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imaginespazzi · 6 days ago

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Everything Changes (They Stay the Same)

A series of stolen moments of peace in between a chaotic week

(In which an unreliable writer is really trying to beat the retirement allegations)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: 30 google-doc pages of pure fluff with hints of angst and hurt/comfort if you squint really hard

Words: 14.5K (we're soooo back)

TW: Swearing, drinking, alludes to sexual content.

A/N: Hi my lovelies :) Two fics in less than 48 hours? Who woulda ever thunk it? I can't lie this is so all over the place and we are all gonna ignore that I was trying to do a moment a day, and then fully forgot a day and I'm not abouta go back a month (because it's been a month since natty and the draft which is what this fic is technically about) to figure out which two days I accidentally blended into one. But this is fiction! So it doesn't really matter! Anyways, I got bored editing about 80% of the way in but I will eventually go back and fix the typos so feel free to make me aware of them. As always, live reactions are much appreciated so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

April 6th 11:26 p.m.

Azzi will never admit it out loud -will never let it become the recipient of her teammates’ jovial teasing or something her girlfriend can flash that cocky smirk of hers about- but she’s kind of a little bit obsessed with staring at Paige.

She always has been.

Since she was fourteen and she’d spotted this lanky white girl getting up shots before the official tryouts for the U16 USA basketball team started. And Azzi had been mesmerized by the effortless concentration that had been present of Paige’s face, never deterred by when the ball would occasionally rim out. She’d stood by the doorway, watching -staring- much longer than necessary until one of the other girls had rushed past her, accidentally bumping her shoulder and shaking her out of her reverie. That’s the first time Paige had caught her gaze and she hadn’t made much of it then but Azzi’s slowly realized since, that there’s just something about the blond that draws her eyes towards her like a magnet, like everything else surrounding her is just a hazy blur and Paige is the only thing in focus.

And tonight, it feels almost impossible to tear her eyes away from Paige.

Because tonight Paige looks radiant, like the reason it’s dark outside is only because the sun itself is in the middle of this room, laughing her heart out with one arm casually slung around KK’s shoulder, bottle of champagne nursed in her left hand and that goddamn net still hung around her neck. She’s basked in the glow that comes from finally being unshackled from the chains of pressure and expectations and that dreaded fear of being the greatest UConn player without a title that Paige had only ever voiced out loud with her head burrowed in the crevice between Azzi’s neck and shoulder.

Tonight, all of that -all of the tired dark circles underneath her beautiful blue eyes and the frown lines that had once been present right under where her new national champion hat covers her forehead- is gone.

Because tonight, Paige Bueckers is finally a national champion.

And god, does the happiness that comes with that look so fucking great on her.

“You’re staring,” Kaitlyn whispers from where she’s sitting next to Azzi on the couch, the two of them and Caroline perched on a loveseat that has the perfect view of their other more rambunctious teammates.

And maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through her veins, or that stupid all-consuming feeling of love for her girlfriend that’s been overwhelming Azzi since the buzzer rang out at the end of the national championship game, but she doesn’t deny it.

“That damn net looks ridiculous on her,” Azzi quips, trying to maintain some sort of dignity but there’s an underlying fondness to her tone that she can’t quite seem to mask; she isn’t really trying to hide it either.

“She’s never taking it off,” Caroline says with a slight shake of her head, “she’s gonna wear it forever. It’s gonna be the third wheel in your relationship.”

“She deserves it,” Azzi's eyes soften, her gaze still locked on her girlfriend who’s now posing for the most ridiculous pictures with KK, Aubrey and their practice players, “she’s earned the right to never take it off.”

Kaitlyn lets out a teasing low whistle, nudging Azzi’s shoulder, “can’t believe Paige is the only one who gets the simp allegations when this is how you behave.”

“They’re as bad as each other,” Caroline supplies helpfully, holding up her red solo cup as she winks at Azzi, “I swear it’s gotten worse over time too.”

“It has not,” Azzi protests.

Caroline snorts, “see Az, that would be more believable if you could at least look at me while saying it instead of being too busy ogling your girlfriend.”

A rose-colored blush begins to spread across Azzi’s cheeks as both Kaitlyn and Caroline cackle with laughter at what the latter had just pointed out. Because it’s true. She still hasn’t looked away.

She can’t.

And as if on cue, Paige turns around at that exact moment, just in time to catch the color fully seeping into Azzi’s cheeks. The blonde’s smirk is gradual, first just a quirk at the edge of her lips before stretching across the entirety of her face as she raises her eyebrow in question at Azzi. The younger girl bites her lip, her stomach swooping when she notices the way Paige’s eyes linger on the small action. She watches keenly as the blonde begins to saunter towards her -long, confident strides that shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as they are- and her body seems to lean forward in anticipation on its own accord.

Azzi feels her breath hitch when Paige finally reaches her, one hand clutching the armrest as she towers over Azzi, leaning down just enough so their faces are levelled.

“You staring at me?” she asks with a lazy smile, her speech coming out slightly slurred.

“You’re imagining things,” Azzi whispers, sporting her own half-grin as she blinks coquettishly up at the older girl.

“Oh yeah?” Paige drawls out slowly before she’s tugging Azzi off the sofa, a pleased expression on her face when the brunette comes into her arms easily. Her hands settle on either side of Azzi’s hips as the younger girl interlocks her own hand behind Paige’s neck, her fingers playing with the net, “coulda sworn I felt your eyes on me.”

Azzi shrugs impishly, “must’ve been someone else.”

“Nah, can’t have been,” Paige shakes her head, “I know when it’s you looking at me. No one else looks at me like that.”

“And how do I look at you?” Azzi breathes out, stepping closer to her girlfriend so their chests are pressed against each other and they can feel the warmth radiating off of each other's bodies.

“Like you love me,” Paige says softly, “I look at you the exact same way.”

Azzi’s heart flutters, the sincerity in the blonde’s voice quelling any chance of a smart retort as she reaches up to brush her lips lightly against Paige’s, “I do love you. Like a lot, a lot.’

Paige’s arms tighten around her waist as she presses their foreheads together, “I love you more. Like more than a lot, a lot.”

They stay like that for a moment, cocooned in each other's arms. The constantly moving world seems to still for a second, like it’s pausing just for the two of them to be able to catch their breaths before everything changes.

But Azzi isn’t quite ready to think about that -about how today is the end of something and next week will be the beginning of something different- not yet.

She just wants to think about now, about the girl in her arms and the dream that they’d once dreamed of together -laying side by side in a bed that was too small for two people while feeling emotions that were too big for how young they’d been- and how after years and years, plagued by uncertainty and adversity, they’d finally made that dream come true.

“I like your new necklace,” Azzi says finally, her voice low, just for the two of them to hear as she twists her fingers through the net draped around the older girl’s neck.

Paige grins like a toddler who’s just been given their favorite candy, “yeah well, my favorite person won it for me.”

“It was a team effort,” Azzi says bashfully, quickly catching onto the meaning behind the older girl's words.

“Yeah but you were MOP baby,” Paige nudges their noses together, “my outstanding player.”

Azzi chuckles, “pretty sure the M stands for most actually.”

“Don’t care,” Paige shrugs cavalierly, “you’re still mine. There’s no one else I would’ve rather done this with- no one else I could’ve done this with, you know that right?”

“Yeah baby, yeah I do,” Azzi whispers, looping her arms back around Paige’s neck as it all seems to come rushing back to her, the gravity of what they’d achieved making her feel almost weightless in her girlfriend’s embrace, “we really did it Paige. We won. We fucking won the damn thing.”

Paige laughs breathlessly as she steals a kiss from Azzi’s lips, “yeah we did baby. Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd, national fucking champions. Together. Just like it was always meant to be.”

April 7th 10:31 a.m.

Everything is too fucking loud.

Paige clutches her head in her hands as the sound of her teammates screaming reverberates around the plane cabin. Normally, she’d be joining into the cacophony, if not at the forefront of it, but clearly she’s all cacophony-ed out after last night. Honestly, she’d known that the last two shots of vodka were pushing it a little but it had been four in the morning and when Diana Taurasi was encouraging you to throw back a shot, you didn’t really have the option to say no. And so Paige hadn’t said no.

Now, as the world around her spins and her headache feels like it’s threatening to send her to an early grave, Paige wishes she’d said no, wishes she’d followed her sensible, responsible girlfriend to bed at a much more reasonable time like two a.m. instead of getting carried away in the still ongoing celebration and drinking herself into a killer hangover.

Speaking of her girlfriend, Paige frowns as she glances at the seats next to her. The middle seat is occupied by the national championship trophy and don’t get her wrong, Paige loves that trophy and everything it stands for very much but it has to be said that it’s neither as soft nor as cuddly as Azzi and it definitely doesn’t smell as nice or feel as warm.

She pouts harder when Kaitlyn slips into the aisle seat, feeling even more nauseous when she notices the bottle of champagne in the other girl's hand. Normally Paige is a very polite and kind person; normally she doesn’t just let those clingy intrusive thoughts of hers slip through her lips when she’s feeling just a little bit too needy for her girlfriend. But clearly today isn’t normal and before she can stop herself, Paige finds herself practically glaring at her innocent teammate.

“Why are you sitting there?” she asks grumpily, “where’s Azzi?”

“Sheesh Bueckers, you’re rude when you’re hungover,” Kaitlyn gives her an unamused look.

“I’m not hungover,” Paige lies adamantly, earning her an expected eyeroll.

“And I’m not the smartest person on this team,” Kaitlyn says sarcastically, before tilting her head towards the girl walking up the aisle, “and relax Bueckers, I’m not stealing your girlfriend’s seat. Just wanted to have a little fun first.”

She continues to speak, something about taking a swig of champagne on live but Paige isn’t listening anymore, too entranced by the sight of her girlfriend as if it’s been years instead of minutes since she’d last seen Azzi. The younger girl is dressed in her typical UConn tracksuit, still sporting gameday braids that are getting a little loose under the blue cap on her head. Her eyes droop a little with residual tiredness but her smile -god that fucking smile, Paige thinks she’s not much of a writer but she could write sonnets about that smile- more than makes up for it as she flashes it too teammates and staff alike while making her way towards Paige and Kaitlyn.

“Hi,” Azzi says softly, coming to a halt right in front of their seat, her eyes twinkling at Paige.

“Hey baby,” Paige replies with a dopey grin, her head already feeling that much lighter at having her girlfriend near her.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Kaitlyn groans, looking rather disgusted -although there’s that typical underlying fondness to it that all of Paige and Azzi’s teammates seem to have around them- at the heart eyes her two friends are making at each other, “can y’all do that after I’ve gotten my championship video please?”

Azzi tears away her gaze first, holding her palm out for Kaitlyn to place her phone in, “alright, alright, how do you wanna do this Kait?”

Paige zones out for the rest of the conversation, bringing her cup of coffee closer to her face, inhaling the scent of it as she watches Azzi film Kaitlyn. There’s that goofy little smile on her girlfriend’s face as she videos their friend on live, her eyes sparkling with joy. It makes Paige’s heart ache in the best way possible because this -after everything she’s been through, everything they’ve been through- is what Azzi deserves.

There aren’t enough words on this planet to describe just how incredibly proud of her girlfriend, Paige is. She knows that, last week in Spokane had been hard on Azzi, that she’d retreated too far into her own head after missed shot, after missed shot, even though she’d been impactful in other ways. But Azzi -true to the resilience bracelet dangling on her wrist- had pulled herself out of it. And it had been thrilling for Paige to be on the court with her this weekend as she’d risen like a phoenix from the ashes of her own self-doubt, to win them -to win Paige- the most important game of their season.

“And cut,” Azzi says dramatically as she ends the live and Paige re-focuses to see Kaitlyn’s face all scrunched up from the fact that the rather expensive champagne hadn’t gone down quite as smoothly this morning as it had last night.

“You good?” Paige snickers snarkily as Kaitlyn glares at her, coughing to regain her composure.

“Watch it Bueckers or maybe I won’t move for Azzi to sit here,” the transfer student says with a pointed look.

“You wouldn’t because then I’d just whine your ear off about how much I miss her,” Paige smirks, pleased when it elicits that little laugh out of Azzi that she’s so in love with.

Kaitlyn shakes her head in mock irritation as she slowly pulls herself out of the seat.

“You’re right, that does sound like torture. Be good kids,” she pats Azzi on the shoulder as she starts to make her way to a different seat, “keep your hands to yourself, don’t forget there’s other people on the plane.”

“No promises,” Paige calls out after her, a triumphant grin on her face as Azzi takes her rightful place in the seat next to the trophy.

Azzi giggles as she buckles her seatbelt, leaning over the armrest so she can rub her thumb against her girlfriend’s cheek, “how’s your head doing? Better from this morning?”

Paige sighs dramatically, melting into the soft touch, “I still feel like I’m fucking dying,” she admits, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Oh of course not,” Azzi snorts, “not like you’ve ever said that before.”

“Hey you never know, I might actually mean it this time,” Paige defends herself half-heartedly but they both know it’s not true, not when there’s already a plan in motion for the team to party at Teds tonight after the championship rally at Gampel.

“Whatever you say baby,” Azzi concedes gently, before she reaches down to her bag, unclipping her unicorn neck pillow to hand over to Paige, “here, it’ll make it more comfortable for you to get a nap in.”

The older girl frowns as she takes it, “I wanted to use your shoulder.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed babe, but there’s kinda something in between us,” Azzi says amusedly as she points at the national championship trophy that’s occupying the middle seat in between them.

“Can’t believe I worked so hard for this, just for it to cockblock me,” Paige grumbles under her breath as she fastens the neck pillows around her shoulder, before holding her hand out to Azzi, “can you at least hold my hand?”

Azzi hesitates, “I was hoping to get some work done.”

“Baby please,” Paige whines, jutting her lower lip out at her girlfriend as she grabs Azzi’s hand and intertwines their fingers together, “just till I fall asleep? You know I can’t fall asleep without holding you.”

A little spark of sadness flashes in Azzi’s eyes -something like you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without me soon that Paige isn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet- but it’s gone as quick as it came and instead the younger girl squeezes her hand.

“Okay, fine,” she relents, “go to sleep baby. I’m right here.”

And everything is still really fucking loud, but as she drifts off into a much-needed nap, Paige thinks that having Azzi next to her -her presence as steady and solid as it was when they’d first been on a plane together almost eight years ago- feels a lot like a moment of quiet in the chaos.

April 8th 8:24 p.m.

Azzi isn’t sure if her skin is prickling from the vibration of the music echoing around the area, the tipsiness -elicited from a mix of alcohol and general elation- that hasn’t fully left her body in the last 48 hours, or simply the warmth of Paige’s fingers tapping to the beat against her exposed waist. The heat radiating from her girlfriend’s chest, pressed firmly against her back as they alternate between actually dancing and half-heartedly swaying to the songs, encompasses her entire body in the kind of comfort that Azzi has only ever really felt from being wrapped in Paige’s arms.

“You having fun baby?” Paige’s breath is hot against her ear and Azzi shivers involuntarily, as she hums contentedly in response.

“This is nice,” she says after a beat, shrinking further back into the safe haven of her girlfriend’s embrace, “I’ve missed this.”

Paige rests her chin against Azzi’s shoulder, taking advantage of the fact that they’re shrouded in only the dim glow reflecting off of the stage lights, as she nods in agreement, “me too. It’s been a while huh?”

“Yeah, it has,” Azzi concedes, letting her eyes close as she enjoys the serenity of good music and even better company.

It really has been a rather long time since the two of them had gotten to simply exist like this, carefree and unburdened. The last few weeks -really ever since Christmas- their entire focus had been on basketball and winning the National Championship. And as much as the pressure to do so, had been the kind that had ultimately created a diamond, it had still come with it’s challenges. They’d been so immersed in the game -all of their time spent on the basketball court alone, together or with the team- that it feels like it’s been years since they’ve had a moment like this, a moment where, instead of being Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd, UConn superstars, they could just be Paige and Azzi, two twenty-something year olds who were truly, deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with each other.

And then the thought hits Azzi.

That she doesn’t quite know when they’ll get a moment like this again.

Tomorrow, the championship media tour would start and then the draft and then-

Well Azzi isn’t quite ready to confront what comes after the draft. Not yet.

For now all she knows is that their schedules for the next couple of days are both filled to the brim with the expected TV appearances and brand and sponsorship photoshoots woven in between those commitments. She knows that they’ll be in the same city, together for a lot of it and she knows that in all the awaiting chaos, they’ll still find a way to steal a second of peace to be with each other. Just like they always have. But Azzi also knows that it still won’t be quite the same as this moment right here. Because this moment still feels like the before.

The before, where Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd are still teammates separated by a mere staircase and all they have to do is say the word, for the other to come running.

Tomorrow, they’ll start the inbetween.

And then the after-

Azzi shakes her head -not wanting to dwell on that before she absolutely has to- as she shifts in Paige’s arms to turn her body around to face her girlfriend, hands instinctively locking around the older girl’s neck. She lets her gaze trickle down Paige’s face, taking in the way the older girl’s cerulean blue eyes sparkle with a ferocity stronger than the stars as she observes Azzi right back, the way even in the dark she can tell that Paige’s cheeks are flushed with that slight bashful pink color they only ever become when it’s the brunette who’s making her blush, the way the edges of the blonde’s lips are upturned sightly, like they’re just waiting for her to give them a reason to burst into that beautiful, dazzling, larger-than-life just for you smile of Paige’s that Azzi has been in love with longer than she’ll ever admit it.

“You’re staring,” Paige teases, her voice loud enough only for Azzi to hear as her thumbs rub circles against either side of the brunette’s bare waist.

“I’m observing,” Azzi corrects, “memorizing.”

Paige curls an eyebrow at that, “you scared you’re gonna forget me?”

It’s a joke, but there’s a hint of insecurity hidden in her tone, in the way her hands instinctively grip Azzi’s waist a little tighter, like she’s trying to anchor them together before the winds of change can blow either of them away.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” Azzi admits, her vulnerability accidentally slipping through the cracks before she can glue them shut, “not when you’re a part of me.”

And there it is. That smile. It blooms like a beautiful flower on Paige’s lips, the vines of it growing through her entire face until you can see them in the crinkles of her eyes. Even in the obsidian of the concert lighting, Paige glows like a shooting star that's headed straight for Azzi’s heart. And Azzi, welcomes the crash, welcomes the way it makes her chest hurt, makes it hard to breath in the best way possible.

“Damn Fudd,” Paige whistles lowly, “you got lines.”

Azzi laughs, throwing her head back the way she only ever really does when it’s elicited by Paige, “I mean I gotta keep up with the ultimate rizzler somehow don’t I?”

They giggle quietly into each other’s space, the two of them lost in their own world, blissfully unaware of what's happening on stage or the quiet eye-rolls they've definitely been getting from their teammates around them.

“You’re the biggest part of me,” Paige says after a beat, whispering it like it’s a secret confession only meant for Azzi’s ears, “you always have been, you always will be.”

Azzi doesn't say anything, she doesn’t need to. Instead she takes advantage of the dark and presses her lips against Paige’s. It’s chaste and delicate but it’s everything.

It always is. It always will be.

April 9th 1:47 p.m.

The text lights up her phone screen when Paige needs it the most.

She’s currently being fitted for her Jimmy Fallon appearance, waves of exhaustion radiating off her body even though it’s barely afternoon as she fights the urge to fall asleep while the makeup artist retouches up her face. Hectic days are no stranger to Paige, and she’s learned the importance of napping in cars between shoots, but that doesn’t mean the tiredness just magically goes away. Especially when she knows the next couple of days ahead of her are going to be filled with the same frantic rush. And it’s not that Paige isn’t thankful for it -not like she doesn’t know that, all of this is a privilege is a reward for all her hard work- but sometimes it all just feels too fast, like the pages are being turned in a frenzy before she can even finish reading them.

She just wants it all to slow down, just for a second, just so she can catch the raindrops of her life before they fall and fade as they hit the ground.

And somehow, as Paige unlocks her phone to look at the mirror selfie of Azzi in Cane’s uniform -tongue out, fingers thrown up in a peace sign- it almost -almost- feels like it does.

They’ve been texting back and forth pretty much all day, and by all day, she really does mean since 4 a.m. which is when -after getting back close to midnight last night- Paige had, had to begrudgingly leave the warmth of her girlfriend snuggled into her chest, to get to New York in time for her way, way, too early morning interview. And of course Azzi, despite being just as tired, had woken up with her, had groggily gone through the checklist of things Paige needed to take with her, had given her a freshly brushed minty kiss right before she’d gotten on the car, and had been on facetime -although she had nearly dozed off a couple of times- almost the entire car ride, just to keep the blonde company until she reached Manhattan when they’d switch back to texting.

But then there had been a slight lull in conversation, Paige becoming busy in the rush of her day and Azzi slowly beginning her own. And now, as if she’d sensed her girlfriend’s restlessness, could feel her spiraling into that trepid sense of overwhelmedness, Azzi had resumed it, just when Paige needed it the most, needed her anchor, the most.

A: would you still love me if i said i was deciding to quite basketball to work at cane’s?

P: depends

would you give me free tenders?

Az: wow

so you’re saying your love is conditional?

P: i’m saying i’d love you just a little bit more if you gave me free chicken tenders

i mean cane’s and my hot ass girlfriend, that’s the dream right?

A: that’s the dream?

P: that’s the dream!

A: you’re a weirdo bueckers

P: and yet you love me (don’t say debatable)

so who’s really the weird one here?

A: still you babe, still, definitely you

P: oof definitely

that hurt baby

A: you’ll survive

P: only if you kiss it better

i miss you by the way

if you even care

A: it’s been like six hours

P: oh so you don’t miss me?

cool cool cool cool COOL

A: you’re so dramatic jfc

P: oh OKAY

a girl can’t even be sad about the fact that her girlfriend

THE WOMAN SHE LOVES

doesn’t even give a fuck that she’s DYING without her

A: like i said

so dramatic

P: right right right so you hate me

got it.

A: oooooh fullstop and everything damn

P: i’m not talking to you anymore BYE

A: wait no

P: yes

A: babyyyyyy

come backkkkk

PAIGEEEEEEEEEEE

i’m sorryyyyy

you’re not dramatic

you’re very not dramatic

you’re very undramatic

like the least dramatic person ever actually

and i miss you too

AND I LOVE YOU

P: wow fudd

you’re like desperate for my attention or something huh?

A: OH FUCK YOU

P: i know YOU want to baby

Paige is grinning like a fool as she waits for Azzi to reply to that, a smile so bright she thinks there’s probably astronauts in space who are being blinded by it right now. She can’t help it. The knots of tension in her body are beginning to unravel, replaced by threads of a serene calmness that seems to have stitched itself to her skin just by talking to her girlfriend. Her person. Her happy place.

A: skipping over that…

you doing okay?

It’s in text form, but there’s still an underlying tone to it -a i know you’re not quite fine- that’s an acknowledgement of Azzi being in tune with Paige’s feelings and both an opening for her to talk about it now or a promise to be there to listen to her later. That’s the thing about having been with someone for years; Azzi knows Paige, she can read her -even from miles and miles away- like she’s the top line of a snellen chart at the optometrist’s office. And even years later, the knowledge of that simple fact makes Paige’s heart flutter with the feeling of being loved.

P: i will be when you get here tonight

A: i’ll be there soon baby

gonna set out for nyc as soon as my shift is over lol

can’t wait to see you

P: work hard baby!

can’t wait for you to bring me tenders!

A: ....oh okay!

i see what’s really important to you

P: hey you know i love cane’s

A: and here i thought you loved ME

P: i do

just maybe a little less than my chicken tendies

A: fine

then maybe i love you a little less than crinkle cut fries

P: aww you love me?

A: occasionally…

P: good enough for me!

Paige catches herself smiling in the mirror, that enamored, goofy, grin that stretches her whole face, wiping away the traces of a frown that had once inhabited the same space. It’s still all a little -maybe even a lot- overwhelming, but she has a lifejacket now. Azzi won’t let her drown.

P: hey az

A: yeah?

P: thanks for checking in baby

A: always baby

P: i love you

more than chicken tenders

A: i love you too

more than crinkle-cut fries

April 10th 5:37 p.m.

The door to the hotel room creaks open and that familiar scent of Valentino whafts through the air, settling like the comfort of a worn out binkie against Azzi’s senses. She smushes her dorky grin into the pillow her face is already buried in, suddenly feeling a little more awake than she had just a couple seconds ago. After a multitude of media appearances, Azzi had returned back to their shared hotel room, only about twenty or so minutes ago, with a drained social battery and the cardinal urge to be nestled in her girlfriend’s strong arms. Considering said girlfriend hadn’t been back yet then, she’d settled for a hoodie that smelled like her and pillows that, while not as sturdy as Paige’s biceps, were soft enough to band-aid the ache for a little while.

But now Paige is back.

And Azzi doesn’t have to settle.

She lifts her head to say as much, when -before the words can leave her mouth- the bed dips and suddenly there’s a warm weight being pressed against her back, slightly calloused hands finding their way under her body and then under her hoodie till they’re sprawled against her stomach.

“Hi,” Paige whispers softly, her breath ticking against Azzi’s skin as she leaves a lingering kiss against the nape of the brunette’s neck, before burying her face in her shoulder as they let out matching contented sighs.

“Hey,” the brunette whispers back, turning her face slightly just so she can give Paige a quick peck on her cheek.

Azzi’s eyes close involuntarily as she lets herself be consumed by all things Paige, the essence of her girlfriend’s existence seeping into her veins and being pumped into her heart, like it’s the only thing keeping the most important organ in body alive. It used to terrify Azzi sometimes, this all-consuming love she knows she has only for Paige. She’d been so young when she’d first realized it, realized that missing and wanting and needing her best friend that fucking much couldn’t possibly be platonic. And god had that scared her.

Because loving someone meant living with the fear of losing them too.

But that doesn’t scare Azzi anymore. Not when she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that this -the two of them and this little life their slowly beginning to build brick by brick- isn’t something she’ll ever lose.

This, the two of them, it’s a forever kind of thing.

“How was your day?” Paige murmurs against Azzi’s ear, fingers tracing delicate patterns against her taut stomach.

“Exhausting,” Azzi replies, eyes still closed, “but nice. It’s a victory tour. Can’t really complain. How about you? How was your shoot?”

“Same ol’ same ol’. Nothing new. The camera loved me as always,” Paige’s cocky smirk prickles against Azzi’s skin and the younger girl shakes her head even though she’s just as confident that the pictures would in fact turn out perfect and that, Azzi would likely have to hide them in that secret little folder in her phone that’s filled to the brim with her favorite Paige photoshoot shots (and that she occasionally flicks through when she misses her girlfriend just a tad bit too much).

“Or maybe it’s the hangover still making you delusional,” Azzi teases.

Paige groans, pushing herself even further into her girlfriend if that’s even possible, clearly being bombarded with memories of the cruel headache she’d had to endure this morning, “please don’t remind me. Why’d you even let me drink last night?”

Azzi snorts into her pillow, “let you? Babe, since when have I ever been able to stop you from drinking? In fact, I’m pretty sure I did try last night after your third one and what did you do? You said, nah baby it’s just one more drink i’ll be fine,” she mocks, her mind flashing to her tipsy girlfriend last night who’d flashed that dopey grin at her while downing another shot she swore wouldn’t affect her the next morning. Azzi knew better. She always did.

“What was I supposed to say when Alicia fucking Keys was handing me another drink Az?” Paige defends, “you don’t say no to Alicia fucking Keys.”

“I said no to Alicia fucking Keys just fine,” Azzi points out.

“Yeah that’s cause you’re Azzi goddamn Fudd,” Paige presses a smile into the brunette’s shoulder, “you’re like the princess. The princess can say no to anyone.”

“Shut up,” Azzi grumbles, but her cheeks are stained red as she bites back her own grin at the pet name.

They drift into a comfortable silence, their hearts beating in sync as their breathing starts to slow down a little, both of them on the precipice of sleep. It’s been nonstop since the championship -a different grind to what they’d been doing in-season but a grind nonetheless- and exhaustion rolls off of both of their bodies in waves. But right now, wrapped up in each other with every part of their bodies touching, it feels a little bit like they’re recharging, feeding off of each other’s strength before they go back out into the real world.

“What if I skip this dinner thing and we order takeout and watch Frozen while we cuddle in bed?” Paige says after a beat, her tone wistful as Azzi lets out a soft laugh, her mind fluttering with memories of countless nights spent doing exactly that,

She twists her body underneath Paige, so that they’re chest to chest and she can finally see her girlfriend’s face. And god, it’s been eight years she’s known Paige, almost eight years she’s been in love with her, but Azzi swears the blonde -with that fully toothed smile she claims as her own and sky blue eyes that look at her like they can see into her soul- still takes her breath away every single time she looks at her. She feels tongue-tied, this syrupy sweet feeling congesting her chest as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, tugging her girlfriend closer so she can meld their lips together, lazy and slow and perfect.

“So is that yes?” Paige mumbles against Azzi’s mouth, “I’ll even have room service bring us an ice-cream sundae.”

The brunette chuckles, her thumb caressing the older girl’s cheek as she shakes her head, “the ice-cream almost convinced me but unfortunately not baby. I have plans.”

Paige pouts, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, as she lifts herself off of Azzi just enough to be able to see her properly, “you have plans? With who?”

“Oh you know, just this cute girl who’s really funny,” Azzi teases, her eyes gleaming with mirth as Paige narrows her own.

“What girl?” she asks, the possessive glint in her irises sparkling like sun rays hitting the surface of a tranquil blue ocean.

“Just this girl,” Azzi says cavalierly, “but she’s amazing. Think I’m gonna wear that pink tank top-”

“Like hell you are,” Paige cuts her off, her voice gruff as she scowls down at Azzi, “pick something else. That’s my favorite top on you. No one else needs to see you out in it.”

“I know it is,” Azzi smirks, and then, deciding she’s done enough to elicit that jealous side of her girlfriend -who's still glaring at nothing in particular- that she finds rather insanely attractive, she figures she probably should put Paige out of her misery, “but KK said pink looks good on me so…”

Paige stares at her, mouth opening and closing as she processes Azzi’s world before she lets out a loud groan and buries her face in her girlfriend’s chest.

“Oh fuck you,” she curses as Azzi trembles with laughter, her hands rubbing up and down the blonde’s back.

“KK’s gonna die when I tell her about this.”

“Azzi no! Don’t you dare,” Paige whines, “don’t you care about your girlfriend’s dignity at all?”

“What dignity- OW did you just fucking bite me?” Azzi’s joking tone turns shrill as she feels her girlfriend nip sharply at her collarbone.

Paige smirks lazily into her girlfriend’s skin, tongue darting out to soothe the patch of red forming on it like an artist putting on the finishing touches to their craft, “you’ve never seemed to mind that before.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, irritation melting into something completely different as Paige continues to press open-mouthed kisses to her neck.

“Paige,” she breathes out and it’s meant to be a warning -a plea for her to stop- but it sounds like anything but.

“My offer still stands baby,” Paige murmurs, “I don’t gotta go and you don’t gotta leave. We can just stay here. Together. Doing this.”

It takes all of Azzi’s willpower to not succumb to the sultry lilt in her girlfriend’s voice, to not let their bodies tangle into the sheets and let the night pass them by. She places her hands firmly on either side of Paige’s head, coaxing the blonde’s face away from her skin -both of them sighing in disappointment at the loss of contact- so they’re face to face agan.

“You gotta go baby,” she says softly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear, “it’s part of taking the next step, part of entering your new world.”

“I know,” Paige bites her lip, hesitating as she looks down at Azzi with a newfound vulnerability, a hidden crack in her confident exterior that only the brunette has ever been privy to, “I’m scared,” she confesses, “it’s gonna feel too real once I’m in there with all the vets and draftees.”

“Oh Paige,” Azzi whispers, her touch gentle and soothing as she runs index finger down Paige’s face, “it is real. This is real. Your dreams are coming true baby.”

“I know, I just-” Paige pauses as she leans her face into Azzi’s hand, melting into the familiarity of it, “it’s all gonna be different soon. That’s scary as fuck.”

Azzi nods in understanding, “yeah it is. But you’ve got this Paige. I know you do. And,” she nuzzles her nose against her girlfriends, “you’ve got me. That’s not gonna be different. Not now, not ever.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

April 12th 11:32 p.m.

Horsebarn hill smells like newly mowed grass and fresh spring flowers that have just started to bloom. The gentle April breeze -like whispers of all the stories that have been told here- curdles around Paige as she sits criss-cross on a checkered pink blanket, one arm wrapped firmly around Azzi’s shoulder, the other nursing a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Her teammates are scattered across the grass on their own blankets, some with matching drinks, others with a late night snack. Their chatter mingles with the distant chirping of cicadas creating a soothing lullaby that almost threatens to put Paige -with the frantic rush of her past few days- to sleep.

But she doesn’t dare let her eyes close, wanting to savor every single second before nightfall turns into daybreak and a moment turns into a memory.

This is her team. Her family.

And tonight is the last night that they will get like this, to be in this place -a familar space they’ve visited countless times, a space where they’ve woven threads of themselves into the grass that grows here- as individual pieces who belong together in the same puzzle before three of them -her, Aubrey and Kaitlyn- scatter to fit into a different jigsaw.

A new start.

Instinctively, Paige pulls Azzi closer to her, breathing in that familiar soft scent of the brunette’s lavender deodorant mixed with the coconut-y aroma of her body wash, that settles her nerves like a peace serum. Azzi doesn’t say anything -still laughing at KK and Ice who are doing some sort of dramatic reenactment of Aubrey and her new cheerleader girlfriend’s first date- but she shifts just enough to press her temple against Paige’s chin, a simple reminder that she’s here, ready to be whatever the blonde needs her to be.

“That is not what happened,” Aubrey’s indignant voice carries out through the hill, much to the amusement of her teammates who all burst out into laughter, the sound like wind chimes ringing throughout a mountain, “y’all weren’t even there.”

“We didn’t have to be,” KK defends, her eyes shining with her patented mirth, “we know you Aubs.”

“It does sound like something you’d do Aubrey,” Carol says contemplatively, barely able to conceal her own smirk as she pats her friend comfortingly on the back

“CAROL,” Aubrey shrieks in betrayal, scooching away with a dramatic hand on her heart, “I cannot believe YOU would do this to me?”

“I swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” Caroline says solemnly, inciting another round of giggles from the group of girls as Aubrey shakes her head in exasperation.

Paige thinks she’s a little bit in love with this moment, in the mundaneness of it that feels like any other night spent with her teammates and yet there’s still something about it -about these people that have loved her just as much through the losses as they have thought the big wins- that feels inexplicably special. Perhaps that’s just the bond forged by working towards and winning a championship together. Because it's certain that all of them will win more than just this -that’s who they are, winners at their core- but not like this, not this group, not all together, not as comets in the same once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower.

“Alright, alright enough bickering,” Paige’s voice sweeps over her team, still as commanding as over, their leader, “even though let’s be real Aubs, that definitely sounds like something you’d do.”

“I hate all of you,” Aubrey grunts.

“Yeah, yeah we love you too,” Paige sends her oldest teammate a quick wink before turning her focus to the rest of them, “y’all we should do something. Something fun.”

Ice raises a skeptical eyebrow, “we are doing something. We’re eating and drinking and pissing Aubrey off. Sounds like hell of a fun night to me.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “no Isuneh, I mean like something special. We’re fucking National Champions we guys. We should do something to celebrate.”

“We did celebrate. Or were you so drunk that you don’t even remember that?” Sarah deadpans much to the amusement of their teammates and this time Paige finds herself the victim of the group’s shrill laughter as her youngest teammate goes on to mimic her intoxicated antics from the night they’d won the championship.

“Baby,” the blonde whines like she’s been backstabbed when she feels Azzi’s body -still securely plush against her own- shake with her girlfriend’s own giggles, “you laughing at me too?”

“No, no, of course not. I would never,” Azzi says soothingly, turning her head slightly so she can kiss away the pout on Paige’s lips.

“Oh my god get a fucking room,” Jana yells when the kiss inevitably goes from chaste to something deeper and the two of them break away reluctantly, still grinning at each other like the cheesy lovesick idiots they’ve never shied away from admitting they are.

“We have one,” Azzi replies, shrugging as she settles back into Paige’s chest, a coy smirk on her face directed towards Paige’s roomates, “and you should know I plan to use it tonight, so either get headphones or get the fuck out of the apartment. Just saying.”

Paige snorts into her girlfriend’s hair as Jana scrunches her nose in disgust, pretending to puke into the grass and Allie lets out a dramatic sigh, rubbing her temples like a teenager who’s tired of their parent’s high jinks.

“Why is it always us?” Jana complains, “why don’t you ever traumatize your roommates instead.”

“Absolutely not,” Ice puts her hands up in surrender, “I already lived through that last year,” she shudders at the memory, “they owe me compensation for that shit not a replay.”

“Oh please,” Aubrey says cavalierly, sitting with her hands splayed on the ground behind her back, “y’all think this is bad? Y’all don’t even know what we had to live through when Azzi first got here and these two were still being absolute dumbasses. I don’t remember what was louder. The fighting or the fucking.”

“And the fighting always lead to fucking,” Caroline commiserates before a contemplative expression overtakes her features, “or was it the other way round?”

“Shut up,” Paige grumbles, a red blush forming from the base of her neck to the tip of her ears as she hides her face against Azzi’s curls, “we were not that bad.”

“No we definitely were,” Azzi’s voice is steady, despite her own face being the same embarrassed shade as her girlfriend’s, as she gives Paige’s hand -wrapped around her waist- a gentle squeeze, “but we figured it out,” her eyes are soft as she turns around in the older girl’s arms to look at the blonde, “we always do.”

Paige brushes their lips together before pressing her forehead against the brunette’s, “always.”

And she’s dimly aware of her teammate’s making gagging sounds in the background, can practically feel the eye-rolls and thoughts of the two of you are sickening vibrating off of them but Paige doesn’t care. Because underneath it all is a fondness -perhaps even admiration- that none of the girls can really hide because no one is a bigger supporter of the Paige and Azzi story than the teammates that had lived through every chapter of it with them.

“Alright enough,” it’s KK who eventually pulls them apart, her hand curling around Paige’s bicep to pull her back, eyes almost rolling to the back of her head when she notices the frown on the blonde’s face, “oh my lord, y’all don’t get tired of each other?”

“Nope,” Paige and Azzi replying in sync, glancing dopily at each other because, it’s been seven years of their lives being intertwined, four years of living in each other’s skin -so interwoven that it was hard to tell where Azzi began and where Paige ended- and yet, Paige thinks if there were more hours in the day, she’d still spend every single extra second as a chance to fall a little bit more in love Azzi.

“Y’all are hopeless,” KK informs them (they don’t deny it) before she looks expectantly at Paige, “anyways P-boogs, you were saying something about celebrating?”

“Isn’t that what the parade tomorrow is for?” Ashlynn asks quizzically.

“Yeah but that- that’s for everybody. The fans, the local media, all of them,” Paige replies earnestly, “we should do something for us- something just us. One last time.”

“Do your fangirls know their ultimate rizzler is such a sap P?” Ayanna teases but there’s wistfulness to her tone, one that reflects in the eyes of all of the girls as that last bittersweet phrase settles in the air, “what did you have in mind?”

Paige grins, “y’all see that tree over there,” she points to the large willow tree a couple meters away, one that looks out over the school like a protector; it’s the team somehow always ends up close to whenever they make their way up to Horsebarn hill, “I wanna carve our names into it. Something that’ll last forever.”

Ice lets out an amused snort, “trust you to come up with the most clichéd idea ever Bueckers. What are we in some feel-good 90’s teenage comedy movie?”

“Oooh I’d be the funny one,” KK supplies proudly, “like that one supporting character everyone remembers more than the main ones.”

“I think that’s the annoying one,” Ice mutters under her breath causing KK to glare at her.

"You’d be a forgettable extra Isuneh,” the shorter girl hisses, “not even one of the ones with lines. Matter of fact, your name wouldn’t even be on the goddamn tree.”

“And someone would scratch your name off. So guess we’d both be off the fucking tree Kamorea,” Ice retorts immediately, crossing her arms over her chest as the two of them revert to their default of being in a state of constant bickering.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Caroline says, her voice as authoritative as ever as she fixes Ice and KK with her best warning motherly gaze before rising to her feet, “okay everyone go find yourself a sharp stick so we can carry out Paige’s clichéd idea.”

“Hey,” Paige pouts, “it’s not that cliché.”

“It definitely is,” Sarah says, rolling her eyes like it pains her to have to go along with this but the way she lights up when she finds a little twig with whetted edges -perfect for etching her mark into a tree- tells a different story.

“I think it's a sweet baby,” Azzi whispers softly as she gently stands up, reaching out a hand to pull Paige up with her, “very cute, very you.”

“Yeah?” Paige nudges her girlfriend’s shoulder, their intertwined hands swinging between them as the two of them make their way towards the tree, picking up their own sticks along the way, “so sweet that you’ll carve your name next to mine?”

Azzi laughs, the sound of it pure and uninhibited as it echoes through the night, “where else would my name go?”

Paige practically beams at her girlfriend’s answer as the two of them join the rest of their teammates by the tree, the group of girls gathering under the willows as they each take turns etching their signatures into the bark. They have their phones out as flashlights, illuminating the area just enough for whoever’s turn it is to be able to see what they’re marking out. And Paige thinks that if at this moment, anyone were to look up at the hill from the path at the bottom, it would look a little bit like the stars had fallen from the night sky so that a constellation could congregate on top of the hill.

She’s the last person to carve her name onto the tree and Paige sucks in a sharp breath, eyes glossing over the names of the rest of her teammates -her found family- before she inches forward, finding Azzi’s name amidst the rest and with a smile -one filled with the memories of everything she’s achieved and the building excitement of everything else she will- Paige signs her name right next to her girlfriend’s, right underneath the National Champions 2025 - we fucking did it!

April 13th 9:47 p.m.

Azzi’s sitting on the bed, head perched against the headboard, legs criss-crossed as she types away at her phone, texting Mackenzie about the photoshoot she has tomorrow morning. Her eyebrows are knitted in concentration, tongue poking out of her lips occasionally as she goes over the details with a friend, meticulous planning how the rest of the day would go. She’s so caught up in her focus that it takes her a while to realize she's being stared at.

And when she does finally look up, there’s Paige -standing in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail as she leans against the door to their en-suite bathroom- staring at her like Azzi’s the moon and Paige has scoured the entire night sky just to find that luminescence again. It’s how Paige has always looked at her, with an intensity that feels all-consuming -like the blonde is memorizing every single inch of her and hiding the snapshot of it away in a treasure chest, locked by a key that only she has. Azzi feels her breath catch in her throat as Paige’s gaze stays locked on her -unwavering and steady- with that patented just for Azzi smile curling against the corner of her lips.

“I missed you,” Paige says finally, after a moment of them just staring at each other.

Azzi lets out a quiet chuckle, “you were in the bathroom for a solid ten minutes. How could you have possibly missed me?”

“I miss you every second you’re not with me,” it’s one of those corny lines Paige has used on her a million times -one she’d normally roll her eyes at and make a quip at about her girlfriend being clingy- but there’s an underlying tone to it tonight that makes Azzi sit up just a little bit straighter.

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, shifting her body slightly, ready to reach out for her girlfriend, but the blonde shakes her head

“I miss you every time you leave, every time we’re apart. Doesn’t matter if it’s for a couple seconds or minutes or hours or days or-” Paige swallows as she cuts herself off, her breathing uneven as she continues as Azzi feels her heart start to ache at where this is going, “it started when you left Minnesota that first summer we met. And I remember- I remember after I’d left you at the airport- it felt- it felt like something was missing. And all I could think about the entire car ride home is when you’d land and when I could facetime you again. Just so I could hear your voice and see your face, even if it was through a screen that time.”

“I didn’t even wait till I got home,” Azzi reminisces, letting out a watery giggle as flashback of a much younger version of her -an antsy fourteen year old who didn’t quite understand why she was already so desperate to call her new friend that she’d just seen a mere few hours ago- invades her mind, “I called you as soon as we got in the taxi. God I almost hung up when you didn’t pick up on the first ring.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” Paige admits, “I’d been staring at my phone the whole time waiting for you to call and then when you did, I fucking dropped it.”

“You were a dork,” Azzi teases, “still are.”

“You love it,” Paige smirks cockily before her expression softens, her throat scratchy as she continues, “I don’t know how we did it sometimes. All that distance. Seeing each other for a couple weeks here and there and then being apart for months. It killed me, you know that? Every single time we had to say goodbye? I fucking hated it.”

“I missed you as soon as you walked away each time,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, looking down at the mattress so Paige won’t see her eyes threatening to overflow with the tears that are brimming at her water line

And she can feel it -all of those emotions she’d kept at bay over the last few weeks, all of those realizations she’d refused to let herself have just yet, all of those fears and worries that she’d pushed away to deal with after- everything rushing up all at once, banging at the barricades of their cages as they yell to be let out, to be dealt with. Because there isn’t much time left. After tomorrow, after the draft, everything would start changing. And Azzi can’t change that.

The silence around them is thick with tension, Paige’s eyes on Azzi and Azzi still staring down at the linen, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the comforter. She almost feels selfish for feeling this way; for not being stronger for Paige, for her girlfriend whose life would change a lot more than Azzi’s would. It’s Paige who’s going to have to move to a new city and leave this old life of hers behind, Paige who’s going to have to integrate into a different team in a much harder league, Paige who’s going to have all eyes on her as she embarks on a new journey.

And Azzi knows, despite the façade of complete confidence that Paige puts up, that her girlfriend is still human and that humans get scared. She wants to be Paige’s anchor, her shield and she has been -has let herself burn in her own trepidation so she can protect her girlfriend from the fire of doubt- but tonight, everything feels too fucking hot. Azzi can feel her resolve crumbling and when she finally looks up, when she finally lets Paige catch a glimpse of her face -red with tears free-falling- she knows her girlfriend can feel it too.

“I’m scared Paige,” Azzi whispers and they both know what she means, “everything’s gonna change.”

“Oh baby,” Paige’s tone is gentle yet wrecked as she almost trips over her own face to get to Azzi, immediately cupping the brunette’s face in between her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi’s voice comes out trembling -barely above a whisper- as she lets herself melt into her girlfriend’s touch.

“God baby no,” Paige soothes, her thumbs brushing away the fast-falling drops rolling down the brunette’s cheeks, “why are you apologizing?”

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t want- fuck Paige- baby it’s the night before the best day of your life and I’m ruining it,” Azzi sobs; now that she’s let the tears out, it’s like they refuse to stop.

“No you’re not,” Paige corrects her immediately, her tone leaving no room for argument, “you could never ruin anything for me baby. Just you being here, it makes it-,” she gives Azzi a wobbly smirk, “it makes tonight un-ruin-able or something.”

And in spite of the heaviness pinching at her ribs, Azzi finds herself letting out a watery chuckle, “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It so is,” Paige says assertively, pulling Azzi onto her lap so that the younger girl is straddling her hips, her head instinctively burrowing itself into the safe space in the crevice between the blonde’s neck and shoulder as they breathe together in synch with each other’s heartbeat

A beat passes before Azzi speaks again, the vulnerability leaking through her voice despite it being muffled by Paige’s skin, “this is gonna be really fucking hard isn’t it?”

Paige’s arms instinctively tighten around the brunette, her hands that had been playing with her curls stilling as her body goes rigid under Azzi. It’s a thought that both of them have had -their eyes have even said it each other in the moments where the inevitability of their future had been to hard to ignore- but neither of them had, had the courage to actually say it out loud yet, to give that thought the wing to fly into the air and hang between them like a sword of reality waiting to cut through their mirage of wilful ignorance.

But the sword has been unsheathed now. And the mirage has disappeared.

“Yeah it is,” Paige says finally, her fingers slipping under Azzi’s shirt to caress her back, like she’s trying to soothe her girlfriend and keep herself sane just by being able to touch her, “it is scary and it is- it’s gonna be really fucking hard.”

Azzi whimpers, trying to push herself further into her girlfriend’s embrace, almost like she’s trying to sew them together by their skin with a thread that no force in the world could unbind.

“But baby listen,” Paige coaxes Azzi’s face out of her chest, her thumbs resting on the younger girl’s jawling as she looks at her with that gentle gaze she reserves solely for her girlfriend, “no matter what- no matter how scary or hard it is- we’re gonna get through this. I know we are. Because you and me Az? We’re unbreakable- we’re un-ruin-able.”

Azzi lets out a wobbly laugh as she presses her forehead against the blonde’s, eyes closing instinctively as she breathes in the clean, calming, scent of Paige’s lavender body wash, “just cause you keep using it, doesn’t mean it’s suddenly gonna become a word, you know that right?”

“Yeah but it got you to smile twice so I’mma keep using it over and over again,” Paige shrugs, her nose nuzzling against Azzi’s.

“You’re such a cornball Bueckers,” Azzi announces with a somewhat dramatic eye roll before she’s falling back into the pillows, tugging her girlfriend with her so she’s lying on her back, with Paige hovering right over her, cerulean blue eyes gleaming with love and promise as she smiles down at Azzi.

“But here you are anyways,” Paige whispers as she presses her lips languidly to Azzi’s forehead, before moving down to her cheeks, then to her lips, “loving me,” she bites the lower one softly before moving onto Azzi’s neck and her collarbone, “wanting me,” her lips drift lower, gently lifting her shirt so she can leave a trail of delicate kisses starting at rib cage and then continuing down, a teasing smirk on her face, “needing me.”

“Paige,” Azzi moans, her fingers curling against the sheet as Paige settles between her legs, hands toying with the waistband of her sleep shorts as she looks expectantly up at the brunette.

“What do you want, baby?” Paige asks, looking at Azzi like she’s already drunk off of her.

“I want it slow,” Azzi says quietly, reaching a hand down to brush away a strand of unruly blonde hair, “I want you to make it last.”

“Whatever you want Az,” Paige promises, rising back up so she can pull Azzi into a searing hot kiss, “I’ll give you whatever you want baby.”

And she does.

It’s slow and steady and perfect. They make love like they could make it last forever, like they have all the time in the world, like tonight won’t change into tomorrow unless they want it to. And when they finally fall apart, wrapped so tightly in each other arms, grounded by the feeling of being each other’s anchor, it feels like a vow; a vow to be un-ruin-able.

April 14th 3:47 p.m.

Paige’s knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since she’d taken her seat on the hair and make-up chair. She’s acutely away of everything going on around her, of Haley’s curling iron putting the finishing touches on her hair, of Brittany making sure all of the pieces for her outfit change later on in the night are ready to be transported, of teammates -past and present- walking in and out of the room with praises of how good she looks and how proud they are of her. And Paige is thankful for all of them -is almost a little overwhelmed with how her village has come out to support her- but she can’t pretend that she’s not counting down the moments till her hair and make-up are done, till she can jump out of this chair and run down the hallway to her girlfriend.

Beyond the quiet moment they’d shared when they’d woken up -at a far too early hour- this morning and a quick glimpse of each other before they’d been whisked away to get ready for the night, she hasn’t seen Azzi nearly enough today. They’d texted of course, like they always did when they were apart for longer than a minute. But no amount of messages back and forth could replace the exhilaration that came with actually being together, that came with being able to see her and touch her and feel her.

God Paige is so fucking gone, has been since she was fifteen and she’d walked into the gym to see the most perfect arc on a three-point shot that she’d ever seen. And then her gaze had landed on the girl who’d taken the jumpshot.

That was it.

The moment Paige’s life had been permanently altered.

And now that girl, the girl with the perfect jump shot but an even more perfect soul, was going to be by her side on the biggest night of her life so far, just like she had been for every milestone -every moment, big or small, happy or sad- since they’d met.

Paige remembers when they’d first talked about being drafted and playing the W. Back then, it had felt like a dream, attainable but something that was still years and years away. But still, she’d been adamant, if not cocky, that she’d be a high first-round pick and Azzi -even though she’d started with a sarcastic quip and a teasing joke about you? nah Bueckers, you’d be lucky if you go late second round-had said with absolute certainty, her eyes sparkling with an emotion Paige couldn't quite decipher, that she was going to go number one overall.

And it had caught Paige off-guard, that fluttering in her stomach as her chest had expanded with pride. It wasn’t the first time someone had complimented her, wasn’t even the first time someone had said she’d go number one but there was a certain conviction in Azzi's voice that made Paige feel like she really believed it, believed in her.

That belief was going to pay off tonight.

And Azzi -just like she’d promised, when they were just two girls lying on a blanket under the stars, pinkies brushing together as they’d talked about their future- would be right there to watch it happen.

“Are we done yet?” Paige asks impatiently, looking imploringly at her entourage through the mirror.

“Why?” Hayley’s eyes twinkle with mirth as she spritzes copious amounts setting spray against Paige’s hair, making the blond wheeze, “you have somewhere you need to be Bueckers?”

“Me? No. I got nothing to do,” Paige denies, “but Brittany has another client she has to go see I think and like you know, we shouldn’t keep her from doing that right Britt?”

Her stylist raises an amused eyebrow, “no one’s keeping me from seeing my other client Paige. In fact, you’re basically done and I’ve got your second look read to go, so I think I’m gonna go over and see her I think,” Brittany smirks as she walks towards the makeup chair, winking at Hayley, “but since you have nowhere to be yet, how about we do a little-”

“NO,” Paige shrinks back, a crimson blush creeping up her neck and overriding the artificial one at how loud her protest had come out, “I mean um- I already look great I think and you guys uh- you guys have worked so hard. We wouldn’t wanna ruin that by adding more and um- doing too much or something.”

Brittany laughs at her client’s rambling, shaking her head fondly at Paige’s familiar antiques as she comes to stand in front of the girl, “you’re a horrible liar.”

“I know,” Paige admits with a slight pout, “I just- I wanna see her.”

“She wants to see you too,” Brittany whispers like it’s a secret as she hands over her phone and Paige’s eyes light up when she sees her girlfriend’s name above a series of texts.

Azzi: heyyyyyyy auntie B

just wondering how everything’s going over there?

if you’re almost done?

are you coming over soon?

Paige laughs, a warm sensation wrapping itself around her heart at the desperation that mirrors her own, reflected in the texts. She can practically picture her girlfriend, her eyebrows scrunched in concentration, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she’d likely overthought what to send to their stylist.

“Y’all are just as bad as each other,” Brittany says, “but come on lovebird, let’s reunite you with your other half and put us all out of our misery.”

Paige grins like a child who’s just been told they’re being taken to disney world, standing up from her make-up chair so quickly that it makes her stumble a little bit, much to the entertainment of all the people around her. She catches a glance of herself, the finished product, in the mirror and can’t help the slightly arrogant smirk that crosses her face.

She looks good.

Fashion hadn’t initially been one of Paige’s passions but perhaps that was more because she wasn’t aware of what fashion could be for her before. She’d never understood the hype of the overly feminine dresses and jewelry her mother seemed to want her to wear but she’d done it with a smile until dressing herself like that had started to feel more like a punishment than an indulgence. And it hadn’t been until she’d started venturing into the more ambiguous style, into something that felt more her, that Paige had really begun to understand just how much she enjoyed dabbling in fashion, just how much she could use it as a venture to express herself, as a way to fall back in love with herself for who she is.

By the time they make the short walk to Azzi’s dressing room, Paige’s palms are sweating. She feels like a highschooler who’s waiting to see their prom date. Ironic, because Paige hated every second of the day leading up to Azzi’s prom night, annoyed at the idea of someone else taking her girl as their date. Still, she’d played her part as a dutiful best friend, driving Azzi around to get her nails done, laughing with her as she'd gotten her hair and make-up done, taking candid pictures of her when she wasn’t looking and a couple more when she was. But every second had felt like torture, like a ticking timebomb waiting to explode the moment Azzi’d date had shown up at the Fudd’s doorstep. It wasn’t until Azzi had stepped into his car -turning around to wave up at Paige with an uncertain smile- and the blonde had watched it drive away from the window of the guestroom, that she’d finally broken down.

But then Azzi had come back early, a thousand and one excuses on her lips of why she’d skipped out on the after party, none of which really made sense but neither of her parents, and definitely not Paige herself, had called her out on it. And she hadn’t said the truth out loud that night -just gotten out of her dress and curled into bed next to Paige, putting on Love and Basketball for the hundredth time- but it had been enough, enough for Paige to know that it wasn’t all in her head, that Azzi felt the electricity that hummed between them too.

The sweet scent of a citrus-y perfume engulfs her sense as Paige pushes open the door to her girlfriend’s room. She doesn’t quite recognize it, isn’t the one that Azzi normally uses, but something about it matches the brunette’s aura. Paige’s eyes scan the room, throwing the peace sign up at Amari who’s perched lazily on the bed and giving polite nods to the glam squad who are bustling around the space. She scrunches her face at not immediately catching sight of her girlfriend, her impatience catching up to her, until she hears it.

Azzi’s voice.

Coming from the direction of the bathroom; her tone carefree and light as she talks to who Paige assumes is Mackenzie. She hears the shutter of a camera, a quick work it girl, followed by her girlfriend’s familiar giggles and Paige feels her heart beat start to slow down, that calm she only feels when Azzi’s near her starting to seep through her skin like a the perfect hit of indica settling her frazzled nerves.

“Baby,” she calls out, blushing at the fact that she can hear the sappy smile in her own voice, “c’mere. I wanna see you.”

On the bed Amari pretends to gag, “still as gross as ever I see.”

Paige flips her off, shifting her weight from side to side as she waits for Azzi to come out of the bathroom, desperate feeling like too mild a term to describe how badly she wants to see the brunette.

And when she does-

Fuck.

It’s like they forget how to breathe at the same time, the world fading away as the two of them stare at each other, eyes wide, mouth parted, that same how did I get so fucking lucky expression written over both of their faces. And the thing is, Paige swears Azzi is the most gorgeous thing she’s laid her eyes on every day, thinks she’s the prettiest girl in the world even when she’s in nothing but that one old Georgetown shirt and her shorts covered in red hearts, with no makeup on. But tonight?

God, tonight, Azzi is ethereal.

Like nothing Paige has ever seen before.

Like an angel fallen from heaven that was so gorgeous, she’d been banished by Aphrodite herself.

Paige had seen the black dress on Azzi during her fittings, had already been enamored by the low cut neckline and the way the material went sheer at the bottom. But still, nothing could have prepared her for this final look. For the hair, wavy in a way Paige has never seen it before, the makeup that makes Azzi’s doe eyes pop and enunciates the plumpness of her lips, the minimal jewelry that enhances the entire outfit and makes Azzi look expensive.

And Paige can’t tell if she’s floating or flying or falling, but she knows the ground has been snatched from underneath her in the best way possible.

“Paige,” Azzi recovers first and Paige blinks -still dumbfounded- as her girlfriend glides across the room towards her and she’s struck with the fact that Azzi looks just as mesmerized as she does.

“You look-” the brunette swallows, her hands moving like she doesn’t know where she wants to put them before they finally settle on the lapels of the older girl’s blazer, “fuck baby you look beautiful.”

“Me?” Paige finally finds her voice, her own hand moving to wrap around Azzi’s waist as she pulls her girlfriend closer, eyes still roaming all over her body, “baby have you fucking seen yourself.”

Azzi lowers her eyes bashfully, a soft pink color gracing her cheeks, “you like it?”

“No,” Paige says without hesitation, causing her girlfriend to look back up at her in confusion, “I hate it. I hate that you’re wearing it tonight. I hate that everyone else is gonna get to see you like this,” she continues possessively, eliciting a laugh from Azzi, “you look so fucking perfect baby, everyone’s gonna fall in love with you. I’m gonna end up in jail or something by the end of the night.”

“How do you think I feel,” Azzi bites back, pressing herself closer to Paige, “they’re already in love with you and then you’re gonna show up like that? I’ll be right there in jail with you at that point.”

“So what I’m hearing is that we should just stay here for the rest of the night? Just you and me and nobody else,” Paige smirks crookedly, “I mean I’mma get drafted even if I don't show up right?”

Azzi shakes her head, tangling her fingers in the black cross chain dangling down the valley of her girlfriend’s chest, “tempting but no,” her eyes shine with pride, “I wanna watch your dreams come true tonight. I wanna hear your name called. I wanna see you walk on that stage and get handed that jersey. And I- I wanna be the one clapping the loudest when it all happens.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be anybody else,” Paige whispers, her voice trembling as she tightens her grip around Azzi’s waist, “you know that right baby? That I wouldn’t wanna live out any of my dreams with anybody else but you?”

“I know, me too,” Azzi nods, gently tapping their foreheads together, “I’m so proud of you P. So proud. And I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” Paige says, somehow managing to press their bodies even closer together, “thank you for being here. Not just tonight. For all of it. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Always,” Azzi breathes out, “I’m always gonna be here. No matter what.”

It’s a promise Azzi intends to keep and a promise Paige plans on holding her to, forever.

April 15th 5:35 a.m.

Their hotel room is quiet now, the last of their friends having drunkenly departed to their respective rooms. The high of the night still lingers in the air, echoes of the cacophony that had surrounded them since they’d woken up this morning still ringing in their ears. The room is a mess to say the least, remnants of drunk shenanigans woven into the couch and carpet. It’s the scene of the after-after party that had only involved the people closest to them, a not-so-quiet affair that had happened rather spontaneously after the Nike event had ended and their little circle -none of them particular sober- had agreed to reconvene in Paige and Azzi’s room instead. Champagne had flowed, the music had been loud and the chatter had been practically incoherent.

But God, had it been fun.

The perfect celebration of a monumentally perfect night.

And now it was just the two of them, tired, aching bodies lying side by side -Paige, with her eyes closed, on her back, one arm wrapped around Azzi’s who’s curled against her chest, the other propped under her head- as they finally get a moment to themselves. Neither of them have changed, but at some point Paige’s white shirt had ended up wrapped around Azzi’s body, leaving the blonde in nothing but her white camisole now. Azzi doesn’t remember how exactly that had happened but she’s not complaining, not when she’s now engulfed by the scent of all things Paige and she has a first-class view of her girlfriend’s toned arms.

“So,” she begins quietly, her voice scratchy and hoarse from the occurrences of the night, “when are we going shopping for a cowboy hat and cowboy boots?”

Paige laughs, a deep belly rumble that Azzi’s can feel from where her fingers are splayed over the blonde’s stomach, “as soon as we get to Dallas baby.”

We.

Azzi hides a smile into Paige’s chest at that. She likes when her girlfriend speaks about them like that, like the package deal they have been since they were fifteen years old. Her eyes flicker across the room to the Dallas Wings hat that’s perched on the mirror, a relic of what’s to come and the thrill of what had happened tonight. Everyone had known this was what was going to happen since December, a foregone conclusion but that hadn’t made the moment any less special. Not when Azzi has been waiting for it -praying on it even before she’d truly discovered her faith- since the first time Paige had confided in her -with uncharacteristic quiet vulnerability- that she hoped one day she’d go number one in the draft.

And tonight, that had finally come to fruition.

There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how proud of Paige, Azzi is. She’s never doubted this moment would come, never doubted that this would be another mountain her girlfriend would conquer, but she knows -better than anyone- that the climb to the top had been riddled with obstacles. Hurdle after hurdle, Azzi had watched Paige jump over them all, maintaining a smile for the crowds but letting herself crumble in the brunette’s arms behind the scenes. And Azzi had held her, whispered reassurances into her ears until the blonde was fast asleep with tear-tracked cheeks and her own arms had hurt from holding Paige. But the idea of letting go had never once crossed Azzi’s mind. Instead she’d held her girlfriend a little tighter, had made herself stronger, so that whatever burden Paige was carrying, Azzi would always be there to make it lighter.

Now here Paige is, a national champion, the #1 draft pick, a person who’d dared to dream despite it all, and the dreams had finally become a reality.

And as she observes her girlfriend, eyes closed in peace with the smile of someone who’s really and truly happy, Azzi thinks no one deserved this more.

“You’re staring,” Paige teases, eyelids still pressed shut as she brushes her hand up and down Azzi’s arm.

The brunette bites her lip, only a little embarrassed at having been caught out, “I’m allowed to. You’re mine.”

“Oh?” Paige cracks open one eye, her lips stretching into that familiar arrogant smirk, “feeling a little possessive are we Az?”

“It’s the alcohol,” Azzi justifies with a grin, reaching up to steal a quick kiss from her girlfriend’s lips, “it makes me say the craziest things.”

Paige hums cavalierly before pulling Azzi fully on top of her, both eyes now open as she grins lazily up at the girl in her arms and it’s uncertain if the intoxication gleaming in them is from the ample amount of liquor coursing through her bloodstream or just the sheer amount of love she feels for her girlfriend.

“I like when you say crazy things,” she says softly, her thumb caressing the brunette’s cheeks, “especially things like that.”

“Like what?” Azzi breathes out.

Paige’s tongue traces her bottom lip and Azzi finds herself following every movement, “like when you call me yours.”

“You are mine,” Azzi repeats, “and I’m yours.”

“I know,” Paige whispers as she brushes away a loose strand that had slipped out of the dark-haired girl’s bun, “and now the world knows it too.”

“You think so?” Azzi asks softly, a thrill inching up her spine at the idea of them officially being an open secret.

“They should,” Paige snorts, “at least anybody with brain cells. I bet you, when I scroll through social media tomorrow morning, we’re gonna be all over it.”

Tonight hadn’t been a planned coming-out or anything; it wasn’t like they were trying to announce their relationship to the world. But they’d known what it would look like, what assumptions would be drawn from Azzi sitting pretty at Paige’s table, from her being the first person Paige hugged. They’d been acutely aware that this would firmly cross them over the threshold of being primarily known as best friends to people -as in the general public and not just a certain subsection of the internet who had already caught on long ago- questioning if there was more there.

But that hadn’t been why they’d done this, albeit Azzi will admit that she likes the idea of being less hidden and the slightly possessive part of her enjoys the idea of people knowing, or at least speculating, that Paige is taken. They’d done this because they deserved this moment together. They deserved to love each other out loud in the biggest of moment of Paige’s life, without fear, without inhibition, without giving a flying fuck about what anybody else would say.

“Tonight was pretty amazing huh?” Paige says after a second, awe and tired blending into one smooth, low, cadence.

Azzi doesn’t say anything for a while, just watches the girl underneath her, memorizing the marvel in her eyes, the joy that outlines every inch of her face. She presses a hand against Paige’s chest, exactly over where she knows her heart is, letting herself feel the rhythmic vibration of her pulse, like it’s the beat to her favorite song that she could listen to over and over again.

“Was it everything you’d ever hoped for?” she asks finally.

Paige chortles, “it was better.”

“I’m glad. You deserved it baby,” Azzi smiles, pressing her lips to Paige’s, letting it deepen for a second before she pulls away and rests her head against the older girl’s chest.

“I can’t wait to do this again next year,” Paige says slowly, her hands rubbing up and down Azzi’s back as her words come out slightly slurred,“my turn to clap the loudest when you get picked number one.”

Azzi lets out a sleepy giggle, “alright hold on babe, we’re not quite there yet.”

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, arms tightening their hold on the girl in her arms, “I already know.”

“Okay baby,” Azzi whispers, her eyes beginning to droop, powerless to the exhaustion shrouding every inch of her body, “can’t wait,” she yawns, burrowing herself further into her girlfriend’s warm embrace, “I love you. Good night P.”

“Good night Azzi,” Paige echoes back, reaching over the younger girl’s to turn the lights over, "love you more baby."

And as she slowly begins to succumb to the wiles of sleep, Azzi can’t help but think about how everything had changed tonight. They were going to spend a couple more days in New York, then a few more in Connecticut -maximizing their time together- before Paige would head off to Dallas, off to her new life. Azzi would follow her eventually, of course she would. But not forever, not to stay.

Summers have always belonged to them. Since they’d met that fateful summer, they’d spend every single one together, attached at the hip. In the beginning, when they were still kids and less aware of how they felt, they’d still been apart for a few weeks but the last few summers? They’d barely been apart for a few days. But this summer would be different. Paige will be playing, traveling, learning the ropes of her new life and Azzi knows she needs to use this summer to get her prepared to do the same next year. Everything has changed.

“Hey Az,” Paige whispers in the dark, her voice hesitant like she’s not sure if she say the next part, “next year when you get drafted, do you think- do you think maybe I could kiss you?”

Azzi hides her smile in the older girl’s chest. And she thinks everything has changed, but perhaps nothing has.

Because she’s still Azzi, and Paige is still Paige, and the two of them are still the same, still them, still just two girls, desperately in love with each other, dreaming of their future together.

“Yeah,” she answers finally, pressing a quick kiss against the side of Paige’s neck, “I think I’d like that.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi

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lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar · 2 years ago

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#showaddywaddy #why do lovers break each other's hearts #1980 #showaddywaddy gifs #the 6th and 7th ones make me laugh every time and i don't know why #that scene #their faces

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harrysfolklore · 7 months ago

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birthdays - cl16

summary: charles and yn's love story spans over two decades, beginning when they meet at charles' 6th birthday party, where she promised to be there for all of his birthdays. wc: 4.6k

folkie radio: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAIN BOY 🥹🥹 a few years ago i wrote a fic like this for harry and it’s one of my favorite things i’ve posted so i felt like doing a charles version! i hope you like this as much as i do <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

6th birthday

The sun shone brightly over Monaco as YN and her mother walked down the tree-lined street. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the salty breeze from the nearby Mediterranean. The little girl clutched her mother's hand tightly, her eyes wide as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings of their new neighborhood.

"Are you excited for the party, sweetheart?" her mother asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She nodded hesitantly. "But what if the other kids don't like me?"

"Don't worry, darling. I'm sure you'll make friends in no time," her mother assured her as they approached a beautiful villa with colorful balloons tied to the gate.

As they entered the backyard, they were greeted by the sight of children running around, laughter filling the air. A large bounce house dominated one corner, while a face-painting station was set up near the house. Tables adorned with race car-themed decorations were scattered around, laden with snacks and party favors.

A warm voice caught their attention. "Welcome! You must be our new neighbors."

YN looked up to see a kind-faced woman approaching them, a welcoming smile on her face.

"I'm Pascale Leclerc," she introduced herself, shaking her mother's hand. "And this must be YN! We're so glad you could make it."

She shyly hid behind her mother's leg, peeking out at Pascale.

"Charles!" Pascale called out. "Come here, darling. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

A small boy with tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes came running over, his cheeks flushed from playing.

"Charles, this is YN. She's new to the neighborhood," Pascale explained. "Why don't you introduce her to your friends?"

Charles grinned widely, revealing a missing front tooth. "Hi! Do you want to play with us? We're having a treasure hunt!"

She looked up at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. Slowly, she stepped out from behind her mother's leg.

"Okay," she said softly, "And happy birthday."

Charles's grin grew even wider. He reached out and took her hand. "Come on! I'll show you where we've found clues already!"

For the rest of the afternoon, YN found herself caught up in the excitement of the party. She and Charles searched for treasure and bounced in the bounce house. By the time the cake was brought out the little girl was laughing and chatting with her new friends as if she'd known them for years.

As the party began to wind down and parents started arriving to pick up their children, Charles approached YN, a serious look on his young face.

"YN," he said, "will you come to my other birthdays too?"

"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically. "We should be friends!"

Charles's face lit up. "Best friends!" he declared, holding out his pinky.

The girl linked her pinky with his, sealing their newfound friendship. As she left the party, clutching a goody bag and wearing a bright smile, she knew she had found something special in her new home.

12th birthday

The wheels of their bicycles whirred as YN and Charles raced down the winding streets of Monaco. The sun beat down on them, but the breeze created by their speed kept them cool. YN's laughter echoed off the buildings as she pedaled harder, trying to keep up with Charles.

"Come on!” Charles called over his shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face. "We're going to be late for my own party!"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "It's your fault for insisting on this bike race, birthday boy!"

They skidded to a stop in front of Charles's house, both breathing heavily but grinning from ear to ear. The front yard was already bustling with activity - balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the chatter of arriving guests filled the air.

As they walked their bikes to the garage, YN nudged Charles with her elbow. "I can't believe you're twelve already. You're practically ancient."

Charles laughed, running a hand through his windswept hair. "Says the girl who's been twelve for a whole two months. Come on, I smell cake!"

The party was in full swing, with kids from their school playing games and enjoying the sunny day. Charles's parents had outdone themselves this year, setting up a mini go-kart track in the backyard. The birthday boy, of course, was the undisputed champion, zipping around the track with a skill that left his friends in awe.

As the afternoon wore on, everyone gathered around a large table. In the center stood a cake, decorated to look like a Formula 1 car, complete with Charles' lucky number on the side. Twelve candles flickered atop the cake, their flames dancing in the gentle breeze.

Charles's eyes widened as his parents brought out the cake and the guests began to sing "Happy Birthday," their voices rising in a cheerful chorus. YN sang along enthusiastically, watching her best friend's face light up with joy.

As the song came to an end, Charles took a deep breath. With a determined look in his eye, he leaned forward and blew out all twelve candles in one go.

While Charles's mother began cutting the cake, YN edged closer to her best friend. "So," she said with a grin, "what did you wish for? To finally beat me in Mario Kart?"

Charles glanced around conspiratorially before leaning in close. "I wished to win the Monaco Grand Prix one day," he confessed, his green eyes sparkling with dreams of future glory.

YN's smile softened. Even after six years of friendship, Charles's passion for racing never failed to impress her.

"Wow," she said. "That's a pretty big wish."

"It's my biggest dream. But you can't tell anyone, okay? Or it won't come true."

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised. Then, struck by a sudden thought, she held out her pinky finger. "Hey, remember when we promised to be friends forever at your sixth birthday?"

"Of course!" Charles's face lit up with recognition, "Best decision I ever made," he said, linking his pinky with hers.

"Well, let's renew that promise. Friends forever, no matter what. That way, when you win the Monaco Grand Prix, I'll be right there cheering you on."

"Deal," Charles agreed, shaking their linked pinkies. "Forever friends."

As they sealed their promise for the second time, both of them felt the weight of it. At twelve, forever seemed like an awfully long time, but neither could imagine a future without the other in it.

16th birthday

The Italian sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and pink as YN made her way through the bustling paddock. The air smelt of rubber and gasoline, the sounds of engines filling her ears. She clutched a small, wrapped package in her hands, her eyes scanning the team garages for a familiar face.

Finally, she spotted him - Charles was standing next to his Formula 3 car, deep in conversation with his engineer. Even from a distance, she could see the intensity in his eyes, the determination set in his jaw. At sixteen, Charles was no longer the little boy she'd met at that birthday party a decade ago. He was taller now, leaner, with the beginnings of stubble on his chin.

"Charles!" she called out, waving to catch his attention.

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and his serious expression melted into a wide grin. "YN! You made it!" He excused himself from his engineer and jogged over to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Of course I made it," YN laughed, returning the embrace, "I couldn't miss your birthday, even if you insisted on spending it at a racetrack in Italy."

Charles pulled back, his eyes shining with excitement. "I'm so glad you're here. Come on, let me show you around."

As they walked through the paddock, Charles pointed out different teams and drivers, explaining the intricacies of Formula 3 racing. She listened intently, asking questions and marveling at how much Charles had grown not just in stature, but in knowledge and passion for his sport.

They ended up in Charles' team garage, where a small cake sat on a tool cart, a single candle stuck in the center.

"The team got it for me," Charles explained, looking a bit embarrassed. "They said we had to have something, even if we're not having a proper party."

YN smiled softly. "Well, then we better make it count." She lit the candle and started singing "Happy Birthday," her voice soon joined by the mechanics and other team members who had gathered around.

Charles blew out the candle, his cheeks slightly flushed. As the cake was being cut and distributed, YN handed him her gift.

"It's not much," she said as he unwrapped it, "but I thought you might like it."

Inside was a leather-bound journal, the cover embossed with Charles' initials.

"I thought you could use it to write down your thoughts, your goals… maybe even your future Formula 1 strategies," she explained with a wink.

Charles's eyes lit up. "This is perfect. Thank you." He pulled her into another hug, this one lasting a bit longer than usual.

As they sat on the pit wall, eating cake and watching the sun set over the track, YN turned to Charles. "So, how does it feel? Being here, racing in Formula 3… you're so close to your dream now."

Charles nodded, his expression turning serious. "It feels amazing, but also a bit scary. Everything's happening so fast, you know? Sometimes I worry…"

"Worry about what?" she prompted gently.

"That I might not be good enough," Charles sighed, "That I'll let everyone down."

"Charles, look at me," YN reached out and took his hand, when he met her eyes, she continued, "You are the most talented, dedicated person I know. You're going to make it to Formula 1, and you're going to be amazing."

"You really think so?" a small smile tugged at Charles's lips.

"I know so," she affirmed,then, with a playful nudge, she added, "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything," Charles replied without hesitation.

"When you make it to Formula 1 and become a big star, don't forget about me, okay?"

Charles's expression softened, and for a moment, YN thought she saw something flicker in his eyes - something more than just friendship. But before she could analyze it, he squeezed her hand and said, "I could never forget about you. No matter what happens, you'll always be my best friend."

What YN didn't know was that in that moment, Charles was fighting the urge to tell her how he really felt. That she wasn't just his best friend, but the girl he had fallen in love with years ago.

But the timing wasn't right, not yet.

So he pushed the feelings down, locked them away. There would be time for matters of the heart later. For now, he had a championship to win and a birthday to celebrate - with his best friend by his side, just as she'd always been.

21st birthday

The Monaco night was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Charles Leclerc's 21st birthday party was in full swing at a rooftop bar overlooking the Mediterranean.

The who's who of the racing world mingled with Charles' friends and family, all gathered to celebrate the young Sauber driver's birthday.

YN stood at the edge of the crowd, nursing a glass of champagne as she watched Charles work the room. He moved with an easy confidence, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with team principals and fellow drivers. Yet every few minutes, his eyes would scan the crowd until they found her, and he'd flash her a quick smile before returning to his conversations.

As the night wore on, YN found herself on the balcony, enjoying a moment of quiet away from the party. The view of Monaco at night was breathtaking - the lights of the city twinkled below, mirroring the stars above.

"There you are," a familiar voice said behind her. "I've been looking for you."

She turned to see Charles approaching, two fresh glasses of champagne in his hands. He handed one to her before leaning on the balcony railing beside her.

"Sorry," she said with a small smile. "I just needed a bit of air. It's quite a party in there."

"Yeah, I think the team might have gone a bit overboard," Charles chuckled, "But I'm glad you're here."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their champagne and looking out over the city.

"So," YN said finally, turning to face him. "How does it feel to be 21? Official adult now, Formula 1 driver… you're living the dream, Charles."

Charles's expression turned thoughtful. "It feels… surreal, honestly. Sometimes I can't believe this is my life." He paused, then added softly, "But you know what the best part is?"

"What's that?"

Charles turned to face her, his green eyes intense in the moonlight. "That you're still here. After all these years, all these changes… you're still by my side."

YN felt her heart skip a beat at the earnestness in his voice. "Of course I am, Charles. I'll always be here for you. We made a promise, remember? Best friends forever."

Charles felt his heart race at her words. "Best friends forever." The phrase that had once brought him so much comfort now felt like a bittersweet reminder of the feelings he'd been harboring for so long.

As he looked at her, bathed in the soft glow of the Monaco night, memories flooded his mind. He thought of her cheering him on at his first go-kart race, of late-night study sessions where he'd catch himself staring at her instead of his textbooks, of the way his heart had leapt when she'd surprised him at his race in Italy on his 16th birthday. He realized he couldn't pinpoint exactly when he'd fallen in love with her because, in a way, he always had been.

The weight of his unspoken feelings suddenly felt unbearable. The thought of going another day, another year, without her knowing the truth seemed impossible. Charles took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

"YN," he said softly, setting down his champagne glass and taking her free hand in his. "There's something I need to tell you."

She looked up at him, curiosity and a hint of something else – was it hope? – in her eyes. "What is it, Charles?"

Charles swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his ears. "You're right, we did make a promise to be best friends forever. And you are my best friend, YN. You're the person who knows me better than anyone else in the world. But..." he paused, gathering his courage. "But you're not just my best friend. You're the one I'm in love with. I always have been."

YN's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. Charles pressed on, unable to stop now that he'd started.

"I can't hold back anymore. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Every success and failure, every moment of doubt or triumph – you're the one I want to share it all with. Not just as my friend, but as... as more."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know this might change everything between us, and if you don't feel the same way, I understand. But I couldn't let another birthday go by without telling you the truth. You're it for me, YN. You always have been."

For a moment that felt like an eternity, she stood frozen, her eyes locked with Charles's. The weight of his words hung in the air between them, charged with years of unspoken feelings and shared history.

Then, without warning, YN closed the distance between them. She reached up, cupping Charles's face in her hands, and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Charles, caught off guard for only a split second, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, YN rested her forehead against Charles'. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears of joy as she whispered, "I love you too, Charles. I think I always have."

Charles felt his heart soar, a smile spreading across his face that was brighter than any he'd ever worn on a podium. "Really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder and hope.

She nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Really. I just... I never thought you'd feel the same way. You're Charles, I'm just-"

"You're everything," Charles interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "You're my best friend, my biggest supporter, the person I want to share every moment with. You're the one who knows all of me, not just the racer, but the boy who still gets nervous before every race and who can't sleep without his lucky charm."

YN smiled, remembering the small trinket she'd given him years ago that he still kept with him at every race. "We've been quite oblivious, haven't we?" she said, shaking her head in amusement.

Charles chuckled, pulling her close again. "Maybe. But we have all the time in the world to make up for it now."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms with the twinkling lights of Monaco as their backdrop, both felt as though they were exactly where they were meant to be. The sounds of the party drifted out to them, a reminder of the celebration waiting inside, but for now, they were content in their own world.

"Happy birthday, Charles," YN murmured, leaning in for another kiss.

Charles smiled against her lips. "Best birthday ever," he replied before closing the distance between them once more.

24th birthday

The sun was setting over Monaco as YN stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She smoothed down her dress, a sleek number in Charles' favorite shade of red. As she fastened her earrings, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"You look absolutely stunning," Charles murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "You clean up pretty well yourself, birthday boy," she replied, taking in his sharp suit and perfectly styled hair.

Charles pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck, causing her to shiver slightly. "You know," he said, his voice low and playful, "we could always skip the party. Stay here, just the two of us…"

"Nice try, Leclerc," YN laughed, turning in his arms to face him, "But your team worked hard on this party, and all your friends and family are waiting." She reached up, straightening his tie. "Besides, I put a lot of effort into your gift. I want to see your face when you open it."

"Oh? Any hints about what it might be?" Charles' eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Not a chance," YN grinned, tapping his nose playfully. "You'll just have to wait and see."

He pouted for a moment before breaking into a warm smile. "Fine, keep your secrets. As long as I have you by my side, that's all the gift I need."

YN felt her heart melt at his words. Even after all these years, Charles still had the ability to make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth.

"I love you too," Charles replied, deepening the kiss for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. "But you're right, we should get going. We don't want to be late to my own party."

As they drove through the winding streets of Monaco, the city lights twinkling like stars, YN couldn't help but steal glances at Charles. Suddenly, she noticed that they were heading away from the bustling city center.

"Charles?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. "I think we're going the wrong way. The party's downtown, isn't it?"

Charles smiled mysteriously, his eyes never leaving the road. "I thought we'd take a little detour first. Trust me?"

"Always."

They drove in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the familiar sights of Monaco giving way to a quieter, more residential area. Finally, Charles pulled up in front of a beautiful house, its elegant facade bathed in the glow of streetlights.

"Charles, what are we doing here?" YN asked as he came around to open her door.

He took her hand, helping her out of the car. "I have something to show you," he said softly, leading her towards the house.

As they approached the front door, Charles pulled out a key. YN's eyes widened in surprise. "Charles, is this...?"

He unlocked the door and gently guided her inside. The house was empty, but even in the dim light, she could see its potential - high ceilings, large windows, and an open floor plan that seemed to invite warmth and laughter.

Charles watched her take it all in, his heart pounding with nervous excitement. Finally, he spoke.

"YN, from the moment I met you, you've been my home. No matter where I am in the world, no matter what challenges I face on the track, you're my constant. My safe haven."

She turned to face him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Charles continued, his voice thick with emotion. "But I realized that while you've given me a home in your heart, I've never been able to offer you a physical place that's truly ours. Until now."

He took both of her hands in his. "This house... I bought it for us. I want it to be our home. A place where we can build our future together, where we can come back to after long days or weeks apart. A place filled with our love and hopefully... our family someday."

Tears were now flowing freely down YN's cheeks. "Charles," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"I know my career keeps us traveling a lot," he said, reaching up to wipe away her tears gently. "But I want you to have roots, a place that's ours. Where you can always feel safe and loved, even when I'm not there."

YN let out a watery laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You never cease to amaze me, Charles Leclerc. This is... it's perfect. It's more than I ever dreamed of."

"So, what do you say?" Charles pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers, "Ready to start our next chapter here?"

Instead of answering with words, she closed the gap between them, pouring all her love and gratitude into a passionate kiss. When they finally parted, both breathless, she whispered, "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

They stood there in the empty house that would soon become their home, holding each other close. The party, the guests, the whole world outside ceased to exist for a moment. It was just the two of them, standing on the threshold of their future together.

After a while, Charles chuckled softly. "You know, we're probably very late for the party now."

"I know," she said, her voice still thick with emotion, "It's supposed to be me giving you gifts on your birthday, not the other way around."

Charles chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I've never been very good at following rules," he teased. "Besides, seeing your face when I showed you our home? That's the best gift I could ever receive."

YN shook her head, a warm smile playing on her lips. "You're impossible, you know that? But I love you for it."

"And I love you, for as long as I can remember."

27th birthday

Charles stood on the balcony of their home, the same one he had surprised YN with three years ago. His fingers absently traced the outline of a small velvet box in his pocket, his heart racing with anticipation and nerves.

Inside, he could hear her moving about, putting the finishing touches on his birthday dinner. The aroma of his favorite dishes filled the air, bringing a smile to his face. At 27, Charles had achieved more than he ever dreamed possible – multiple Formula 1 wins, a strong contender for the championship, and most importantly, a life shared with his best friend and the love of his life.

"Charles?" her voice called from inside. "Dinner's ready!"

He took a deep breath, patting the ring box one last time before heading inside. The dining room was bathed in soft candlelight, the table set beautifully with their best china. YN stood by the table, looking radiant in a deep red dress that matched the color he wore on race days.

"Happy birthday, my love," she said softly, pulling him into a tender kiss.

As they sat down to eat, Charles couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come. "You know," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, "I was just thinking about my sixth birthday party."

"The day we met," she said with a warm smile. "How could I forget? I was so nervous about moving to a new place."

Charles chuckled, remembering the shy little girl who had hidden behind her mother's leg. "And now look at us. Twenty-one years later, and you're still the best gift I've ever received."

YN felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I remember you asked me to come to all your future birthdays," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"And you've been here for every single one," Charles replied, his green eyes shining with love.

The weight of the ring box in Charles' pocket seemed to grow heavier, but he resisted the urge to pull it out just yet. Tonight was about celebrating. The proposal could wait for another perfect moment.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he continued, "but I thank my lucky stars every day that you walked into that birthday party all those years ago. You've made every birthday since then more special than the last."

"Oh, Charles," she whispered, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. "You've given me more than I ever dreamed possible. That little girl who was so scared of not fitting in found her home in you."

They came together in a kiss that was soft and sweet, yet filled with the depth of their shared history and the promise of their future. As they held each other close, both were transported back to that sunny day in Monaco, two six-year-olds making a promise of friendship that had blossomed into a love story for the ages.

When they finally pulled apart, Charles rested his forehead against hers, a soft smile playing on his lips. "So," he said, his voice light but filled with emotion, "think you might stick around for a few more birthdays?"

YN laughed, the sound like music to Charles' ears. "Just try and keep me away, Leclerc. You're stuck with me for all your birthdays, forever and always."

As they finished their dinner, Charles felt the ring box in his pocket once more. Soon, he thought, he'd ask her to make it official, to promise him not just all his birthdays, but every day in between.

But for now, he was content to bask in the glow of their love, celebrating not just his 27th birthday, but the incredible journey they'd shared.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 grid x reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc birthday

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rosemarie333 · 8 days ago

Text

Astrology Observations

Tropical Version (not a fully detailed exploration of certain placements)

⚠️⚠️Do not take these seriously; this is based on my observations of certain placements. This is for fun!

Sag, Leo mercuries are so both super funny, but they express it very differently. Sag are the type of say something without thinking about it fully, but Leo mercuries once they get to know you will know what makes you laugh because they know what will. Leo mercuries are hilarious when telling stories, Sag mercuries are hilarious at commentary! (E.g berlezzy and coryxkenshin have sag mercuries and they have so many memes of saying funny things impulsively)

9th house placements in benefics 🤝🏾 doing well at college even when they don't try/ 9th house placements in malefics 🤝🏾 getting a bad grade for a assignment you studied 10 hours for

For those who do have Venus in the 9th (potentially Venus in Sag), look where yout Venus/DSC line is in astrocartography and lmk if you seem to attract foreigners from there or not. I have my Venus in the 9th and my Venus/DSC is in the heart of Paris/Madrid/ and Morroco and I find a lot of my lovers are from one of those places or at least 300 miles from those cities. Maybe look with your Jupiter/DSC line to see as well as Jupiter does represent yur husband 🤭

Saturn in the 1st house being born with model features. They literally have bone structure made from heaven as well. But they might have large teeth as Saturn does rule the teeth. Some may have big jaws as well

I know many people say Libra risings are sculpted from heaven earth, which I will not deny😋, but I find that Libra risings especially born 2004-2006 grow into their looks with time. Even if they have Venus-ASC aspects.

Saturn in the 3rd 🤝🏾 will ask a lot of questions just wanting to know more about the subject of conversation and unintentionally due to that Saturn influence it can seems that they are being critcal in some form or fashion.

Venus-Neptune/ Neptune in the 7th/ Neptune in the 5th: Have a whole crafted image of their partner that is completely opposite from reality at times. They can project their fantasies onto people but when they dont meet them 🤮 goes through their mind LOL. Gotta start seeing what people are for who they are it will save heartbreak in the future💀

6th house dominants love being englufed with perfume. If you see someone with a big ass perfume collection, they probably have 6th house promience. They loveeeee smelling good!

Gemini Mercuries are so underrated when it comes to how funny they are. I swear they are so good at reading the room and saying the funniest thing at the right time.

Pisces placements (especially Pisces rising, Moon, and Mars) have to deal with so much projection on a constant basis. People will look at a Pisces and just make up a story about them and push that projection whether its for good or not onto the Pisces person and being the Neptune they are they will take it as their own. People be seeing Pisces as weak and I hate it. But onto my second point:

People naturally underestimate Pisces and Libra placements due to their easygoing, non confrontational nature, but let it be known about their opposite house (Aries for Libra and Virgo for Pisces) and what they have to deal with when they step out of that nature. I know Tyla is a Aquarius rising, but she to me is a great example of what happens when a Pisces or Libra stick up for themselves😭 People were quick to call her uppity but when she stood up for herself on Twitter, people were gagged for some odd reason??

Those with Mercury-Chiron aspects, how is your relationship with your siblings?

Leo placements (Sun, Rising, Moon) can stifle themselves due to their need of validation and praise. When they dont get the praise they were expecting (even for bomb ass ideas and such) they will forget about it and toss it to the side because they didn't get validated for it. Most Leo's do well once they stop craving validation and praise from others and start learning to trust themselves with their ideas. They unfortunately lack self trust as much as they appear to have it.

This was my detailed not detailed observations of the placements, I hope you liked it!

#astro observations #astro notes

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bambi-lamb · 1 month ago

Text

seeing green

Summary: So maybe you made a not-so-great choice... in your defense, it was fun at the time. But now, looking at Wanda's raised eyebrow and dark smile, maybe you shouldn't have tried to make her so jealous. Hindsight is everything.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, dacryphilia, oral sex, cunnilingus, mommy kink, mean mommy wanda!!

WC: 1,266

A/N: was hit by a spark of irritation— i mean, inspiration, today

You pant loudly in the living room, gasping for breath. The curtains are drawn, only a thin shaft of light spilling onto the rug and one arm of the couch.

Wanda is leaned leisurely back against the couch, smiling darkly up at you as you cry out. Her hand stops for just one moment, and she hums softly as you twitch in her grasp.

"You sure you don't want Avery here instead, detka? You certainly seemed to be having a good time with her."

"No, no— no mommy just want you don't want her please— pleaseplease please let me come," you whine, squirming in Wanda's lap. She allows it for but a moment before her free hand clamps down on your hip again, holding you still.

"Really? I don't think I believe you…"

Wanda licks her lips, tracing soft, slow circles around your clit with the pad of her finger.

"Please, mommy. Don't want her, just want you. Just want mommy," you plead desperately, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"Hmm," Wanda hums, tutting softly when you whine again. "I don't know if I believe that, detka. You were all over her." Her voice dips dangerously, eyes flashing. You can tell she's displeased, and you flush; she's not wrong—you had been basically attached at the hip to your newest work friend Avery.

Normally, you wouldn't spend so much time with her, but it had been at least a little bit fun to see the way Wanda's jaw worked through her displeasure, and you'd enjoyed the dark glare she'd kept leveled on you the entire night. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing how much she wanted you, and so maybe you'd pushed it a little too far, leaning into Avery heavier or laughing a little brighter than you normally world.

It's not fun now as Wanda stops for probably the 6th or 7th time in a row, bringing you down from the edge of your orgasm and holding you still as tears drip down your face.

"You look so pretty, detka," she murmurs, leaning forward to lick away some of your tears.

You inhale sharply, feeling more tears spill over as she chuckles in the back of her throat.

"Regretting it now, honey?" she coos softly, thumb still pressed to your swollen clit.

"I'm sorry, mommy," you whimper, trying your best attempt at the saddest puppy-dog eyes you can manage, but she doesn't budge.

"Oh, pretty girl, you should've thought about that before you decided to spend the night flirting with Avery." Wanda hums dismissively as you whine and start crying again.

"No use crying over spilled milk, baby," she chuckles. "What's done is done. Maybe next time you'll think twice before you try another little stunt like this one."

"Please, mommy," you beg, wracking your brain for anything you can possibly say to appease Wanda. "Please, I belong to you, mommy."

Wanda looks at you sharply, interest piqued as she tilts her head slightly.

You chase the tail end of your declaration eagerly, perking up as you continue babbling.

"I'm yours, mommy, please. I just want you. I'm all yours."

Her thumb restarts its slow rhythm against your clit, and you nearly sob with relief, chasing the feeling as your mouth runs on and on without a single thought.

"Belong to mommy, please, just for mommy, all yours."

Her thumb is firm against your clit, and you shiver at the stimulation — it's too much and not enough all at once, and you yelp softly when she begins rubbing faster. Her entire hand is dripping wet, no thanks to you, but she just keeps looking up at you, encouraging the deluge of words flooding out of you.

"Please, mommy, please let me come, please."

Just as you reach the very edge, Wanda stops again, and you feel the tears restart without warning, pouring down your face as you whimper desperately.

"Tell me who you belong to again, baby," she coos, brushing your tears away with her thumb this time.

"You, mommy, please," you whine. "Belong to you."

"Then how come you were basically sitting on Avery's lap the whole night, huh?"

You sob softly, tears drip-dripping unstoppably now.

"Because I wanted to make you jealous, mommy," you hiccup, whining when Wanda presses down on your clit.

"And have you learned your lesson, detka?"

You nod fervently, abashed and apologetic. Wanda hums absently, but her thumb starts moving again, and you melt into the touch.

"Please, mommy, I belong to you," you profess eagerly, tears still flowing.

"It's okay, detka, I know. Be a good girl and tell me again, why don't you? Whose girl are you, hm?"

"Your girl, mommy," you hiccup softly, moaning when she loosens her grip on your hip and lets you start to rock against her finger.

"Again, detka, say it again," she whispers, eyes sharp and intense.

"I belong to you, mommy. I'm all yours. Please."

"One more time, baby, I just wanna hear you say it one more time and then you can come, okay?"

Wanda looks nearly feral, her pupils blown as she leans into your space, her thumb rubbing fast, tight circles over your clit. You can't help but shiver, gushing against her hand again as your orgasm fast-approaches.

"I'm yours, Wanda," you murmur, softening as you see her breathe a shuddery sigh of relief. You also lean forward, drawn to her magnetic allure, and meet her in the middle for a feverish kiss.

"Mine," she mumbles as she nibbles on your bottom lip, thumb rubbing furiously over your clit.

You jolt back, crying out as she drives her index and middle finger into your cunt, working double-time in an effort to make you come.

"Come for me, baby. You can come now," she's murmuring into your neck, but you can barely tell she's saying anything at all, the vibrations of sound a distant consideration as your vision whites out completely.

When you come to again, she's rearranged you entirely so you're lying down on the couch. You have a moment to just blink and breathe as sound and feeling returns to you, and as soon as you can feel your fingertips again, you whimper.

Wanda, tucked between your thighs, is licking softly at your cunt, dark green eyes intent on your expression.

You tremble your way through another orgasm, shivering as she crawls up the length of your body to settle herself on your chest.

"You did such a good job, detka," she murmurs softly, leaning up for a soft kiss.

"Felt good," you whisper in return, blushing lightly when she grins into your neck.

She reaches up to run her fingers through your hair, and sits up momentarily to reach for a blanket that she promptly pulls over top of both of you. As you lie on the couch, you hear Wanda's breath slowly even out, and your eyes begin to droop.

Clearly, though, she isn't really asleep, because you hear her voice, softer and more hesitant, float up.

"You don't actually like her that much, do you?"

You smother your grin against the top of her head and pull her up for another kiss, this one longer and warmer.

"No, I don't," you reply easily, watching the way the crease between her eyebrows smooths over and she finally seems to relax.

"I love you and only you," you murmur softly. "You're my favorite person."

She hums contentedly and presses a kiss to your chin.

"I love you too, detka."

She sits up momentarily, squinting at you suspiciously.

"But don't do that again."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #bambiblurbs

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hannahsturniolo · 27 days ago

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ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ

Warnings: Smut, p in v, riding, car sex

Summary: you went with Matt to visit all his family in Boston, and all of his extended family was at the house visiting, so you and Matt were stuck sleeping on the couch which means you couldn’t really have alone time, so you had to get creative.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and the triplets were flying out to see Matt’s family today. You were so excited to see Mary Lou and Jimmy. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them. You were really close with Mary Lou, she was going to be an amazing mother in law for you one day. Anytime you’d go to Boston, you’d go on a shopping spree with her, and go get your nails done and all the fun girly things she never got to do with the boys growing up.

Mary Lou was hosting a big get together at their place with family and friends from all over. People would be flying in from different states. Some of these people you’ve never met before since they were such distant cousins and other family members. There was going to be about 25 people in this house, staying the week. You were going to be in Boston for the whole week.

Matt had to give up his bedroom to his grandparents so we ended up sleeping on the couch for the whole week.

Before we left for Boston, you and matt hadn’t had sex in about 5 days since there was just so much going on, plus you were sick so you didn’t feel like having sex.

The 5th day in Boston, and the 10th day without sex was driving you and Matt crazy. You’d sleep on the couch together every night, but really couldn’t do much since Chris was on the other couch next to you. Matt would tease you every night. The lights would be off, and you’d feel his hand caress over your clothed pussy, and you’d push his hand away to stop since you didn’t want to get caught.

The 6th day you could not take it anymore. It was just after dinner, everyone was eating pizza, and laughing and having a good time. You were sitting beside Matt at the table, and you felt Matt’s hand move up your thigh. You jolted at the contact.

“Are you okay?” Said Nick.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine- I just- felt a random pain in my side.” You replied with rosy cheeks.

“Weird, I hope you’re okay” said Mary Lou all worried.

“I’m okay” you said with a smile.

Matt’s hand was still rubbing up your thigh close to where you needed him the most.

You were wearing a skirt, so he could easily slip his hand up there. But you couldn’t let him. There is a ton of family here.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back” you said as you quickly got up and walked to the bathroom upstairs.

You texted Matt.

(Pink is you, blue is Matt)

Are you kidding me Matt? Infront of your family?

I’m going crazy baby. I need you.

I need you too. I’ve been craving you like crazy.

We’re going to make an excuse later, after dinner that we’re going to the store to get snacks.

Ohhhhh car sex Matt?

Yeah baby let’s do it. That’s the plan

You came back downstairs, and sat back down in your spot beside Matt. Matt gave you that smirk he does that drives you crazy.

You and Matt finish up eating dinner.

“Okay mom, I’m gonna go to the store, we’re gonna get snacks for maybe a movie night tonight, do you need anything?” Matt asked Mary Lou.

“No, I’m okay thanks… actually maybe some sour patch kids” she laughed.

You and Matt hurried out the door.

We both sat in the car and looked at each other. Matt looked at you with such lust, and reached over to the passenger seat giving you a soft passionate kiss.

You felt the throbbing start between your legs.

You pulled away.

“Matt! at least wait until we go somewhere else that’s not the driveway” you laughed. “They’ll see us through the window.”

As you were driving, not really knowing where we were going to go, Matt had his hand on your thigh, hand going up your skirt.

“Matt..” you moan.

He reached up to your clit, rubbing gentle circles on it.

You purposely took off your underwear before you left for the store.

You spread your legs out, letting him do his thing.

You could see him rock hard through his grey sweatpants.

“Baby, look an empty parking lot.” You pointed.

He took his hand away from your clit, and you groaned at the loss of contact. He never pulled into a parking lot so fast.

He put the car in park. He put his seat back as far as it could go. You took off your seatbelt and jumped over into the drivers side straddling him.

You started passionately kissing him. Sloppy kisses because of how horny you both were. He started moving to place kisses all down your neck. You moaned at the contact to your neck.

“I’m so excited to finally be able to do this” he whispered.

You could feel his clothed boner underneath you. You started to grind back and forth. He reached his hands down to your hips to guide you.

“I need you Matt” you moaned out. “I need you right now.”

“Just wait baby, we need to take in this moment. It’s been a while, let’s take our time.” Matt whined out.

You started to make out again. Hands going all over each others bodies. Matt lifts up your shirt.

“No bra, huh?” He whispers.

You giggle into his kisses.

He starts to play with your tits, moving his thumbs over your nipples.

You moan in Matt’s mouth.

“Matt- please. I need you right now.” You say tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Matt gives in.

You move your body up off of his while he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

You were wearing no underwear under your skirt so it was perfect.

You lined his dick up with your entrance. Matt was placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

You sank down, and put all of Matt in you. You took in a second to realize this is finally happening. It’s been 10 days and you’re going crazy.

You start moving up and down on Matt’s dick, leaning down to kiss him as he leans back in the seat.

His hands rub up and down your back.

“You are so wet.” He said putting his hand down underneath you to rub your clit in small circles with his thumb.

When he started circling his thumb on your clit, you felt an immediate knot in your stomach knowing your orgasm was approaching.

“Matt- I- I’m really close” you moaned out.

“Already baby? You really needed me didn’t you?” He laughed.

You laughed and shook your head.

“Yup, I’m going to cum babe” you tilted your head back in pleasure. You started to shake on top of Matt.

“Good job baby, I’m almost there.” Matt moaned. Matt was a moaning mess.

Next thing you know you feel Matt’s cum spilling into you. He let out a whimper.

“This feels so good” he said as he was riding out his high.

You gave Matt a passionate slow kiss, and got off of his dick. He had tissue in his car which he wiped you with to clean you up. You fixed your hair, pulled down your skirt while Matt pulled up his pants.

“You ready for round 2 baby?” Matt joked.

You looked over at Matt laughing.

“Your family is going to wonder where we are. We still need to stop for the sour patch kids for your mom, and potentially snacks for us” you laughed. “Tomorrow we’re making up an excuse and coming out here again for round 2” you winked.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I hope you guys enjoyed. 🥵

#matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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innohurrytoshout · 2 months ago

Text

i hope you're miserable ᥫ᭡ r. mattheo

when a misunderstanding with Filch leads to detention after school, you’re stuck babysitting Slytherin’s bad boy

who: mattheo riddle x ravenclaw!reader genre: fluff wc: 3,6k content warning: [this fic is the first part of a set, part 2 can be found at the very bottom] reader–riddle tension–matty has a crush ;) and he's a bit of a creep lol a/n: grrr this was perfect for the day i had, it was so sunny...enjoy!!

Birds cawed, and the air was growing slightly warmer–as you kicked your feet back and forth over the bridge at the edge of Hogwarts’ courtyard over the pond, your two friends were studying for the potions exam they had later today.

Your fifth year had seemed to fly past you. You meant to write to your parents about the upcoming break, but you were still deciding if you should go home or not.

“What’s that look for?” One of your friends spared you a glance.

You blew a lock of hair out of your face and shrugged, “Are you guys going home for the upcoming holiday?”

“Well, yeah.”

“My parents and I have a tradition, you know this,” your other friend butted in. She rolled her eyes, “My brother is being a pain, though.”

“Yeah, but…” a smile pressed to your lips, as easy as the light in the sky. “Don’t you just want to do something else for once? I mean, we’re always on a schedule.”

They frowned at each other, “That’s kind of expected of us, you know? You weren’t complaining when you beat Hermione last semester.” She pointed out, her blonde hair curling around her as if it were something come to life.

Your eyes rolled, and you leaned back on your hands, “That’s different. I don’t mean give up on school work completely.”

They shook their head and laughed, “Okay, sure.”

You opened your mouth to say something more, but they had already gone back to studying.

A few minutes later, the bell rang, and they had to get their things together, “wish us luck.”

You wave a hand, “Yeah, good luck…like you guys even need it.”

“Says the one with a free period.”

You snorted a laugh, “I’ll see you after school in the common room?”

“Yep! See you.”

“Bye,” they murmured at the same time.

You watched them speed back toward campus. It was pretty warm out today, glancing around, you shrugged. Why not? You moved your bag to sit on the stony pathway and lowered your head onto the shoulder of the bridge, fixing your skirt when you were finally flat against the stone.

This is nice, you found yourself prying deep into thought. You weren’t sleeping, that would be too dangerous–but you were lost, reflecting on the world around you. It was as if time had stopped–as if questions about the universe seemed more significant than your DA quiz on Monday. But–the sun was hitting your face just right, it was shaded slightly?–wait–that wasn’t right–

You peeled an eye open, jerking back when you came face to face with Filch. “Ditching class now, are we?”

What? “No, I–”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, “I expected better from you, Ravenclaws.”

“But I–”

“Don’t even try it. Get your things,” he motioned toward your bag beside his feet.

You scrambled to pick yourself up, “wait–that’s not, I have–”

“You fifth years–” he scoffed, “what you’re going to say ‘I have a free period’?”

“But I do!”

“Right, only 6th and 7th years have free periods.”

“I know that,” you were starting to get a bit irritated, “but the Headmaster gave me a special cause. He gave it to a few other students this year.”

Filch halted, and you almost crashed into his back. You stepped away, making a face at his smelly robes. “You expect me to believe that?”

“...Yes.”

“I’m not as gullible as I look, am I?”

It was useless, you would have to get Dumbledore involved. you were one of the few students who were offered a free period this year. You knew Hermione Granger had been one of the students, but it was clear by the way she seemed to rush back and forth and the way she was always studying that she had declined.

The other students were a mystery, well, you knew Draco Malfoy had one because you’d caught him in the library once. He was alone, looking solemn–to be honest, you hadn’t known he was that great of a student. You never really checked the scoreboards because you always knew you’d place high enough for your parents to get off your back.

“Listen to me!” You shouted after him as he began his marching again. He marched back to the castle while ignoring your pleas.

The next time you got a word out of him, it wasn’t directed at you– “Hey!” He’d shouted, jabbing a finger toward something.

“Stop right there!” He began chasing…something? You huffed, wondering if you’d have to follow him around for the rest of the day because he was on some silly goose chase.

“Aehehehe,” you heard his creepy laugh as you rounded the courtyard.

Filch gripped the back of someone's shirt in the open, stone hall–you snorted.

Both glanced at you when the sound echoed through the hall. Your shoes clicked as you moved closer to the scene. There in front of you was Slytherin’s esteemed prince, Mattheo Riddle, caught in the clutches of Filch. His annoyed expression said it all. He looked like a mouse caught in a cat's trap.

“What I would do for a photo of this,” you were grinning until Filch turned his attention back to you.

“You think this is funny? Well, you can join him.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” You crossed your arms.

“Skipping classes is not allowed.”

You felt your eyes rolling toward the back of your skull, “I already told you. I have a–”

“You already have one detention, you want another one?”

“But–”

“Ah-ah–”

“But!–”

“A second detention it is–”

A snort. You glared at Riddle. His cool, brown eyes met yours, a cheeky smile showing a single dimple. “Oh, you think that’s funny? You can join her!”

Filch let him go just as a groan escaped him, “I had plans later, Filchy–”

“You call me that again, it’ll be a third one for you, Riddle.”

Heh. You were smart enough to keep your amusement in your head this time.

“Come on then,” Filch cast a spell. You knew it, but you didn’t know it well–your body froze as. You could see Riddle in the corner of your peripheral vision, he was frozen, too. A second later, your body relaxed and you stumbled forward, catching yourself right before you fell.

You glanced toward Riddle, expecting him to laugh–he didn’t, but his mouth quivered, making you think he wanted to. You stuck out your tongue and spun around, readying more explanations of how this wasn’t fair–but Filch was already heading off, saying, “I’ll see you two after school.”

A hand shot out to stop him, but your words caught in your throat. Riddle began walking, and soon, he was behind you, leaning over your shoulder. " Just let him go. You won’t be able to convince him otherwise.”

“Have a lot of experience with him, do you?”

He opened his mouth, but instead of words, amusement took the form of a smile.

You started walking toward the Ravenclaw dorms, you would need to leave a note with information for your friends explaining exactly why you wouldn’t be hanging out with them this afternoon. It irked you–Filch had never given you any issues in the previous years, and he hadn’t been around much this year either.

“See you after school, Ravenclaw!” You held in the urge to shoot a curse at him as you stomped away.

She took his interest the moment he saw her. She was laughing, her head was thrown back, and she had a hand up as if she wanted to cover her smile. He didn’t want her to–Theo and the rest of his friends had paused.

He knew they had been watching him, trying to figure out what had made him stop so abruptly. They’d been walking through the second-floor halls, just coming from class with those idiotic Gryffindors, she must have just come from class as well, but she was sitting on one of the couches on the first floor, and as he’d just happened to glance over the railing, she’d caught his attention.

Her image had hit him so suddenly–at first he’d thought it was because she was pretty, but there were plenty of pretty girls in his year, so he knew that couldn’t be it. Then what?

Mattheo ignored the bubbling questions–his friends wouldn’t shut up the rest of the day, and whenever they passed her in the halls, they’d all glance at him. She never seemed to notice, though, which made him question–why?

Ravenclaws weren’t Gryffindors, they weren’t his arch nemesis–in fact, his father had mentioned something about how Ravenclaws were more similar to Slytherins than they liked to admit.

He found himself following her; he knew it was wrong and creepy, but again, neither her nor anyone ever seemed to notice–if they had, they hadn’t said anything–if they had said something, Mattheo would have heard and shut it down by now.

A huff escaped him, the sun was out–it felt nice on his face. He hadn’t planned to get caught by Filch–he hadn’t planned to follow her and her friends out there, though okay–it might not seem that way.

Draco had wanted to get some fresh air, “and by the looks of it, you could use some sun.” Lorenzo had joked, earning a back of the head smack from Pansy. Blaise had chuckled, and Mattheo had felt himself smile slightly, shaking his head–that was until Theo pointed out her and her friends.

“Isn’t that your little Ravenclaw?”

“Don’t call her that,” Mattheo had rolled his eyes, but they landed on her–and that was–in fact–her, surrounded by her friends, but she’d looked different. Her smile wasn’t as bright–she’d looked almost…solemn.

He’d felt a pit in his stomach, he didn’t know much about Ravenclaws, he stayed very much to his home turf, but over two years, he could gather well enough to know that there was always immense pressure on them, not unlike what him and his friends had to endure from their own parents.

They’d followed them slightly, but as the Ravenclaws headed for the Hogwarts Bridge, Mattheo and his friends steered toward the forest. They had a small hideout their, they called it the Clubhouse–picked up from some muggle children’s book.

But soon, the bell had rung and they were heading back toward the school. Mattheo meant to track his friends, but then he noted the two Ravenclaws without their third member–and it occurred to him to wonder over to the bridge, just to make sure, he’d told himself.

It wasn’t just to make sure, he knew almost without doubt she would be there. He just wanted to see her–maybe this was his chance to talk to her, who would think it odd? Just two students who happened to be alone in the same place–that’s what his brain had convinced him of anyway.

Her face was calm, a complacent smile brightened by the sun hiding somewhere behind the trees that shaded her body halfway. He hadn’t realized it, but his heart began to slow. Watching her was relaxing, as he had come to know.

Damn now he really did sound like a freak. He shook himself out of his stupor, okay, he was there, he was going to do it. He was going to talk to her–any second now–but he hadn’t moved then, and he hadn’t moved a second later, and soon it would be too late because Filch and his mangy cat appeared from seemingly nowhere and were now towering over her.

It turned into something from a horror film. He’d watched them, laughing at her trying to explain why she wasn’t in class. He knew why, Dumbledore had offered a few fifth year students the opportunity typically only reserved for 6th years and up.

Mattheo found his amusement dying when Filch had began moving in his direction. He ran back to the castle, careful to not alert his fry-head of a cat– but it had been useless becasue Filch had seen him anyway.

He didn’t want her to know, he was afraid of what she’d think of him–afraid that she’d know just by looking that he’d been watching her. “Nervous?” He murmured, just now figuring out what it was he had been feeling. He scoffed, “No way…” but he couldn’t shake the thought, the way.

The bell for the last class rang and he sighed, sitting up. He was somewhere deep in the castle, to be hoenst, even he didn’t know how he’d found this place–it was in the attick of the castle, but Howarts had many atticks, he didn’t know which this one was, he only knew it was near Ravenclaw Tower, and no, he hadn’t planned it.

It had just been a happy coincidence, he’d found it in his second year–when Draco had finally begun to stop, “Potter this,” and, “Potter that,”–Blaise and Lorenzo called it his Pottymouth Year. A memory of them making fun of their friend lightened his heart–it made having detention two days in a row a bit easier, even though today was Friday and tomorrow was supposed to be a rest day.

Though, he’d only had detention a handful of times, he’d never been this elated, and perhaps a little Ravenclaw had something to do with it…he shook his head, wondering why his mouth was full of smiles today.

You drug your feet across Hogwarts, yawning as you made your way down the hall. The spell Filch had cast gave your subconscious the exact directions to where he wanted you to meet him after school. You had sat in the common room until the last bell rang, as soon as it rang, your body stood and began heading toward wherever Filch must have been.

Students were milling about, chattering everywhere you turned, and it lit a fire under your butt. This could have been you–it should have been you–it was going to be you–but because that dinglemutt didn’t have a clue as to his master's new proclamation, you were being unfairly punished.

You headed out toward the quad and rounded the castle, were you were going to the Quidditch field? Great–what could you possibly be doing? Cleaning gear? You whimpered just thinking about how smelly those locker rooms must be.

“Ah, she arrives.” You fisted your hands and set your mouth, but kept quiet.

“Where’s Riddle?” Your eyes floated around the grassy space, searching for the Slytherin.

“Don’t worry about him–he’ll be here.” Filch checked the time on his wand, “Now follow me.”

Mattheo was grinning. He couldn’t be grinning when he headed into the lockerooms. They were on the Slytherin/Ravenclaw side, so thankfully, he wouldn’t be cleaning some snot-nosed Gryffindor’s uniform. Mattheo shuddered at the thought–Filch couldn’t be that cruel…could he?

Best to not find out. Someone–definitely Filch–cleared his throat and stepped outside, eyeing him expectantly, “Well, go on. She can’t clean them alone, can she?”

Mattheo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets before walking in.

She had her hair pulled back with a clip–Mattheo had never seen her like this...well, okay, he’d seen her with her hair pinned up–but she was all sweaty and her sleeves were rolled back, his eyebrows scrunched together–why was it so hot?

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Are you trying to off yourself before the OWLs?”

You glared, watching him pull out his wand. You bit your cheek when he cast a silent spell. You were still working on those–it peeved you and your nails dug into your palms, just another reason to hate him, you supposed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He cooed, beginning to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up. It seemed he’d had the same idea you had. He only wore his white uniform button-up. It was weird, seeing him without his regular attire; he looked different, though you couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Wind hit your face, and your sweat began cooling. You paused, dropping the scrub on the space near the sink.

“It’s nice, right?” He saddled up beside you, and you stumbled back, surprised. “I don’t bite,” he frowned, looking…annoyed?

He was aware of who he was, right? Nevertheless, he didn’t…he wasn’t–you shook your head, “I’m not afraid of you, you just startled me is all.”

“Oh, really now?” He raised a brow.

“Really.” Your jaw locked. He watched as you stepped forward, standing your ground–it was cute. His frown turned into a lopsided grin, which only made you huff.

“Why aren’t you using magic?” He glanced around the room, “It’d be much easier.”

“He disabled my magic,” you frowned, looking at your wand in the side pocket of your skirt dissappointedly. Riddle craned his neck to follow your gaze, he leaned over you slightly and your heart began to pick up pace.

He smelled good, like mahogany teakwood and morning dew. You didn’t know why those two specific smells came to you–it didn’t seem right for the Dark Lord's son to smell like something as innocent as morning dew, and yet here he was.

“What?” His head turned slightly, and he was glancing down at you, his body slightly over yours. You swallowed and shoved him away, averting your gaze back onto the uniform, “are you going to stand there and help or what?”

Mattheo paused as a thought came to him. “Whose uniform is that?”

“I don’t know, why does it matter?” You picked the sponge back up, but he snatched the top from the sink before you could, “hey, you’re going to get water everywhere.”

He waved his wand in front of your face, and you frowned. Apparently, Filch had favorites.

He glanced at the number, his shoulders relaxed a bit, and he handed it back to you. “Someone you know?” You snorted, taking back the uniform.

“You could say that.” He threw you a cheeky smile before spinning around and using his magic to clean the rest of the uniforms.

“So not fair,” you murmured, shaking your head.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you were caught skipping classes.”

“I wasn’t skipping classes!” You shouted, “I. Had. A. Free. Period.”

Riddle shrugged, “You heard what Filch said.”

“You are really starting to get on my nerves.”

He held his hands up, pressing both lips together to suppress another smile.

You ground your teeth and, without thinking, threw the sponge at him. He blinked as he bounced off his cheek. A gasp escaped you and your hands shot to cover the laughter that threatened to trickle out, “I am–” you snorted, “–shaho–” another snort, “sorry?”

Riddle’s mouth dropped open slightly, and his tongue circled the inside of it. His eyes landed on yours again, and he watched you watch him wipe the soap off his cheek. “Are you asking for a war, ?” he called you by your surname.

Your heart studded…you don’t remember ever giving him your name. “You know me?”

His amusement died instantly. “What are you talking about? I don’t.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, frowning, “Did you not just call me by my name?”

“I–” he stepped backward as you walked toward him, cornering him into a wall.

“You knew my name.”

“So, I know lots of people's names.”

“That a shit exuse, Riddle.”

As you got closer, you noticed something…something on his face, it was a shade redder…was he blushing? You couldn’t believe your eyes–your footsteps halted. You weren’t dumb, you could connect the dots easily enough, “Mattheo Riddle, do you have a crush on me?”

His eyes jumped out of their sockets when his head jerked up to face you again, “what–no–I”

“Mmmhmmm,” it was odd–this was a side you were certain no one had ever seen from him–he was a Riddle for Merlin’s sake–a Slytehirn–but right now he didn’t look like any of the things either of those titles were known for.

He looked different from your everyday point of view of him, he looked like…any other boy in your year, you stepped closer and, without thinking, leaned over and poked his cheek. He watched you do it, and he didn’t move. A cheesy grin spread across your face, “Mattheo Riddle, were you stalking me?”

He stayed silent, but his face darkened in color even though the locker rooms were pretty chilly now. Noise startled him out of his trance, you watched his cool facade slide over his boyish embarrassment. But it was too late, you had seen everything you’d needed to.

“Mattheo?” You recognized that voice.

“Hey, you’re here already?”

“Yep, Coach wanted us in early–we sent Draco's owl to find you–what are you doing here?”

Soon, the locker room was filled, and eyes were all on you–your lips pursed and, though you didn’t know why, you glanced at Riddle as if he were supposed to give you orders on what to do next.

Nott’s eyes widened when they found yours–soon they jumped back to Riddle’s and he jerked his body around, laughing into his elbow. You ignored Malfoy’s curious gaze and every other interested one.

“Right, you should get going now, the uniforms are cleaned so…”

“But, I,” you turned back toward the uniform you had been cleaning.

“That one’s plenty cleaned,” he walked passed you, unbuttoned the front of his shirt, and you glanced away, embarrassment clinging to your every being. You felt his friend’s eyes on you, but you kept your eyes on the ground.

“You can look now, ,” he murmured your surname. Your head jerked toward Riddle, glaring as his snort sounded throughout the room.

“That one was yours?”

He glanced down, “Isn’t it obvious?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wagging a finger at him, “Next time I see you, Riddle.” You spun around expectantly, “Well? Make some room, I can’t push through the lot of you, can I?”

As you moved through the gap created for you, Riddle called out, “See you tomorrow, Ravenclaw!”

“Screw you Slytherin!”

a/n: let me know what you think!!

vol ll kissing cherries in the rain

#fanfic #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fanfic #hogwarts fic #mattheo riddle x you #written by caterinà #i hope you're miserable

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mywritersmind · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I love your style of writing! I was thinking if you could do a Kimi Antonelli fic where the reader is replacing a driver (ur choice) for the suzuka gp and kimi kinda has like a crush on her, and then ollie teases kimi about it and at the end he finally asks her out? Ty if you could write this! (Plus random thought what did you think about the suzuka gp?)

MY DRIVER OF THE DAY - KA12

listen up : TY for the request!! i’m obsessed with this fr its so cute❤️‍🩹 no warnings! also my thoughts on the suzuka gp… it was boring. like okay mower lando and kimi leading the race tho!! i wish it stopped with him winning

words : 1430

⋆༺

“I can’t.” I say, turning around and walking directly into my best friend. Ollie rolls his eyes, grabbing my arms and turning me back around.

“You will.” The taller boy says, pushing me towards the girl who I've been working up the courage to talk to. She pushes her hair back and laughs at something the reporter says, making my legs feel weak under me.

“No no-” I say, trying to escape again, but this time, Ollie doesn’t stop me.

He just shrugs, “I’ll do it then.” He leaves me alone, my jaw on the floor as he walks straight towards her as she waves goodbye to the reporter, “Y/n!” I hear him say, following after hesitantly.

The girl in question is Y/n L/n, a beloved reserve driver for Red Bull Racing, the woman who’s in Max Verstappen's seat in suzuka, and my long-time paddock crush.

“Ollie!” Y/n practically screams, so enthusiastic even though they saw each other last week. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him close, “I told you we’d be in a race together this year.”

Ollie pulls away, shaking his head, “You poison Max, or what?”

She’s still smiling as she talks to him, her gaze shifting to me for a moment and confirming that she notices my existence “Of course not…” Y/n says suspiciously, ending her sentence in a wink.

She turns to me now, shoving my shoulder instead of hugging me, “Antonelli.” God I love her voice, especially when she’s saying my name, “Ready to be overtaken by a girl?”

I qualified 6th with her just behind me in 7th. I have no doubt that she’ll do everything in her power to slip in front of me. I’m honestly scared that if I see her in my rear view mirror, I'll let her!

“I don’t plan to be overtaken by anyone, thanks.” I push my hand through my hair as she smiles softly.

We’re interrupted by her media manager, the woman rushing along and barely paying attention to Ollie and I. Y/n smiles at both of us before turning to me and dropping her face, “One more thing, Antonelli. You get in my way and i’ll put you into a wall.” And then she smiles like it’s absolutely nothing and practically skips away, “See you two on track!”

“She hates me.” I say to Ollie as soon as she’s out of earshot.

“She does not!” Ollie laughs.

“She does. She threatened me!” I groan, accepting my fate.

Ollie rolls his eyes and steadys me, “If you should know anything about Y/n, it’s that she is completely committed to her career.”

“Yeah? I knew that. She’s always been like that.”

“And!” Ollie says loudly so he cuts me off, “That she flirts through threats or insults.”

He drops his hands off my shoulders as my jaw drops, “I’ll catch you later, mate.”

He starts walking away as I stand there, stunned at his words. She wasn’t flirting with me! Was she? “Wait!” I yell, running after Ollie, “Who else has she threatened!?”

⋆༺

“Remind me again why she doesn’t have a seat?” I ask Ollie as we walk in from the national anthem, absolutely scared shitless of this girl behind me on the grid.

“You’re talking to one of the reasons. You are the other one.” Ollie shrugs, “There were too many rookies and not enough seats… We beat her out.”

I frown, knowing she should be with us but shaking it off when I see her again. She’s talking to Jack Doohan, watching him explain something intently.

“Can you just ask her out already?” Ollie says, breaking the silence and making my eyes go wide.

“Dude!” I shush him, looking around to see if anyone heard, “Can you not!? I don’t like her like that.”

Ollie straight up laughs out loud! Everyone around us turns to see what’s so funny as my face gets redder and redder. He won’t stop! He’s literally crying laughing and I just have to stare at him. “Shut up!” I finally say as he literally wipes tears from his eyes.

“Mate…” He pulls me closer, looking at Y/n, “If you don’t fancy her then what’s up with the scared to talk to her thing?”

I cross my arms over my suit, “We’re not friends and she was busy-”

“The freaking out over me saying she was flirting?”

“I think I was perfectly reasonable with that one!”

“Kimi.” He shakes his head, “You ran after me screaming.”

I look away, wanting to leave all together.

“Just ask her out. As much as i’d like to lie and say she’ll reject you… I know Y/n. And I know she’ll say yes.”

“I don’t want her to say yes just because that’s her fucking moral code-”

“I know Y/n as in I know what she likes. And she may have mentioned that you’re cute once a while ago-”

“What!?” I say, slapping my hand over my mouth when It comes out too loud.

“Yeah yeah I forgot… Just- don’t embarrass yourself, yeah?” He nods at me as if I know what that means!

“How am I supposed to do that? You know what- nevermind. I’m not asking.”

Ollie blinks, “You’re hopeless.”

“She could say no! Plus I don’t want her debut race to be dirtied down by some kid she’s known her whole life asking her out.” Ollie looks like he might kill me. Or himself. “I’m just saying… I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Mate, four years ago it was the right time! You’ve been making heart eyes at her ever since our karting days!” He’s right and I hate it. Ollie groans and I know what he’s about to say is going to hurt. “All you’re doing now is sabotaging yourself! I’m serious Andrea you’re never going to ask and you’ll never know if she likes you and she’s going to grow up and probably marry some hot rich guy who actually had the balls to ask her out!”

I cringe, not able to think of anything to do or say.

He’s absolutely completely right. And I'm watching her laugh with some other guy, fully jealous, but not doing anything about it.

⋆༺

To my surprise, I wasn’t distracted the whole race. In fact, I watched her overtake me and smiled. Because I overtook her right back.

She flipped me off when I did it but I know she was laughing in that hot way she does when she’s joking about something.

Before I know it, the podium is starting and I'm shaking out my curls about to go watch, “Youngest race leader in history.” Y/n is walking up to me, her helmet off and her suit unzipped, “That’s kinda hot.”

I think I'm dreaming.

And then she flips her hair behind her shoulder and I'm back into my reality with a rush of confidence, “Do you wanna go out with me? Tonight.”

A smile breaks over her face, absolutely devastating in her usual way. “I compliment you once and you think I wanna go out with you?”

My heart starts beating faster. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m going to kill Ollie I knew I shouldn’t have asked and now i’m here looking like an absolute idiot-

“Kimi.” She says my name softly. She never says my first name. “I’m joking.” I’ve never felt such a rush of relief in my life. “I’d like that… a lot.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Yeah. I was sort of hoping you’d ask so I didn’t have to.” She shoves my shoulder in the playful way she did earlier except now I see her look at me in a new light.

“You were gonna ask me out?” I say quickly.

“I was going to finish above you and say something about how I’ll make it up to you over dinner but… that overtake killed my plan.”

I’m smiling now. “Yeah well good. Maybe next time you can overtake me, hold position, and take me out after.”

“Next time?” Her eyebrows raise, “You do know that i’m not an F1 racer-”

“You just completed an F1 race. It counts. Plus I have a feeling that you’ll be on track sooner than you think.” Her smile shifts at my words.

“That means a lot.”

I shrug, “It’s true.”

“Thank you.” She steps closer, making me freeze and making her laugh. She kisses my cheek before stepping away, “I'll see you tonight, Antonelli.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #kimi antonelli fan fic #kimi antonelli fic #kimi antonelli fluff #kimi antonelli x reader

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sixxels · 16 days ago

Text

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

wc: 7.8k

disclaimer !! slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! eventual smut (most likely). reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !! m.list!!

the problem was that satoru gojo hadn’t stopped thinking about you since that stupid coffee date.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. he’d done this kind of thing before—charming girls, making them laugh, maybe spending the night if he was bored enough. but this? this wasn’t just flirting. it wasn’t a mission or a chase.

you were different.

and that terrified the hell out of him.

he sat on the balcony of the frat house the next night, legs kicked up on the railing, the bass from the party downstairs shaking the floorboards beneath his feet. a half-drunk beer dangled from his hand, and his phone sat untouched beside him—though he’d checked it three times in the past five minutes, half-hoping you’d text.

you hadn’t.

you weren’t the type to double text.

and for once, he kind of wished you were.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” suguru’s voice cut through the thick night air, lazy and smug.

gojo didn’t even glance over. “jesus, what are you? psychic?”

“nah,” suguru stepped outside, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, long black hair tied back messily. his black gauges caught the light as he leaned against the railing. “just watching you stare at your phone like a sad puppy.”

gojo sighed. “i’m not m—”

“moody?” suguru cut in. “bro, you’ve been pouting since you got back from that coffee date.”

gojo stayed quiet.

“so?” suguru asked, glancing sideways. “did you make any progress?”

gojo took a swig of his beer. “we talked. she laughed at my jokes, she's really, and i mean really cute. it was… nice.”

“that’s it?” suguru blinked. “you’ve got, like, four weeks left. you gonna kiss her or just make googly eyes until june?”

“it’s may 6th,” gojo muttered.

“and you’re behind schedule.”

gojo gave him a look. “you really think this is about the bet anymore?”

suguru raised an eyebrow, pausing. “…so you caught feelings?”

gojo scoffed, but the way he stared out into the night said more than his words did.

“fuck,” he murmured. “i think? man fuck this i've never done this kind of shit before!”

suguru let out a low whistle, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “you? satoru gojo? falling for some shy girl you haven’t even made out with yet? damn. the apocalypse really is coming.”

“shut up.”

“no, seriously,” suguru said. “you’re acting like you’ve never talked to a girl before. this is a whole new level of whipped.”

gojo set his beer down and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

“she’s just… not like the others. she’s quiet, but when she talks, it’s like she actually means what she says. and she looked at me like she was really listening, like she cared. and she didn’t try to show off or flirt or get something from me. she was just… her.”

“adorable little coffee girl,” suguru teased, tilting his head. “you’re really falling hard.”

“yeah,” gojo admitted. “i think i am.”

suguru let the silence hang for a moment before pushing off the railing.

“well, that’s sweet and all,” he said casually, “but the bet still stands.”

gojo blinked. “what?”

“come on,” suguru grinned. “you said you could bang her by the end of may. that’s $2000 on the line. i’m not just gonna let you back out because you caught a case of the butterflies.”

gojo frowned. “you’re seriously holding me to that?”

“you’re the one who upped the stakes,” suguru reminded him. “you wanted to prove you could do it. don’t tell me you’re chickening out now.”

“it’s not about chickening out,” gojo said. “it just… it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

suguru shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “then figure it out. either go all in or call it. but don’t string her along if you’re not sure what you want.”

gojo looked down at the ground below, jaw clenched.

“she’s not the kind of girl you mess with,” he said quietly. “she deserves better than that.”

suguru gave him a long look. “then maybe stop being the kind of guy who does.”

that night, gojo lay sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, your text thread glowing softly in the dark.

n/n 💗 : thank you for the coffee today :)

n/n 💗: i had fun !!

he stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding heavier than it should have.

he started typing.

gojo: me too ;)

gojo: wanna hang again soon? no coffee this time, i’ll try to impress you with my tragic lack of cooking skills 🤝

send.

he stared at the screen feeling slightly anxious. a reply came a minute later.

n/n 💗 : for sure :)

he smiled. god, you were even cute over text.

gojo : awesomeeee i can't wait! i'll pick you up outside the girl dormitories after your classes tomorrow!

he set the phone on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

he hadn’t figured it out yet, what to do about the bet, how to tell you, how to stop feeling like the world’s most shittiest person for even agreeing to it in the first place.

but one thing was clear.

this wasn’t about the money anymore.

and if he wasn’t careful, you were going to be the one thing in his life he couldn’t charm, lie, or joke his way out of.

the sun was beginning to set when gojo pulled up to the dorms, low rays turning the pavement gold. he wore a gray hoodie over his alpha phi tee, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. he’d parked a little early, pretending it was just to get a good spot, but really—it was nerves. again.

and then you appeared.

you walked out of the dorm building like you’d fallen out of a dream: soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder, a pleated plaid skirt swishing gently as you moved, lace-trimmed socks just peeking out over black mary janes. you clutched your phone and blinked up when you spotted him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

god, you were pretty. almost too pretty.

you took in the sight of his very black, very expensive looking car, walking up to him shyly.

he leaned over and popped open the door. “hop in, angel.”

you slid in, offering a shy smile. “hello.”

“hey yourself,” he grinned, starting the engine.

you looked around his car, clearing your throat slightly. "you've got a really nice car, satoru."

he smirked, one of his favourite things in life was his car, so having you of all people complimenting it made him feel giddy.

"it's a Mclaren 570S spider, my baby."

you smiled at his obvious love for his car and looked at him through fluttered eyes. "it's very cool, gojo."

if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging insanely right now.

the drive to his frat was quick, and your eyes widened at how grand the front enterance looked.

"hope you like ramen, because that's all we got right now sweets."

his frat house wasn’t clean, but it had character. guys yelling over fifa downstairs, a wall of polaroids lining the staircase, beer cans stacked like a sad sculpture on the kitchen counter. you hesitated at the door of his room until he gestured for you to come in, flipping the light switch and kicking a basketball out of the way.

“welcome to my humble kingdom.”

you stepped inside, eyes wide as you took in the mess of it all—expensive sneakers piled haphazardly in the corner, basketball trophies scattered across his dresser, and posters of old anime's and old rock bands on the wall. somehow, it smelled faintly of expensive cologne and dryer sheets.

he scratched the back of his neck. “it’s, uh… not exactly pinterest material.”

“it’s very you,” you said with a giggle.

he blinked. “is that a good thing or?”

you turned to him, giving him a small, almost shy smile. “yeah. it's cool."

he looked at you then—really looked—and that tiny, pink, fluttering thing in his chest came back full force.

you wandered over to his desk while he started fiddling with the stovetop burner on the little kitchenette shoved into the corner of his room.

“so,” he said, voice casual. “i was thinking—gourmet instant ramen. maybe some fancy egg on top if we’re feeling wild.”

“so…” you said after a few minutes, propped on the edge of his bed while he stirred noodles, “what’s it like being frat president?”

he snorted. “exhausting, kinda. it’s basically babysitting drunk toddlers with big egos.”

you laughed and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of his bed. "i thought it was just about throwing parties.”

“eh, that too.” he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. “but i have to keep the house from falling apart, break up fights, stop choso from lighting the grill with a flamethrower again…”

you blinked. “again?”

he smiled sheepishly. “yeah, we lost a picnic table last semester.” you giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

then your smile faded just slightly.

“you okay?” satoru asked quietly, voice low as he stirred the ramen.

you nodded, but there was a pause that lingered too long, your eyes fixed on your lap. your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

“just… i used to date someone, who loved parties.” you murmured. “he was in beta tau.”

gojo’s movements stilled. beta tau was basically alpha phis rival frat. the quiet slosh of water and noodles was the only sound in the small kitchen now.

you didn’t look up when you said his name. “sukuna.”

a cold weight dropped into his stomach. his hand tightened around the ladle, knuckles going pale.

of course it was sukuna.

that smug, inked-up bastard with a mouth full of sharp teeth and a cruel grin to match. he strutted around campus like he owned it, dripping in designer clothes and superiority. gojo had always hated the way girls fell into his lap like it was gravity—like his name alone was enough to make people forget how rotten he was underneath. he wasn’t charming. he was dangerous, and not in the fun way.

and you… sweet perfect you... you were the last person he wanted to imagine tangled up in sukunas antics.

“he wasn’t very kind to me,” you continued, voice barely more than a whisper. “he’d always say the right things in public, always knew how to look like the perfect boyfriend. but when it was just us… he made me feel small. like a doll on a shelf.”

satoru slowly turned around to face you.

you still wouldn’t look at him, like you were ashamed, and for some reason, that hurt more than anything.

“did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice sharp with something unfamiliar—something cold and furious.

your eyes lifted, wide and startled.

“no. not-not like that. he never laid a hand on me. he just…” you exhaled shakily. “he liked having a girlfriend that looked good standing next to him. didn’t care what i wanted. what i liked. he wanted a prize. not a girlfriend.”

the silence that followed was heavy. satoru felt it in his teeth, in the pounding of his heart.

you looked up through your lashes, nervous.

gojo didn’t speak for a moment.

he couldn’t.

his thoughts were racing, hot and restless. the image of sukuna’s smug face flashed behind his eyes—tattoos curling around his temples like they meant something, all swagger and sharp edges. he remembered seeing him once, dragging some girl by the wrist through a party like she was furniture. wait... was that you?

his chest ached.

“he’s a fucking cunt,” gojo finally muttered, voice low and bitter. “a spoiled, narcissistic freak who doesn’t know how to care about anything that doesn’t worship the ground he walks on.”

you blinked at him. your expression was unreadable, unsure.

he rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. “i just, i hate that he made you feel that way. like you weren’t… enough. you’re more than enough.”

a quiet beat passed.

your eyes were widened as you muttered out a quiet, “thank you."

he turned back to the stove, jaw clenched tight. his grip on the ladle loosened as he focused on the task again, but something simmered under his skin hotter than the water in the pot.

when the ramen was finally done, he ladled it gently into two mismatched bowls. he didn’t speak, didn’t push, didn’t dare reach for you, like touching you would break you.

he set yours down in front of you carefully.

and when you reached out, just the slightest brush of your fingers over his wrist, it was like the spark of something that had always been there, just waiting.

he swallowed.

he thought he’d known what this was. a bet. a game. something stupid between frat boys with too much ego.

but now, sitting across from you with your lips curled softly around the rim of a spoon and the warmth of your touch still ghosting over his skin, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

and he wasn’t sure he could survive the fallout when this all came crashing down.

you ended up staying for ramen, then a movie on his laptop, curled under one of his big blankets with your knees tucked under you. he let you pick the film, a cozy romcom he secretly kind of liked. and halfway through, your shoulder brushed his.

you didn’t pull away.

his heart beat out of rhythm.

he should’ve told you then, he knew he was too far gone to not tell you how this all started.

he could’ve said it was stupid—just a bet, just a frat-boy dare. that it was about the money until it wasn’t. that it wasn’t fair to you, and he knew that, and he was sorry.

but you were looking at him like he wasn’t the president of a frat house. like he was someone safe.

and so instead, he said nothing.

hours later, after walking you back and watching you disappear behind your dorm’s glass doors, gojo found himself back on the balcony. it was after midnight, the sky deep and dark above the rooftops, clouds moving slow like they had nowhere to be.

the door creaked behind him.

suguru.

he stepped out with two cans in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied low. “figured you’d be here.”

“figured you’d be asleep.”

suguru handed him a can. “couldn’t. my roommate’s snoring like a dying chainsaw.”

they sat in silence for a while. gojo sipped. the wind moved through the trees.

“so?” suguru asked finally. “you tap out yet?”

gojo’s head tipped back against the railing.

“no,” he muttered, replying reluctantly. “i’m still in.”

suguru’s eyebrows raised. “really? after all that poetic shit you were spewing the other night?”

“i know.”

“dude. she’s sweet. and i know you’re catching feelings.”

gojo’s voice was quiet. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“so why not just end it?” suguru asked, genuinely confused now. “i mean, yeah, i wanna win my $2k, but if she’s getting under your skin like this—”

“because if i quit the bet, it’s like admitting she was a target from the start.”

suguru was silent.

gojo exhaled, voice low. “and she doesn’t deserve that. she deserves to believe this started from something better than a fucking dare.”

“but it didn’t.”

“i know,” gojo snapped. “but it became something better.”

suguru took a slow sip of his beer.

“you’re in deep, man.”

“tell me something i don’t know.”

“okay,” suguru said lazily, “you’re also kind of a dumbass.”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “yeah.”

they sat a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the flags on the roof.

finally, suguru muttered, “just don’t hurt her.”

gojo looked out into the dark.

“that’s the one thing i’m trying not to do.”

the next morning came too quickly.

the sunlight was already pouring through the slats of gojo’s blinds when he finally gave up on pretending to sleep. the golden light did nothing to warm the chill lodged deep in his chest. he lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on the rise and fall of his chest, which felt too shallow, too sharp. like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe without aching.

you haunted his thoughts.

he saw you when he closed his eyes—sitting on the edge of his bed in that oversized hoodie, hands cradling the ramen bowl he’d made like it was something precious. your knees tucked close, your fingers trembling just slightly when you lifted your chopsticks. he’d noticed. of course he had. noticed everything. how you hesitated before speaking, how you smiled with your mouth but not always with your eyes. how the word “sukuna” tasted like poison on your tongue, and how your whole body had tensed when you said his name.

it made something ugly twist in gojo’s stomach.

sukuna.

he hated even thinking the name now, though once upon a time they’d shared the same parties, the same reckless orbit of greek life. sukuna was one of those guys you couldn’t ignore—loud, magnetic, built like a devil with charm sharp enough to cut. everyone had stories about him. girls, mostly. none of them good.

gojo remembered one story in particular—barely even a memory now, just a flash of a scene. a party. loud music, dim lights. sukuna dragging a girl by the wrist through the crowd like she was some piece of luggage he couldn’t be bothered to carry. she’d looked shaken. small. he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face.

but now he couldn’t stop wondering—what if that girl had been you?

gojo sat up abruptly in bed, chest tight, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs. he raked a hand through his silver-white hair, breathing hard.

the worst part wasn’t that he hadn’t done anything that night. it was that he hadn’t noticed. not really. not in a way that mattered. back then, things like that just blurred into the background noise of frat parties. girls crying in bathrooms. couples fighting in corners. someone stumbling out with mascara running down her cheeks.

god. how many red flags had he ignored?

a knock sounded at his door.

he ignored it.

a beat passed, and then the door creaked open anyway. suguru never waited for permission, especially not when gojo was spiraling.

“jesus,” suguru muttered as he stepped in, two to-go cups of shitty black coffee in hand. “you look like a demon crawled into your mouth and died.”

gojo didn’t even blink. “you’re one to talk. you’ve worn that same hoodie all week.”

“five days,” suguru corrected. “and it’s called sustainable fashion.”

he crossed the room and dropped one of the cups on the nightstand before flopping down at the edge of gojo’s bed. the mattress dipped with his weight, but gojo still didn’t move. he was hunched over now, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them, eyes locked on the floor like it had done something to offend him.

“you wanna talk about it?” suguru asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. “or are we just gonna sit here marinating in existential dread?”

gojo let out a slow breath.

“she told me about her ex, sukuna.”

suguru raised an eyebrow. “oh?”

“last night. while we were watching that dumb movie. she just… opened up. said he made her feel like a prop. like he only wanted her because she looked good on his arm. and when he didn’t need her, he’d just," gojo’s jaw clenched. “he’d drop her. ignore her. talk over her. like she was a fucking purse he forgot he was holding.”

suguru whistled low. “that tracks.”

gojo’s voice dropped, hoarse. “i didn’t know it was her.”

suguru frowned. “what do you mean?”

“i remembered this one party. he was dragging a girl out by the wrist, just yanking her through the crowd like she was nothing. i didn’t say anything. didn’t even think twice. but now—what if that was her? what if i saw that happening and i just… let it?”

he ran a hand down his face, the guilt pressing heavier now.

suguru didn’t answer for a long moment. then, slowly, he sat up straighter.

“satoru,” he said quietly. “you didn’t know.”

“that’s not an excuse.”

“no,” suguru agreed. “but it’s the truth.”

gojo shook his head. “i should’ve seen it. i should’ve noticed. i should’ve cared.”

“you care now.”

“i lied to her.”

suguru fell silent.

gojo stood up suddenly, the coffee still untouched on the nightstand. he began pacing, his bare feet whispering across the hardwood floor.

“she was so honest with me, man. sat there in my bed and told me about the worst parts of herself—about how she felt like she was broken after him. and i just sat there, playing the good guy, letting her think i was different. letting her believe in me. when the whole reason i even talked to her was because of a fucking bet.”

the word hit like a punch.

suguru leaned back on his hands, watching his friend come apart.

“you still haven’t told her.”

gojo let out a bitter laugh. “how the hell do i tell her that, suguru? ‘hey, remember when i bumped into you at the café? yeah, turns out i only asked you out because you were part of a game i was trying to win’? that won’t hurt her. that’ll ruin her.”

suguru didn’t argue.

gojo stopped pacing, facing the window now, watching students pass by on the sidewalk outside. people laughing, sipping iced coffees, dragging skateboards behind them. the world kept turning, oblivious to the storm in his chest.

“i think i’m in love with her.”

it came out quietly. like a confession. like a truth he hadn’t been ready to say until this exact moment.

suguru blinked. “you think?”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “i know.”

silence settled between them. suguru finally stood, grabbing the untouched coffee and offering it out to gojo like a peace offering.

“you’re in deep, huh?”

gojo took the cup without meeting his eyes. “drowning.”

meanwhile, in your dorm room, you sat curled up on your twin bed, your legs tucked under a fleece throw blanket, your favorite oversized mug cupped in both hands. the tea inside had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. you were staring at gojos contact reminiscing about what he had said to you before letting you go off to your dorm.

'thanks for trusting me with that. you’re not broken. you’re still here. that matters more than anything. sleep well, angel.'

you’d been thinking about that for almost ten minutes, trying not to cry.

the word angel shouldn’t have made your heart skip. but it did.

you didn’t know what this was, what you and gojo were becoming, but for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt like you could breathe. like someone actually saw you, the real you, not just the version that looked good in pictures or sounded impressive on paper.

and that terrified you.

because you’d believed sukuna, too. once.

you’d fallen for his smile, his confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the center of the universe, until you weren’t. until you were just another trophy. another girl to brag about. another reason for people to envy him.

you still remembered the way he’d spoken to you in public—possessive, controlling, sometimes mocking—and how quickly he could flip the script when you tried to call him out.

'you’re being too sensitive. don’t embarrass me like that. you should be grateful i even brought you.'

it had taken so long to untangle yourself from him. and longer still to stop blaming yourself for the way he’d treated you.

but last night, when gojo looked at you, really looked at you, it didn’t feel like pity or lust or even casual interest. it felt like something quiet. steady. real.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

your phone buzzed.

gojo: you awake?

you smiled before you could stop yourself, thumbing a reply with hesitant fingers.

n/n 💗 : barely. why?

gojo: sweet! i owe you another ramen night. but this time i’ll actually let you pick the movie.

your heart did a little backflip. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, cheeks warm.

n/n 💗 only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through.

gojo: i can’t promise that. but i can promise snacks ! 😁

you laughed, the sound breaking the stillness of your room like sunlight through fog.

maybe this was real.

maybe, just maybe, gojo was exactly who he seemed.

and maybe that scared you even more than sukuna ever did.

the night went by fast, it always did with satoru. like the one previous you had spent it eating snacks and watching movies on his bed huddled infront of a laptop. now, most don't find watching random romcoms in a frat guys room very appealing, but to you it felt safe, like a home away from home.

he was your home away from home.

now, you were walking with satoru around campus as you had planned over text about an hour ago.

the midday sun hung lazily over campus, casting a hazy golden warmth across the walkways and tree-lined paths. students moved around like streams of color—some laughing in groups, others rushing to class, earbuds in, eyes down. but in the middle of it all, it felt like just the two of you.

you walked quietly beside gojo, your small hand brushing the edge of his hoodie now and then when your steps got too close. he didn’t mind. he never did. if anything, he leaned into it, like it soothed something in him just to be near you. he adjusted his stride to match yours without thinking, even though his legs were long enough to cross campus in five minutes flat.

but he didn’t want fast. he wanted this. you.

you were heading to your bio class, and he had no reason to be anywhere near the science building. but he still showed up at the café ten minutes before your lecture started, hands in his pockets, grinning like it was the best part of his day. because it was.

and god, you were so pretty when you looked surprised to see him. like you didn’t expect someone like him to show up for someone like you.

but that was the thing. he’d never met anyone like you.

“you really don’t have to walk me every time,” you murmured, eyes low, voice soft and unsure. like you didn’t want to seem like a burden.

and it killed him. how you always shrank yourself, always made yourself smaller—as if your presence was anything less than his favorite fucking thing.

“yeah, but then who’s gonna make sure you don’t trip over your own shadow?” he teased gently.

you let out a quiet laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. your fingers were delicate, your smile bashful, and gojo felt the urge to say something completely insane like marry me.

he didn’t, obviously. but it lived in his throat.

he watched you with the kind of attention he never gave anything else. memorized the curve of your cheek, the soft press of your lips when you were thinking, the way you glanced at him like you were still trying to believe he was real. and when you looked away, flustered by your own laugh, he swore the sun hit you different.

you were always cute. painfully cute. but in that moment? he was dizzy with it.

“besides,” he added, smirking, “how else am i supposed to get my daily dose of cuteness?”

your steps slowed. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said, bumping your shoulder. “you’re good for my blood pressure or whatever.”

you shook your head, blushing so hard you could barely walk straight. and he could’ve died right there. from the way you smiled at your shoes, from how shy you looked just standing next to him. like he wasn’t completely, pathetically obsessed with you already.

he wanted to tell you you were beautiful.

not just hot, not the kind of thing he said to girls at parties, not anything casual. but soft. lovely. untouchable. yours is the kind of face you write songs about. you look like you belong in someone’s arms at sunset.

he wanted to tell you he dreamed about you.

he wanted to tell you he was in love with you, probably more than he should be.

but all he said was, “i think we should watch the kissing booth next time you come over.”

you smiled, small and bashful again, and it tugged something deep in his chest. something real.

and as you walked in companionable silence, gojo glanced down at you. at your long lashes, the curve of your mouth, the way you hugged your books to your chest like a shield. you were so soft. so careful. like you were afraid of taking up space.

but he saw everything.

he saw the way you tried to be brave, even when you were scared. he saw how you still smiled, still tried, even when the world had been cruel to you.

he wanted to wrap you up and protect you from everything. from the past, from shitty exes, from the version of himself that used to not care about anyone or anything.

you made him care.

and that terrified him. because there was still something he hadn’t told you.

“can i ask you something?” he said suddenly, voice quieter now.

“of course, satoru."

he swallowed. “would you… hate me if i wasn’t exactly who you thought i was?”

your wide eyes met his. soft. concerned. not an ounce of judgment.

“hmm? what do y' mean?”

he stopped walking. the sun filtered through the leaves above, casting shadows across your face like a painting.

“what if i told you i’ve made mistakes?” he said. “like, bad ones. the kind that make you want to erase yourself and start over.”

your fingers clutched your book tighter, but you didn’t flinch.

“i think we all have those kinds of mistakes,” you said gently. “but that doesn’t make you a bad person. just human.”

and gojo, god he felt like the ground had disappeared under him.

because you meant it. even without knowing the truth. even with your soft voice and your shy little glances and the way you stood so close, so trusting. you believed in him. still.

he never wanted to break that look in your eyes.

“i never want to hurt you,” he whispered.

you reached out, fingers trembling a little as they curled around his wrist. so delicate. so warm.

“if it’s something from before…” you said, barely above a whisper. “you can tell me. i won’t run away.”

you probably meant it, too. even though your heart was fragile, even though your past left you aching in ways you didn’t talk about, you were still reaching for him.

and that… god, that broke him. he stared at your hand. you were so small. so good. too good for him. and yet… here you were.

he should’ve told you right then. ripped it off like a band-aid.

but all he could think about was how beautiful you looked when you trusted him. how sweet your voice sounded when you called him satoru. how much it would hurt when that melted into betrayal.

so instead, he smiled.

“you’re dangerous when you talk like that,” he said, voice light again. “i’m two seconds from spilling my soul.”

you tilted your head, unconvinced. “satoru…”

he grinned. “i promise i’ll tell you. just not today.”

you hesitated, then nodded slowly. “okay. but i’m holding you to it.”

his chest twisted.

you shouldn’t be so kind to him.

but you were.

and it made him want to be worthy of you.

“deal,” he said. and as you started walking again, he let his hand brush yours. not quite holding it. but close.

close enough that maybe, just maybe you could still forgive him when the truth finally came out.

because he already knew:

he loved you.

he loved you more than anything else in this fucked up world.

and he’d do anything to keep that look in your eyes a little longer.

it started with suguru flopping onto the leather couch in the alpha phi common room, yawning like he hadn’t just come from class.

“so,” he said, cracking open a cold can of something carbonated and probably stolen from the communal fridge. “are you ever gonna introduce her to the rest of us, or are you just gonna keep hiding your little girlfriend away like a dragon hoarding treasure?”

gojo didn’t even look up from his phone. he was already typing out his good morning text to you.

“first of all,” he said, thumbs moving fast, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“right,” suguru drawled. “you just text her twenty-four seven, walk her to class, and cancel beer pong night so you can rewatch spirited away on your couch with her.”

“it’s a good movie,” gojo muttered.

“you hate that movie.”

“i like it now.”

suguru snorted, propping his feet up on the table. “you’re gone, man.”

gojo leaned back in his seat, a lopsided grin creeping over his face despite himself. he didn’t bother denying it. what was the point?

movie nights had started casually. he’d invited you over under the pretense of “redeeming your taste in cinema.” you’d blushed and giggled, tugging your sleeves over your hands and asking, “does that mean you’re gonna make me watch transformers?”

“don’t tempt me,” he’d said, already queuing it up.

but instead, you’d picked soft, strange little films—quiet ones with too many close-ups and too little dialogue. and something about sitting on the worn-out alpha phi couch with you, shoulders just barely touching, watching the flicker of light dance over your face as you whispered, “this part always makes me cry,” had rewired his brain entirely.

you’d grown braver, little by little.

the first night, you’d sat on the far end of the bed, legs curled beneath you, body coiled tight like you expected to be mocked or judged at any moment. gojo had kept the mood light, cracking jokes, tossing popcorn at your head, playing the fool.

but by the third night, you’d fallen asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

and he hadn’t moved. not for an hour. not even when his arm went numb. not even when suguru walked in, saw you, and mouthed simp before tiptoeing out.

by the fourth night, you were wearing one of his hoodies.

and by the fifth, you were stealing all his blankets and kicking him when he tried to take them back.

it was getting bad. it was getting real.

so when suguru pushed again, raising a brow over the rim of his can and saying, “i’m serious, you should bring her to the party this weekend. the guys are starting to think you made her up,” gojo didn’t roll his eyes this time.

gojo narrowed his eyes. “what do you think of her? isn't she in your ethics?"

“quiet. polite. smart. a little skittish.”

he meant it kindly, but gojo’s jaw tensed anyway. “she’s been through some shit.”

“i figured.”

“sukuna.”

suguru winced. “fuck.”

“yeah.”

there was a beat of silence. then suguru said, “you like her.”

gojo didn’t answer. he didn’t have to.

“bring her,” suguru said, softer now. “if you’re serious. let her see that not all frat guys are trash.”

gojo looked down at his phone again, at your name on the screen, at the little pink heart next to it. then he nodded, almost to himself.

“yeah,” he said. “okay.”

you met up on thursday afternoon, by the west quad fountain where the sun always hit just right and the flower beds looked like something out of a disney movie. gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against the stone ledge, phone in hand.

“i was starting to think you stood me up,” he teased as you approached.

you tucked your chin down shyly, smiling. “you’re five minutes early.”

“and you’re three minutes late.”

you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. god, you were cute. the cute jeans you wore today captured your curved hips perfectly, and your lip gloss shimmered when the light caught it. your hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon that matched your cute sweater.

he wanted to bottle you up. keep you. never let anything hurt you again.

“so,” he said, hands in his hoodie pockets, “my frat’s throwing a party this weekend.”

you froze, just slightly.

“you… want me to come?” you asked.

he tilted his head. “only if you want to. no pressure. i just... my friends wanna meet you.”

you looked down at your shoes, worrying your bottom lip. he noticed. of course he did.

“you don’t have to wear anything crazy,” he added quickly. “it’s chill. no themes. just music and drinks and—”

“i want to,” you said quietly.

he blinked. “yeah?”

you nodded. “i just… don’t have anything to wear.”

you didn’t say it like a joke. you said it like a confession.

gojo softened. “wanna show me what you’ve got? we can pick something together.”

you hesitated, then nodded.

“okay.”

your dorm was adorable. pink. soft.

he took it all in the second he stepped inside. the plush pillows shaped like hearts, the lace curtains, the fuzzy white rug by your bed. shelves lined with figurines, pastel notebooks stacked in a corner, fairy lights framing your mirror.

it smelled like strawberries and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t name.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “this is the cutest room i've ever seen."

you laughed, cheeks warming. “sorry. it’s a lot, huh?”

“no,” he said, spinning in a slow circle. “it’s so you.”

he meant it. he loved it. he loved you.

you opened your closet and began sifting through hangers, pulling out a couple of outfits and holding them up for inspection.

“i don’t really wanna wear something… like this,” you said, voice softer now as you held up a tight, low-cut mini dress. “i used to wear stuff like this to sukuna’s parties. because he liked it.”

gojo’s jaw clenched.

“he used to pick what i wore,” you continued, almost like you were talking to yourself. “he said it made me look ‘fuckable.’”

gojo stepped forward, gentle but firm.

“you don’t ever have to wear something like that again,” he said. “not for me. not for anyone.”

you looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“wear what makes you feel good,” he added. “what makes you feel safe.”

you nodded slowly, turning back to your closet.

in the end, you chose what made you feel the most comfortable.

“i'll just wear this,” you said. "feels normal."

gojo beamed.

“then it’s perfect.”

you didn’t know it yet, but he’d already cleared it with suguru. made sure the music wouldn’t be too loud, that the crowd wouldn’t be too rowdy, that you’d have somewhere to sit if you got overwhelmed. he was thinking ten steps ahead.

because he didn’t want this to be like sukuna’s parties.

he wanted this one to be yours.

you heard the party before you saw it, music pulsing through the ground, the kind of bass-heavy beat that made your ribs vibrate and your bones feel hollow. the frat house loomed ahead like a palace of chaos: lights flashing from the second-story windows, silhouettes flitting past the curtains, laughter and shouting spilling out through the open door.

you paused just outside, nerves buzzing like static under your skin.

“whoa,” you breathed, fingers tightening around the sleeve of gojo’s hoodie. “it’s… a lot.”

he looked down at you with that soft, easy smile, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “it is a lot,” he agreed. “want to run? we can say we got kidnapped by squirrels.”

you laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky but genuine. “tempting.”

his palm made slow, reassuring circles against your back. “we’ll take it slow, yeah? you’re with me.”

you nodded, and with that, gojo led you up the steps.

the moment the two of you crossed the threshold, the temperature changed. warmth and sweat and alcohol thick in the air. bodies pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of red solo cups and hazy eyes. someone yelled gojo’s name, and the room shifted.

it was like time stopped for half a second.

then the crowd surged, boys calling out, heads turning, eyes locking on the tall, white-haired frat boy walking in with someone clinging gently to his sleeve. someone who wasn’t tall or loud or a blonde girl in a skin-tight mini dress. someone who didn’t fit the mold of “gojo satoru’s usual.”

someone who was you.

“no fucking way,” one guy barked, elbowing his friend. “is that—?”

“holy shit, gojo’s got a girlfriend?”

“what happened to the dumb cheerleader from gamma?”

the murmurs spread like wildfire. you felt them, even if you couldn’t catch every word. the stares burned hot, and suddenly your skin felt too tight.

but gojo just grinned like he didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

he dipped down, lips brushing your ear. “ignore them. they’ve never seen a real girl before.”

you flushed, gripping his arm tighter.

the house was bigger inside than it looked, sprawling with rooms that all bled into one another. the main floor was packed, but gojo expertly steered you through the chaos, guiding you toward a quieter alcove near the stairs. you could tell he was trying to give you a second to breathe.

“there he is!” a voice called, and suguru appeared from the crowd, hair tied back, black gauges catching the light. he was nursing a beer and wearing that same smirk he always had in class, cool, unbothered, like nothing could ever surprise him.

but when his eyes landed on you, they lit up with something close to recognition.

“hey,” he said, stepping forward. “ethics class, right?”

you blinked, this was the guy you used to have abit of a crush on before gojo... “yeah... geto?”

he nodded, and you relaxed just a little. suguru was quiet in class, but he always had a pen behind his ear and never made you feel stupid when you got nervous speaking up.

“i knew gojo was full of shit when he said he was just ‘casually seeing someone,’” suguru said, glancing at his friend with a teasing grin. “but damn, you’re even cuter in person.”

your cheeks flamed. gojo rolled his eyes and slung an arm around your shoulder, tugging you close like he could shield you from the world.

you and gojo never really established what you were, but now you at least knew he was telling people you two were 'seeing eachother.'

“back off,” he said with a mock growl. “she’s fragile. like a baby deer.”

“she’s not fragile,” suguru said mildly, giving you a wink. “but she does look like adorably clueless.”

you laughed at that, and suguru grinned, satisfied.

a few more of gojo’s frat brothers filtered over. nanami, with his blond hair and sharp eyes; toji, towering and terrifying until he said something about how “adorable” your shoes were; even shoko, the only girl in the group, who gave you a once-over and muttered, “thank god. i was starting to think gojo only liked girls who talked in hashtags.”

they were loud and teasing, but none of them made you feel the way sukuna’s crowd used to.

sukuna’s parties had been darker somehow. colder. always something bitter in the air. you remembered standing in corners alone while he disappeared, remembered the way he used to show you off like a new toy. like you were there to prove a point. he used to demand you wear short skirts, high heels, tops that made you feel naked. he’d touch your thigh too hard when you sat, whisper in your ear things that made you gross small.

you’d show up already tense, already braced.

but this? this was different.

you looked up at gojo now, laughing at something suguru said, and your chest ached.

he’d asked what you wanted to wear. had told you you looked beautiful even when you were wrapped in a cardigan. he’d helped you tie the ribbon in your hair and kissed your forehead like it was sacred.

you were still nervous, still out of your element—but you weren’t scared.

gojo nudged you gently. “want a drink? something mild?”

you nodded, and he guided you toward the kitchen, never letting his hand leave yours.

he poured you a soda himself, skipping the sketchy jungle juice, and brought you a paper straw because you’d mentioned once that plastic ones made your teeth feel weird. then he leaned against the counter, watching you sip like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“you’re killin’ me, y’know,” he said casually.

you blinked. “what?”

“look at you.” his voice dropped, all affection. “walking in here like a dream in that little dress. making everyone fall in love with you. it’s rude, honestly.”

you ducked your head, overwhelmed. “stop…”

“can’t,” he said, and then leaned down, brushing his nose against your temple. “i’ve got it bad.”

you smiled into your drink, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

the kitchen door swung open and more people spilled in, so gojo guided you out again, weaving through the house toward the back room. it was quieter there—a pool table, a few couches, ambient music humming from a speaker.

you sat together, close but not quite touching.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice lower now, meant only for you.

you nodded. “yeah. just… this is different.”

“different bad or different good?”

you looked at him. “good.”

he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all night. “you’re doing amazing, by the way.”

you smiled. “you always say that.”

“’cause it’s always true.”

the next few minutes passed in easy conversation. someone from gojo’s econ class came by and said something dumb, and you laughed, hiding your smile in his shoulder. he lit up like you’d just given him a trophy.

people drifted in and out of the room, some lingering to meet “gojo’s girl,” others sneaking glances like they were watching a myth unfold. he let them look. he kept his arm around you.

when you reached for your phone to check the time, he caught your hand and held it, threading his fingers through yours without hesitation.

“you wanna leave soon?” he asked softly.

you bit your lip. “can we stay a little longer? i’m… actually having fun.”

his smile cracked wide, full of boyish delight. “you got it.”

and in that moment, as he tugged you a little closer, as the music pulsed and the voices rose and fell, you realized something that made your heart squeeze.

you felt safe.

not because the party wasn’t wild. not because the stares had stopped. not because your dress was longer or your shoes more comfortable.

you felt safe because he was here.

because gojo satoru, life of the party, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

and somehow, that made all the difference.

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