

the knot in your stomach exploded and you moaned loud. dominic held you through it, helping you ride out your orgasm. the wave was high as your eyes were screwed shut.

it took a second, but once you came back down, dominic slipped out of you. he took his cock, between his hand pumping it a few times before his own release laid across your stomach.

he collapsed on the couch right next to you. all you could hear was the sound of your heavy breathing. you couldn’t believe you just did that. you just fucked in the studio. hard.

your boyfriend laid next to you and started gently caressing your shoulder. “you okay? you need anything?” you just shook your head, still basking in it all. he snickered and kissed your head.

he stood up, finding his boxers on the floor. funnily enough, they were somewhere near the control panel.

he slid them on, putting one foot in then the other. “so…you wanna hear something cool?”

you snapped out of your daze, turning only your head to look at him. your body was too tired to do much else.

you quirked an eyebrow. and with the same grin he wore all day, he pressed a couple of buttons until a sound was heard.

you couldn’t quite decipher it at first. just shuffling. it wasn’t until dominic moved forward on the track that you heard something else.

your heart dropped. was that…a moan? the audio kept playing. the sounds of your loud, deep moans echoed in your ears. oh my god.

your boyfriend had just recorded you having sex.

there were no words you could muster as he fast forwarded even more, the sounds of his grunts and the slapping of skin against skin now evident. it was so lewd, yet you couldn’t even argue with him. it was kind of hot.

“dom…” the words died in your throat. the audio kept looping in the background. “what- what are you even gonna do with that?”

he just shrugged, clicking his tongue. “i dunno. might wanna pay extra close attention in the new album, ya?”

[incorporealbombchelle]

Campion Hall : An Iteration

Mr. Reed × Fem! Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 2 - (y/n) welcomes an unexpected visitor...

⚠️TW: Violence, Misogyny, Threatening/Tense Situations, Age Gap, Raw P in V Penetration, Choking, General Smut, General Discomfort.

Mr. Reed holds up his phone, our messages pulled up on the screen, then pockets it.

"I really really missed you, too (y/n). Now bring me up to speed on this 'K' person, sounds like a fascinating specimen," A close-lipped smile. My jaw drops, his eyes catch mine and I stammer.

"You- but you had said...three weeks?" I manage.

"Know how restless you get. I wanted to surprise you. May I come in?"

I nod, stepping aside to invite Mr. Reed into my dorm. The space feels cramped with more than one person in it and I can't take my eyes off him.

His glasses sit atop his head and he sheds his coat, looking incredible in jeans and a denim button down. He pulls up my cushy reading chair from the center of the room so it faces the bed, and I perch myself in front of him on the comforter, cross-legged.

"So... K, hm?"

"Keiran, creep next door, not important. You wanted to surprise me...Consider me surprised." I laugh, giddy.

"You said that if I wanted you, I'd just have to fly over and get you. Well, (y/n), I want you. So here I am. Getting." He gestures for me to scoot closer, I do.

"So... this...you missing me business, how much?"

"A lot."

"Oh?"

"Too much." I whisper, looking down, nervous.

But there's his thumb, caressing my cheek, forcing my gaze back to his.

"Come here."

My entire body burns as I lean in to kiss him and as our lips meet, it all goes quiet. The hum of the radiator, the buzz of the light fixtures, silent against the sensation of his lips, their soft insistence.

He pulls me into his lap so I'm straddling him in the wideset chair, hands wandering up my thighs as his tongue slips over mine and I moan. He tastes like coffee, something fresh -mint?- and something else, something so uniquely and addictively him.

I break the kiss, panting "I need you,"

"I'm aware. You also need," he drags the loose sleep shirt over my head, tossing it aside "to be patient. Hands clasped behind you, please."

I do as he asks because I am patient and one of his hands wraps my throat, holding my body in place just above his lap, my mind fuzzing over as the other finds its way to the gusset of my panties, feather-light, tracing soft figure-eights into the thin fabric. I whine as I attempt to grind myself against his hand, seeking any further friction, any amount of control.

I'm helpless, desperate, pathetic for him, and this is exactly how he wants me.

Mr. Reed tugs my panties aside, slipping two long fingers inside to work me at a torturously slow pace. His eyes hold mine and he continues speaking:

"(y/n), I know exactly what you want, what you think you need. I also know what you do need, and that too much at once after nothing at all would almost certainly overwhelm you."

"No, it-"

"Oh?"

He curls his fingertips, applying pressure to my G-spot and I hear myself moan as I clench around his fingers once, twice.

"Mm. Know you better than you know yourself sometimes...Scary, isn't it?" He smirks.

His hand releases my throat, my eyes tracing its path to his fly. As he unbuttons, unzips, I swallow to keep from literally drooling over him and my whole body buzzes because despite his protestations, I need everything, anything, he'll give me. He brings up his other hand from my center to my mouth, I suck his fingers clean while my own work at the buttons of his shirt and he lets out a low hum at the softness of my tongue.

"Lay back for me."

As I settle into the sheets to watch him undress, it occurs to me that we're completely to our own devices. There's nothing to inhibit us here. Not for a second. I let myself breathe, he's trailing soft kisses up the inside of my thighs and heaven is a place on earth with him.

His tongue is warm as it drags up my vulva, draws slow circles against my clit, his fingers fill me out again, I moan. "Misterr Reed?"

He hums into my sex, the vibration sending a shudder through me.

"I want you to fuck me." I breathe.

"You're sure?" He teases, still fingering me.

"Please,"

He smirks up at me, contented with my good manners and prowls up my body, coating my stomach, chest, collarbones in light kisses.

Mr. Reed then aligns himself with my heat, sucking in a sharp breath as he fills me out completely in one harsh plunge and I gasp.

He strokes my cheek, sympathetic.

"Still tight as ever, mm?"

He reads my thoughts, giving me a moment to adjust. But a moment isn't enough.

In an instant, he's steadily rocking into me, the heel of his palm resting over my lower abdomen, pressing gently into the soft flesh, and I can feel all of him. Every vein, every pulse. It's so much, too much, and I whimper.

He lets out a low moan as his hips meet mine, and I feel myself tense around him as his thrusts build to an unrelenting cadence.

"I- oh my god, I'm-" I whine, he cuts me off.

"Not just yet. Here,"

I follow his lead as he pulls out and turns over onto his back. Straddling his hips as he guides mine, he slips in easier this time. I rest my hands over his chest, swiveling downward, and gasp sharply as I'm further impaled onto his length.

Once he's fully seated within me, Mr. Reed places a palm on my inner thigh, his thumb gently rubbing over my clit as I begin shifting my hips back and forth, his own rising to meet them. 

"Ohhh my god, Misterrr Reeed?" I mewl, hot, needy.

"(y/n)..." He groans.

Feeling a familiar tension coil within me, I clench around him once, twice.

The hand he's not working my clit with holds me steady by my throat and this is just. Too. Good. My restraint snaps, and I whine pathetically as I feel myself come undone around him.

Mr. Reed's hand settles into my hair and I bury my face into the crook of his neck as I finish out my orgasm, his other hand warm as he rubs up and down my back. "There you go, that's good... Good girl, relax, you're alright..." he presses a couple gentle kisses into my shoulder.

"Th-thank you," I manage shakily, blinking away tears and he's concerned.

"(y/n) are you...crying? Was I too harsh on you? You're not hurt, are you? I'm so sorry if I-"

"No, no. I just... it was a lot, and-"

"Let's take a break then, hm?"

He lifts me off of him and I curl up against his side, shaky, limp, spent.

Mr. Reed grabs my discarded sleep shirt from the floor beside the bed, cleaning himself off with it before tossing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. He pulls me into his chest, holding tight, kissing the top of my head gingerly.

"(y/n), what would you say...to a date tonight? We could... go out, eat, drink, head back to mine... if you feel like it, we could pick this up where we left off?" His hands are on my back and in my hair again, this is perfect and that does sound nice.

"I'd like that a lot..."

"As would I. 8pm?" 

"8pm." I smile up at him.

Our first date plan is sealed with a kiss and he is comfort personified.

We lay there, limbs intertwined, for a while and it's like I never left Colorado. In his arms, I am at peace.

After Mr. Reed leaves, I shower and the rest of the day flies by fast between cleaning the dorm, folding the laundry and finishing another much too long analytic thesis. I review a few different outfit options, settling on a long,  fitted black dress and heeled boots. I check myself out in the mirror and I look... good. Sophisticated. Sensual. Put together. Perfect for a first date.

I apply a few swipes of mascara, some tinted lip balm, and decide I'm ready. I open my phone to send a text to Mr. Reed and SHIT. It is 8:27, I'm late, and I didn't even notice his texts to me. I let him know I'll be there in about 15 minutes and head downstairs, out the door.

I know it's a terrible idea to jog in heels, but I'm half an hour late, and these are platforms, so that rule doesn't really apply as I round the building and-

"Oi! Jesus! Oh. Its you."

Of course. Of course. The night of my first official date with Mr. Reed, I'm nervous, I'm late, and now as I run face first into the chest of a clearly plastered Keiran, I have to wonder how this night could be any more of a disaster.

"So then, (y/n), do you ever display concern for those around you in any way whatsoever, Or...?" his voice is gravelly, strained and his movements slow as he looks me over. There's a sway to his stance and "Are you seriously... drunk? On campus? Wow K, that is class, really, but I've got somewhere to be, now if you'll excuse me," I push past him, walking fast.

"I won't excuse you, actually." I stop, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I find you disgraceful. To the institution. Your family. Yourself..."

"I'm disgraceful? You're the one stumbling home from the pub at 9pm blind drunk."

"And you're a complete slag, off to go fuck your sugar daddy in some seedy motel, no doubt. Looks like we're both degeneratesss."

"Whoa, whoa. What are you even accusing me of?"

"What does it sound like I'm accusing you of? I saw that pensioner waiting for you in the hall this morning on my way out. He's not a professor, so good on you for subverting that trope. He's definitely not a relative, if he was he'd have an accent like yours... so who is he, (y/n)? How do you know that old man? Hm?"

He raises a brow at me and I don't like being interrogated.

"He's a friend of my family. My father's best friend, actually. He was just visiting. Has a place near here." I squint at him and what does he think he has on me?

It's the first time I haven't lied outright in response to a personal question he's asked me and as Keiran takes a step forward, imposing, I stumble back against the wall of the building.

"Y'know what I think, (y/n)?" He slurs, breath humid, vodka-scented as he invades my personal space further "I think, you're fucking that old man."

A beat.

"Keiran, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You're clearly very drunk, so let's just not-"

"No, no no. Because you see, I was confused. So I waited around. And I heard you. And I heard him."

This isn't happening. This is not happening to me right now.

"Look, I don't care what you think you heard, because it wasn't-"

"NO! YOU do not interrupt ME."

His eyes are bloodshot, pupils large and hollow. He reeks and something tells me this particular issue can't be sorted with words alone.

"I think, you picked him up at some café, real shifty, and you're so dedicated to this 'tell-me-I'm-your-national-anthem' American bimbo bullshit, so fucking desperate to be anything other than the boring, illiterate cunt you are, that you'd bring some geriatric to campus just to fuck in your dorm so you can have a story. A secret. A personality. An edge. It's insulting, really,"

His voice cracks and he stares through me as he continues: "You write terribly,  and somehow keep every man in this hall, every man at this university, guessing, wondering, fantasizing about you, all so you can fuck some geezer you probably met last weekend?

And he doesn't even get you off, does he? Nah, there's no way," The grin on his face doesn't reach his eyes, which roam my body predatorily and "What gets you off, (y/n), is the idea that you are so special, so eccentric and pretty and bloody American, that the law will never. Fucking. touch you. Well I am the law. And your clever streak ends here."

He leers over me, hands on either side of my head, trapping me against the wall and my heart beats out of my ribcage. If it's survival of the fittest, he doesn't evolve past this moment. He's incapable. His pimple-rotted face sits centimeters from mine, closer, and my fear of him has just run out. Now I'm angry. Really, truly, infuriated.

"YOU. are so. Fucking. ANNOYING!"

I scream in his face, turn and for a second I don't even realize what I've done as he staggers back, holding his wrist. There's...blood? in my mouth, and I spit onto the cobblestone, disgusted to have touched him in any capacity but especially this one.

"FUCK! DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME?!" He lunges for me but I'm fast, he's drunk, his eye socket catches my elbow --crack-- and Keiran shreiks.

"AGH! Ow! JESUS FUCK!!"

To ensure he can't follow me to Reed's, I throw a kick at his knee which -well done me- lands, and actually works on account of his brittle English constitution and my exquisite taste in footwear.

He falls, I run.

[crimson-nail]

More thought about Knives, Livio, and Razlo?

having klr meet through vash or wolfwood is usually the easy go-to, but honestly i love the idea of them meeting initially thru elendira until they become more than acquaintances. she will always be knives’ girlbestfriend in whatever i write and also she scares the shit out of LR but in a sexy way. have i mentioned that fight was my favorite in the manga. many times? yeah. it was my favorite.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

More MDZS and Hollow Knight! The cool bugs I found in my backyard have started to unionize.

Part 1 - Part 3