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mv1simp · 3 days ago

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That Boy Is Mine ♥️

Max Verstappen x Siren!Reader

that boy is mine, I can’t wait to try him, watch me take me time, boy is divine (that boy is mine)

As a young, beautiful and rich CEO living in Monaco, you have any man you want in the palm of your hand. But a certain handsome Dutchman has caught your eye…there’s just a small problem of his current girlfriend that’s in your way! You’ll just have to prove to Max how much better you could spoil him.

Content Includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, seductress! girlboss! Reader, naive!max, infidelity but Max’s unnamed gf is annoying anyway, size kink, Halloween costume sex lol, seriously explicit cheating don’t read if not ur thing!!!

The thing was, you wouldn’t normally ever go to such lengths for a boy. Why would you? You were a pretty girl in her 20’s living in Monaco, running your own successful public relations management firm. That’s how you’d met Max, through a PR crisis of Redbull that Christian Horner had personally called you to get sorted. Some drama with a defamation lawsuit against their poster boy, Max Verstappen, who you hadn’t paid a second of attention to despite living in Monaco. You were much more likely to get your nails done and enjoy a glass of wine than be following a race weekend.

But after you’d easily sorted the mess out, you’d been suprised to find Max himself patiently waiting in your luxurious office, wanting to thank you with a gift of tasteful French wine. It’s rare for one of your clients to take accountability for their actions instead of letting their managers sort it out for them, after all. You don’t miss the way Max’s pretty blue eyes widened as he took in your appearance, with a tight black dress with lacy sleeves that did wonders to push your tits up temptingly. He’d been expecting some old man, not a beautiful girl his age. He cleared his throat nervously, suddenly finding it hard to maintain contact with your sultry eyes as he stuttered his thank you. Cute, you think with a tilt of your head, enjoying his deep Dutch accent. He’s very different to the arrogant, pompous personality you’d expected from a champion F1 driver. And he was insanely gorgeous too, all 6 foot of thick thighs and broad shoulders. You’ve met many attractive men in Monaco and flirted your way around them, but Max catches your eye with his baby blue eyes and soft blonde locks. So you can’t help gently brushing your manicured hand against his bulging bicep, looking up at him with fluttering lashes to say it’s so sweet of him to go to all the trouble to come downtown, really, you’re happy to help him anytime!

He walks out of your office with your personal phone number for any media emergencies, of course. As well as a blushing face and a semi erection he guiltily tugs at his pants to hide, after looking down to see your plump, soft cleavage when your smaller body pressed up against his.

A quick google stalk of your client leaves you feeling very annoyed when you discover he’s not single like you’d originally hoped. You roll your eyes as you look at the B list model’s Insta he’s dating, spammed full of photos of her with Max’s wins for clout or artificial brand collabs. So tacky and undeserving of someone like Max, you muse later that evening over an espresso martini. You’re too deep in your own thoughts to pay attention to your date with a Monaco hotel chain owner that evening.

When you find a massive bouquet of roses on your desk the next day, you assume your date was being persistent despite your disinterest last night. But when you find VIP tickets to Max’s garage next race and first class flights nestled amongst the red flowers, you’re even more intrigued. You attended, out of curiosity more than anything. You’re not planning on getting involved with an already taken man - far too much drama for the CEO of a media relations company.

But you can’t deny Max knows how to give a girl princess treatment, something which you’d gotten used to providing for yourself since no man had been able too. From the relaxing, personalised flight experience, to the sleek expensive Mercedes he’d had sent to pick you up at the airport, the 5 star suite in a hotel, and to the exciting VIP lounge at his garage filled with interesting people you’d easily networked with. And when you see Max confidently dominate through the track to P1, sounding so sexy over the radio without a hint of shyness, pulling off his helmet afterwards to show off his gorgeous, messy hair as he adorably smiles at you to ask how you’d enjoyed the day, you realized this wasn’t just any man. No, Max was the one, the perfect man to provide you with whatever you asked for and take care of you when you needed him.

Not that you needed him to. After all, you were well known as one of the most successful businesswomen in your country - and you didn’t get that title without a pair of fangs to match. You’d be a true power couple - much better suited than his current subpar girlfriend, who dragged him down in every way.

You’d made up your mind. That boy was destined to be yours, no matter what.

So you began developing your relationship with Max and become frequently seen on the paddock, all under the guise of improving his media image, of course. The handsome blonde had no issues spending time with you, finding you to share his sarcastic sense of humour and in awe of your very keen analytical sense that you easily applied to the racing world as well. He liked how you were unfazed with the media circus that surrounded him, too, not blinking twice when trashy gossip magazines posted suggestive captions about you and Max. And you always seemed to know just how to carefully phrase your words assertively when asked insensitive questions by grid reporters, who were curious about Max’s new PR advisor. It was very different to what he was used to with his girlfriend, who frequently fed into gossip column content with Insta posts and livestreams - which constantly annoyed Max.

Soon you’re a regular amongst his group of friends. You meet his girlfriend, finally, at a dinner one night. She’s taken her hold on Max for granted, barely interested in you as she snaps selfies with the more famous people at the table. You can’t resist the foxy smile on your glossed lips - it’s almost too easy, given how unaware she seems of how discontent Max is with the relationship. You sit next to him all night, laughing and sipping your favourite wine that he now knows by heart and orders for you, the conversation genuine and a bit too flirty for “just friends”. And when your lace minidress rides up, and your soft thighs and crossed ankles brush against his muscular legs, he doesn’t move away, letting you press against him for warmth when he rests his large palm around your thigh. Your panties are soaked through by the time you get home from how often you had to clench your legs, imaging his massive hands drifting just a bit higher…

It’s easy to blame the touchiness on the alcohol the next morning and strictly maintain your professional distance as you hand him paperwork to sign in your office. You smirk when you catch his eyes in a passing mirror, glued to your ass through another tight lace dress as you walk away in Louboutin stilettos. Max was very much an ass man - that is, when he wasn’t being a tits man. You certainly had no qualms showing off your thick curves to him, knowing you had a lot more to offer than his girlfriend. It was impossible to miss the way his blue eyes would drift towards your tempting body whenever he thought no one was looking.

So next weekend, you invite him onto your boat for a day trip. It’s much smaller than his personal multi level yacht, but perfect for what you had planned. It’s a nice touch to have all your coupled up friends with you, who disappear off to various rooms in the boat as the sun gets hotter and they get drunker. You hand Max another strong G&T you’ve mixed yourself, now just alone on the top deck with him. He takes it easily, telling you you’d make a deadly bartender. You hmm, resting a knee on the couch he sits on. It’s a manoeuvre that brings your bouncing tits, barely covered in a white skimpy bikini, right into his eyeline. Max takes one look at your nipples pebbling through the fabric, gulps cutely, and promptly drains the glass in his hand.

You try to contain the smile on your glossed lips as he tries and fails to look away from your tits in his face, stammering out responses to idle chit chat you’re making. It’s adorable how his confident, dominating personality switches so fast off the track with you. At one point you say you’re sorry that his girlfriend couldn’t make it (you aren’t - you’d planned the getaway on a day you knew she had a modelling gig booked, of course, since you’re the one who’d pulled strings to set up the photoshoot). Relaxed with all the G&Ts, Max mentions that actually, his girlfriend had been very persistent in trying to stop him coming today.

Oh? You say with faux innocence, tilting your head and widening your doe eyes with worry. Why? She doesn’t like me? Max rushes to soothe your worries, saying no, no, it was more that - well, I think she’s a bit jealous…you’re very beautiful, after all. I think I might just need to spend more time with her from now on. You laugh at his cute blush, telling him Of course, but she had nothing to worry about, after all she was the model and not you!

You know how to play the game, knew that despite his model girlfriend at his side, you had him practically drooling in your tiny white bikini, contrasting beautifully against your tan skin. But he had to be the one to cross the line first, and think it was all his idea. Especially if his bitchy girlfriend was starting to catch onto your plans and demanding Max stay with her. So you walk away, making sure to sway your hips so he can enjoy the view of your ass as you lay on your tummy to sweetly ask your cute lifeguard if he’d mind putting sunscreen on your back?

Your lifeguard jumps at the chance, having already been checking you out all day. He’s taking the bottle and raking his eyes over your form hungrily - but Max interrupts even sooner than you’d predicted. His love language being physical touch works in your favour. You hide your pleased smile as a deep Dutch voice heatedly says that he can do it, and you turn to see Max glaring at the lifeguard with all the intensity of a lion. Are you sure you don’t mind, Max? You say sweetly, blinking your thick lashes up at him from your compromising position, your head right at the level of his hips. You hope he’s thinking the same naughty thoughts as you when his blue gaze darkens. That it would be so easy to slide his thick fingers past your pouting lips and hold them open as he messily fucks your all too willing mouth. You bite your bottom lip at the filthy idea.

You see him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing in that huge muscled neck of his. No, it’s okay! That lifeguard…well, I don’t want him putting his hands on you. God, you couldn’t wait to lick hickeys all up and down his broad shoulders before wrapping your thighs around them as he ate you out. But you’re getting ahead of yourself, coming back to the present as you lie down to let Max touch up your sunscreen. His large palms are tentative at first, trying to remain respectful within the boundaries of friendship. But when you’re softly sighing, moaning that it feels so good, Maxie, work has made my back way to tense, could you use one of those massage techniques your physio taught you? it’s impossible for him to not go a little further. Your tiny bikini easily lets him explore your body, his strong hands gripping your plush hips and giving him a naughty mental picture of what you’d look like if he took you from the back. You’re glad your sunglasses are extra dark so you can peek at his trunks, enjoying the rapidly hardening large bulge there, responding to all the cute little moans and gasps you’re letting out as you tremble under his touch.

You decide to tease him a bit more, reaching behind your neck to untie your string bikini, shyly saying you didn’t want to get tan lines…he didn’t mind, right? You can totally go ask the lifeguard to help!

Max’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your bare back as he dazedly shakes his head, huskily saying he was happy to help, you’re his friend after all. All the blood rushed straight from his brain to his cock to make his decision as he feels the lush swell of your tits from the side when they generously slip out. You celebrate your victory internally when he shyly asks if he could take off your bikini bottoms so you didn’t get tan lines there, too?

You hesitate, coquettishly blinking and asking him if his girlfriend would be mad? Max pauses with your reminder, his large hands spread over your juicy asscheeks as he resists the urge to squeeze them. Your plan falls right into place as you cheekily suggest that surely it would be okay if he closed his eyes, just for a second, you really didn’t want tan lines there after all-

That was all Max needed to hear before he eagerly nodded, looking the picture of an overexcited puppy. This time you can’t resist your smirk as your slowly untie your bottoms, jiggling your ass as you slide them down so he catches a glimpse of the tempting flesh before he remembers to close his eyes. His large, calloused palms run down your plump ass, unable to resist squeezing roughly and making you moan sexily. You part your legs invitingly, and when those thick fingers of his brush against your pussy you know he can feel how wet you are for him. So dripping wet, that one of his fingers easily slides against your warm pussy lips. Max, you gasp breathily, your entrance instinctively clenching around the tip of his thick finger. What are you- Oh! Desire rushes straight to his groin as he gets a feel of how tight your sweet cunny would feel squeezing down on something else thick of his and he can’t help but sink his finger all the way in. It takes him longer than it should to come to his senses and move his hand away, stammering out apologies that he hadn’t meant to touch you there, his hand just slipped, could you forgive him?

To his relief, you giggle at his flushed face, turning around to meet his embarrassed gaze. Don’t worry about it, accidents happen! you say playfully, as if you hadn’t planned this, tying your bikini back up slowly. As he watches you strut away confidently in your little heeled sandals, he can’t resist tasting the wetness you’d left all over his fingers. He almost cums in his trunks from how sweet you taste, and hastily returns to his room. You smirk when you press an ear to your bedroom wall, hearing the shower running in Max’s bathroom right next door. Sadly for you, you can’t hear anything over the sound of the shower, leaving you pouting and pussy aching from the memory of Max’s hands on you.

But just on the other side, a certain blonde Dutchman is giving into his growing taboo desires. It’s not the first time he’s jerked off to you - no, with all the frequent teasing glimpses of your plush cleavage or your ass in tight dresses, he’s regularly mentally drooling over you. He knows it’s wrong, and in the beginning he did feel guilty…but now only the thought of your sexy little body that can get him hard like this. Tipping his head back and letting the cool water flow down his abs, Max slowly jerks off his impressive erection as he fantasies about you shaking and cutely moaning underneath him. Your lush tits spilling out from the sides, your wide hips that would be the perfect thing for him to hold tightly as he fucked you in doggystyle, his favourite. And now he knew what your soft tanned skin felt like, how sweet and wet your cunny was for him….well, it’s enough to make him addicted. He’s cumming within seconds, biting his lips and imagining how good it would feel to bury his aching cock inside your cunny instead of his finger next time.

He still blushes cutely when he sees you next, at a friend’s party, but you’re as nonchalant as ever, greeting him with a sweet kiss on his cheek. He watches you laugh at something one of his guy friends are saying and can’t stop the jealousy swirling in his chest, even when his girlfriend tugs on his arm to get him his attention all night.

Of course, you’re playing the long game. It didn’t matter how many men you flirted with - there was only one who you truly wanted. So for one of the exclusive Halloween parties in Monaco, you discreetly organise one of the big fashion houses you represent to send Max’s girlfriend a haute couture costume. She accepts it, spamming her Insta story with pics of it, just like you’d expected. You’re certain she would show up to the event with a reluctant Max in tow.

And on that night of the Halloween party, you smile as you spot a bored looking Max across the living room of the mansion the party is hosted at. His gorgeous blue eyes widen as he spots you…dressed in the same costume as his girlfriend. But you’d had some customised alterations made, looking ethereal in your white angel costume, tits pushed up with a corset and soft tummy and hips on display in your low waisted miniskirt. Max is far from the only guy who stared at you hungrily as you entered - including your date, some Russian model you’d met at a PR event, dressed just like Max in a tight fitting shirt and a Ghostface mask that hid his identity when on.

Someone might just call your choice of couple’s costume a random coincidence, but you didn’t make mistakes like that. Your date had two jobs tonight - one which he’d already done successfully, as you see Max’s icy blue gaze glaring at the hand around your waist. You whisper in your date’s ear, parting ways for now, because he had another mission to go complete that you’d already asked him to do for you as a favour. Namely, keeping Max’s goldigging girlfriend occupied tonight. And since your date happened to inherit his father’s multimillion manufacturing business, you were sure Max’s girlfriend would be throughly enraptured by him.

You laugh and mingle with friends throughout the night, catching Max’s intense gaze on you a few times but pretending to ignore it. He’s finally had enough of seeing you flirt with other guys when you end up on the dancefloor. You shiver as you feel his strong, muscled body behind you, shielding you from any guy who tries to get close to you. That’s fine with you, because the only one you wanted to grind back against was Max after all. So you toss your hair, getting lost in the music and tipsily giggling, enjoying the low rumble in Max’s chest as your fat ass teases his hardening bulge. His large palms settle possessively over your hips, leaning down to smell your sweet vanilla perfume. He lets you drag him into a quiet, dark corner, giggling and pressing your soft body against his as you whisper he looked so hot tonight, his biceps looked amazing, had he been working out more?

And then your doe eyes, prettily outlined in glittery eyeshadow and eyeliner, look up from his muscular chest to meet his piercing blue eyes as he pulls his mask off. You gasp, widening your eyes in supposed shock as you blush and stammer that you’re so sorry Max, you’d thought he was your date, he’s dressed the same after all…

He’s disappointed, of course, missing the touch of your manicured fingers running up and down his abs. He ends up agreeing to help you find your date again after you look at him pleadingly, although the idea of letting another guy put his hands on you makes him want to unleash Mad Max. But when you two finally find your date, behind a closed bedroom door upstairs, you see he’s been kept very good company by none other than Max’s girlfriend.

Your hands fly to your mouth in pretend shock at the scene of your date with his balls deep inside the gold digging girlfriend, her artificial sounding moans radiating around the room. Your date had exceeded your expectations and kept her very well occupied, it seemed. Max is disgusted with the sight, snarling in anger and moving to block your view of your date cheating on you. He’s so sweet, really, being so protective of you when you’d executed the whole plan to perfection. You hear his girlfriend exclaim in shock, trying to plead that it wasn’t what it looked like…but you’d given the Dutchman the final excuse to call it off. Don’t ever fucking come near me or her again, he growls, his voice radiating confidence and authority in a way which makes you squeal internally.

To your delight, Max insists on taking you home, worried about how you’d feel after finding your date cheating on you…with his backstabbing ex girlfriend, he mutters darkly. He’s fuming at her betrayal, but as you lead him into your cozy apartment you’re already planning your next scheme. When he asks you gently if you’re sure you’re ok, is there anything he could do to help, he’s so sorry that his ex got involved with your personal life like this you sweetly nod and tell him you just wanted to take your mind off it all.

He’s eager to help you, nodding enthusiastically when you ask if he’d help plan your costume for your next Halloween event the following night? Your date would no longer be helping you, after all. Of course, schat, anything you want he says earnestly, pretty blue eyes looking at you with adoration as you pout. Handing him a glass of whiskey to sip on while you guide him to sit on the end of your bed, you sashay into your walk in closet. You make sure to leave the door half open, so Max gets a full view of the red lingerie you’re wearing underneath your costume. You take your time getting ready, bending over to pull on your outfit and shaking your hips enticingly, making sure to give Max a naughty show. And if the angel costume had been sexy, the schoolgirl outfit you put on next is positively scandalous. You shyly walk out in heels and a tiny pleated skirt, skimpy white top tied around your breasts to push them out even more as you twirl for him. What do you think? you ask anxiously when Max just stares without saying anything. It looks bad, doesn’t it-

He hastily denies your words, stumbling out that you looked gorgeous, you always did, you didn’t have anything to worry about.

When you giggle happily and announce that you had a few more to show him, he licks his lips in anticipation and drains more of the whiskey from his glass. You give him another slow striptease through your closet door, this time taking off your bra so he gets a flash of your hard nipples. You see him widen his legs to accomodate the raging erection hanging in between his thick thighs and have to stop yourself drooling at the delicious sight. But Max is the one controlling himself next when you emerge in a cat costume, all black latex booty shorts and tight corset, paired with kitten ears and a tail.

His jaw drops open at the tempting sight, and when you ask him if he thinks it’s cute enough to make your date regret cheating on you he clenches his jaw and growls that the pathetic bastard didn’t deserve the privilege of seeing you all dressed up like this.

You try and fail to hide your coy smile at Max’s jealous words, and then find yourself pulled forward in between his legs as he murmurs that there were plenty of other ways to get back at your date. Oh? You say breathlessly, sinking onto your plush ass to sit in between his spread thighs, resting your cheek against his leg. Like what, Maxie?

He groans at the temptation in front of him, of your glossed pouting lips right next to where he needed you the most. You’re not behaving like a good kitty, he jokes, but his voice is rough as desire swirls in his eyes. You’re teasing me far too much while thinking about some guy nowhere near my level.

You grin like a Cheshire and slowly get on all fours, swaying your ass in the air and nuzzling your face right up against his bulging erection. Am I still a bad girl now? you whisper, flicking your tongue out to lick his zipper sluttily. Shall I make it up to you? Max groans above you, thick neck flexing as he tangles a large palm into your hair. Schatje, he says breathlessly, as you slowly unzip his jeans, squealing in delight as his fat cock emerges to slap against your cheeks. So big, Maxie you croon, going cross eyed as you place kitten licks all along his engorged cockhead. What did I say about teasing me? Max groans above you, applying delicious pressure to the back of your head as he pushes your lips down onto his shaft. Mmfh! Your moans are muffled as he loses control, fucking your mouth without abandon. Pleased moans fill the air as you drool over his length, letting him throat fuck you and use you for his pleasure. Your pink lip gloss is smeared all over his cock as your eyes roll back in your head, one of your hands reaching down to play with your aching cunny as Max leaves bruises in the back of your mouth.

Weeks of sexual tension finally lead to him cumming in your throat, so far down that you swear you can fill him hit your tummy, and you obediently suck up every last drop. He’s so far from done, though. He wants you on your hands and knees, his strong hands ripping a hole into your slutty latex shorts to hungrily taste your sweet pussy again. Soon enough your bedroom is filled with obscene sounds of Max fucking his bare cock into your cunny, pounding into you from behind. It’s even hotter than his dirtiest fantasies, and he’s making you tremble and scream his name as he presses down on your neck, burying your face into the sheets and whispering filthy praise in your ear. You’re so pleased you’d thought to set up a tiny camera by your nightstand, capturing every second of your first fuck with Max so you can enjoy it later. Your pussy squeezes around his length like a vice, and it’s most euphoric feeling he’s experienced in his life. He’s cumming again within minutes, moaning how good you feel, he fucking loves your cunt, loves you and takes you over the edge with him as he gives you an open mouthed kiss.

You smile contentedly against his warm lips, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. Your red manicured nails tangle possessively in soft blonde locks as you sigh into the passionate make out. Max was exactly where he belonged, finally - in your bed, with you in his arms.

And unlike the silly women who’d taken him for granted, you were never going to let him go.

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A/N: thank you soooo much for ur patience my dear readers, I fear I was getting a bit of writers block seeing all the photos of max and Kelly in the holiday season 😭😭😭 I hope u guys enjoy this piece!! Send me lots of ur raunchy asks plz I need inspiration ♥️♥️

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #18+ mdni

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yukioos · 3 days ago

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LIKE A TATTOO

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // you came to the island with your husband to help him out with the new games. as you took a moment for yourself, reading a book in your shared bed, a fist knocked on your door. the guard escorted you to the observation room, where in-ho was. the two of you drink bourbon and make out, not paying much attention to the games.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this is my first squid game oneshot, i hope u like it! i’m still working on arcane ones so dw im not abandoning the requests. i’ll most likely start taking requests for squid game characters as well. might make a part 2 if people like this. this is 1.7k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, blood, guns, murder (players sabotaging n pushing each other in red light green light), making out, drinking

the frontman sat on a plush, luxurious seat in his private, sound-proof room. a player who won the game three years ago had come back to compete, supposedly to avenge all the people he lost. outside the window, the players were engaging in their first game; red light, green light, the first game.

he hadn’t had much time for himself as he was constantly busy overlooking the games and creating new ones. it was as if his work was perpetual, as if he was meant to be the frontman for the rest of his life. he later considered settling down with you, the love of his life. but he couldn’t leave the games behind, it was part of his life, of course. he was extremely against giving the role of the frontman to anyone, as there was no one he would expect to run the games properly and orderly.

you knew about his feelings about the games, and how he wanted to quit but he was terrified of being caught. of you being caught. it wasn’t that you personally killed any of the players, no, but you knew who was running it, knew him like the back of your hand. that made you an accomplice, and he was scared for your life, he didn’t want you to become too wrapped up in his troubles.

that, of course, was quickly dismissed as soon as you became his spouse. when he told you about his job, and how he needed to leave for a business trip, you asked if you could come with him. he hesitated, and it took him days to decide if it was safe enough for you to spend around two years there, with him. he needed to create new games to entertain the VIPs, so he could use some help from his creative wife, and you had been begging to see what his job was like ever since you married.

so you assisted him in creating designs for the games and a new addition in between games, the possibility to leave the games and split the money. however, this would be the first game you would watch. you were nervous, not sure what to expect, but your husband had secretly hoped you’d be impressed by the first game, and hopefully the next ones as well.

the emptiness on the couch saddened him. he wondered why he felt so uncomfortable alone, in the room where he had idly watched the games he ran. it was too quiet. but he missed your touch, the sound of your breathing, your pulse, and your heartbeat.

he tapped his finger against the armrest before slightly grinning. he clicked and held down a button on a stand, marked with a small, white square. he commanded, “bring my wife to the observation room.” he then grinned once he gained a reply, knowing someone had gotten the message.

you, on the other hand, were reading a book in your bedroom, bored out of your mind, as you didn’t know where your husband was. suddenly, a fist knocked hard on your door, three times. must’ve been a guard, as in-ho normally just walks into the room, as you both shared it.

you tilted your head slightly to the right, staring at the door before you placed a bookmark in between two pages. you wondered what it could be about. nothing important was happening today, right?

once you placed your hand on the cold doorknob and twisted it, you saw a tall worker in a pink jumpsuit standing in front of you. the square guard stated, “the frontman asked me to escort you to the observation room.” and stood still, eerily waiting for you to respond.

you mumbled, “um, okay,” then hesitated, as you stepped into your heels, “do you know why he asked me to go there?” he began walking, and you followed after him, heels clicking with every step you took.

the guard shook his head and walked a short distance, until he arrived in front of a bland, pink door. you shook in anticipation, giddy to see your husband again. the guard knocked his fist on the door, then after a couple of seconds, opened it and held the door open for you.

you bowed your head as a thank you and shot him a gentle smile. he bowed back and closed the door, causing you to turn around. you quickly noticed the room was padded, most likely a soundproof room. two doors were lining the sides of the walls, leading to a larger space, where your husband was watching a doll place her hand on something. he sat on the left side of the double seat, next to a coffee stand. a bright chandelier hung above him, lighting up the room.

did he invite you so you could watch the first game together?

he felt your stare on him and smirked to himself. he asked, without turning around, “are you going to come up and sit down, honey? wouldn’t want your legs to hurt from standing for so long.” he smiled once he heard you shudder from feeling nervous. he always knew what you felt like, even if you didn’t know yourself.

you slowly traveled to the spot next to him, looking at him up and down, eyeing his all-black outfit. you sat next to him, thighs touching as you noticed his black mask to conceal his identity. two glasses sat next to one another on the coffee table, a subtle reminder that he was always thinking about you. a bottle of bourbon was placed on the table next to the glasses, which your husband began to pour into the small glasses. he handed you yours first and stared at you for a moment.

you crumbled under his intimidating gaze, rarely having the ability to know what he was feeling. you wiped your lip with your index, asking, “do— do i have something on my face?” your eyebrows furrowed in worry, not wanting to look bad in front of such a handsome man.

he mumbled, “no,” and continued to eye you up and down, as if he wanted to memorize every part of your body. glancing at your lips for a moment too long, he placed his hand on your thigh, caressing the skin uncovered by stockings. he couldn’t help but stare at your plump lips, wanting his on yours for eternity.

in-ho wouldn’t stop staring at your lips, but of course, you noticed. you tried to hold your grin back, heart pumping as his staring made you nervous. maybe catching him off guard would make him stop staring.

so you gently placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into the kiss, eliciting a groan out of the man. even as you heard people talking from the game, he moved his hand down to your ass and placed both of his hands there, picking you up and placing you on his lap, not breaking away from the kiss.

you giggled into the kiss and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb on his cheek. the kiss was slow and passionate, as if both of you were trying to savor how the other felt in your hands, falling apart just for one another.

even as you heard an unfamiliar robot-like girl speaking, and the sounds of many footsteps running, you continued to move your lips against his. he ran his hand along your back, wishing he could feel you more through your soft fur coat. but you slowed your movements down, wanting to watch the game he had worked so hard on.

you slowly pulled away from him, causing him to needily chase your lips, wanting more. he gripped your thigh with want, you let out a small whimper, almost inaudible. as you rubbed his chest, he stared at your soft eyes, looking up at him as if he hung the stars and created the universe. he had never felt more loved than he had with you.

as soon as you sat back down on the couch, in-ho swiftly brought your legs up to his lap, gently taking your black heels off, wanting you to feel comfortable. he smiled at you after he gently placed them on the ground near the coffee table. his touch tickled your thighs, gently rubbing up and down as he watched the games from the window.

you suddenly heard a gunshot, making your eyes go wide as you tucked your knees more into yourself than him. he noticed the small movement and rubbed your calves, attempting to soothe you and your nerves. multiple guns fired, and people laid on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies, trying to run away from the doll.

in-ho clicked a remote, playing the song ‘fly me to the moon,’ which went with a model, containing toy singers that moved on beat. as the doll exclaimed, ‘green light!’ then ‘red light!’ no one dared to move a muscle. a player began to shout out commands, and the whole group quickly formed into lines at the next green light.

as the doll yelled, ‘red light!’ the leader of each line would halt first, and the last person in the line would stop last, however, the doll couldn’t detect their movements. it was a smart idea, you had to give them credit. your husband seemed displeased, however, as his hands halted, keeping his hands steady on your thighs. he sighed in frustration, but now it was time to soothe him. you grabbed his hand and held it, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. he glanced at you and his eyes spoke for him, he wanted to say thank you, but was too frustrated to speak.

gunshots began to fire, due to players pushing one another, sabotaging each other, as humans were greedy and always wanted more. their own life was important to them, but they didn’t seem to care about taking the life of another, as it wasn’t theirs.

but in-ho unexpectedly turned to you and stated, “i’m participating in the games this time.”

your heart dropped.

#yukioos #x reader #squid game #squid game x reade #squid game season 2 #in ho #in ho x reader #hwang in ho #hwang in-ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in-ho x reader #in-ho #in-ho x reader #frontman #frontman x reader #frontman squid game #player 001 #player 001 x reader

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quitequaintrelle · 2 days ago

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I wrote two Good Omens one-shots over the holiday season:

it's time to play the music, it's time to light the lights (3.2K | Rated T)

Something strange is happening to Anthony J. Crowley. Well, more accurately, something strange is happening to everyone other than Crowley.

Over Aziraphale’s shoulder, he can just make out the flurry of snow sticking to the window pane, the morning sunlight streaming through the glass making the snowflakes sparkle.

How magical, Aziraphale would probably say. Yes, I for one love freezing my bollocks off, Crowley would likely reply. He’d then kiss Aziraphale tenderly on the forehead (they do that now) and saunter off to put the kettle on.

The winter chill can't touch them here in their cocoon of blankets and warm, entangled limbs. Crowley tightens his embrace around his angel and—

Something’s off. Aziraphale feels different in Crowley's arms. Smaller, for one thing. Significantly smaller.

all roads (3.2K | Rated E)

Crowley has a very normal time grape-stomping with Aziraphale.

All the muscles in Crowley’s good-for-nothing, backstabbing corporation are straining with effort— No, not effort, he can't think about efforts, certainly can't think about Aziraphale's—

“You know, I think this colour suits me. I really don’t see why the use of Tyrian purple is so restricted,” Aziraphale sulks, balancing on his right foot and wiggling the toes of his left in the air. He does brace himself on Crowley this time, his fingers clamping down on Crowley's shoulder.

Leave it to Aziraphale to complain about sumptuary laws when Crowley is having a crisis.

omg it’s FAN FICTION FRIDAY

Reblog and promote a fic of yours <3

#fan fiction friday

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melminli · 2 days ago

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ex, for a reason

summery - your boyfriend was the sweetest guy in the whole world, but maybe that was the problem.

pairing: kang dae-ho x fem. reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: modern au, angst w/ comfort, fluff

the request.

He really shouldn't worry about it as much as he did right now because the whole thing was just totally stupid, and all the stuff that had been going through his head was irrational. Dae-ho knew that and yet, he just couldn't stop himself from imagining multiple crazy scenarios in which you were breaking up with him - he didn't want any of this, why would he? The only heart that got broken in the process was his and it was all because of nothing.

Well, maybe there was this one thing, and that was that Dae-ho had been feeling a bit - well let’s just say - insecure about your relationship. He was very much aware of the fact that he had zero resemblance to the guys you usually date because he wasn't, well - he wasn't an asshole. You and even most of you’re friends make fun of it now that you two are together and it actually turned into some kind of inside joke that you broke the curse with him. Though, Dae-ho didn’t really feel like laughing about it right now.

This whole thing is so stupid, he thought to himself as he absently watched some show on the TV before he suddenly heard you laughing next to him. He just looked at you shortly and knew that it was probably because of something funny you saw on your cell phone. But, he just couldn’t restrain himself and had to remember the conversation you had a few days ago. He sighed again with a heavy heart at the memory because apparently, your last ex - some guy named Thanos? - had messaged you out of the blue and asked you what you were up to.

"Hey, look who just sent me a text. I thought I had blocked him everywhere?" you exclaimed, laughing as you shoved your cell phone in his face. Dae-ho just looked a bit confused at the message after he read it because he didn’t really get what you were talking about. He read it one more time, though, he was still kind of lost because it honestly just looked like a normal message, how was he supposed to figure out what was going on?

You then decided to reveal the whole thing since your boyfriend just continued to send you confused glances. "It's my ex. You know, I told you about him. The one I dated before we met."

Yeah, he could remember bits and pieces of that. "So, what does he want?" he asked, still not quite sure what was going on.

You sighed at his innocence. "He obviously wants to get back together.“

"Does he?" Dae-ho asked and was seriously surprised. He pointed at your phone while he talked. "But he just asked if you still had his old sweater, that could mean anything."

You waved as you laughed. "Oh, trust me. I know what that means.“ you assured him and thought back to the old days, which was something you didn’t like to do. „We were pretty much on and off in our whole relationship because I always tried to break things off after fighting - but then always take him back afterward. So, it just started to turn into a really bad cycle at some point, I guess.“ you tried to explain. „Anyway, he used to text me about some meaningless thing as soon as he wanted to get back together and this is one of those texts since he's also not the kind of person to send you a message if he doesn't want anything from you. I’m just surprised that he would try this again because I broke things up with him for real the last time, trust me.“

Oh. It felt like Dae-ho should be laughing at your ex's desperate attempt to get back together with you now, but he felt more like ugly crying, to be honest. „Yeah, that is pretty funny.“ he just decided to say with a forced smile on his face.

Since then, the whole situation just wouldn't let him go. No matter how hard he tried to. The way you told it, made it seem like you two got back together a lot and who was to say that maybe a part of you wouldn't want to try again - purely because of muscle memory? He wasn't the type to get irrationally angry over something like that, but he'd be lying if he said that all these negative thoughts didn't make him incredibly depressed the past few days.

"Hey, I know I've asked you this a few times now, but are you sure everything's okay?" you finally asked him when you noticed how he wasn't really paying attention to what was going on in his show. It was unusual for him to be so quiet when usually some comment about what was happening would leave him every minute.

He just nodded under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he said, feeling guilty again for being the way he was right now.

You moved a little closer to him and hugged him lightly from the side. "You're lying and I'm tired of waiting for you to come to me on your own because, as you know, I'm not the most patient person on earth."

He avoided your gaze guiltily. "It's stupid."

"It's clearly not, because you've been acting like a depressed housewife for days."

He laughed lightly along with you at that little joke of yours. "And how is that supposed to look like?"

You smiled. "You know, you're like you always are - you make dinner, you bring me my favorite tea, but you sigh very loudly every now and then plus you're also a bit distant." you continued to broach the subject in a slightly joking manner to get rid of the heavy air around you two.

Of course, you would be aware of his bad mood. "Well, I just noticed that I'm not like the other guys you've dated before," he whispered casually while playing with the fabric of his shirt. Even though, you both knew that it seemed to be a topic that was bothering him.

You nodded. "So?" you just asked him, thinking something other would follow since you couldn’t see what the problem was. Though, there didn't seem to be anything more coming. "That's all? You’re upset because you're not like my shitty boyfriends in the past?" you repeated a bit in disbelief.

Dae-ho looked to the side, embarrassed. "I told you it was stupid..." he whispered. "I just don’t want you to think that I’m boring or something…"

You just took him in your arms and tried to suppress your laughter so as not to add salt to the wound. "I didn't mean it like that, but I'm telling you this now because you obviously to need to hear it," you said as you placed a kiss on his head. "You're not boring. You’re the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world and I would never trade you for any of my past relationships. I love you and I've never even said those words to any of my exes, did you know that?" you asked him, watching as he slowly looked up to you. "…really?" he asked you shyly, even though you had been together for a while now.

You smiled. "Really," you assured him and were glad to see your boyfriend in his normal happy state again. However, you then remembered the conversation you had a few days ago. "Was this whole thing about Thanos? You don't have to worry about him. I hate that guy, he like probably cheated on me more times than he admitted." you laughed and stopped when something else came to mind. "Besides, I think he also stole some money from me..."

Dae-ho looked at you worriedly as he held you even tighter. "Oh my god, are you serious? You never told me that, is that why you broke up with him?"

You looked away a little embarrassed yourself this time and didn't dare to confess to him that it had unfortunately taken a lot more than that for it to end between the two of you. Those weren't your proudest moments in your life. "Yeah, sure..."

But who cared about all that, right? You were the happiest you could ever be with Dae-ho and that was all that mattered. Maybe you should remind him more of that because he really didn't deserve to feel inferior to someone like that damn Thanos.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days ago

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Hello. I don't know if this is minors dni blog but I'm so tired of trying to find answers when people shove me out of sex ed communities. I'm 16

I sometimes watch porn online. I don't comment or interact with anyone. Am I going to jail or something? Is it illegal? Why can't I "take care" of myself without porn?

I'm biologically female. I am so lonely that I want to find other people who will be intimate with me but I obviously don't want someone older than me. Nobody my age likes me.

I feel disgusting for going onto adult spaces even if I don't interact with anyone. I think if people knew they'd think im disgusting too.

I just want to have sex, is that normal for this age?? I want to have experiences like making out and stuff. And I'm so starved for it that I am going online for it.

🧵

hi anon,

may I just say, from the bottom of my heart, jesus christ.

watching porn is not illegal. if you're in the United States it would be illegal for an adult to specifically, purposefully show porn to you, and it would certainly be illegal for someone to produce porn featuring you, which in some states could even include you consensually sending someone nude images of yourself. but you watching porn online is not illegal.

being interested in sex is incredibly normal at your age. seeking out sources of sexual gratification is incredibly normal. you are smack dab in the middle of the part of your life where puberty rearranges things so that you can reproduce sexually; the thinking about sex comes free with the hormones. there's nothing disgusting or unnatural about that. you aren't doing anything wrong, being sixteen is just a nightmare.

#sex edventures 2025

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agentrouka-blog · 2 days ago

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Respectfully, Do you even realise you are not the minority in this situation? Sure, some people have pushed their hate for Jewish people to extreme levels, but just looking at the map, Israel is not the victim here. Innocent civillians in Palestine, including children, are dying slowly every day. As a Jewish person, you should know what it feels like to be discriminated , and sadly this is a case of victim turning abuser with Israel. Have you even tried to analyse the situation critically outside your biases? Can you not see that this "rise in antisemitism" is most of the time people speaking out saying you can't defend what Israel is doing? Sure, even if it isn't "their native territory" is it then justified to fucking wipe them out like a smidge on the map to reclaim it???

I am not Jewish.

The fact that you assume I am is pretty telling, because the utter indifference toward what you so glibly describe as

Sure, some people have pushed their hate for Jewish people to extreme levels

by the non-Jewish vast majority has been terrifying to me. People shrug off attacks all over the world against Jewish civillians just trying to live their lives, or worse they try to justify it as political action or as something the perpetrators just can't help.

Have you even tried to analyse the situation critically outside your biases?

Have you? I'm not the one trying to press a complex and decades (centuries) old, deeply protracted problem into a simple frame of good and evil or "victim and abuser". (Nice, trying to turn the history of antisemitic persecution into a teaching moment that Jewish people just failed to learn from.)

Come back when you can explain to me how hunting Jewish children in Berlin, pelting them with rocks in London, violating them in France or burning their facilities in Australia is helping children survive in Gaza. I'm sure it's going to be riveting, seeing how me sharing (a very few) posts calling out antisemtism already provoked you into going "but Israel!!!!"

Stop trying to pretend away or ignore the very real and terrifying danger people face just for existing as Jews everywhere, and maybe I'll find your humanitarian concern credible or consistent. As it is, I'm seeing a hypocrite coming into my Inbox to complain that I am sullying their feel-good morally pure middle eastern political cause with dirty dirty nuance. For asking them to care about maybe addressing that negligible issue of hatred of Jews being "pushed to extreme levels" (as opposed to the normal and acceptable levels, I presume).

#antisemitism

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travelbasscase · 9 hours ago

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I'm from a desert-y region where the foliage tends to be in browns and tans except for the few months after we get rain (rare).

I've also spent a LOT of time in Indiana.

Every. Single. Time. that I arrive I am amazed.

Everything is so green! There are tons and tons of trees and bushes and grass and shrubs everywhere! When I go hiking, I feel wetness in the air (not always fun, but still exciting). It's so flat! Hiking isn't difficult at all, I can just take a nice stroll!

And the few times I've gone in winter are even more exciting! To my cousins a half-inch of snow is boring, but to me a half-inch of snow is one of the most thrilling things in my life. I've seen snow maybe eight times in my whole life, counting that half-inch. Seeing the canal with ice on it is like entering a whole new world. It's so cold and icy! It's awesome!

And the fauna! We don't have cardinals back home. Who knew birds can be so vibrantly red? We don't have chipmunks, either. They're like small squirrels! Adorable! Fireflies never get old (who cares that apparently they're called lightning bugs over there?). These flies glow, and you act like this is normal??? That caterpillar is the fuzziest little creature, I just adore him.

And hey, this is the Starbucks on Ditch St near Holliday Park! I read about it in a John Green book and now here I am sipping my latte in the same place.

Your hometown is boring to YOU. Your hometown is scintillating to ME.

And I know I feel the same way about my hometown! That's the magic of the world.

#indiana #indianapolis #midwest #boring places are very exciting to people who come from the outside

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wanders-in-wonderland · 1 day ago

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Doctor’s Orders

“Miss, please follow me into the exam room.”

I look up to see a sweet nurse smile at me and wave me over. I smile back at her and stand up from the waiting room chair, following her through the doors of the clinic. She leads me into a standard exam room and after giving me quick instructions to take off my clothes and get comfortable, she leaves me, promising the doctor will be here to see me shortly.

I look around the sterile room, taking in framed stock images tastefully arranged along the walls and the stack of various medical pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. I take a deep breath and start to undress. I’ve waited so long to come see this doctor and I’m not going to let my nerves get the best of me now. The doctor I’m here to see is a specialist in anorgasmia, the inability to orgasm.

I’ve never been able to achieve orgasm, no matter what I’ve tried. Numerous partners have tried, I’ve purchased countless toys and lubricants, even going as far as trying hypnosis. Nothing has worked and I had almost given up hope when I’d stumbled across this doctor and his specialty.

It took months for me to get an appointment, and the screening process was incredibly intensive. Apparently, he’s extremely selective in the patients he chooses to see so when I got the call that he was willing to fit me into his schedule, I was ecstatic. Maybe I can finally say goodbye to my inability to orgasm.

A soft knock at the door startles me and I watch as the doctor opens the door and steps into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. I’d been picturing a middle-aged man, maybe with some greying hair and glasses. Instead, he’s handsome, fit, and I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he greets me cheerfully.

“Good afternoon! I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you’re comfortable! It is lovely to meet you.” His voice is smooth, comforting, and when I extend my hand out to shake his outstretched one, his touch is gentle but strong.

I smile back at him, feeling some of my previous anxiety fade away. “No worries at all, I’m happy to be here.”

I watch as he opens grabs a chair and sits in front of the computer, logging in to pull up my medical chart. “Now, let’s see here, you’re here for anorgasmia I see.” I feel my cheeks flush at the clinical way he’d said it and he catches my blush as he glances up from the computer screen.

He gives me a comforting smile, “Don’t be embarrassed. A lot more women experience anorgasmia than people think, and it’s something that we can fix. I promise, there is nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

I give him a small smile back, the sincerity in his words soothing me.

“Now, I know you filled out a very long questionnaire already and I’ve already reviewed that so we’re going to get right to a physical exam to start.” He pushes away from the computer and stands up, walking over to where I’m sitting on the exam table.

“Can you take off your bra and underwear for me, please?” I nod, steeling my nerves before following his instructions. My nipples immediately harden into peaks at the cold air of the exam room and I feel so exposed with my entire body naked in front of him.

He unhooks stirrups from the bottom of the exam table and clicks them into place. “Prop your feet into there for me and spread your legs,” his voice is purely professional and I do what he asks. Placing my feet into the stirrups leaves me completely exposed and a small shiver goes through me as cold air brushes against my core.

“Now lean back and look up at the ceiling for me. We’re going to start with just a simple physical exam to make sure everything is normal anatomically. Then, we’ll move on to a few other tests for sensation and sensitivity. If at any point you have questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?” He looks at me with care and I nod back, feeling comforted by his words and clear attentiveness.

He rolls his chair to between my propped-up legs and takes a seat, facing me. “My hands are a little cold but don’t worry, we’ll warm up in no time.” I let out a gasp when his indeed cold hands come to rest on my thighs. His fingers are gentle as he brushes against my center, his movements confident as he pokes and prods around.

I stay still as I feel him gently pull me apart, letting cold air rush against my core and clit. I bite back a gasp at the sensation. I feel him press against my clit, maneuvering my clit hood out of the way to reveal the bud. A swipe of his finger against my exposed bundle of nerves makes me jolt and I let out a sharp gasp this time.

“Sorry! How did that feel?” He asks, his voice apologetic.

I take a second to gather myself before answering. “It felt intense. Good but almost a little overwhelming.”

“Hm, that’s good,” he says, “That means you have a fair amount of clitoral sensitivity. We’ll do a more in-depth examination later but it’s a good sign.”

I hear the scrape of his chair against the floor and glance up to see his standing. “I’m going to grab some lubricant and we’ll do an internal exam next.” I nod and watch as he squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

He settles himself back in between my legs and I shiver at the cold feeling of the lube. He’s purely professional as he spreads the lube over me and slowly works a single finger into me. I bite my lip to tamp down any sounds I want to make.

“I’m going to test your g-spot next,” he says and I feel his finger crook upwards inside of me, brushing against the spongy clump of nerves inside of me. The sensation shoots through me and I led out a slow breath.

“That’s it, you’re doing really well. Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” His fingers scissor inside of me and I let out a soft whimper. “Does that feel good?” His voice comes out in a lower register than before. “Come on, use your words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how it feels.”

I whimper again, “Mm yes, it feels good.”

“Good, so you have no problems with vaginal arousal and lubrication,” he says, his voice almost a purr now. “Don’t hold back, we want to make sure you’re giving your full reaction to everything that’s happening to help me understand what’s happening here.”

At his words, I let out another whimper, feeling the slow drag of his fingers against the sensitive walls of my pussy. He presses his fingers against my g-spot again and my back arches as pleasure shoots through me.

“Tell me, is this level of sensitivity and sensation reflective of how you normally feel during intercourse?” I take a second to catch my breath and think before I answer him.

“I think so, I’m usually pretty sensitive to sensation, it just never seems to culminate into an orgasm. A lot of times, I get too overstimulated to continue and I can’t cum.”

“Hm, I see,” his voice takes on a more contemplative tone. He pulls his fingers out of me, and I almost want to whimper at the loss.

“Well, I have a few theories but I’m going to do a more hands-on test to get a clearer answer of what we’re dealing with here. Lie back for me and relax.”

I lean my head back, staring up at the ceiling of the room and I feel him walk away for a second. He reappears at my side for a moment, and suddenly, I feel something encircle my wrist and hear a click. I jerk in surprise, glancing down to see that he’d cuffed me down to the table. My eyes meet his and smiles at me.

“Don’t worry, this is just to keep you still during the examination. The less movement there is from you, the easier it is for me to do my job. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” His words soothe the panic that rose up in my chest at the idea of being restrained and I give my consent. He smiles at me and makes quick work of clicking my other wrist into a cuff. Next, my ankles are strapped down to the stirrups and my thighs held apart by more cuffs. There’s even one that goes around my waist to keep my torso still.

“Good, how do you feel? Are any of the restraints hurting you?”

I shake my head in response, “No, I’m okay.”

He smiles at me again and I watch him open a drawer from across the exam room. “We’re going to introduce some equipment to help me get a better gauge of what we’re dealing with here.” My eyes widen as I watch him pull out several industrial looking sex toys.

“Let’s start with clitoral stimulation,” he says, setting down the toys except for one. He shows me the toy, it looks almost like an electric toothbrush with a wider body and a very thin head. “This is a very precise vibrator. Most commercial vibrators people tend to purchase have a much larger surface area, which can be very good for folks who are highly sensitive in all areas, but it doesn’t offer much precision in targeting specific parts of the clitoris. This one doesn’t have that problem since it has a much smaller head. Now this one is also pre-set to have 10 very well-calibrated intensity settings. Depending on your reaction to each setting, I can make better conclusions about your clitoral sensitivity. We’re going to go through the settings from low to high and I want you to continue to be vocal and tell me what you’re feeling, okay?”

I nod, “Okay, but what if I get too overstimulated?”

He gives me a comforting smile, “Just tell me and we’ll stop and re-evaluate if it happens.”

I nod again and he sits back down between my legs to get started.

I hear the toy click on, presumably at the first level based on the low, quiet buzzing sound its emitting. I gasp when I feel his fingers gently pull my pussy apart to reveal my clit, already erect and throbbing from his earlier treatment.

A moan escapes from my throat when I feel the toy make first contact. It feels so much more intense than any other toy I’ve ever had. The precision of the toy and the ease in which he handles it means that the vibrations are pressed right against my exposed clit, forcing the collection of raw nerves to submit to the sensations.

“How’s that?” He asks, his voice making me scramble to get ahold of myself to give a coherent response. “It feels so intense but in a good way.”

“Good, that’s good. Just relax and let yourself feel.” He murmurs, keeping the vibrator pressed tightly against me.

My eyes drift shut as I feel the sensation overtake me. The pleasure is forming a haze around my mind, every thought getting chased away by the feeling between my legs.

I hear his voice again, “I’m going to increase to the second setting. Just stay relaxed for me.”

I let out a whimper in response as the toy clicks up a level. The pleasure intensifies but there’s also a building sensation of raw overstimulation that is starting to arise. We’re nearing the point where I would normally stop and take a break but I don’t want to tell him that yet. I want to let him keep going, because maybe today is the day I finally get to cum.

I bite back a whine and clench my fists at my sides.

“Increasing to level 3 now.” He says, resting a hand on my thigh as his other one holds the toy firmly against me. The increase this time makes a cry rip out of me and my eyes fly open to meet his.

“Ah- it’s so much, I’m getting overstimulated.” I whimper out, my hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to control myself. He nods but doesn’t make any move to pull the toy away or decrease the setting.

“Try and tough it out for me for a bit more, I want to see if we can overcome the overstimulation.” He gives me a comforting smile and gently pats my thigh.

I take a deep breath and nod, letting my eyes drift shut.

“Increasing to level 4 now,” he says and the vibrator switches to a higher intensity before I can protest.

“Wait! Wait, please, just give me a moment, please!” I gasp out as the sensations shoot through me entire body. He shakes his head, “You’re doing great, just relax and let it happen.”

I whine as tears are gathering in my eyes. I’m walking the very thin line of pain and pleasure as the vibrator forces breathtaking feeling onto me while riding my nerves to the sharp edges of overstimulation. I hear his voice again and my heart drops when I register his words. “Increasing to level 5.”

A scream bursts out of me as all of the sensations compound and increase. It’s too much, I can’t do this. I can’t tell if I’m close to cumming, I just know that I’ve been absolutely thrown over my threshold for sensation and I can’t take anymore. I sob out my begs to my doctor.

“Please! No more, please stop! STOP! It’s too much! I can’t take it!” My body is shaking and I’m fighting with everything I have against the restraints but nothing gives. His hand on my thigh has turned into an iron grip, holding me down so I can’t even shift my hips to escape the relentlessly accurate vibrations.

“PLEASE! STOP!” I sob. There’s nothing to save me. He doesn’t listen, he might’ve said something to me but I’m too far gone to hear. All I know is the torturous pleasure dominating every single nerve of my body.

Beneath the horrible overstimulation, I feel a warm thread of something else. Something pulsing through my body, filling me with pure pleasure. I whimper as the feeling starts to build, my every muscle seeming to tighten in response to it.

There’s a knot building in my stomach, spreading throughout my body. Coupled with the overstimulation, I feel ravaged and decimated, every nerve pulled bare and shocked by the live wire of sensation that’s forced upon me. Before I can even begin to articulate it, I feel the vibrator kick up another setting and I scream as it shatters me.

I cum. For the first time in my life, I cum. My scream seems to shake the very foundation of the building we’re in as the pleasure, pain, and sensation flood my body, every cell of my body bursting with it. I can’t do anything except ride the relentless wave of pleasure, my entire body a slave to the whims of that horrible, terrible, delicious, mind-altering pleasure.

I slowly come down from the high of my first orgasm, gasps shaking my body as my mind struggles to reengage with reality. I blink tears out of my eyes, and I look up to see my doctor standing over me, holding the toy that he’s mercifully removed from my clit.

“Good job, sweet girl,” he purrs, running his hand up my thigh to cup my pussy gently. The soft motion is enough to make me whimper. “How did that feel, darling?” The terms of endearment make me pause but I’m too hazy to really digest it all.

I clear my throat and swallow, my voice raw from the screaming and begging. “I- It felt really good but it was so much,” I whisper, “I don’t know if I can do that again.”

He smirks and suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of uncertainty. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there previously and it makes me nervous. Something about the way he is looking at me is so different now than earlier, with his cool professionalism and niceties. Now, I feel like a specimen under a microscope and he, the scientist who plans on dissecting me.

“I think, I think I need a break. Can we finish this appointment another time?” I murmur, pulling slightly at my restraints and looking at him.

He lets out a low laugh that makes my skin pebble with nerves. “Oh no, now that I know what the problem is, I can’t let you leave until we fix it. What kind of doctor would I be if I let my patients leave without being cured?”

I shake my head, “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You made me cum, doesn’t that mean I’m cured?”

He smirks at me and he slides a finger into my pussy, making me gasp. “Not at all, we’ve proven that you indeed can orgasm, but there is still much to be examined in terms of the extent of your orgasms. Plus, we have several more levels of this vibrator to get through and we haven’t even begun to work on your pussy and g-spot yet.”

My eyes widen at his words and the curling feeling of fear truly takes root inside of me. “Wait no, please, I don’t want to continue with any of that anymore. Please, just let me go!”

The look on his face is one of glee as he sees my terror become apparent. “Now now, you don’t want to leave against my medical advice, do you? Plus, darling, you consented to following through with my professional recommendations when you signed up to be a patient. There’s no backing out of this now. And especially when I know how sensitive of a whore you are, darling.” He chuckles.

I whimper, “Please, no, I don’t want this.”

He bends down to lean in close to me. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what you want. You are the most unique case of sensitivity I’ve ever seen, and I plan to take full advantage of that while I have you here. So be a good girl for me and enjoy this.” He presses his lips to the side of my neck and the feeling makes me tremble.

He ignores the rest of my protests and goes back to sitting between my legs. I watch in fear as he holds up the vibrator and clicks it on. “We stopped at level 6 last time, that’s where we’ll resume. And scream all you want, sweet girl, these walls are soundproof and won’t let a speck of sound through.”

I do indeed scream when he presses the vibrator against me again.

This time, there’s no build up of pleasure or stimulation. It all slams into me all at once and I writhe against my restraints as everything overwhelms me. I vaguely hear a low laugh permeate the space around me but I can’t focus enough to pick out any other noise amidst my own sobs.

My doctor stops giving me any verbal cues, not that I’m coherent enough to even understand at this point. All I know is the punishing vibrator held against my clit, ravaging my body and turning me inside out. The claws of pleasure are embedded deep into my psyche and my body is at its complete whim.

I have no idea how much time has passed or whether I even stayed conscious for the entire duration of the torture but eventually, I realize that he’s stopped. The vibrator is off but my body was still shaking from phantom sensations, every inhale of air a sharp stab, and every sob a reminder of how broken I am.

Slowly, I register the sound of his low laugh. I whimper as I blink away my tears to look at him. “You, my sweet girl, are truly remarkable. I don’t think you realize since you were so out of it, but we were at the highest setting for the past ten minutes and you didn’t even cum once. I’ve never come across someone so fucking sensitive and yet so resistant to orgasm. It’s incredible because you don’t seem to become desensitized either.”

I whimper and my voice cracks when I speak. “Please, please, just let me go. I can’t handle any more. I won’t tell anyone about this, please just stop doing this.”

He smiles at me and for a brief moment, I see the professional, nice, kind, good doctor from earlier. But all my hope is washed away when I feel his fingers press against my core again.

“I can’t do that, darling. We still have your precious pussy left to work on,” his voice is filled with excitement and it makes me want to cry because I know what is coming next and I’m not sure I will survive.

I watch him exchange the vibrator for a huge dildo. He smirks and presses a button on the underside of it and the entire thing begins to vibrate. “I think we can go ahead and skip to the higher settings here.”

Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head at him as pleas fall from my lips. He ignores me as he lines the dildo up with my core. I tremble as the vibrations make me shudder without the toy even breaching me yet.

He catches my eye and I watch as he gives me a wink and proceeds to slam the dildo home inside of me. I arch my back and let out a devastated cry. The toy fills me to the brim, the vibrations ravaging my sensitive walls and my g-spot in a way that makes my eyes roll back.

I’m sobbing and shaking as he drives the dildo in and out of my pussy. Every movement against my overstimulated walls tortures me. The pleasure digs its claws into me and drags me back into its embrace. My entire being submits and I feel my mind’s grasp on my sanity loosen as every single facet of my existence narrows to pleasure.

Each thrust seems to make my sensitivity grow, every single muscle in my body aching and begging for relief. I feel his hand clamp down on my thigh as the other continues to work the dildo inside of me. I want to rip myself out of my body to make this torture end but there’s nothing I can do. Every push and pull shoves my body higher and higher to a peak that I can never seem to reach. There’s no culminating release of pleasure to make this all better, no soft wash of an orgasm to soothe every jagged nerve. There’s only him and the torturous pleasure he imparts onto my very soul.

An unfathomable amount of time later, I feel him finally turn off the toy and pull it out of me. I barely register the lewd sound of my cunt clenching around the toy, my pussy still weeping with arousal even after the devastation he brought upon me.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, are we done? Please, I can’t take anymore, please let me go.”

He brushes my hair off my forehead and he smirks at me. “Oh, sweet girl, I can’t let you go now. I’m going to be keeping you as my perfect little toy. There are still so many other things I want to try on you. I’m going to push every single limit you have until you break for me.” A soft whine escapes from me and I know there is nothing I can do to convince him otherwise. My head lolls from exhaustion and I feel my grasp on consciousness start to loosen.

The last thing I hear is his voice. “Sleep, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

#nsft concept #overstim kink #dark fantasy #cnc overstim #cl1t torture #cnc k!nk #rap3 fantasy #mind break #medfet

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hockeyboistrash · 1 day ago

Text

operation get luke a girlfriend | l.h

summary: jack is tired of watching his brother pine over his best friend so he takes matters into his own hands to get you both to admit your feelings for each other. His plan, however, goes horribly wrong.

this idea popped into my and had to write it. I've never written for Luke so I hope I've done it justice. this one has been cooking for a while so I hope you enjoy. This is basically 4.2k words of best friends to lovers.

@star2fishmeg this one's for you 💖

You and Luke were best friends. You would do anything for each other. It could be after midnight but you would still pick Luke up after a roadie. Luke would ditch a game of Chel with his brothers if you were having a bad day, bringing you your favourite food and movies. Whenever asked about it the same three words would be spoken. ‘We’re just friends.’ No one was convinced though, especially Jack. Watching his younger brother pine after his best friend was painful to watch. He wanted nothing more than his brother to be happy. You brought him out of his shell. Luke was quite reserved around people unless you were his family so Jack and Quinn were surprised when he said more than two words to you the first time you met.

It didn’t faze Jack that Luke was dressed up to go to a party, only smirking at him as he got his stuff together. He saw the way your eyes lit up when Luke agreed to go to your party and how his brother bit his lip to try and hide his smile after you hugged him. It was obvious there was something more between the two of you and Jack hoped tonight one of you admits it.

Luke wasn’t normally one for parties and he has a game tomorrow but when you invited him he couldn’t say no. The party playlist you curated was playing as he slipped into your apartment. It didn’t take long before he heard his name being called from across the room. “Luke! You came!” You shouted, flinging your arms around him while Luke wrapped his arms around your waist instinctively.

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” He mumbled, loud enough so only you could hear him. Luke was glad you couldn’t see his face, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Well I appreciate it.” You told him, your lips tugging into a grin. “Let’s get you a drink.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the makeshift drinks table. Luke looked down at your intertwined fingers, liking the way it felt. He knew he shouldn’t though because you’re his best friend. Best friends aren’t supposed to miss the feeling of your hand in his when you let go. Luke missed the warmth of your hand in his cold one. He could shove them in his pocket to try and warm them up but he preferred the alternative, holding your hand. “Earth to Luke.” You waved your hand in front of his face, giggling as you brought him out of his inner spiral.

“Yes. Sorry. Thank you.” Luke stuttered out.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, eyebrows tugged into a slight frown, worried about him as he was a little distracted.

“Everything's fine.” He told you, trying to cover up the fact he was thinking about holding your hand again. You weren't convinced though. You've known Luke for a couple of years now and you knew when he wasn't being entirely honest with you. You also know he likes to downplay everything.

“I know it's easier said than done but you don't have to worry about tomorrow. You're going to defend like hell out there and win.” You said, giving his forearm a comforting squeeze. Luke loves your positivity. It's contagious and never fails to make him feel better. He knows that there's no way the team will win every game but you still tell him he will and he still goes onto the ice with a pep in his step. “Maybe you'll even score a goal.” You winked, your laugh was music to Luke's ears. He could kiss you right now. He wanted to kiss you but there's no way you felt the same about him so he buried those thoughts deep in his mind. He would rather bury his feelings than risk losing his best friend.

Your name was shouted from across the room before Luke could think of a witty comeback. You grabbed his hand and started dragging him with you. Luke’s eyes widened seeing the karaoke set up. “Not gonna happen.” Luke said, shaking his head vehemently.

“Relax Luke, I wasn’t going to make you sing. I just- This is going to sound dumb.” You started, biting your lip slightly. “Basically I kinda agreed to sing one song on the karaoke machine with Maria but now I’m nervous and, I don’t know, I thought having you there would make it not as bad. It’s dumb I know.” You rambled.

“It’s not dumb.” Luke mumbled. He was taken aback by your admission. You were one of the most confident people he knew. “I’ll be standing right here, cheering you on.”

You grinned, thanking him before going over to your friend. She handed you a microphone as the start of the song began playing. Your eyes twinkled as they found Luke in the small crowd of your friends that was gathering. To him, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. He was so engrossed in your performance that he didn’t notice he wasn’t the only one watching you intently until someone nudged him, his drink spilling over his hand. “They’re amazing aren’t they?” They shouted over the music, gesturing to you at the front of the room. Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about this guy that made his skin crawl. He grunted in agreement hoping he got the hint that he wanted to be left alone until you came back over. He didn’t.

Luke didn’t even get a chance to greet you before the guy next to him did. He didn’t remember you mentioning anything about a new guy in your life. You told each other everything. Your new friends, any potential boyfriends or girlfriends, anything that is going on in your lifes so he was confused when you greeted him. “Luke this is Scott, Scott this is my friend Luke.”

‘Friend’ That stung a little. Luke wasn’t sure why though because it was true, you are friends yet hearing you introduce him to some guy, who you may or may not be hooking up with, as a friend caused an unfamiliar feeling to bubble inside.

“I’m gonna head out.” Luke mumbled, leaning down so only you could hear him. He wasn’t in the mood to third wheel which is what it felt like to him. Luke only knew you and your roommate at this party and only came for you.

“Oh, okay. Let me walk you out.” You said trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. You made the short walk to the front door, handing Luke his coat. “Thank you again for coming. I know you have a game tomorrow so it means a lot that you came.”

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” Luke shrugged. He could add so much more, he wanted to in fact yet there was something holding him back, maybe it was the rational side of his brain that knew if he continued speaking it would change everything. He wanted to tell you that he knew coming would make you smile and he loves your smile. He wanted to tell you that he misses you when he’s gone, wanting to spend all the time he could with you.

“Well, I’ll be there tomorrow night, front row wearing number forty-three.” You told him, your lips turned up into a smile. It was contagious causing Luke’s to do the same. He loved when you wore his jersey.

“See you tomorrow.” Luke said, giving you a quick hug. You didn’t let go though, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“See you tomorrow, Luke.” You said, turning quickly to the door and heading back inside the party.

Luke stayed frozen in the hall, staring ahead. He didn’t miss the way Scott was watching the two of you. He must have watched you kiss Luke. You kissed Luke. On the cheek. Something neither of you have done before. The most you have done was hug each other but never kissed. Luke was glad you went back inside so you couldn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Luke wasn’t exactly sure how he made it back to his and Jack’s apartment but he did. It was like he was on autopilot. Locking the door behind him. Slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat up. “Luke?! Is that you?! You’re back early.” Jack called from his spot on the couch where Luke left him earlier in the evening.

“Y/N kissed me.” Was all Luke said before heading to his room leaving Jack shocked.

“What the fuck.” He mumbled, surprised at his brother's confession. Jack immediately rang Quinn to inform him of the revelation, ignoring the time difference.

“This better be good.” Quinn greeted, sighing at being interrupted and wondering why his brother is still up so late.

“Hello to you too.” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Thought you’d want to know Y/N kissed Luke.”

“What?!” He shouted down the phone. “Are you sure? When? What?!” Quinn was lost for words. He knew his brother was madly in love with you and that you were madly in love back, anyone with eyes could see that except you two. Their mom also picked up on it.

“I don’t know. He didn’t elaborate.” Jack said. “It’s time though.”

“Jack, don’t.” Quinn warned, knowing exactly what he was on about. This wasn’t the first time he brought it up but Quinn was insistent that they shouldn’t meddle in their brother’s love life. Jack was bored of waiting for either of you to make the first move and decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Too late. The plan has been made. Operation get Luke a girlfriend is a go.” Jack said, ignoring his brother's concern and hanging up on him.

-x-

Jack had a plan. It wasn't a great plan and Nico told him that at any opportunity he could. All he could do was shake his head at his teammates' antics knowing that once Jack had an idea there was no way to stop him.

“We need to somehow find out if Y/N is dating this Scott guy.” Jack said, his voice low in case his brother walked in. They had just finished practice and were sat in their stalls in various states of undress. Jesper and Dawson leant forward, hanging on every word.

“We could just ask them? Aren't they coming to the game tonight?” Nico suggested while Jack gave him an incredulous look, like that was the craziest idea he's heard.

“Or we could invite them round to the team party and ask them about how their life is?” Dawson piped up.

“Yes! That's it!” Jack exclaimed, making Nico roll his eyes because that was basically his idea, just more straightforward.

“Won't Luke ask Y/N to come?” Nico asked.

“Nah he's freaking the fuck out that he's ruined their friendship or something.” Jack told them. He finally got it out of his brother what had happened last night. That you were talking to this guy, Scott, and then you kissed him when saying goodbye and then you haven't messaged him about the kiss. Luke was convinced it was the end of the friendship he knew and loved. “So we gotta give them a little push.”

Nico shook his head, getting up to go to the shower just as Luke was coming into the locker room. “This is a terrible idea.” He mumbled, wanting no part of it.

-x-

Your eyes lit up when you saw Luke leaving the locker room, your lips tugged into a smile just as bright. The Devils had just won so you're not sure why your best friend didn't look his usual happy self after a win. His eyes landed on you, surprised you're here and wearing his jersey. He made his way over to you, his strides large so it didn't take long for him to stand in front of you.

“You still came?” Luke said, struggling to hide the surprise in his tone. He could feel his finger twitch by his side, the urge to tuck the stray bit of hair behind your ear strong.

“Of course I came. Did you not want me to come?” You asked, worried that you overstepped. You looked down at your shoes, wanting to hide from his gaze.

“No, no. I'm glad you came. I want you to be here. It's just- I didn't hear from you all day so I didn't know if you were still coming.” Luke stuttered out, hating that the thought of him not wanting you here crossed your mind. “I want you here, Y/N.” He reiterated, silently pleading for you to look at him again.

“I'm sorry I didn't message you today. I had a little too much to drink after you left and then I didn't wake up until midday. I thought you'd be too busy at that point so I didn't want to bother you.” You admitted, looking back up at him. Luke wanted to tell you that he's never too busy for you. It was on the tip of his tongue but as always his brother has the best timing.

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed the moment his eyes landed on you.

“Hey Jack.” You smiled at the older boy. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks Y/N.” He grinned, not realising he was interrupting something or not caring. “You're coming to the team meal, right?”

“Team meal?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed. You looked at Luke hoping for some clarification.

“I was going to tell you.” He told you, rubbing the back of his neck. “The team is having a little get together next weekend and you're invited if you want to come.” Luke could kill his brother right now. He was going to ask you himself but now he’s worried you're going to think he didn’t want you there. The rational side of him knows he's just overthinking however ever since the kiss his thoughts have been in overdrive.

“I'd love to come. As long as I'm not intruding.” You said, biting your lip slightly, a nervous habit of yours. You always felt a little weird going to team events, official or unofficial ones, as Luke’s plus one because you weren't dating. That fact you were very much aware of.

“You're not intruding, Y/N. All the guys would love it if you came.” Jack assured you. “Besides, we need someone to keep this guy in check.” He teased earning an eye roll and a playful shove from Luke and a giggle from you.

“Well I'll be there.” You confirmed. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Oh, errm, I think Cap is sorting all that out so better ask him.” Luke told you, trying to get you to leave for a moment so he could curse his brother out.

“I'll go and do that.” You said, spotting Nico across the corridor. You gave Luke's hand a little squeeze and smiled at him. “I won't be a sec.”

Luke watched you go over to Nico and Dawson, waiting until you were out of an earshot before scowling at his brother. “Why on earth would you mention the dinner when you know I haven't asked them yet.”

“Didn't know you actually were going to ask them.” Jack shrugged. He was trying to hide the amusement this situation gave him.

“Well I was and now Y/N's going to think I don't want them there.” He hissed, keeping his voice low so you can't hear them.

“They're not going to think that.” Jack told his brother even though he knew it was no use. Once Luke had something in his head it was hard to change his mind. “Y/N is in love with you! It's so obvious but you refuse to see it.”

“We're just friends.” Luke insisted, trying to convince himself more than Jack.

“Friends don't do what Y/N does. Friends don't kiss.” He pointed out. Luke clenched his jaw, trying not to make a scene. That was the last thing he wanted right now. All he wanted was for Jack to shut up, to stop him giving him hope knowing it'd only bring him heartbreak. Luke couldn't handle your rejection.

“I'm not interrupting am I?” You asked, your smile fell when your gaze landed on Luke. You rarely saw Luke angry. You knew he got angry on the ice but this was different. The last time you saw him like this, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, was at a bar and some creep was hitting on you, not taking no for an answer.

“Not at all.” Jack said, slightly shaking his head at his brother before walking away, leaving the tension hanging. Luke was about to follow but you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, willing for Luke to look at you instead of staring ahead.

“Everything's fine, Y/N.” He hoped you would let it go. The problem with being best friends though is you know when something is wrong.

“Luke, you don't have to keep things from me. I know something is wrong.” You said, searching his face for any reaction, the silence killing you. “D-did I do something wrong? Please tell me if I did something wrong.”

“I-I'm sorry.” He had to get out of there. It broke his heart being the cause of your hurt but he didn't want to make things worse. “Jack’s my ride and I-I have to go.” Luke stuttered out before walking away to join his brother.

“Luke, wait.” You pleaded softly but it was no use. He was gone. You didn't want to cause a scene so you willed the tears that threatened to fall to wait until you got home.

“You alright, Y/N?” Nico asked, making you jump slightly not realising there were people still in the corridor.

“I'm fine.” You said with a forced smile. Nico saw right through it but he didn't want to bring it up. What he was going to do is kill Jack. He knew it was a terrible idea to interfere with Luke’s love life and now he may have ruined their friendship. “I better go too. Got a lot of work to catch up on. Great game tonight though.” You rushed out before hurrying to your car, wanting to put as much space as possible between you and the arena.

The moment you got home you made a beeline to your room, ignoring your roommates calls. You threw Luke’s jersey off, the material feeling uncomfortable on your skin. You were spiralling, pacing the room as your mind went over every little detail from the past couple of days. One minute you were discussing summer plans and inviting him round to your party and the next you're kissing him. That's when the realisation hit.

“You're home early.” Your roommate said, leaning against the doorframe. “Thought you'd be hanging out with Luke tonight.”

“He probably doesn't wanna see me ever again.” You mumbled, face down on your bed.

“Don't be ridiculous of course he does. You're his best friend.” She sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “What happened?”

“I kissed him last night.” You admitted, biting your lips slightly feeling nervous under your roommate's gaze. “And now I've ruined everything.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked and you told her everything. From the way you felt brave enough to kiss him on the cheek goodbye to not hearing from him all day. Then you told her what had happened at the rink. She listened as you spilled every thought and feeling you had without judgement. She let you get everything off your chest before chiming in. “It sounds to me that Luke is being stupid. He’s so in love with you that it’s kinda sickening sometimes. I swear he’s permanently got heart eyes whenever he sees you. Just give him a little time, you know how in his head he can get.” You nodded, taking in her advice knowing she was right.

-x-

You weren’t going to come to the team dinner. Even though Luke has apologised for what happened after the game and you were talking again something felt off between you. It was like there was an elephant in the room that neither of you were talking about. Jack had texted you, persuading you to still come and so did Dawson and some of the other guys. That’s why you were standing in front of the door, finding the motivation to knock on the door.

Nico was the first to greet you, answering the door when you finally knocked. He took your coat, hanging it up on the coat rack by the door while you walked down the hallway to the living room where you were met with a chorus of hello’s.

“Damn, Y/N! Got a hot date after that we don’t know about.” Dawson called from the breakfast bar, a drink in each hand. You couldn’t help but look down at your outfit, feeling a little self conscious. You knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way but now you were worried what you were wearing was a bit much. Luke wanted to assure you it wasn’t too much, that you looked beautiful tonight. Well to him you always did.

“Nope. No hot date.” You told him, your eyes not leaving Luke as if it was him you were telling. They followed him as he excused himself to the kitchen, not missing the way blush dusted his cheeks. You decided to join him in the kitchen, wanting your best friend back and the only way that would happen is by talking to him. “Hey.” You greeted, making Luke jump slightly.

“Hey.” It was soft, like he didn’t want to ruin the silence. Your eyes raked over him, taking in every detail in case this was the last time you saw him. From his curly hair, which you enjoy running your fingers through, to his hands, which you miss holding.

“Please tell me if I read the situation wrong. That you didn’t want me to kiss you goodbye.” You said, your directness surprising Luke a little. “Because right now I feel like I’ve ruined everything.” You waited for an answer, the silence killing you. Your eyes flickered over Luke’s face looking for any reaction, willing for him to respond, but nothing.

You took that as your answer, leaving Luke alone in the kitchen and heading out of the front door, grabbing your coat on the way. You didn’t care if everyone saw what happened. At this rate you would never see the team again. You didn’t stick around long enough to hear their concerned questions or to see Luke realise what you were saying.

“Y/N, wait!” Luke called after you, running down the street in a t-shirt and jeans. Even after everything you were concerned he was going to catch a cold or something.

“Luke, what are you doing? Where’s your coat? You’re going to get ill.” You rushed out, fretting over him. He hadn’t even noticed he didn’t grab his coat. That was the last thing on his mind, the first being you.

“I don’t care. I had to catch up with you.” He told you, pulling you to the side so you weren’t in peoples' way. “I’m sorry.”

“Luke-” You sighed but he continued, wanting to get everything off his chest.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve been a shit friend recently. I’ve just been so in my head about everything and that’s not an excuse but I’m sorry. If anyone’s ruined anything it’s me.” Luke rambled. “You kissed me but I thought you were going out with Scott so I tried to put distance between us which was very stupid of me because I realised I hate being apart from you. I liked that you kissed me though.”

“Y-you did?” You asked.

“Yes and I wish I could kiss you back this time.” Luke said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. They were cold but you didn’t mind. It felt natural, like they were where they belonged. “If you want me to, that is.” He added, not wanting to overstep. You didn’t trust your voice to reply to him, to tell him yes you wanted to kiss him. That you wanted him to do that for the longest time. You leaned up, brushing your lips against his, an invitation for him to kiss you. It was soft, Luke wanting to savour every bit of it. Your lips were sweet from your lip balm, a fact he would remember for a long time. “I love you, Y/N, and I’m so sorry I was too chicken to do anything about it too.”

“Well you weren’t the only one who was scared.” You assured him. “I love you too.” Luke couldn’t help but smile hearing those words come out of your mouth. You leaned up to kiss him again, his cold skin touching yours making you shiver. “Let’s head back and get you warmed up.” You said about to walk back to Nico’s apartment when Luke stopped you.

“Or we could just go back to mine.” He suggested, not wanting to go back to everyone just yet.

“Fine but you’re having a warm shower. I can’t have your mom or your coach kill me because you got sick.” You told him.

“But it’d be worth it though.” Luke grinned and he was right. It would be worth it because you are in love with your best friend.

#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #nhl

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laprasboat · 3 days ago

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sometimes i read posts about dan and phil's relationship and all i can think about is how it feels like the person who wrote the post has 0 examples of loving, healthy relationships around them

don't get me wrong, certain aspects of their lives/relationship are special and unique

but often people point out stuff that should be normal in relationships, i don't mean this in a "their relationship is nothing special" kind of way, but it makes me sad to hear so many people say they don't think they'll ever have something like that in their lives

having a partner who loves you, cares about you and genuinely enjoys spending time with you, someone who looks at you like you're the greatest thing since sliced bread is not an unachievable feat, a privilege reserved only for the most special people

sure, you're probably not gonna meet them as a teenager and build a career together (and not everybody wants that either) but i don't think that dan and phil's relationship would be less meaningful or beautiful if they met when they were 30 or if they never made it on youtube

i think there are just so few examples of couples (especially queer couples) both online and in media in general, that have healthy relationships, not to mention that so many of us were never taught to communicate effectively (speaking about people in general, not a specific demographic of people)

and all of this just reminds me of the numerous dating coaches on the internet (this specific rant was triggered by one of them) especially the people who treat romantic relationships like a really complicated game

i saw a video one of those "dating and love coaches" made about how your partner should not be your friend and how you shouldn't feel comfortable enough to talk to them about anything and everything, that's what your "girl friends" are for

and maybe im a bit biased, growing up i watched my parents who were (and still are) very much in love with one another and absolutely are each others best friends, but i cannot imagine anything more sad than dating being nothing more than a transactional relationship

i know im just ranting at this point and can't even tell how coherent this is, but if you're still reading this, i need you to understand

and i cannot stress this enough

you absolutely can (if you want) have a relationship that makes you as happy as dan and phil's relationship makes them

no you cannot have a relationship just like theirs, because you aren't them, what they have works for them and you need to figure out what works for you, what makes you happy

but don't let anyone convince you that you're supposed to be unhappy and that you should just settle for the relationship that makes you the least miserable

#i hope people understand what im trying to say #and i once again repeat #im not trying to downplay dan and phil's relationship #dan and phil #dnp #phan

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earthtooz · 3 days ago

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lighter x gn!mechanic!reader, 1k wc lighter is down bad for reader. like. DOWN BAD, lots of cute banter, pining from both.

Whenever you visit Blazewood, the Sons of Calydon mark it as a significant day in their metaphorical calender.

You’re their precious mechanic, the one who ensures all of their bikes and engines are running smooth for any operations (read: trouble) they get themselves into. Having been long-term friends with Caesar, you make the effort of travelling from Sixth Street to the outskirts of New Eridu every few weeks. Granted, for how many times you’ve travelled between the two places, you’ve grown rather close to the tight-knit biker gang, so it's an exciting time for all.

However, the reason it’s marked down is because they know it’s a special occasion where they can all tease a certain, aloof boxer a bit more than usual.

“Y/n!” Burnice’s voice cuts through the bustling atmosphere of Cheesetopia, capturing everyone’s attention as you walk through the door of the diner.

They all wave you over the booth they sat in, Burnice and Luci shuffling over so you can sit down with them. You don’t see the way Caesar nudges Lighter as you settle down opposite him.

“How was your trip?” Caesar asks.

“Good, a little tired though,” your yawn is perfectly timed. “My limbs still feel stiff.”

“Oh no! Do you need a little rest?”

“No need, I wanna get started working as soon as possible, I'm itching to tinker some engines."

The dark-haired across from you chuckles, adjusting his sunglasses to sit higher on his nose bridge. “There’s the Y/n we all know. If you need a little help, let me know, I’m happy to lend a hand.”

The group giggles between themselves.

“Thanks, Lighter!”

The giggles intensify when Lighter’s ears flush red at the tips.

This is why your visits are a marked occurrence: because the rare blush and nervous appearance that overtakes his normally cool and collected character is incredibly entertaining, and watching him bumbling about around you is a hard opportunity to come by. All Lighter can do is admit defeat and be susceptible to all the teasing that’s sent his way, because he might as well accept it.

He’ll turn a blind eye to the blonde heads popping around the garage every so often as he helps you out in the garage as long as it means they leave the both of you alone. He’ll ignore the giggles of the girls as they listen in on the quiet conversation exchanged between you both in the dim lighting of the dreary space.

“Any biker gang fights happen recently?” You ask whilst observing the rear wheel.

“Nah,” Lighter grunts, “just a few challenges here and there.”

You extend your hand out to him. “Spanner, please.” He places the tool comfortably in your hands and you resume working. “A few challenges? Did you win?”

“‘course. Wouldn’t be a good champion if I lost.”

“Sounds easy in theory,” you murmur, peeking around the bike. “I bet you don’t even know the names of the gangs you won against.”

His silence is the only answer you need and you sneak a smug glance at him. You look away before you could notice the red blush creeping up his neck. “So what if I don’t? I won against them, ain’t that all that matters?”

“Sure. Guess your memory gets knocked out of you after a couple fights.” You giggle at your own joke.

“C'mon, quit teasin’ me.”

“Sorry, just can’t help it when it took you almost five months to remember my name.” It’s light-hearted, he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Gosh, you just don’t know how to let things go,” he counters, a smile of his own developing.

“Nah, it’s just fun to tease you.” Then, you stand up with a grunt, looking at your handiwork closely one last time before making your way to your workbench. “Besides, it’s not everyday I get to interact with a cool guy like you.”

Lighter’s heart skips a beat in his chest before jumping against his ribcage. “You think I’m cool?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” You ask. “You’re the cool guy who cares about everyone, and that’s a good thing. I like that about you.”

Oh, you’re gonna kill him. He’s not gonna make it out of the garage if you continue this onslaught of compliments. He doesn’t really want you to stop either, wants you to say something that really shows how you feel about him, like how you think he’s handsome, or that he’s admirable, or better yet, that you like him as well.

‘I like that about you’, ‘I like … you’, yeah. That’s also good enough for now.

Instead, you fall silent as you rearrange all your tools, locking the box that cuts through the tense atmosphere with a ‘click’.

“Well, I’m beat,” you huff, stretching your arms over your head, “my back hurts and I’m hungry.”

“You’ve been working real hard, let me treat you to dinner.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

A few minutes later, you end up at the Fuel Truck, enjoying some food together and continuing your conversation in the cool, breezy night of Blazewood. It’s easy being with you, effortless, doesn’t really burn through his energy like some other social interactions do, and Lighter can’t help but feel like this is how it’s meant to be. Sharing stories, talking about the important and mundane alike, he doesn’t know when you became more than the cute mechanic Caesar was good friends with, but he’s glad he finally got your name down on the sixth time of trying.

He tucks a strand of stray hair away from your face before you can get it in your mouth, and the grin you give him almost paralyses him.

Plates are emptied, drinks finished, and dessert is done, but you’re still talking into the late of the night, until the employees need to wipe down the bar and call it a day. All good things come to an end, and Lighter wishes you could stay with the Sons of Calydon for longer than just a few days, but you have your own business in Sixth Street, so he monopolises your time whenever he can.

Which is how he ends up walking you to your motel, letting the long day draw to a close.

“Thank you for dinner, Lighter, today was fun.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and full. “No problem, it’s my pleasure.”

“Come back tomorrow, yeah? Swing by the garage anytime you want.”

“Anytime?” The biker rubs his chin. “Careful with your generosity, I might end up annoying you.”

“I doubt it.”

“And if I overstay my welcome?”

“Then apologise by keeping me company.”

You shoot him a wink before going up the stairs of the motel, quickly disappearing from his sight as he laughs to no one in particular. He lightly punches his chest, as if trying to tell his hammering heart to calm down.

Yeah. You really are trying to kill him.

#also i don't play zzz so sorry if there are any lore inconsistencies #only thing i know about this game is that lighter is hot and whatever minimal lore i get from his wiki #earthtooz: zzz !!#lighter x reader #zzz x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #lighter x you

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imaginespazzi · 2 days ago

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Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest.

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time.

They’d stayed.

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people of her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether banana or chocolate chips go better with pancakes.

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate.

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it.

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as shift herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a sword, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck, so close to reaching them but unable to finally get there.

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours.

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl.

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart.

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother.

“Please can we go home now Mama?”

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream; that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. But Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face.

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place.

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentences was going.

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself.

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag.

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. She can feel Drew looking at her; can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own.

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended.

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly.

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different.

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes.

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them as they turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile.

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face.

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing.

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself.

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable.

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time.

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige.

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

***

August 2031

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it. But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home.

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas.

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer.

Divorce.

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them.

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there.

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over.

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid.

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not.

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head.

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails.

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders.

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor.

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her.

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her.

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world.

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman.

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose.

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name. Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her.

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition.

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow.

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits.

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride.

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her.

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport.

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words.

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can��t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills.

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?”

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand.

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it.

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that.

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice.

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found.

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object.

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it.

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi.

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears.

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman.

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck.

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults.

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?”

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh.

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder.

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does.

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own.

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie.

***

June 2033

Dream 64 Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream.

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team.

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much.

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence.

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first.

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans.

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

***

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing.

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp. And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever.

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything.

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out.

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants.

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her.

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence.

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue.

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door.

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue.

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears.

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body.

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks.

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again.

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly.

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after.

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh.

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies.

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly.

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door.

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.”

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead.

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now.

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries.

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own.

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie.

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing.

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room.

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance.

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby.

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi.

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone.

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?”

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to.

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself.

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite.

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony.

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost.

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out.

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner.

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter.

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around.

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie.

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call.

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there.

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants.

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room.

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night.

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight.

“Az-” Paige calls out.

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts.

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

��Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be.

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her.

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance.

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d fallen back against the balcony railing.

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but.

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face.

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan.

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige.

Paige looks at Azzi.

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right.

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet.

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates.

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed.

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike.

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd.

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere.

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back.

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that hat means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen.

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence.

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses.

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley.

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley.

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand.

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words.

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said.

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow.

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly.

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own.

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears.

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds.

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks.

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn��t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly.

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame.

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door.

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words.

And Paige thinks that probably, why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself.

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what.

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #wcbb

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