#or something else. who knows. its all up to you

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Leona Kingscholar

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Leona Kingscholar x Reader 🦁🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss; Flirting; A little angst; A reader with attitude

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Leona’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 7.380 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

The reader is gender neutral but I use king/queen so you can choose how you prefer to read. When Leona calls the reader 'Queen' specifically, he is comparing the reader to the chess piece.

I also write Neji/Kifaji, you can choose which of the name you prefer to read, the original or the English server version

I hope you enjoy 🦁

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / Azul / Jack / Ruggie / (Leona) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

You, Grim, Silver, Sebek, Ortho, Azul, Jack, Ruggie and Idia’s tablet reach the next dream and you land back in the Sunrise City, the capital of Sunset Savanna, just like in Ruggie's dream.

Checking on everyone after dream crossing, Ruggie was fine, and everyone else looked fine with the exception of Azul, who was feeling dizzy and sick. Silver suggests you all get some rest and get some cool drinks to recover. Ruggie says that, because he's the only guy familiar with the area, he would grab some bottles of water or tea from one of the shops nearby, and Jack offers to help him carry everything.

However, that's when they notice something strange. That was supposed to be the busiest and most crowded part of the capital, but... there was less foot traffic, fewer cars, no stalls at all, and every place that sells drinks had its shutters drawn.

“Excuse me, ma'am?” Ruggie approaches someone to try to find out what was going on. “Could I ask you something?”

“Yes?” the lady says, but as soon as she looks at Ruggie: “Eep, a hyena!”

“What? A hyena?!” Another person is startled too. “There's no food left here! Please, just go away!”

They all ran into their homes and locked the doors. Ruggie assures you all that he did nothing wrong. The city is clearly more desolated than it was in Ruggie's dream. You talk for a bit, wondering what kind of dream would Leona be having. You decide to go to the royal palace, since Leona was one of the princes of Sunset Savanna there was a good chance of finding him there. After making sure Azul felt better and was ready to walk, he stood up and you all changed into your school uniforms. You were about to start walking towards the palace when you heard someone saying your name.

“King/Queen (Y/N)?” A child calls you, weakly.

You turn around and see a little beastchild looking at you with sad and begging eyes. When she sees your face, recognizing you, a smile appears and she run to you to hug your legs.

“Please, your majesty! Do something!” The beastchild begs you, crying and sobbing. “We are so hungry...” the child's tummy rumbles. “Make King Leona give our food back. Please!”

You didn't know what to do, there was so much information and it was such a sad sight. At that moment, the child's mother comes to you and grabs the child, taking her from your legs.

“I am deeply sorry, Your Highness.” The lady tells you, also with sadness in her eyes. “We know you can't do anything.” She doesn't say this in an accusatory way, but as if you were in the same situation. “We know you're trying your best. We know... the herds have moved on.” She looked at you differently when she said this last sentence, as if it meant something more. She bows to you. “Have a safe return home, Your Grace.” The beastwomen turns to leave with the child in her arms.

“Okay, now that the crisis is over...” Ruggie begins by saying calmly. “KING/QUEEN (Y/N)?!” He shouts in disbelief. “King Leona?! Bring back their food? What the heck just happened?!”

“We can discuss this on the way.” Sebek says. “We have to get to that palace AND FAST!”

You all head to the palace while deciphering what you heard from the beast child and the beast woman. The child called Leona king and both she and her mother called you king/queen and your highness. The only explanation was that you were married to Leona in that dream. When they reached this conclusion, everyone looked at each other, especially Jack, Ruggie, Azul and Ortho.

“Leona...?” Azul said with a smile slowly forming as he was holding back. “Leona Kingscholar? In love with a herbivore?” He wasn't making fun of you, he was just quoting Leona himself. “To the point of... hehe, dreaming that he is... married to them?... ha haha HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He started laughing, but he wasn't the only one, Ortho was laughing too and even Ruggie. That even caught Idia's attention, who had been distracted until that moment doing research.

“I can't believe it!” Idia says through the tablet, with that mocking voice that he certainly wouldn't have the courage to use in front of Leona. “The big, imposing, Oresama type macho man whose romantic interest is the poor, weak, isekaied person with a soft heart?! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, my diaphragm is starting to hurt, hahaha!”

“Man, not even I was even expecting this!” Ruggie says. “But I KNEW something was up! Shyeheehee.”

Only Jack, Sebek and Silver weren't laughing. Quite the contrary, they seemed to be respectfully silent. Jack even seemed to want to smile a little, not a mocking smile, but because he thought that this could be one of the parts of Leona that he admired. Both he and Sebek positioned themselves in such a way as to create a barrier between you, in front of them, and the others who were laughing behind them.

Arriving at the royal palace's front entrance, you didn't encounter a single guard. Ruggie says that normally the lionesses have the whole place locked down tight. Which must mean that something was definitely up in the royal palace.

“Knowing that would give me reservations about simply walking in through the front door.” Azul says. “But since we are in the company of Your Majesty (Y/N)...” He smiles.

You then hear some strange laughter. Quite scary ones. After so many dreams, your team members automatically form in front of you to protect you when things like this happen. Jack and Sebek were now between you and the laughing people.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” A hyena beastman says, accompanied by others like him and all wearing the same type of what looked like a traditional guard’s or fighter's outfit.

“Hmm, I dunno.” Another hyena beastman says. “What do you think?”

“These guys couldn't be more obviously delinquent if they tried.” Jack comments. “Are they actually guardsmen?”

“They're dressed in the uniform of the Sunset Warriors, the king's personal team of guardians...” Ruggie explains.

“Wait...” Azul thinks to himself. “If they are the king's personal guardians, then... (Y/N).” He turns to you. “If you truly are part of the royal family, then these brutes will listen to you. They have to listen to you. Try to talk to them, but with confidence, this is very important. Remember, you are the King/Queen.” He smiles smugly.

You gather your courage and take a few steps forward, passing by the boys who were between you and the royal guards.

“Hehehehe! Looks like one of you is eager to be our dinner. Dyah hah hah!”

“I order you to let us pass!” You demand. “Me and my guests!”

“Oh yeah? And who do you think you... wait... you...” They smell the air to better understand your scent and finally be sure. “HEEEP! Y-y-y-your Majesty! We didn't know. W-we thought they were trespassers!”

“PLEASE FORGIVE US!” Everyone bows to you.

You say you forgive them for now and that now that they know who you and the others are they will let you pass... right?

“Hum... We are very sorry, Your Highness, but...” they didn't seem that sorry, a little smile even began to form on their faces. “King Leona ordered us not to let anyone in with you. No matter who it was.”

“What?! Why?”

“Oh, we don't question him, your highness. If it's something between you two, we would never intrude hehehe.”

One of them, who appears to be the leader, pulls you by the hand and hands you over to two other guards. As gently as possible for someone who is pulling you against your will.

“Take them inside!” He orders them. “We'll send the unwelcome guests away.”

And so the guards take you by the arms almost like a prisoner, but with much more care so as not to hurt you.

Once you passed through the doors, you had no more reason to fight against the guards. So they released you and escorted you down the hallway until you crossed paths with someone else.

“Ah, your highness. Welcome back.” An old man with blue and white hair and beard, wearing round glasses greets you with a genuine smile. “How was your walk? Hmm? Are those new clothes? I don't think I've ever seen you in them. But please, don't get me wrong, they look very good on you.”

The guards tell him that they found you outside with foreigners, and they even make up a story that they saved you from them, who were trying to kidnap you during your walk. During this, you hear them calling the old man Neji/Kifaji. As soon as you start saying that part was a lie, the old man automatically believes you.

“Cease you absurdity!” Neji/Kifaji scolds the guards. “I know what orders King Leona gave you. *sigh* You can leave King/Queen (Y/N) with me. You may go back to your posts now.”

The guards nod and turn to leave. However, you notice that they don't seem to have as much respect for Neji/Kifaji as they probably should.

“You were saying that the guards were lying about the foreigners wanting to kidnap you.” He returns to the subject calmly and in an understanding tone. “But you said it was true that you were with a group of people. Do you mind if I ask who they were?”

You tell him that they were your friends and he smiles sadly.

“Friends of yours? Well, it would be a pleasure to welcome them and see you enjoying yourself...” The smile fades, giving way to a slight frown. “If it weren't for your husband's paranoia.”

“Paranoia? Are you talking about that order not to let anyone in with me?”

“That is just the most recent one. I wonder how he knew your friends were coming. Either way... *sigh* I'm deeply sorry, Your Majesty. I believe this was not the life you imagined when you married Prince Leona. Being a king/queen of a country in ruins and without food to feed its people.”

This reminds you of that beastchild who recognized you and hugged you, asking you to help them have food again. You tell him this and it made him decide to go and have a talk with Leona again, to  try to put some sense in his head once more. But not right now. He'll do it later, after he helps you prepare your royal clothes for you to change into. After all, those black clothes must be very hot in Sunset Savanna, no?

You change into a beautiful suit/dress (whatever you prefer) and only after you're ready do you realize that Neji/Kifaji took advantage of you changing clothes to go and have that conversation with Leona.

You follow the voices until you find the two in the throne room, but you don't go in yet. Instead, you stay in a hidden corner, listening.

“Your majesty, you are the only one who can save this kingdom now.” Neji/Kifaji says. “The former king succumbed to illness after many long years, then His Highness Falena and his family were lost in as unexpected accident...”

“Don't bring that up.” You see Leona, wearing an elegant brown suit with gold necklaces and rings. His hair looked different too, his bangs pulled back. “That was a tragedy.” You also see for a moment the dreamer's silver bird around his head. “Not only did we lose my brother, but we even lost little Cheka... Just remembering it makes me want to cry.”

It's hard to decipher if he's just saying it for the sake of it, or if his words are sincere and he's hiding his true feelings with his disinterested attitude.

“Yes, and you became king in the midst of that tragedy and turmoil.”

“Grudgingly. I never wanted the crown.”

“‘I will work through my grief and push onward to the dawn of a new era.’” Neji/Kifaji reminds Leona. “‘I will work hand in hand with my people for peace and prosperity, paving the way to a glorious future.’ That was what you said in your coronation day. Did you mean a single word of that?”

“Excuse me?” Leona says, still unbothered. “I kept my word and paved the way to the future, didn't I?”

Basically, Leona did what he promised, but literally. He pushed through rapid development over the warning of experts and the objections of his people. The plant life has withered, the water's polluted, the wildlife has vanished and there is nothing left to eat or drink. This makes Leona say that he is not like his father and brother, that he would never cater to fools that cling to outdated traditions and customs.

“Your Majesty, you speak too harshly.” Neji/Kifaji says. “The development plan you envisioned was revolutionary, I'll grant you that. But it was out of touch with reality. It simply wasn't possible to implement that plan in the nation we lived in.”

Leona is silent for a second, thinking about what he just said.

“Yes, my plan itself was perfect. Who was it that ruined that perfect plan? The incompetent citizens, that's who. Who are they to complain nonstop when they have no chops of their own?”

“Your Majesty, they're people, not pawns. They vary wildly in capabilities and personalities. They act of their own volition. As king, you should have accepted that and worked with them.”

“What? Why would I work with incompetent idiots? You must be joking. I did everything I said I would. the rest of you better figure it out from here. The last thing I need is to go around cleaning up after idiots.”

Neji/Kifaji accuses Leona of abdicating all responsibility but he defends himself by presumptuously saying that he only offers his leadership to those capable of perfectly carrying out his ideals.

“I've had enough of incompetent fools.”

“You keep speaking of incompetence...” Neji/Kifaji proceeds. “But have you ever recognized a single person other that yourself as competent?!”

Leona doesn't respond.

“Not even your own spouse?”

“What did you say?” Leona gets angry again, but this time it's different.

“Your spouse.” Neji/Kifaji repeats. “Do you also see them as one of your chess pieces? Present just to serve you?”

“Hm he he. Indeed, they are also one of my pieces.” He smirks. “But you're mistaken if you think I only have pawns around me.”

“Oh, yes?” Neji/Kifaji smils slightly, for the first time. “Are they really your queen on this board?”

“Who else would I marry if not a true queen?” Leona smiles smugly.

“Heh heh. The Queen is the most powerful piece in chess. More powerful even than the King itself... is that how you truly see (Y/N)?” He smirks at Leona.

“That would be stretching it too far. Don't put words in my mouth. And Neji/Kifaji... ” The smirk disappeared and Leona glared threatening at him. “If you dare to insinuate that again... I'll fry you up right at the spot and make you be served as our next meal.”

At that moment, they and you hear a commotion outside the palace. You look out the window nearest you and see a crowd complaining that there is nothing left for them there, not even food.

“And I thought things were bad under Falena!” You see Ruggie saying among the crowd. “This is so much worse!” The other protestors agree. “But it doesn't have to be! Give the leadership to King/Queen (Y/N)!”

“We want King/Queen (Y/N)! King/Queen (Y/N)! King/Queen (Y/N)!”

“Buncha loudmouths idiots...” Leona complains. “This is a monarchy, not a democracy. They'd have to get rid of me first. Heh, as if.” He turns to Neji/Kifaji. “Speaking of which, where is (Y/N)?”

“I left them to change their clothes before coming here, Your Majesty.”

“Change clothes? Did they go for a walk again? What have they been up to?”

“That is unknown to me. They returned safe and sound, that's the only thing that concerns me.”

“Liar! You are covering for them... Well, the people are calling for them.” He smirks. “You better go get them.”

“There is no need.” You say, finally entering the throne room and revealing yourself dressed in your royal attire. “I’m here.”

The people continue to protest.

“Ugh... so annoying. How's a guy supposed to nap like this? Get out there and make them pipe down, Neji/Kifaji. Part of a grand chamberlain's job is ensuring their kings/king and queen can live in comfort. I'll do as I see fit. After all, I am still the king.” He smirks.

“Yes, sire. You are still the king.”

“Now get outta here. You're bothering me.”

He withdraws to obey his king's orders.

“And you come with me.” Leona tells you. “We need to talk and that's impossible here with so much noise.”

He walks to the exit of the throne room, into the hallway, and you follow him.

Leona takes you to a large and luxurious living room. You can no longer hear the protests, and when he closes the doors, it seems like a relaxing silence invades the space.

Leona sighs with relief and slumps his shoulders, then he walks to one of the sofas and collapses onto it. Sitting, not lying down. Then he looks at you lazily and beckons you with his finger to sit next to him.

You do so, and as he had his arms stretched out over the backrest, he puts one of them around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You thought he would complain to you about the protestors but... He stays silent, just hugging you with one arm while you rest your head on his chest.

“Did you hear?” He finally says after some time, in a worn out tone. “They want you.”

You don't say anything. You don't even know what to say. He looks so much more exhausted than before he walked through that door.

“I know about your rebels.” He says without changing his tone.

“My rebels?”

“The herds have moved on...” He quotes, the same phrase that the mother of that beastchild told you. “It’s your secret phrase. To recognize each other. You created a group against me.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” You straightened up with no difficulty, since he didn't even try to stop you. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“You heard them.” He looks at you with disdain. “They want you to lead them. To take the throne.” He leans toward you like a predator stalking its prey. “To take my place.”

“That's what they want. Why would I want it?”

He pauses and remains in thoughtful silence for a second.

“Why did you want to marry me?” He asks you without emotion in his voice.

“What? I-”

“You were the one who asked me to be your boyfriend, and then to marry you... You appeared here, coming from nowhere, alone, lost and with nothing, not even magic.” He gets closer and closer, speaking through growls, making you slide across the sofa. “We sheltered you in our palace to help you and what have you done?” The pull of your clothes on the sofa fabric doesn't allow you to move very far, and you end up lying down with him on top of you with threatening eyes and teeths. “You made me fall in love with you, marry you, to then steal my throne!”

“Don't be stupid!” You tell him without fear. “Why the heck would I want your throne?! Especially now. Do I look like I want to clean up your mess?”

His face remains frighteningly angry and he growls at you, but you don't seem the least bit concerned anymore. He brings his face close to yours as if he wants to bite you, but then he simply lies down with his head on your chest.

“Heh heh, it was more fun messing with you in the beginning.” He returned to his lazy, laid-back tone in less then a second. “I know why these people are protesting to have you as their ruler.”

“You do?”

He doesn't answer you right away, he just whispers after a few seconds.

“You���re the Queen.”

“What?” You really weren't sure you heard correctly.

He rises, stretching his arms, but still on top of you. His gaze has changed. It's calm, and you might even risk calling it loving.

“You’re the Queen.” He repeats. “That's what I told Neji/Kifaji. The most powerful piece in chess.” The trace of the smile he had disappears and he sighs. “Stronger than the King itself.”

He gets off of you and sits back down on the couch. He gives you his hand to help you sit down next to him too.

“Of course they like you.” He gets up and starts walking to a window. “I'm the guy who left them without food, without water, who destroyed their home.” He stops in front of the window, looking at the dark landscape. “And you're the kind person who listens to them, who comforts them, who wants the best for them.” He wasn't speaking for himself, he was speaking out what he believed his subjects thought. “The poor, golden-hearted herbivore who's trapped with the tyrant.” He smirks. “Heh heh heh. I wouldn't even be surprised if you were completely clueless about what's going on with these protests.” The next words he whispers so you don't hear. “You always had a way of bringing people together... Stronger than the king himself...”

While he was talking at the window with you still on the sofa, you received a message. Leona didn't notice, and when you looked, it was a message from Idia telling you not to try to wake Leona up alone because it could be dangerous for you while you were away from the rest of the group. They would return to the palace again the next day with a plan. Until then, you should just try to stay safe.

He turns away while yawning loudly and you quickly put your phone back away.

“I'm tired. I need a nap.”

He walks towards you, sits on the sofa where you are, a little away, turns around and lies down with his head in your lap and eyes closed. He opens one of his eyes to look at you and smirks.

“You still get flustered by this? Heh heh. Cute... What? It's not like you have anythin’ better to do, right?”

He closes his eye again and relaxes. You look at his ears and decide to take a chance and pet them like you would a cat. And he doesn't complain, quite the opposite, he smiles slightly without opening his eyes and melts at your touch. After a moment, he turns to hug your waist and continue sleeping.

Before dinnertime, Leona separates from you. You start to get hungry and go looking for him or Neji/Kifaji and he is the one you find in one of the corridors. He greets you with a smile, but sighs when you ask him about dinner.

“My apologies, your majesty, but there is no more food in the palace. No meat or vegetables. Not even water.”

That was really worrying and then you remember to ask about Leona.

“King Leona walked away from you as dinner time approached? *Sigh* He probably didn't have the courage to face you. Seeing his spouse hungry and unable to provide them with food... Not even his pride can handle so much.”

“Watch your beak!” A voice suddenly said behind you.

You turn around, neither of you even heard Leona approaching. He had one hand in his pocket and in the other a brown bag that he threw to Neji/Kifaji.

“You know what to do with it.” He turns and walks away without saying anything else.

“Yes, sire.” Neji/Kifaji still responds. He looks inside the bag. “Bread?” He puts his hand inside and takes out another smaller bag. He smells it. “And I think ithis is cheese. How did he...?” He then looks at you and smiles weakly. “Well... at least he's looking out for someone. Come, your majesty, I will prepare dinner for you.”

“What about Leona?” You ask. “And you?”

“King Leona never liked people worrying about him.” He says and then looks at you with another small smile. “And you don't need to worry about me. You're very kind, but... you know I don't need it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We both know this is a dream, your majesty.” He says calmly as you walk through a door into the kitchen and starts preparing your cheese sandwich. “You have nothing to fear. Beings like me have a duty to make the dreamer have happy dreams... but you must have already realized that Leona Kingscholar is making our job practically impossible.”

He finishes your sandwich and puts it on a plate. He asked you to go to the dining room so you could eat at the table. You go through another door and there's a beautiful dining room with a long table and luxurious chairs. You sit alone and he places the plate in front of you. He stands next to you.

“We must eliminate everyone and everything that might wake him up, that is true.” He keeps explaining to you. “But... He is making this a nightmare no matter our efforts. You were, until now, the only person or even thing that managed to lessen his anguish during all this time. The way he created me, from all the memories of the real Neji/Kifaji, does not allow me to continue with my duty to keep him asleep. No matter how hard I try to convince him that he can actually do something to improve this situation, it's useless. There is only one way to make him happy.” He looks at you with certainty. “He needs to wake up. And have you with him when he does.”

When night came, Neji/Kifaji told you that you had the option of sleeping in a bedroom alone if you wanted. He could tell Leona that you didn't feel well enough to sleep with him.

But if you choose to sleep in the same room and bed as Leona, you will enter the room alone as well, lie down on the bed and fall asleep from waiting for him.

You wake up a little later because you feel an arm around your waist and someone behind you. Having seen and heard Leona sleeping so many times, you quickly confirmed that it was him simply by the way he yawned. He pulls you closer and you feel his chest on your back and his breath for a moment on your neck.

If you decide to turn around and look at him, you'll see him looking at you with his green eyes half-closed and with that eyeshine in the middle of a darkness that was only not total due to the weak glow of the moon that entered the room.

“What?” He says lazily and in a deep voice. “You don't look disappointed that I woke you up.” He smirks.

Seeing the way you were looking at him, he pulls you closer again, rubs his nose against yours and only then kisses your lips softly but lovingly. If you allow it, you will make out until you fall asleep in each other's arms.

He was the one who fell asleep first, but you were the one who woke up first.

After a moment of enjoying the sight of Leona sleeping beside you, you try to get up. But as soon as you sit down on the bed and swing your legs out, you feel his arm around your waist, preventing you from getting up.

You caress his cheek or ears and tell him you two should get up. You just hear him mumble and feel him slowly pulling you closer. It is then that you hear a knock on the door and Neji/Kifaji announcing it is time to get up. This makes Leona mumble less satisfied than before.

You two get up and get dressed. When you thought you were both ready, you turned to head for the door but Leona speaks up.

“You sure you're ready?” Leona asks you with a somewhat judgmental look.

You look at your clothes and even look in the mirror again. You genuinely don't know what could be wrong.

“Well, if you think everythin's fine...” he shrugs and walks calmly to the door.

You grab his arm and ask him what you were missing. He doesn't answer you, he just smiles, amused by your frustration. Until you finally order him to tell you what he was talking about.

“Hahahah! Okay, okay. Please, don't attack me. You're such a scary herbivore. Hahahaha!” He mocks you, but then he grabs your cheeks with one hand and kisses your lips passionately and playfully. “Such bad manners for a royalty.” He says with a smirk after the kiss. “Don't even give a proper good morning to their own husband. Maybe you need more etiquette lessons.”

As soon as you arrived at the throne room, you immediately heard the protests of the citizens outside.

“Tch... what now?” Leona says. All traces of good mood he had was gone. “Lately it's been ridiculously noisy. Hey, Neji/Kifaji! You there?”

“You called, sire?”

Leona says that you two are hungry and he orders Neji/Kifaji to bring you food, but he says that there is no food and the two of them start arguing about there being nothing in the castle, much less outside, to eat. They argue as usual until Neji/Kifaji sighs and says:

“I never would have had to suffer such demands under Falena.”

This seemed to be a trigger, because as soon as he finished the sentence Leona jumped towards him and grabbed him by the collar, practically strangling him.

“Don't utter that name!” He threatens him, but Neji/Kifaji isn’t intimidated at all. “In case you've forgotten, that name reminds me of my sorrow all over again. Never, ever mention it in my presence.”

You hear the sound of magic and sand begins to swirl around you like a storm.

“Urgh...! Hahaha... Are you serious about eating me for lunch? Oh, you wouldn't want me. I'd be so tough and gamey and...”

“Leona, NO! Stop it!”

You try to stop him, grabbing one of his arms, but he instinctively throws you back, making you fall and crash against the throne's stairs. As soon as he realizes what he just did, he turns to look at you, regretful, but without letting go of Neji/Kifaji. However, soon after the look of regret gives way to one of anger.

“YOU IDIOT! You think you can save anyone by gettin’ in the middle of a fight, weak as you are?! Learn self-preservation and don't meddle in my affairs again!”

“Unca, nooo!” A child said as the door opened with a bang.

You see a huge white wolf attacking Leona, making him let go of Neji/Kifaji, and only after the shock do you realize it's Jack and the child is...

“Cheka?!” Leona says in disbelief. “No, you're dead.”

Cheka and Neji/Kifaji exchange a few words and both he and you notice that Cheka's voice sounds strange. Meanwhile, Jack gets off Leona and approaches you to help you get up with his snout.

“Why, cheka, I'm a little surprised to see you... alive.” It was obvious that Leona already knew that this wasn’t the real Cheka, or at least not the Cheka from his dream. “Your roaring's improved some.” He smiles smugly.

“You're being mean to all our subjects and Neji/Kifaji. you're a bad king, Unca. This is my kingdom to rule. Step down, Unca.”

“Oh, yes... I would, but there's one little problem with that.” A sandstorm forms again and Leona prepares to attack. “I'm not handin' over the throne to some pipsqueak pretender!”

He attacks Cheka and he breaks down into glitches. He destroyed a hologram. The sandstorm creates a whirlwind that pulls three other people into the throne room: Ruggie, Ortho, and Grim.

“A hyena kid? I've been lookin' out for you hyenas, and this is how you repay me? You bring out a fake Cheka and act like you're revolutionaries? Hah, now that's funny.” He grabs Ruggie. “Treason against the crown is punishable by death. Hope you're prepared to face the consequences.”

You get fed up with all this! Leona prepares to use his signature spell on Ruggie, but you run up to them and get between them.

“ENOUGH!” You shout in his face and suddenly the sandstorm dissipates. “Stop this, Leona! This was supposed to be a dream and you single-handedly turned it into a nightmare!” You grab him by the collar and he finally lets go of Ruggie. “Why do you do this to yourself?! If you're so smart, how come you haven't realized this is a dream? That it's all an illusion?”

“What?! What are you talking about? Are you crazy?” Now he was also arguing with you angrily.

“You are being deceived by Malleus right now! You are losing to a lizard you idiot! Just wake up already!”

The dream begins to distort and Leona moves away from you because of the headaches. But at that moment, a group of guards enter the throne room to protect Leona. Several of them attack you all right away, but Neji/Kifaji uses fire magic to protect you. You fight the guards and as soon as the battle ends you realize that Leona has disappeared.

The world had stopped distorting and Leona had just escaped the palace with some of the guards. Meanwhile, they managed to convince Leona that you had let yourself to be brainwashed by opponents of his regime.

“I understand the stupid subjects,” He mutters just to himself, trying hard not to let the guards hear him. “I even understand Neji/Kifaji... but...” Neither you nor anyone else would ever see this, but despite his expression of wrath, he was trying hard not to shed tears. “...them... (Y/N)... my own spouse?!... Why? Why them too?! Why you too?!...” His throat hurt from holding back the tears. “For better... for worse... to love and to cherish... I DIDN'T LIE! WHY DID YOU?!” He finally explodes in anger and roars.

“Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're safe.” The guards who intercepted you the day before run to meet their king. “Things are looking pretty dicey right now. We should find somewhere to lie low for a while.”

“Ah, you guys... At least YOU won't turn your back on me.”

“Heh heh... That's right, Majesty.” Darkness surrounds them all, the ground turns into black goop and the same happens to the NPCs' skin. “We're your only true friends. And everyone else is your true enemy. Even the ones you think you love. We'll turn the world upside-down as many times as it takes. Yes, as many times as it takes...”

Leona lets himself be swallowed by the darkness and shortly after you all arrive and jump into the black goop after him.

You all end up at Savanaclaw, more specifically, at the Spelldrive Stadium in their dorm.

“Oh, what a terrible tragedy.” Leona was wearing his dorm uniform again. “Who could have foreseen panicked crowds charging right into Diasomnia's procession of players? Much less trampling THE Malleus Draconia along with all their other competitors?” He smiles smugly. “But we must all rise to the occasion and triumph in this spelldrive tournament. It's what he'd want. Right?”

“So, in this scenario where the Savanaclaw students succeeded in sabotaging Malleus in the spelldrive tournament?” Jack asks.

“Looks that way.” Ruggie confirms. “Seems like this is happening just before the tournament starts.”

You guys talk about that dream and Leona, and Ruggie and Jack say that Leona is the type of person who's never satisfied. Probably no matter what he achieves, whether in real life or in the dream, he'd get bored quickly and lauch right into the next thing to complain about. However, both Ruggie and Jack conclude this with a smile.

“This version of Leona Kingscholar has recollections of his life at school.” Ortho says. “That means it's possible to make him aware of clashes with reality and deliver a mental jolt.”

“And most of the people involved in the spelldrive tournament are right here.” Ruggie complements. “How's about we put on a show?”

Meanwhile, Leona was talking about their next game being against Octavinelle and commenting that they were such small fry they could beat them blindfolded. Azul appears, along with Silver and Sebek who reveal that they, Malleus, and the other Diasomnia students are all fine and in condition to play in the tournament. And all thanks to Azul. Confronted by Leona, Azul just says with a smirk that he signed a more favorable contract, a basic good business practice.

“What in blazes...?” His dream begins to distort. “Why am I getting déjà vu from this? Hrgh!"

“Leona?” The Ruggie with inky black skin asks. “What's wrong?”

“He's waking up from a dream.” The real Ruggie arrives along with Jack.

“Two Ruggies?” Leona looks from one Ruggie to the other. “And, a dream...? Agh! What is this? My head...!”

Leona begins to remember what happened that day, including the colar that Riddle put around his neck and him saying that he would never become king no matter how hard he tries.

The darkness begins to do their job of trying to protect Leona and keep him asleep, so you attack them. After defeating the NPCs and them dissolving into black goop, Jack and Ruggie tell Leona to remember who he really is and then the dream breaks.

Leona wakes up as always, complaining, this time about him not remembering that whole ridiculous plot, your scraggly faces not being the first things he wanted to see when he opens his eyes and asking Jack not to yell in his ear.

“I got a delicate constitution, y'know. You should wake me up more gently.”

“You star grumbling the moment you wake up...” Ruggie says. “That's the Leona I know, shyeheehee!”

“Hey, Ruggie. You've got some explaining to do. What's going- ?!”

The earth begins to shake and the ground is covered in black goop. The dream was collapsing. You all prepare to escape the dream, when you are caught in the darkness and begin to be pulled in.

“(Y/N)!” Everyone shouts.

Grim automatically jumps towards you, but Leona stops him by grabbing him by the bow around his neck. Grim rants at him as if he's stopping him from saving your life, and for a second, his snout looked a lot like it did when he attacked you the night before he was taken to S.T.Y.X.

“You idiot!” Leona says, seriously. “You think (Y/N) wants you to go down with them?!”

He throws Grim for Jack to catch and rushes to you. He first grabs one of your arms, then holds you by the torso, wrapping his arms around your waist. Although this causes him to be trapped in the darkness as well.

“Rgh! This isn't just your weight. There's a powerful tug... Ah, crud. Guess you can't win 'em all...”

“What? What are you going to do?!” You ask, afraid he'll leave you.

He brings his face close to yours and looks you deeply in the eyes.

“Win this one for me, my Queen.” then he turns his face away from you. “JACK! CATCH!”

He pulls you out of the darkness and makes you fly until you land in Jack and Silver's arms. The last thing you see is Leona sinking into the darkness with a smirk. Since he was the dreamer, he still had a chance to save himself, but you didn't, so you all left the dream, whether you wanted to or not.

When you return to Leona's dream, you are back in the devastated, gray Sunset Savanna of the beginning of his dream. But regardless, you, Jack and Ruggie were just happy to see him safe and sound, and him wearing the Savanaclaw uniform showed that he was still awake.

“I never thought I'd see Leona of all people dive into darkness on someone else's behalf.” Azul says with a smirk. “Could this be the power of love?” He was holding back laughter.

“How brave for someone who can be dehydrated at a touch to open his mouth like that.” Leona replied with his own smirk.

“I can see why you're housewarden of Savanaclaw. That was an incredible show of bravery.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Leona shrugs it off and turns to you. “You. We need to talk. Come with me.” He starts walking away from the others. “If someone follows us, won't get out of this dream alive.” He says without stopping walking or turning to look at any of them.

You follow him to a huge rock where the others can no longer see or hear you. He leans against the rock and crosses his arms, casually.

“I remember everything.” He says, impassively and looking you in the eyes. “I was dreaming that we were married.” He analyzes your facial expression, but it doesn't take a genius to know what your little smile means. He smirks. “You didn't need to sleep with me, you know?”

You can't hide how flustered you are.

“He gave you a choice, didn't he?” Leona continues, with that smug smile. “You could have gone to sleep in another room...” He pushes himself off the rock and starts walking around you. “...But as soon as I went to bed...” He stops behind you and whispers in your ear. “...I find you there.”

You turn to face him with a smug grin of your own.

“Well, you didn't mind that either.”

“Why would I?” He takes a few steps forward, slowly, making you take a few steps back too. “I was dreaming that I was your husband...” Your back meets the huge rock and he leans with his forearm next to your head, bringing his face close to yours. “You think I wouldn't want to sleep with my spouse too?”

He looks from your eyes to your lips, but then he looks to one of your shoulders as if he's actually looking behind you. The smile slowly fades and he straightens up.

“I'm sorry.” He says, simply and with that neutral expression.

“What?”

“When I pushed you. You fell against the stairs...” For the first time, he looks away from you. “I'm sorry.” He repeated in a low tone but with genuine regret, at least for his standards.

You say it's okay, that he wasn't being completely himself and that he was going through a complicated situation. You've visited enough dreams to know that the dreamer doesn't necessarily act like themselves in their dreams.

“You can't use that excuse from now on.” He tells you, determinedly. “You can accept that dream as an isolated experience. But if something like that happens again, you won't give me excuses. You'll leave! No looking back. Understood?” He orders you.

You agree with a smile. That was his way of caring about you and protecting you. But with a smirk you ask if that means you can ask him for something to make up for what he did.

“Hm?” He smirks back. “What you mean? You just admitted that I was a victim too. I was going through a difficult situation and wasn't being myself. Your words. Forgiving me in this context was the least you could do for your crush.”

“Oh yeah? I came here to save you, and I even made your dream less of a nightmare for a moment. YOUR crush should get a reward for that at least. It would only be fair.”

“Wasn't that night reward enough?”

“Y-you weren't being yourself. I want a reward from the real Leona.”

“Hehe. Fine. If my Queen insists.”

He holds you by the waist, pulls you towards him and kisses your lips, hungrily. He slowly pushes you with his body to bring you back against the large rock behind you, without taking his lips off yours.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[pitlanepeach]

White Mercedes | Chapter Twenty

Oscar Piastri x Anneliese Wolff (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — It was just supposed to be a game. Once a month. No names. No questions. A few hours where she could surrender fully—because everywhere else in her life, she was drowning.

But Oscar Piastri was all quiet power and brutal precision. He didn’t ask who she was, and she didn’t offer. Not her name. Not the harsh reality of her past. Definitely not the part about being Toto Wolff’s daughter.

But it’s not a game anymore. It’s a secret with teeth. And when it all comes crashing down, she doesn’t know if it’s her heart or his career that’ll break first.

Warnings — BDSM themes, realistic and flawed characters, Dom!Oscar, Sub!OFC, slow burn romance, lots of smut (obviously), strong language, drug-addiction, suicidal thoughts/ideation, past-suicide attempts, vaguely mentioned past sexual assault.

Notes — Surprise!! I wrote this on my phone so please excuse any spelling/grammatical mistakes xx

Feed the writer with your reactions/thoughts/feelings!<3

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next time somebody asks Anneliese Wolff how tall she is, she won’t tell them that she’s five foot five, or five foot six on a good day.

She’ll tell them that she’s twenty-eight kisses tall.

Because that’s how many it took.

Twenty-eight kisses, laid over her trembling body with such impossible care that her eyes had gone hot with tears. Not the bruising kind, or the biting kind. No. These were the soft ones. The slow ones. The kind you gave to something precious after you’d wrung it out and gently put it back together.

Oscar was quiet.

He’d simply lifted her from the velvet chair and carried her to the chaise, settling her into his lap like she was made to live there. His arms wrapped around her back. Her legs tucked between his. A blanket found its way over her hips, but the lace of her bra and panties still clung to her skin—damp in places, sheer in others.

He’d kissed her—twenty-eight times exactly.

One to her shoulder. Two behind her ear. Five down the curve of her spine. Eight more scattered along her ribs, her waist, her thighs. And the last? He pressed it to the centre of her forehead, while her head rested on his chest and her breath stuttered from the afterglow.

Ana didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her body was molten with endorphins, her thoughts distant and slow. She floated—warm, quiet, wrecked—with her cheek tucked against his shirt, her fingers curled into the soft cotton stretched across his stomach.

“Still with me?” Oscar murmured, brushing her damp hair back from her forehead.

“Mhm.”

He smiled, tilting her chin to meet her eyes. Her pupils were wide. Her lashes stuck together. She looked utterly undone. Utterly content.

“This underwear,” he said, voice low and reverent, “is a fucking gift.”

Ana blinked, her lips twitching in a sleepy smile. “I… picked it for you.”

“I know you did.” His fingers slipped beneath the edge of the blanket. “So pretty. Perfect for my pretty girl.”

She made a soft, embarrassed sound. A half-hiccup, half-giggle. Her body twitched—still sensitive. “You like it?”

He leaned close, lips brushing her temple. “Of course I do.”

His hand, still under the blanket, slid lower. Over her stomach. Across her hip. Then down—palm cupping the heat of her through soaked lace. She jolted, a sharp little gasp escaping her.

“Oscar—”

“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair. “Just letting you feel me. I’m not moving. You’re too sensitive. I know.”

His hand stayed right there—firm, warm, steady.

Ana trembled, but didn’t pull away. The weight of his touch grounded her. Not teasing. Not demanding. Just present. And safe.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. “You were so good for me, Anneliese. So beautiful.”

Her breath caught. “That felt different than anything I’ve ever done before.”

“I thought it might,” he said softly.

She blinked up at him, raw and unsure. “Did I… do okay?”

He laughed gently, awed. “Are you serious? You were perfect. You listened, you gave me everything I asked for, you made yourself feel good. You were such a good girl. I don’t think you understand how amazing you were.”

She flushed and buried her face in his chest. “Oh god.”

He chuckled, then nudged the blanket down just enough to expose her wrist—his racing number, bold and inky, still scrawled just above her pulse.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” she whispered.

He kissed her wrist. “I can tell.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever… that I’d be able to like it. Not having control. But I do. I really like it. And it’s the only time when all the thoughts stop. The guilt. The regrets. The cravings.”

Oscar held her gaze. His hand still rested gently between her thighs—possessive without pressure. Intimate. Anchoring.

“You thought you wouldn’t like it?” he asked quietly.

Ana nodded once.

“Why?”

Her voice shrank. “Because… I haven’t ever really been given that choice before.”

Oscar didn’t answer. He just pulled her closer, let the blanket fall back over her legs, and laced his fingers through hers—his number still dark against her skin.

Then, softly, Ana whispered, “Most of the time… before, when I did stuff like this, I was high.”

He stilled.

“I mean—not out-of-my-mind. Just… enough to blur it. Enough that I didn’t remember much. Or maybe I just don’t want to. It never felt like this. It never felt like anything. Just something that happened to my body, and then I tried to forget it.”

Oscar’s jaw ticked—but he stayed quiet.

“But this?” she continued, voice trembling. “With you? I’ll remember every second. I want to. I never want to do this with anyone else ever again.”

Oscar exhaled—slow, shaky—and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m a selfish man, baby. So hearing that makes me feel a lot of things.”

She gave a tiny nod, glassy-eyed.

“You don’t have to promise me forever,” he said. “But I’ll take every moment you offer.”

She smiled, barely. “You can have forever.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “That was easy.”

She shifted a little in his lap. Kissed his collarbone. Hummed against the skin there, breathed in his scent. “I wanna… Can I give you a hickey?”

He blinked, surprised. Then grinned. “You wanna mark your territory, sweet girl?”

“Mhm.” She nuzzled closer. “I want everyone to see it. When you do that thing after a race—when you tug at your fireproofs and drink your water like you always do—I want everyone to know.”

“That I’m claimed?” he murmured, his voice already low with something heavier.

“That you’re mine,” she whispered.

Then she shifted in his lap, the blanket sliding down to pool around her hips, forgotten. She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his collarbone. Then another, and another. Slower. Wetter. Her lips parted slightly—just enough to taste him. To let her teeth skim the skin.

Oscar’s breath stuttered.

She did it again. Open-mouthed now, just shy of tentative. Her tongue traced along the edge of his shoulder before she sucked gently, testing. A flush of pink rose beneath her lips, and when she glanced up, her brows furrowed. “I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”

“You’re doing perfectly,” Oscar said, his voice tight. “You can’t mess this up. That mouth of yours? It’s fucking lethal.”

She smiled, pleased and a little emboldened.

Her second try was firmer—more confident. Her teeth grazed the line of his collarbone, and her lips soothed over it after, then she sucked just enough to leave something that would bloom dark and proud by morning.

Oscar groaned, head falling back against the velvet cushions. “Jesus, Ana.”

She blinked up at him, flushed and breathless. “Too much?”

“Not even close.” His hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing her bottom lip like he couldn’t bear not to touch her there. “Why does everything you do make me feel like I’m going to combust?”

She flushed under the heat of it, but she didn’t pull away. 

“Wanna do another?” he asked, mouth tilting into a grin. “Right here.” He pointed to the opposite side of his collarbone, just under the throat.

Ana nodded shyly. “Yeah. I want people to see it.”

His grin turned into a full smirk. “Go on then, baby. Make it pretty.”

So she did.

Kissed, nipped, sucked—until a red bloom marked him just below the collar of his shirt. Oscar’s hands gripped her thighs while she worked, not tight, but steady. Possessive. His control never wavered, even as he let her think she was in charge. Let her feel the shape of her own power under the warm pressure of his.

When she pulled back, she traced the dark flush she’d left with a soft, proud finger. “Everyone will see,” she murmured. “They’ll ask questions.”

“Good.” His voice was thick with praise. “I want them to ask. So I can tell them all about the sweet girl who’s stolen my heart.”

Ana giggled, still floaty, but more present now. Her gaze drifted lower, landing on the waistband of his joggers. He was hard beneath her—straining against the fabric—and something about that made her breath catch.

She hesitated, then reached for the edge of the blanket. “Can I…?”

Oscar’s attention sharpened instantly. “You want to keep going, baby?”

Ana nodded, a little unsure. “I don’t really know… how, though.”

His chest rose with a slow breath. Then he kissed her cheek. “That’s okay. I’ll show you.”

Ana’s stomach flipped.

“Come here,” he murmured, guiding her to kneel between his spread legs. He took her hand and rested it over the thick heat of him, still beneath the fabric. Her fingers twitched, trembling.

“That okay?” he asked.

She nodded again, blushing. “You’re so warm.”

Oscar huffed a low, wrecked laugh. “That’s because eighty percent of my blood is in that very specific area right now.”

Ana giggled, her nerves loosening. She didn’t pull away.

“Start slow,” he said softly. “Just touch me. However feels right. I’ll help.”

Her hand moved, tentative, over the shape of him through his joggers. Light, curious strokes that made his hips shift almost instantly.

“Just like that, baby,” he said, his voice a little rough. “You’re doing so good.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He covered her hand with his, gently applying pressure. “Try a little squeeze. Feel what I like.”

She did—bolder this time. She slid her hand along his length, feeling him pulse under her touch. Oscar groaned, and her chest tightened in response, her body alive with something new. Power. Confidence. Control, offered and shaped beneath his.

His hand never left hers. Not to restrain, just to guide.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect.”

She flushed under the praise, but didn’t stop. She tugged at his pants. “Can I take these off?”

He raised a brow. “You want to see it?”

Her voice was soft. “Only if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then pushed his joggers down just far enough to free himself—thick, flushed, heavy against his abdomen.

Ana’s eyes widened. “You’re… big.”

Oscar laughed, delighted and aroused. “And you’re mine.”

She reached again, this time bare-handed. Her fingers wrapped around him slowly, learning the shape and weight of him. She hesitated only once before he curled his hand over hers again, showing her what he liked. Up, down, with a subtle twist at the head.

“There you go,” he murmured, jaw clenched. “That’s it, baby. So good.”

“Is this okay?” she whispered.

“It’s perfect.” He leaned in and kissed her slow, dirty-sweet. “You’re learning so fast. My smart girl.”

That lit something inside her—deep and soft and greedy.

She tightened her grip slightly. Twisted just like he taught her.

Oscar’s hips flexed. “Fuck—yes. Just like that.”

Her smile was proud. “You like when I do that?”

“I love it. You keep this up and I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

She giggled, more confident now, almost teasing. “You always seem like you’re in total control. It’s funny to see you like this.”

Oscar arched a brow, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only for you, baby.” He cupped her cheek. “Only ever for you.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright and wicked with sudden boldness. 

“I think Jules is a bad influence,” he said, brushing her hair back with a grin. “Corrupting my sweet girl.”

Ana’s lips twitched. “No,” she said, voice dipping low. “That’s your job.”

He sucked in a breath. Then he ordered, “Say that again.”

She tilted her chin, testing. “You heard me.”

His breath caught. Then his hand was at her throat, light, warm—his grip not tight, just present. “You really don’t know what that does to me, do you?”

She smiled, flushed and trembling. “Maybe not.”

His voice dropped to a growl as the hand he’d had around her neck moved up to cup her cheek. “Brave little thing. My sweet girl’s got claws.”

Ana turned her head into his palm and kissed it. “Only for you.”

“Okay, baby,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her cheek. “One more thing.”

Ana blinked up at him, lips parted, fingers still wrapped gently around him. “What?”

“Spit in your hand,” he said, voice low. “Just a little. I’ll show you why.”

She hesitated—not out of reluctance, but surprise. Then her cheeks flushed as she looked at him, so undone, so his. She did it—spit quick and shy into her palm—then looked to him for guidance.

Oscar groaned, head dropping back for a second like he needed to ground himself. “Good girl. Now wrap it around me again. That’s it—fuck, Ana.”

The glide was smoother now. Hotter. Her hand moved more confidently, a soft twist at the head just like he’d shown her. Her other hand braced on his thigh as she focused, watching the way his mouth parted and his hips flexed in response.

She was learning fast.

“You’re gonna make me lose it,” he rasped. “My smart girl. So eager to learn how to touch me.”

Ana bit her lip. “I like it. Watching you like this.”

His hand cradled the back of her neck, thumb stroking just behind her ear. “I know you do. That look in your eyes—Jesus, you’re soaked again, aren’t you?”

Her breath hitched. She nodded.

He groaned again. “I’m close.”

She moved a little faster, her strokes steadier now, her lips parted in concentration.

Oscar's whole body went taut. He surged up just slightly, hips jerking into her fist. “Fuck—baby—”

And then he came—hot and sudden, spilling over her hand and his stomach, his body shaking beneath her touch. His fingers dug into her neck, not hard, just enough to anchor himself as he rode the wave.

Ana stilled, wide-eyed, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in awe.

Oscar caught her wrist gently, stilling her hand, breathing hard. Then—without hesitation—he pulled her up and into his arms.

The transition was seamless. One second she was on her knees, and the next she was curled against his chest, the blanket drawn back up over her bare legs, his hand already reaching for tissues on the side table to clean them both up.

“Too much?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, a little dazed. “I’m okay. I think… I just made you…?”

“You absolutely did,” he said, smiling into her hair. “You were perfect, baby.”

Ana buried her face in his chest, overwhelmed and giddy. “I didn’t know if I’d be good at it.”

“You were more than good,” he said, already dabbing gently at her hand, then his skin, then tossing the tissue aside. “You were brilliant. Brave. Curious. So sweet.”

She squirmed, shy and glowing.

Oscar tucked her closer. His hand smoothed slowly up and down her spine beneath the blanket, grounding her. “Breathe for me, baby.”

She did—long and slow. And again.

He kissed her forehead. “That’s it. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“I feel… floaty again,” she admitted.

“That’s normal.” He shifted so she was tucked deeper into his lap, her legs over his, her cheek resting where his heart beat steady and warm. “We kinda went in and out for a second there. Just…let me take care of you now, yeah?”

Ana nodded against him.

Oscar reached for the bottle of water on the side table and held it to her lips. “Sip.”

She drank obediently.

He tilted her chin afterward, kissing the tip of her nose. “What hurts?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I just feel… soft.”

He smiled. “That’s good.”

She blinked up at him, lashes still a little damp. “I—Can I stay at your apartment tonight?”

Oscar’s eyes softened immediately. There was no hesitation, no blink of surprise. Just a subtle shift in the way he cradled her, like he’d been hoping she’d ask. 

“Of course you can,” he murmured. “You don’t ever have to ask.”

Her bottom lip wobbled, just slightly. “I like my house—my bedroom, my closet, my vanity. But… I don’t want to be on my own, after doing this. Ever. I want to stay with you. I want to sleep in your bed, with you.”

“Then you will.” His voice was low but steady, full of quiet promise. “You’ll sleep in my bed, in my arms, and no one will bother you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Ana’s fingers tightened in the soft fabric of his shirt. She looked small all over again, like the moment of strength and confidence she’d found earlier had melted away, leaving only the soft, post-storm version of her that trusted him completely.

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, no toothbrush, none of my pills or vitamins. Nothing.”

Oscar brushed her hair gently back from her face, his knuckles so soft against her cheek. “We can stop by your place on the way. I’ll drive you all the way up, wait by the door, carry your bag. And—” his hand found hers, laced their fingers together, “—you can bring a few things to keep at my place, and I’ll clear out a drawer for you. But maybe you don’t have to bring pyjamas. Because you’d look very cute in one of my shirts.”

She smiled faintly, blinking fast. “I like that idea.”

“Good.”

Ana exhaled, some tension bleeding from her spine. Her cheek returned to his chest, just above his heart, where she could listen to him beat. She liked it there. He smelled like soap and skin and just a little like her now. That last part made something inside her unfurl.

“I want to wake up with you,” she said softly, almost shy.

Oscar tilted her face up again with two fingers under her chin. “Yeah?”

“I want to fall asleep with your arms around me.”

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and soft and impossibly gentle. “Done.”

Ana’s next breath was a shaky thing. She didn't cry—but she came close. She blinked it back, pressed her lips together.

Oscar noticed anyway. “Too much?” he asked, stroking her jaw. “Are we going too fast?”

“No,” she said quickly, urgently. “No, I just… I’m not used to people being kind to me after they get something from me.”

“It will never, ever be like that with me, Ana,” he said. “I’m not those people. I want you. That’s it. All of you. Soft, wrecked, sleepy, bratty—whatever version of you you give me, I’ll take it, and I’ll be grateful for it every single time.”

She stared up at him, stunned. “You mean that?”

“I do.” His hand settled over her back again, slow and steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. You come home with me tonight, and I’ll show you. We’ll eat good food—I’ll ever get you a milkshake on the way home. We’ll shower together, and I’ll wash your hair for you. I’ll find you the comfiest shirt I own. You can sleep. I’ll hold you. And if you wake up in the middle of the night, I’ll still be there.”

Ana closed her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I want—I want to go now. Please.”

Oscar smiled, kissed her temple, and gathered her closer. “Okay, baby. Let’s go home.”

—

The hallway outside the private room hummed with bass and scattered voices—muted compared to the electric thrum of the dance floor beyond. The air was cooler here, washed with the scent of cedar-wood and the faint trace of champagne.

Ana stepped out first, wrapped in Oscar’s jacket. Her legs were bare beneath it, her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her smile was the soft, silly kind that looked like it might fall apart into giggles at any moment.

Subspace. Still riding it, still floating. It made her younger somehow. Not childish, but softer. Lighter. Like she didn’t have to carry the full weight of herself for once.

“Oooh,” Jules grinned from where she leaned against the wall, drink in hand and Lucian beside her. “And there she is.”

Ana blinked at her, then lit up. “Hi.”

Jules narrowed her eyes playfully. “You look absolutely wrecked.”

Lucian raised a slow eyebrow. “Bold move, champ.” He told Oscar, nodding to Ana’s wrist.

Ana beamed and lifted her arm proudly. “It’s permanent marker. I might get it tattooed.”

Oscar made a choked sound. 

“Maybe we don’t commit to a tattoo just yet,” Jules deadpanned, but her smile was wide and affectionate. “You’d have a crisis mid-shower and panic scrub yourself raw.”

“I would not—!”

Lucian gave her a serious look. “A tattoo is something you only do after six months, Anneliese. And a ring.”

Oscar stepped out behind her then, one hand settling on Ana’s hip. His gaze flicked to Jules and Lucian, eyes cool but amused. “Are you done with my girl?”

“She’s our girl too,” Jules said, sticking her tongue out. “We were besties before you even knew each other.”

Oscar gave her a flat look.

Lucian smirked. “You did a good job with her, mate. She looks different.”

“Different how?” Ana asked, still swaying slightly on her feet, jacket sleeves dangling past her hands.

“Happy,” Lucian said simply. “You’re smiling with your teeth. You never do that.”

Ana blinked—and giggled. “That’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” Jules shot back, but softened immediately. “You okay though? Need anything before you go?”

Ana shook her head. “I’m good. Just… floaty.”

Jules’s smile gentled, her eyes crinkling. “Good girl,” she said, teasing but fond.

Ana flushed.

That’s when Oscar leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Okay,” he said, voice calm but final. “Enough of that. I’m done sharing you.”

Ana blinked up at him. “Wait, wha—”

Before she could finish, he scooped her up—effortless, bridal style.

She squeaked, then burst into laughter, legs kicking slightly. “Oscar!”

“Mine,” he said simply, already walking toward the back exit. “You can giggle and show off tomorrow. Tonight, you’re coming home with me.”

“Possessive much?” Jules called after them.

Oscar didn’t look back. “Absolutely.”

Lucian raised his glass. “Drive safe.”

Ana was still giggling when the door swung shut behind them, the thump of bass fading into the cool night air. She tucked her face into Oscar’s neck, breath warm against his skin.

“I like this,” she murmured. “When you carry me.”

“I always want to carry you,” he said softly.

“Like a baby kangaroo,” she added with a lopsided smile—then gasped. “That’s a double entendre! Because you’re Australian!”

Oscar chuckled and kissed her cheek as he opened the car door. “Silly girl. You still want us to get you a milkshake?”

She flopped back into the passenger seat, swinging her legs toward him. “Yes, please. A banana bread one. And a burger. And fries. With cheese.”

Oscar smiled, indulgent, as he crouched to untie her heels. “Anything you want.”

He slipped the first heel off and then leaned in and kissed her ankle. 

—

The front door clicked open with a soft creak, the hallway lights casting a familiar golden hue across the entryway of the Wolff house.

Ana padded in first, still clutching her half-finished banana bread milkshake with both hands like it was sacred. Her feet were bare, her hair slightly mussed. 

Oscar followed close behind, keeping a gentle hand at her lower back.

“I’m just gonna grab a few things,” she murmured. “Toothbrush. Pills. And my skincare stuff. And my slippers. And my—” She stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase and moaned. “Nooo. I don’t want to do stairs.”

Oscar raised a brow, amused. “Then how exactly do you plan to get to your bedroom, sweet girl?”

Ana turned, eyes wide and ridiculous as she blinked up at him, all mock-innocence. “Please carry me, big strong man,” she said, voice syrupy. “I’m very delicate and tired.”

Oscar huffed a laugh—low and indulgent. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m fragile,” she insisted, already stepping back into him, half-turning so her back met his chest. “Look at me. I can’t possibly climb all of those stairs.”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. He scooped her up again with an exaggerated sigh, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders. “Such a spoiled little thing,” he muttered, not unkindly.

“I’m in recovery,” Ana said primly, sipping her milkshake through the straw. “Heh.” She snorted. “Addiction recovery and orgasm recovery. That’s funny. I think.” 

He huffed out an exasperated breath. “Very funny. You’re a comedian.”

“I could be one.” She said, playing with the hairs at the base of his neck. “I know so many knock knock jokes.” He jostled her a little, as he began to climb the second set of stairs, and she whined and held onto him tighter. 

“Clingy.” He murmured. 

“Possessive.” She retorted. 

Oscar laughed lowly. “Yeah, well. You are mine.”

She hummed contentedly, her lips brushing his neck. “I like when you say that.”

“I know you do,” he murmured, his voice softening.

They reached the landing, and he nudged her bedroom door open with his foot.

“Okay,” he said, settling her gently down onto her bed, pulling the thick throw blanket over her legs. “I’m gonna get your things.”

Ana blinked at him, wide-eyed. “You’re gonna pack my overnight bag for me?”

“Yes.”

“But—what if you get the wrong moisturiser?”

He gave her a deadpan look. “I’m not even going to attempt that. You’re giving me instructions. I’ll be your hands. You just sit there and look pretty and drink your milkshake.”

Ana grinned, curling into her perfect, lovely bed with a sigh. “Fine. First drawer on the left for pyjamas. I want the pink set with the lace trim—in case I want to have a pyjama day tomorrow.”

He winked. “Lingerie or sleepwear?”

“Sleepwear,” she said primly. Then, with a fluttery smile, “But the lingerie’s in the drawer underneath if you wanna have a peek.”

Oscar bit back a groan and turned to follow her directions. “You’re lucky you’re still cute when you’re being bratty.”

“I’m always cute,” she sing-songed.

Oscar’s laugh echoed through the room as he pulled open the drawer.

—

Oscar shifted Ana’s stuffed-full overnight bag onto his shoulder, then bent and hooked an arm beneath her knees. “Alright, up you get.”

Ana huffed a little laugh as he lifted her, her pink fuzzy slippers sliding slightly on her feet. “I think I’d be okay walking down the stairs.”

“Too late. You’ve activated caveman mode. I carry now.”

She giggled, her arms winding lazily around his neck. “Big strong man.”

He kissed her temple. “Spoiled little princess.”

They were halfway to the front hall when Ana twisted slightly in his arms. “Wait. Wait—can we stop for a sec?”

Oscar paused instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She nodded toward the hall. “I just wanna peek in on Jack.”

Oscar adjusted her gently, careful not to jostle her, and followed the direction of her gaze. The door to Jack’s room was cracked open, a warm strip of lamplight spilling out onto the carpet.

He shifted to let her down, but Ana shook her head. “No—it’s okay. Just take me.”

They crossed the hallway quietly. Ana peeked through the door and smiled.

Jack was sprawled out like a starfish, one leg kicked off the blanket, snoring softly. His stuffed cheetah lay curled against his cheek. The nightlight cast a soft amber glow across his face.

Ana reached forward, brushing the door open just a little wider. “Hold still,” she whispered.

Oscar dipped down low enough for her to lean in. She stretched carefully and pressed the barest kiss to Jack’s forehead, lingering for half a second.

“’Night, little dragon,” she whispered.

Jack didn’t stir.

Ana leaned back into Oscar’s chest, smiling sleepily. “Okay. Ready.”

Oscar carried her down the hall again, slow and steady. As they passed through the front corridor, Ana caught movement from the corner of her eye.

The kitchen light was still on.

She glanced over Oscar’s shoulder—and there, standing quietly with a mug of tea in her hands, was Susie.

She was barefoot, hair scraped back in a messy bun, wearing one of her Papa’s old crewneck sweatshirts. She must’ve come down when she heard the noise. She didn’t say anything—just stood in the doorway, gaze warm, watching.

Ana tensed slightly.

But Susie only smiled.

It wasn’t teasing. Not smug or judgmental. Just soft and maternal.

Ana blinked. Her arms curled a little tighter around Oscar’s shoulders. Her throat went tight.

Susie lifted her mug slightly in a quiet little gesture—go on then—and turned back into the kitchen, leaving them the moment.

Oscar glanced at Ana’s face. “Hey,” he murmured. “You okay?”

Ana nodded, cheeks flushed. “Mhm.”

He adjusted her bag and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home.”

And she melted into his chest again as he carried her toward the door.

—

The car ride was quiet. Peaceful. Ana sat curled in the passenger seat, half-scrolling through Instagram, half-dozing, the city lights flickering past the window. Oscar drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm and steady on her thigh.

When they reached his building, he carried her again—shoes dangling from his fingers, her overnight bag slung over his shoulder, Ana tucked safely into his chest.

She didn’t protest when he unlocked the apartment one-handed. Just hummed, eyes half-lidded.

Then he stepped inside.

And Ana blinked.

Hard.

There were clothes on every surface. A half-eaten pizza box balanced precariously on the arm of the couch. The coffee table was buried under old racing magazines, unopened post, protein bar wrappers, and a single running shoe. The whole place smelled like him—leather, cedarwood, faint sweat—but layered with something vaguely unwashed and stale.

She sat up in his arms, slowly. Blinked again.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You... live like this?”

Oscar froze mid-step. “I—uh. Yeah?”

Ana stared. “Is that a sock on your TV?”

He followed her gaze. “Shit. Yeah. That… yeah.”

She slid down from his arms, feet touching the floor like she wasn’t sure it was safe. “Be honest,” she said, deadpan. “Is this a crime scene?”

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s controlled chaos.”

“This is a cry for help.”

Oscar tried not to laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this last night, or this morning. But I guess I was just—“ She trailed off. Then she pointed. “Is that a plate under your couch?”

He didn’t even look. “Possibly. Don’t touch it. It might be mouldy.”

She folded her arms, milkshake in hand, head tilted. “You’re a professional athlete. On a multi-million dollar salary.”

“If it’s too much,” he said, cautious, “we can go back to yours. Or I’ll clean. I’ll shove everything in a cupboard and call it minimalism.”

Ana was quiet for a beat. “Honestly? I’m kind of relieved.”

Oscar blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nudged a hoodie aside with her slippered foot. “You’re always so composed. It’s nice to know you’re secretly a disaster.”

Oscar laughed and reeled her in by the hips. “Not secretly, sweet girl. People are very aware of how messy my space usually is.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’re still hot. Just... domestically challenged. Maybe we should get you a cleaner. Or watch Marie Kondo together.”

He pulled her close. “Keep teasing me and I’ll make you organise my sock drawer.”

“That’s not the punishment you think it is.”

He smirked. “Shut up, brat.”

“I was serious about the cleaner,” she whispered. “And maybe I actually want to organise your sock drawer.”

He bent and kissed her—slow, deep, grounding. “Welcome home,” he murmured.

Ana smiled into his mouth. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

—

Ana was warm, freshly showered, legs tangled with Oscar’s under the covers. Her hair was damp against his chest, fingers scrolling lazily on her phone. The room was dim—just the glow of the screen and the soft city light spilling in through the blinds.

Oscar’s hand traced light patterns across her bare back, slow and absent.

“You have Instagram?” he asked suddenly, voice husky with drowsy curiosity. “I tried finding you. Couldn’t even dig up an old account. It was like you’d wiped yourself off the internet.”

Ana paused. Then let out a quiet hum. “Yeah. My papa had people erase everything when things got... bad.”

Oscar stilled. “Bad like...?”

“Media storm bad. Headlines. Gossip blogs.” Her voice was soft, almost clinical. Like she was reciting facts she’d separated herself from. “No Instagram. No Twitter. No digital footprint. He sued a couple of sites that tried to use my name for clickbait.”

Oscar shifted, propping himself up a little so he could see her face. “It got that bad?”

Ana didn’t look away from her screen—didn’t scroll, either. Just stared at it. “Yeah. Worse than you’re thinking.”

He touched her jaw gently, coaxing her gaze up. “I—I never saw any of it. I hardly spend any time on my phone, really. I just post when the PR people tell me to.”

She finally met his eyes. “That’s nice. I—It would’ve been harder, I think—If you’d seen all of it happen.”

Oscar’s thumb brushed under her cheekbone. “I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been—to be hurting so badly and have thousands of people talking about it.”

“I didn’t even get to defend myself,” she said, a little quieter now. “My dad just... shut everything down. Buried it. Buried me, sort of. For a while.”

He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He probably just wanted to protect you from the trolls.”

Ana leaned into him, letting the phone fall to her chest. “Yeah. I guess.” 

Oscar wrapped both arms around her now, burying his face in her hair. “You think you’ll ever want to be… public again?”

She winced. “I don’t know. I—I can’t even leave Monaco, at the moment. So posting online, for millions of people to scrutinise and… No. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” 

Oscar didn’t rush to respond. He just held her, quiet and still, letting her settle into the safety of his arms while the weight of her words hung between them. Her breath came slow and even now, but he could feel the tension in her shoulders—the kind that lived deeper than bone, etched into muscle memory.

“I don’t think I’ll be ready for a long time,” she said again, softer this time. Almost like she was apologising for it.

Oscar kissed her hairline gently. “You don’t have to be. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Ana gave a small, sad smile. “Tell that to the internet.”

“I would, if I could. Punch every faceless commenter in the throat.”

She laughed, just a little. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”

“I’m serious.” His voice was low now, not teasing. “If they saw even a second of what I see in you, they’d shut the hell up. You’re... so much more than any version they’ve invented in their heads.”

Ana was quiet again for a while, her fingers brushing over the edge of the phone resting on her chest. “I used to think I wanted to be famous,” she admitted. “When I was a kid. I used to imagine myself on magazine covers. In fancy clothes. Smiling for cameras. Being adored.”

Oscar’s grip around her tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“But I think…” she continued, almost to herself now, “I just wanted to be seen. Appreciated.”

Oscar tipped her chin up again, slow and careful. “I see you. I appreciate you.”

Ana looked at him, eyes glassy but clear. “You make me so happy.”

“You should be,” he whispered. “You should be happy all day, every day. For the rest of your life.”

She swallowed, blinking fast. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

“That’s okay.” He kissed her cheek, then her forehead. “You can cry. Or laugh. Or rage clean my crazy apartment.”

“I might take you up on that,” she murmured, curling into him.

“I hope you do.”

“Can I tell you something stupid?” she asked, voice muffled against his chest.

“Always.”

“I keep thinking about making a burner account. Just for posting silly things. Like… pictures of my smoothies. Or dumb little quotes. Not under my real name, though.”

Oscar smiled. “That doesn’t sound stupid.”

“Hm.” Her voice warmed slightly. “I might be an Oscar Piastri fan account. And I’ll be your biggest supporter ever—a die hard.”

Oscar pressed another kiss into her hair, even as he laughed. “I couldn’t ask for a better fangirl.” 

She beamed, then she tilted her face toward his and kissed him, soft and grateful. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For tonight. It was—It was perfect.” 

“Anytime, sweet girl. Always.”

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 14

paige x azzi

word count: 10.6k

a/n: we got a soft spot chapter today and a wings win!?!!? happy tuesday man. in all honesty this chapter's just vibes and relationship progression, nothing too crazy. i'll probably have two more chapters after this one to wrap shit up so let me know if there's any small wishlist things you wanna see lol. like always let me know what you think and leave live reactions if you can 🫶🏼

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Unrivaled gym was filled with the typical inimitable energy of the space. A specific kind of energy that had become the forefront of the league's reputation. The space wasn’t known to be huge; nothing like the bright WNBA arenas packed with thousands of fans. What the Unrivaled gym lacked in size, it made up for in proximity. Fans leaned over the rails with their phones out and eyes wide. They were always close enough to hear the laughter and conversations between teammates if they spoke loud enough and the sound of their sneakers on the polished floor. What Phee and Stewie built made everything feel more personal and intimate. Like every fan in the crowd was in on something exclusive for that day.

The Florida humidity was present even inside the facility, but the vibe was loose. Nothing like the rigid intensity of the W. The lines at Unrivaled had always blurred between competition and community; and it had only continued to thrive through its first few years. They made sure there were no stiff sideline suits, or endless press obligations if the players weren’t feeling up to it.

Azzi was warming up with Rickea, Aaliyah, and DiJonai, lazily bouncing the ball between her legs.

On the other side of the court, Paige was just settling in her seat on the baseline, with Rae sitting next to her. Rae’s team had the night off and Paige had run into her after coming back from the gym. They planned to meet up after she took a shower. Paige had pulled her hair into a bun to stop the blonde strands from sticking to her neck and she was dressed comfortably in all black. A fitted tank, sweats that were probably more expensive than they should’ve been, and slides. She didn’t want too much attention today but people noticed her anyway.

Paige noticed the extra glances and not so subtle double takes from fans when she walked in. It had been like that for the last two weeks or so since Azzi posted her little ominous picture. Paige had teased her about it when she found out a few days later, but then she logged onto Instagram for the first time in who knows how long and liked Azzi’s picture.

On the arena screens, the broadcast camera was doing a slow sweep across the front row, pausing on a few familiar faces as the commentators comedically ‘introduced’ them. It landed on Rae first, who smiled and waved before booing both teams on the court. The crowd laughed, and one of the commentators laughed through her mic. “There’s Rae Burrell, doing what Rae does.”

The camera drifted to the left of Rae and paused on Paige. “And of course,” the announcer said, trying to hide her amusement in her tone, “we’ve got UFC Bantamweight champion Paige Bueckers in the building tonight. A very familiar face here at Unrivaled this summer...Wonder who she’s here for.”

There was a slight pause, just long enough for the crowd to react with a few cheers and laughs at the joke. Rae couldn’t help but laugh with them and Paige just shook her head and looked past the camera. The screen cut to someone else and Paige relaxed back into her seat, spreading her legs comfortably.

A few minutes later Jon and Jose made their way down the sideline. They both had on Unrivaled hoodies and they nodded to Rae in their awkward trying to be nonchalant way before leaning over the barrier to dap Paige up.

The exchange was brief but it did trigger an aftermath. Paige didn’t offer them much more than the handshake and a nod at them before they went back to their seats. People noticed the interaction and got a little antsy about potentially approaching Paige.

Not even a full minute later, two women — probably college aged, maybe a little older — leaned over the barrier. One of them already had her phone out, screen unlocked with her camera app open. “Hey, are you Paige Bueckers?” she asked confidently, clearly already knowing the answer. She stood naturally with her cleavage slightly pushed forward like she was used to getting attention from whoever she wanted.

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. Whether she hadn’t heard her or was just choosing not to respond wasn’t exactly clear to the women.

Rae noticed them and nudged Paige with her elbow.

Paige turned to look at her, confused as to why she was touching her. Rae tilted her head subtly, barely nodding toward the two women standing a few feet away.

Paige sighed quietly before she turned her head to look in their direction.

The one with the phone grinned with all 32 teeth. “Can we get a picture?”

Paige just stared at her blankly for a second before saying flatly “I don’t do pictures.” After she offered them an answer she looked back toward the court hoping it was the end of the interaction.

The two women were stunned and blinked a few times in surprise. One of the awkwardly said “Oh,” before pulling her phone back and stepping away, clearly not used to hearing no. The other glanced back over her shoulder as they walked off, still looking confused and a little upset.

On the court, Azzi watched the entire interaction as she mindlessly dribbled. She’d seen them approach Paige after she stopped to watch Paige’s interaction with her brothers. As the women went back to their seats, Azzi raised her eyebrow from across the floor.

Paige raised both of hers back at Azzi, as they silently had a conversation about the interaction.

Azzi shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes at the insinuation of the girls approaching Paige before the buzzer echoed overhead, putting an end to their ‘conversation.’ Azzi jogged toward the bench, pulling off her shooting shirt and highfiving her teammates while the announcer’s voice echoed through the gym.

Back on the baseline, Rae had a grin on her face. “You got fan girls now?”

Paige shook her head, clearly exasperated by the interaction but she didn’t say anything.

The game started with fluidity. The smaller court and shortened shot clocked allowed for the tempo to be much faster than what most fans were used to. Some of the players were a little more showy in Unrivaled than they would be in a 5 on 5 game but it only added to the entertainment. This league was Azzi’s element. Most players couldn’t guard her one on one and because of the setup there was really no help defense which made her skillset thrive. 

Paige watched her like she always did. Anytime Paige looked at Azzi it was like no one else was in the room; but when it came to watching her play it was always a little different. Paige’s expression didn’t show it but her blue eyes showed just how mesmerized by Azzi she was. She watched her with an awe that genuinely made her eyes sparkle, with an ease that made her chest feel loose.

This time around though, attention wasn’t all one-way and people were noticing the way she was looking at Azzi despite not making outward expressions. Paige had always been a fixture, she was the kind of celebrity that fans would quietly observe, whispering to each other about who she was before going back to their business; but tonight people’s eyes lingered longer than usual.

Glancing between her and Azzi, doing double takes anytime she moved. It wasn’t overwhelming or anything, Paige truly didn’t care about what anyone else had going on but it definitely made her alert system a little more on edge. Stuck between watching Azzi as her natural sense to stay alert to protect herself crept in.

A few people whispered in hushed tones while looking directly at her even while the game was going on. She noticed one woman near the far end that kept turning around every few plays with her phone angled far too obviously in Paige’s direction. A guy sitting two rows behind the announcer had watched her more than the game and two seats over from him someone nudged their friend and pointed straight at her after Azzi hit a step-through layup.

All of this made Paige feel that slight burn in her chest from being seen too closely but she didn’t move. She silently went through the breathing exercises she’d been working on to calm her nervous system as she kept watching the game. 

Midway through the second quarter Azzi was heating up from deep and Paige saw movement in her peripheral before the seat next to her shifted a little. She didn’t look to see who it was as she watched Azzi slip behind a screen and catch the ball at the top of the key before drilling another three and backpeddling on defense.

The crowd got loud, making Azzi show her usual smile when she was heating up in a game.

A voice came from the newly occupied seat. “Hey.”

Paige’s jaw flexed before she tore her eyes away from the court to see who was speaking to her. She nodded once before looking right back at the game.

“It’s packed in here tonight,” Lead said casually, scanning the gym. “Didn’t think I’d be able to find a seat before I saw this one.”

Paige didn’t answer and for a few moments her silence held. She watched Azzi hit a quick jab before deciding to just pull up when her defender bit.

“Azzi’s good as hell tonight,” Leah said as her eyes followed her down the court.

Paige nodded once, not giving her any real acknowledgment.

Leah leaned in, lowering her voice so bystanders couldn’t hear her. “Maybe I can finally see what it is ya’ll do all day to get her so relaxed before games.”

Paige clenched her jaw and turned her head slowly. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, flatly.

Leah blinked, then smiled at Paige like she thought it was playful. “Relax Paige. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“During my girlfriend’s game.”

Leah’s lips parted like she might laugh but she decided against that and just said, “Yeah.”

Paige stared, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. Ultimately she decided to just say,“I’m not interested,”  before she looked back at the court.

On the floor, Azzi hit another jumper from the elbow and was backpedaling down the court, eyes briefly scanning the baseline out of habit. Her gaze snagged on what she saw. Rae on one side, Paige in the middle, and Leah on Paige’s other side. 

Azzi didn’t break stride, but the irony of what she was seeing pulled a dry, silent laugh from her chest. She shook her head and turned her focus back to the court, smoothing out her expression as she called out a switch on a screen.

After halftime the rest of the game seemed like it was going by faster than the first two quarters. 

During a timeout Rae glanced toward the scoreboard before looking at Paige. “I don’t know how they’re only up four with Azzi playing like this. Seems like she’s the only one that can hit a shot today.”

Paige didn’t look away from the court. “She’ll be ight. Prolly just run her a bath.”

Rae snorted. “Awwww so sweet of you.” 

Leah laughed a little from where she was sitting.

Paige didn’t say anything, but her jaw ticked. 

A few possessions later after more of a flasher move than usual, Rae spoke to Paige again. “She really out there showing off for you.”

Paige exhaled, her top lip quivering as she stopped the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “She’d be doing this with or without me here.”

“Nah she always puts a lil extra on when you’re in the crowd. We were all in on it when we played the Valks one day.” Rae said.

Paige watched as DiJonai got a quick steal and tapped it up toward Rickea for an easy transition layup. “You bored or something?”

Rae grinned. “Maybe a little.”

Leah cut in, gesturing toward the scoreboard where the score was still close. “Phantom’s putting up a pretty decent fight. Sonia replacing Sab’s kinda tough.”

Paige didn’t respond.

After a few seconds of silence, Leah looked at her again. “Do you not like me?”

Paige blinked a few times debating on what she was going to say before deciding that honesty was the best policy. “Just not in the business of entertaining somebody whose tryna fuck me when I have a girlfriend.”

Rae coughed to hide whatever sound was about to escape her throat without permission before she reached down to grab her water and Leah finally stopped speaking to Paige.

In the final stretch of the game the intensity picked up a little. It got a little more physical on the defensive end and every possession felt like it mattered more considering both teams were in playoff contention. 

Phantom made a small run, cutting the Mist lead to one. Azzi hit back to back three’s, then forced a turnover on defense before outletting the ball to Aaliyah. 

During a timeout, Azzi walked toward the bench, grabbing a towel from the trainer to wipe her face before slinging it over her shoulder. Her chest was subtly rising and falling, as she controlled her breathing. It was a media timeout so her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling when she saw her family before she drifted toward the baseline toward Paige again.

She was looking down at her phone, thumb tapping across the screen, making her unaware of Azzi’s eyes on her.

Rae caught Azzi’s stare and grinned at her friend, she nudged Paige with her elbow again for the third time that night.

Paige let out a long sigh before looking toward her. “What?”

Rae tilted her chin, nodding toward the court. “Look.”

Paige looked up and saw Azzi already looking at her with a small smile on her lips.

They held eye contact for a few seconds, longer than they should’ve with a crowd around them. Wanting to see if she could get a reaction out of Paige, Azzi cocked her head to the side slightly, her eyelashes fluttering in that way she knew would get under Paige’s skin.

Paige clenched the back of her teeth together and looked down, fighting a smile and the heat rising up her neck, shaking her head to herself. She was so busy trying to control herself that she didn’t see the satisfied smile on Azzi’s face before she got up from the bench when the buzzer went off. 

Rae leaned back in her seat and shook her head. “Y’all are so dramatic.”

Paige didn’t respond, but the tips of her ears flushed a little darker and she had to keep looking at her shoes for a few more moments. 

The rest of the game wound down a few minutes later with Azzi’s team pulling away with ease after a short run. After a quick interview with the Unrivaled media team Azzi gave fans near the sideline and baseline a few high fives as she drifted toward where Paige was sitting.

Paige was still in her seat waiting for Azzi and when she saw her she stood up automatically, not even realizing she was doing it until she was already completely upright. 

Azzi approached with a towel around her neck, sweat still sticking to her collarbones making them glisten from the gym lights. She raised both eyebrows at Paige’s seating arrangements. Silently asking, ‘Really?’

Paige’s lips twitched. “Not my doing.”

Azzi smiled as she stepped into Paige’s space for a hug. She wrapped one hand around Paige’s shoulders and pressed the other one against the side of her neck.

“You had a lot going on over here,” Azzi whispered against her ear.

Paige stopped herself from reacting to the feeling of Azzi’s lips against her skin. “I didn’t miss anything.”

Azzi leaned back to look at her. “Mmm you sure?”

Paige’s eyes dropped briefly to Azzi’s mouth, then back up. “Saw everything I needed to.”

Azzi laughed quietly at the insinuation, reaching down to mess with the string of Paige’s sweatpants. “Is that why you were mean to your little fan club earlier?”

Paige gave her a look, but the edge of her mouth curved. “Don’t start.”

Azzi hummed. “I’m just saying. You know how I get.”

“Mmm so that’s why you walked over here tryna be all over me,” Paige said as she trailed her eyes over Azzi’s stomach when she lifted her jersey slightly to untuck it.

Azzi grinned, not dignifying her a response to that. She grew bored with the string of the sweatpants so she moved on to fixing the edge of Paige’s chain that was twisted, letting her fingers linger at the base of her throat.

“You good?” she asked, her tone changing to that softspoken tone she always used when she was checking on Paige, the question loud enough to slip through the noise but quiet enough that only Paige could hear it.

Paige nodded, reaching out for Azzi’s hand to brush her thumbs over her knuckles. 

Azzi looked down at their hands and smiled to herself. She laced their fingers together for a second, then untangled them just as quickly, dragging her fingers up and down Paige’s wrist like she didn’t know which part of her she wanted to touch.

Rae cleared her throat loudly, breaking the two of them out of the bubble they were in, reminding them of where they were. “Y’all got more eyes on you than ESPN right now.”

Paige glanced sideways, and sure enough, a few fans nearby were definitely not being subtle. One girl was holding her phone low trying to pretend like she wasn’t recording the interaction. While someone else had their camera higher up, pretending to film the team on the court warming up while obviously aimed in their direction.

Azzi laughed under her breath, wiping her forehead with the towel as she looked around and noticed just how many people were looking at them.

“Might’ve forgot where we were and overdone it a little,” she said, not really sounding sorry about it. 

She gives Rae a quick hug before her eyes drift to the left, to the person Paige had spent most of the game ignoring.

“Leah,” Azzi said flatly, being the bigger person and acknowledging her. 

Leah opened her mouth to respond back with something, but Azzi turned back to Paige subtly brushing her hand down the outside of her arm again, making sure she was blocking the cameras. 

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Azzi asked, but the way she asked made it seem like she was requesting more than asking.

“Yeah, of course.”

Azzi smiled, then leaned in to give Rae one more quick hug. “Tell your team they’re next.”

Rae laughed. “Ya’ll don’t want no smoke.”

Azzi laughed as she turned around, her and Paige walking next to each other but not touching as they headed for the back. A few fans along the sideline watched them pass, some of them calling out Azzi’s name, some of them just staring, while others recorded them. Paige put her hands in her pockets while Azzi smiled and waved at some of the fans but didn’t stop to sign anything. 

When they were a few feet from the tunnel, another group of fans called out Azzi’s name. She turned her head to find a cluster of younger girls and a couple of their parents standing by the rope line. She smiled when she saw their bright eyes from her looking in their direction. “Give me a second baby,” she said quietly before she walked over to greet them with a huge smile and waving both of her hands.

Paige stayed where she was, watching Azzi sign jerseys, shoes, and hats like she’d done a hundred times. Her smile with kids was always genuine and she took her time to talk to them; like she remembered what it felt like to be on the other side of the rope when she was their age.

A little girl who was maybe six shyly held out a poster for Azzi to sign with wide eyes. Azzi smiled at her and took it from her hands gently so she could sign it properly. Azzi handed it back to her and the girl’s mom spoke up, “Can they get a picture with both of you please?” She gestured to a little boy who was maybe two years older than the girl. “He’s a huge UFC and fell in love with Paige when we let him stay up past his bedtime one night to watch her fight.”

Azzi glanced toward Paige who was staring in space and not fully paying attention. She smiled to herself at the slight crease between Paige’s eyebrows at whatever she was thinking about.  She looked toward the mother, “One second.” 

Paige blinked away from whatever thought she was lost in when she noticed Azzi walked towards her. Her eyes lit up a little naturally, her body's way of smiling at Azzi in public. “You done?”

Azzi stopped directly in front of her. “Can I ask you to do something for me and you not say no?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a fan who wants a picture…” Azzi trailed off.

“Azzi–” Paige started to protest already.

Azzi cut her off with a pout, jutting her bottom lip out. “Please?...For me, baby?”

Paige narrowed her eyes in an attempt to hold her ground, but Azzi tilted her head to the side making Paige’s resolve crack like always. Paige huffed in fake annoyance. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said, before motioning for Azzi to lead the way.

Azzi grinned as she walked back toward the family. “I know.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up when he saw Paige approach them, he looked at her like he couldn’t comprehend that she was real. Paige reached her hand out and dapped him up, her large hand gentler than usual against his smaller one, making Azzi bite her cheek so she didn’t smile.

The mom raised her phone, guiding the kids into position. Azzi bent down slightly, wrapping her arm gently around the little girl’s shoulders. Paige didn’t move much, just rested her hand on Azzi’s lower back where she was bent over.

The mom took a few quick pictures. “Thank you both so much,” she said gratefully.

Azzi nodded and they were about to walk away when she noticed the little boys shirt now that his sister wasn’t in front of him. She grabbed Paige’s hand to stop her. “Give him a signature?”

Paige nodded and took a sharpie from Azzi before leaning down and signing her name across the UFC logo on the front of the boy’s shirt.

Both kids had huge smiles on their faces when Paige and Azzi turned around to leave.

Azzi bumped her shoulder against Paige’s. “Thank you.”

Paige hummed. “You can thank me tonight.”

Azzi laughed, pushing Paige as they walked through the tunnel.

The next few weeks settled into a similar pattern that they easily slipped into.

Azzi had a similar schedule most days: practices, games, or endorsement obligations. Paige made sure she created one for herself too as she got back in the gym. She paid for her trainer to come stay in Miami while she was there, quietly investing in herself, ready to take it seriously again. Most mornings when Azzi left for practice Paige would head to the gym. Sometimes she ran there with her headphones in and her body falling back into familiar patterns her mind was still catching up to. Other times she drove, letting the windows be down, the Florida air running through her hair for a few minutes.

The physical aspect came back fast for her. Combinations, footwork, her weight shifting in her bones each time — all of it was muscle memory. Something that had become some engraved in her bones that if she ever became an ancient artifact the bone carving of her being a fighter would be clear. Everything that wasn’t related to her physicality was a little harder on her mentally. Her reaction times were a little slow to start and getting hit hurt a lot more than she remembered. She had to teach herself to absorb the contact again, to read facial ques and foot work. Then of course there was still the echo of her own thoughts, random bursts of thoughts about how this all affected Azzi, her temper, everything she’d been working on — the emotional bruises that were harder to fully heal.

Still, she kept showing up to the gym. And each day, no matter how drained or wired or quiet she came home, Azzi was there.

Sometimes she was laying across the couch, still with her braids pulled up from her game and a hoodie that definitely belonged to Paige. Sometimes she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for them, humming a song under her breath. 

They talked every night without trying to make it a spectacle, they just eased into it naturally whenever the words came to one of them. Azzi would sit on the floor stretching while Paige sat on the counter with an ice pack on one of her joints. Paige talked about sparring sessions that got in her head a little and Azzi talked through plays where she second guessed something she normally wouldn’t. There was never any judgement in the conversations, just an open space for them to decompress with one another of their days.

Some nights, they simply didn’t use any words. Paige would walk in and Azzi would already be curled in bed with one of Paige’s shirts on, reading a book, silently depicting that she had a long day. Each time it happened Paige couldn’t help the smile on her face when she dropped her bag at the door. She’d watch Azzi for a few moments before walking toward the bed, kissing her head and whispering a compliment into her hair before she went to take a shower. Giving Azzi a little extra time to herself before she came back to bed, pulling Azzi into her chest.

They went on spontaneous dates, making sure they never got in the habit of not dating one another. 

Azzi would finish practice early and drive to the gym in Paige’s car to pick her up, texting her to ‘wear something that doesn’t smell like sweat pls’ from the parking lot. They went to late night diners after walking on the beach, hole in the wall taco spots, a midnight movie once where Azzi fell asleep and made Paige carry her to the car.

One afternoon, Paige dragged Azzi to the beach after she watched her do a sparring session. Neither of them had any swimsuits so they sat on a washed up log, watching the tide roll in.

The ocean in front of them shimmered under the sun, light streaking across the surface like a canvas being painted on. The breeze was a warm comfort, brushing over their faces and tugging at the loose curls of hair Azzi hadn’t bothered to fully tie back. Sand stuck to their feet, and their legs were cool in the shadows but hot where the sun kissed it. 

“This is weird,” Paige said, squinting at the horizon, the sun making her eyes sensitive.

Azzi looked at her. “What is?”

Paige shrugged.

Azzi reached over and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along Paige’s reddened knuckles.

“Words, baby,” Azzi said lightly.

Paige laughed, bumping her shoulder into Azzi’s. “Everything’s just…good. I don’t know. It feels a little unsettling sometimes.”

“Unsettling is a funny word for that.”

“That’s what it feels like though,” Paige said, looking out at the perfect line where the water met the sky like it might help her organize her thoughts cleanly. “It’s like when you’re used to swimming in cold water, you get used to it and your body naturally adapts. Then suddenly it’s warm all the time. Feels nice at first, it’s relaxing but eventually your body’s like…what is this? When’s the cold water coming back.”

Azzi nodded as she followed along with the perfectly placed metaphor. “You’re allowed to have that warm water though baby.”

Paige exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes on the waves. “I know. I just…”

“You’re not used to it,” Azzi finished for her.

Paige nodded.

A silent moment passed, long enough for the tide to reach a little further up the sand and brush against their ankles.

“I keep waiting for something to go wrong. For the other shoe to drop,” Paige admitted, her voice barely carrying over the water. “Not because I want it to. I just don’t trust it yet.”

Azzi turned to look at her, studying the side of her face. The way the sun caught the curve of her beautiful cheekbone, how her lashes always looked longer when she was tired and her eyes were lower. “You trust me?”

Paige nodded. “Always.”

Azzi smiled, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Then trust what we’re building too.”

Paige turned her head to meet Azzi’s gaze, blushing a little when she noticed the way the sun was hitting her brown eyes. “I do trust what we’re building,” she clarified. “I trust that more than I trust my own body to breathe. I just…” She paused, chewing gently on the inside of her cheek to think before she kept going. “I worry I’ll mess it up. That I’ll get in my own way.”

Azzi nodded as she shifted closer, making their knees press together. “We’re both gonna mess up,” she said simply. One of her favorite parts of being with Paige is knowing she didn’t need to sugar coat things. “We’re going to say the wrong thing. We’ll get frustrated with each other sometimes. We’ll disagree on things that probably won’t even matter the next day. But I think that’s the good thing about us.”

Paige held eye contact with Azzi the entire time she listened. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “We had one of our worst arguments early in our relationship and for some time it made us walk on eggshells before we hashed it out. But we were fine with just surface level conversations just to hear the other person's voice. We didn’t fake deep conversations or rush into trying to be how we were before. We took our time and laid a foundation that’s the root of what we’re building. We talk, we listen, we say the hard stuff even when it’s uncomfortable, and because of that even when we mess up we’ll be ok.”

Paige exhaled slowly, letting those words settle underneath her ribs. “I just get scared sometimes cause I know I can be hard to…stay close to. I retreat and get quiet sometimes. But you’ve–-” She paused to take another heavy breath, to not get emotional. “You’ve never tried to fix me. You just sit with me in it. Let me figure it out for myself before I explain it to you. But then I worry about you getting tired of having to be so patient.”

Azzi used her hand that wasn’t holding Paige’s to grab her jaw and tilt Paige’s face toward her so they were looking at each other. “I love you,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world that would never change. “Even when you’re quiet. Even when you’re stuck in your own head. I love every version of you and I promise I’ll always find a way to come with you.”

Paige blinked a few times, then let out a breathy laugh. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You just make everything so damn—Jesus I don’t even know.” She laughs again. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled, the kind of smile that started in her chest and bloomed across her face. Paige’s hand slid up her arm, fingertips grazing the inside of her wrist as she looked down shyly.

“I love you so much it deadass feels like it lives under my ribs,” Paige admitted. “Like, it’s in everything I do now. Every thought, every choice. You’re just always there.”

Azzi knew Paige didn’t like to sit in moments like that after getting them off her chest. Usually Paige just wanted it to be out there, something for Azzi to know but she didn’t want to dwell on it. So Azzi grinned and bumped Paige’s shoulder with her own. “Cam’s wedding got you feeling a lil soft hm.”

Paige laughed, her head falling forward trying not to smile too hard. “Alright bro, shut up.”

Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder and pulled until she was tucked against her side so she could tease her. “Mmm nope, I think I like this version of you. Might keep you around for a little bit.”

“You saying that like you not the reason I act like this now.”

Azzi kissed the top of Paige’s head, letting her lips linger there for a while. “Then I’m doing something right.”

The sun started to dip lower along the horizon, gold washing over the water and clinging to their skin like it didn’t want to let them go. Paige rested her head against Azzi’s shoulder, the weight of her world completely void whenever Azzi was around.

Then, as if the world blinked, the warmth of the sun became the warmth of candlelight.

The sound of the waves faded into the softness of violins and Paige had on a black tux tailed to her as she stepped into the dimly lit ceremony hall. 

Her tie was lilac and the color was identical to the satin lapel of her jacket to match the undertones of the wedding theme. 

She walked next to Ben’s sister, who had her hand around Paige’s bicep. Paige didn’t have much of an expression besides a slight squint in her eyes from a dry contact that was bothering her. 

When she got to the front her the lights from the chandeliers made her earrings sparkle and accentuated the soft colors mixed in with her black tux, highlighting just how well it fit her.

Azzi watched from the very end of the third row. Even though there were hundreds of other people in the room, Paige was the only one she really wanted to pay attention to. It was her first time seeing her in a full tux and the way her wavy blond hair framed her face made Azzi’s stomach flutter.

Paige’s jaw was tense as she stood at the front but when she looked around and found Azzi her features softened.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning like an idiot outright but Paige looked too damn good. Azzi knew with the way Paige was looking at her that she knew exactly what she was thinking. Then Paige’s eyes dropped to the low dip in Azzi’s dress, causing most of her chest to be on display. Paige nodded subtly in approval, making Azzi roll her eyes. 

They were broken out of their silent exchange when the melody of the music softened.

Everyone in the room turned around, their eyes moving from the front where Ben was standing to the main doors of the entrance.

Azzi kept her eyes on Paige for a few more seconds, letting Paige take advantage of the fact that no one was looking at her to wink. Azzi’s dimple popped out when she smiled before she looked away and stood with everyone else waiting for Cam to make her entrance.

The ceremony unfolded gently, almost like everyone in attendance was letting out a slow exhale witnessing the sincerity in every detail. The officiant spoke very briefly before Cam turned to Ben pulling a small folded up card from her dress. 

“Ben, I didn't know what real love looked like until I met you at Stanford. I thought I knew. I thought I’d felt it before. But there was nothing before I met you that gave me even a fraction of the feelings you give me. From day one you’ve made me feel safe in my own skin. With you, I’ve stopped trying to prove I’m worthy of love, because you make it feel like breathing — like I don’t have to earn it. I just am and being me is enough.”

Cam kept going. “With you, I’ve learned that love isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It’s a choice everyday to make a decision. It’s a promise to stay, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And I promise, no matter what the world looks like around us, no matter where we end up I’ll keep choosing you.”

Paige turned her head when she felt eyes on her. She found Azzi looking directly at her and their eyes locked, a quiet moment passing between them felt like a thousand words all at once. 

Ben’s voice flowed next, deeper than Cam’s but still full of the same emotion as his eyes brimmed. “I didn’t believe in waiting for divine timing until you. I thought it was just an excuse, people’s way to make themselves feel better about all the things that didn’t work out. But then you showed up and suddenly everything made sense; divine timing made sense. Every delay I experienced, every heartbreak, every wrong turn, it all led me to the exact moment I met you.”

Paige and Azzi still hadn’t looked away from one another as Ben continued.

“I never expected love to be like this. It’s not perfect but it’s real. Not loud and boastful, but unshakable. I vow to never take you or this for granted. To listen when it’d be easier to talk. To lean into you when it’s easier to walk away. Cameron I vow to love you in every version of yourself until I take my last breath.”

The last line felt like it cut through Paige’s throat as she swallowed, her blue eyes shimmering as she looked at Azzi like she’d physically offer her heart if she asked. It felt like the moment between them was suspended, like it was day two of earth’s creation and the firmament hadn’t yet been given dry ground to coincide with. 

Azzi nodded at Paige, confirming their silent conversation as her lips curled gently. She mouthed the words, ‘I love you,’ the three words drifting smoothly off her tongue like her native language. 

Paige had to look away before the smile trying to force its way onto her cheeks got the best of her. She blinked a few times to get the wetness out of her eyes, as she shifted her jaw to give herself something else to focus on as the emotion caught up with her. 

After the vows the rest of the ceremony unfolded without any hiccups. The rings were exchanged with shaky hands, every laughing a little when Ben fumbled Cam’s finger, a kiss that earned a burst of cheers from their family. The officiant announced them and the applause that echoed as they walked out hand in hand.

The wedding party followed after them a few moments later. This time Paige passed Azzi’s side of the crowd and when she walked past her she let her fingers subtly graze over her shoulder, tapping three times in quick succession. 

When the wedding party dispersed the rest of the crowd rose, the rustle of their movement and soft chatter spreading through the space as people made their way toward the reception area. 

Azzi stood up with Rae and Rickea, smoothing out her dress as before she walked out of the aisle and moved with the rest of the flow. When she walked out of the double doors, her peripheral naturally caught movement off to the side. She looked over and saw Paige standing there patiently waiting for her. Azzi veered off to the side, saying a few excuse me’s before she carefully stepped into the grass.

When she got close enough Paige extended her both hands out to help her walk, holding both of Azzi’s hands until she was directly in front of her. Instead of going for a kiss like Azzi thought she would, Paige wrapped her arms around her lower back and pulled her into a long hug, every part of their bodies pressed together. 

Azzi was slightly caught off guard by how tight the embrace was before she slipped her arms around Paige’s neck. “Hey,” she said softly against her ear, smiling.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbled into her hair, not letting go yet.

Azzi laughed quietly. “You saw me this morning baby.”

“I know.” Paige said a little sheepishly. “Still missed you though.”

Azzi pulled back to look at her, using her hands to smooth the lapels of Paige’s jacket. “You look handsome.” 

Paige smiled at the compliment, both corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying to play it cool, but her cheeks gave her away. Azzi let her fingers drift up the fabric of Paige’s jacket, brushing along her chest until she reached the knot of her tie. It was already perfectly straight, but she adjusted it anyway.

When she stepped back, Paige blew raspberries with her lips, finally having the opportunity to scan Azzi from head to toe. The way the lilac dress draped over her body made her look like a goddess. It clung to her in the right spots, but it was flowy in others, the softness of the fabric, the low v showing off her chest, the slit showing her legs. then the hair. Her curls, were free from the braids she had, pulled up with a few strands framing her face.

Paige reached up and gently tugged one of the curls between her fingers. “When’d you have time to do this?” she asked, silently referring to the washed hair and the braids being gone.

Azzi gave her one of those smiles that showed the depth of her dimple. She followed up with tilting her head playfully. “I might’ve had some help this morning,” she said. “I know you missed my curls.”

Paige hummed letting her tongue graze her bottom lip as she let her eyes move over Azzi again. “Mmm I see,” she whispered. 

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “You good?”

“No.” As Paige said this her eyes still weren’t on Azzi’s face. 

Azzi laughed, lacing their fingers together to pull Paige out of the grass. “Come on, goofball.” Paige grinned, wrapping herself around Azzi from behind as they walked, her steps a little wide and uncoordinated as they laughed. 

As they made their way closer to the reception hall, they could hear the music echoing from a slight distance. But they took their time on the garden path, Azzi’s heels clicking against the pavement as she walked slightly in front of Paige now.

“You’re staring again,” Azzi said without looking over, feeling Paige’s eyes bore into her ass, smiling at how predictable her girlfriend was.

“I can’t help it,” Paige replied, not bothering to look up from the way she was watching Azzi walk. “You got my kryptonite on.”

Azzi glanced over her shoulder. “Lilac?”

“Mhmm, and that dress. The way your skin looks in that dress too. Your shoulders in that dress. You just breathing in that dress.”

Azzi let out a dramatic sigh despite the smile on her face from the compliments. “You weren’t like this earlier when I was brushing my teeth with nothing but a thong on.”

“Yeah cause I was tryna give you a break. Had you tapping out like an hour before that. It’s been a few hours now though so I can act out a little.”

“You literally haven’t given me a break since we started having sex so I don’t know what break you're talking about.”

Paige smirked. “Yeah well, I wake up next to you everyday. Can you really blame me?”

Azzi laughed, swinging their intertwined hands through the air. “You know, most people in relationships ease up on the charm once they get the girl.”

“Yeah, well I’m not trying to lose the girl.”

“That was smooth.”

“I know.” Paige turned her head toward her. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t kill me if I stopped complimenting you.”

Azzi pretended to think about it. “I mean I do appreciate a little daily worship.”

Paige stopped walking long enough to pull her hand free and give an exaggerated bow. “Forgot I was in the presence of the people's princess.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled Paige back to her side. “Get up. We have a reception to sneak kisses at.”

Paige leaned in a little closer as they entered the space. “Mmm only kisses?”

Azzi side eyed her. “Paige.”

“I’m just saying,” Paige whispered against her ear. “It’s a long night and alcohol makes you real touchy.”

Azzi covered her laugh with her hand as they approached their assigned table. Paige pulled out Azzi’s chair for her like always. “All of a sudden it feels a little more chivalrous with the tux on.”

Paige winked at her, undoing the button of her tux jacket before getting comfortable next to her.

The rest of the table was already halfway done with their first round of drinks when they got there.

Rickea raised her eyebrow before saying, “Damn y’all was fuckin’ or something? What took so long?”

Azzi blinked, her expression perfectly innocent this time the accusation was thrown. “First of all, we were behind by like three minutes. That’s not even enough time for anything.”

Paige gave her a quick side-eye and mumbled under her breath, “Yeah, okay.”

Azzi’s eyes darted to Paige as she laughed. “Are you serious?”

Rickea caught what Paige mumbled and her eyes went wide. “Wait wait hold up. Wait.”

Rae raised her eyebrows. “See, now I have questions.”

“Please don’t encourage her,” Azzi said as she smiled at Paige. “That’s her version of trying to be funny.”

Paige shrugged. “Wasn’t tryna be nothing.”

Azzi shook her head. “You’re annoying.”

Paige didn’t bother to argue. “Sure I am.”

Azzi smiled into her glass, lowering her voice so only Paige could hear her. “You’re lucky you look good.”

Paige let out a low hum as she took a sip of her champagne too, licking the corner of her mouth. “You tell me that every day mama, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

Rickea pointed between them. “This, right here. This is exactly why y’all can’t be left alone.”

“I didn’t even say anything this time,” Azzi said, holding up her hands in innocence, even as her smile gave her away.

Paige raised her eyebrows.

Rae twisted in her chair toward Rickea. “I don’t even think I told you about a few weeks ago, Kea—”

Azzi cut her off. “No, let’s not.”

“No no, let’s,” Rickea said, leaning in. “Because we been letting y’all get away with way too much lately.”

“It’s nothing,” Azzi insisted. “Just her being a little dramatic.”

Rae snorted. “Dramatic? Girl, it was 3AM and I heard you through the goddamn—”

“RAE!” Azzi’s eyes widened, her cheeks heating up as her voice tinted up a pitch into a half-laugh, half-warning. She didn’t care about Rickea hearing anything but there were a few of their other teammates that she wasn’t that close with sitting at the table too.

Paige chuckled, throwing her arm behind the back of Azzi’s chair. Rickea shook her head looking at them. “Just know y’all nasty,” she muttered, ending the conversation.

Not long after they drifted to another topic, the waitstaff began making their rounds, setting down plates of each person's preference between grilled sea bass, roasted chicken, and vegetarian risottos. All of them were paired with bright seasonal vegetables and bread rolls. Glasses clinked against the tables as servers topped them off with their champagne along with taking orders of new alcohol preferences.

Everyone fell into easy conversation and when dinner was done a few people stood to mingle between tables while others stayed seated, joking, catching up with family, and falling into the evening's warmth.

Once dessert plates were cleared and champagne glasses were refreshed one more time, the lights dimmed and soft amber and gold hues cast over the room. A hush fell naturally through the hall as the DJ’s voice came over the speakers to announce Cam and Ben’s first dance.

As the couple stepped to the center of the floor, applause scattered around the room. The music started slowly, sounds were a blend of old soul and modern r&b as all the eyes turned to watch them.

Paige was sitting straight in her chair until she felt Azzi’s shoulder gently press into her side. Azzi was leaning toward her like it was muscle memory, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she watched Cam and Ben.

Paige dipped her head and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s curls, brushing her hand along Azzi’s arms.

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed when her fingertips felt how cold Azzi was. She slipped her arm from behind her to pull off her jacket, but her moving made Azzi glance up in silent protest. Azzi pouted at her as her body instinctively leaned to follow Paige’s warmth.

“Relax ma,” Paige whispered, shrugging off the jacket.

Once it was off Paige leaned over and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was still warm from her body heat and the satin lapels rested right on Azzi’s skin, meshing perfectly with her dress color. 

Paige slid her arm back around her, tugging her in again until Azzi was pressed against her side.

Azzi sighed into the comfort. “Thank you.”

Paige hummed, resting her cheek against the side of Azzi’s head.

They turned their attention back to the dance floor, both of them silently soaking in the realization that this was their life as they watched Cam and Ben sway slowly together.

Once the first dance was done a mix of different genres drifted through the speakers, the body movement raising the temperature in the room as people filled the dance floor. Voice rose from different corners of the reception hall, loud laughs and yelling mixing together as people got looser with the open bar.

Paige was in her seat, nursing a glass of tequila she picked up a little while earlier. She was relaxed, watching everyone around her settle into a rhythm. This was always Paige’s preference in events like this. Moments when she wasn’t forced into awkward conversations and forced interactions. 

In the middle of a random thought process Azzi came back into her view, weaving through a couple of tables before approaching her. She didn’t say anything before she slid into Paige’s lap without asking, crossing her legs as she got comfortable. Paige raised her eyebrow when Azzi took her glass from her hand and took a sip, her lips curving around the rim like it was hers and leaving the remnants of her lip combo.

“That’s mine,” Paige attempted to say flatly, but her voice was too warm.

Azzi licked her lips to get any leftover liquor off. “You weren’t drinking it fast enough.”

Paige reached to take the glass back. “Because I pace myself. Like an adult.”

Azzi moves her hand up to trace light circles at the base of Paige’s neck. “Mmm, that’s boring, baby,” Azzi whispered, the light in her eyes playful as she looked at Paige. 

Paige grinned, taking another sip of her tequila before adjusting them both so she could lean back more in her chair. “I’m boring?”

Azzi scrunched her nose like she was pretending to think about it. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you’re gonna dance with me or not,” Azzi said, trailing her fingers down the collar of Paige’s shirt like she was already trying to coax her up.

Paige let out another small laugh. “Of course you wanna dance.”

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder. “I like being near you when I’m a little tipsy.”

“You like being near me all the time,” Paige corrected.

“So will you dance with me?”

Paige met her gaze, already putting her glass down on the table as she smiled at Azzi. “Of course, beautiful.”

Azzi grinned and slid off Paige’s lap, reaching for her hand. Paige laced their fingers together, standing up and letting Azzi pull her toward the dance floor, with her jacket still draped over her shoulders.

They didn’t so much dance as sway when they got there. Their bodies moved slowly in the dim lighting as something slow played for some of the couples in attendance. Azzi’s arms were looped around Paige’s neck as she leaned her weight into her knowing Paige would hold her up.

Paige’s hands rested on Azzi’s lower back and every so often she brushed her thumbs back and forth across the fabric of her dress. They didn’t talk for a while. Happy to just exist there with each other. 

Eventually Paige whispered against her ear, “You had what like three and a half drinks?”

Azzi lifted her head enough to meet her eyes, the corners of her mouth pulling into an unimpressed smile. “Five,” she corrected. “Don’t disrespect me like that.”

Paige laughed. “My bad,” she said, ducking her head a little. “Usually you a light weight”

Azzi grinned and dragged her fingers along the back of Paige’s neck. “I’m doing great, thank you for asking.”

“You are,” Paige agreed, pulling her closer somehow. “A little clingy, but great.”

“You like it.”

“I do,” Paige easily agreed.

Azzi smiled, eyes drifting up to meet Paige’s like she was about to say something else but before she could, a voice cut in from behind them.

“Well, well. Look who finally got off her ass and came to dance.”

They both turned to find Rickea with a drink in hand. Azzi leaned her forehead against Paige’s shoulder and sighed. Paige just looked at Rickea, holding Azzi a little tighter like she wasn’t trying to let her go yet.

Cam came up looking a little flushed from dancing and smiling like she was on top of the world. “Paigey,” she said, pulling on her arm that was wrapped around Azzi, “you gotta come meet somebody. Come on.”

Paige leaned her head down, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s curls. “I’ll find you in a second, alright?”

Azzi nodded, letting her fingers brush Paige’s wrist before letting her step back. Paige followed Cam through the crowd, glancing back once to make sure somebody was with Azzi.

Azzi slipped back toward the table, with Rickea where Rae was already waiting. Rae raised her glass. “You gettin’ enough oxygen away from Paige or you're still acting like you can’t function without her being around?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. The three of them talked for a while, finishing their drinks and people watching as the reception danced on. Eventually, Azzi stood up, her cheeks warm from the alcohol and made her way toward the bar for a refill.

She leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender to make her a drink. She felt someone step a little too close to her side but didn’t bother reacting. 

“You’re not dancing anymore?” someone asked. Azzi looked over to see a man who was maybe in his late twenties, with a grin tugging at his mouth. 

Azzi thanked the bartender for her drink before she took a long sip. Once she was done her eyes flicked to him very briefly before she looked back ahead. “Taking a break.”

He forced a laugh like they were in on some inside joke. “I’m Ben’s friend from college. Colin.”

Azzi gave a polite nod, lifting her glass again. “Cool.”

His eyes drifted down to the tux jacket draped around her shoulders, noting the details of it belonging to someone from the wedding party. He glanced around the room, not noticing anyone missing their jacket in his line of sight. “You single?”

“Very much taken, actually.”

Colin looked around the room again. “By who? I could probably take ’em. I used to wrestle.”

Azzi had to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing, her tongue pressing to the inside of her cheek. “Is that right?” she said, once she got her reaction under control. Her lips still twitching as she leaned onto the bar.

“Yeah,” he grinned, clearly missing the amusement in her voice. “Not professionally or anything, but I was pretty good. Can hold my own against anybody in here.”

Azzi swirled the drink in her glass and gave him a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Colin laughed like she’d just flirted with him. “Guess I just didn’t chase it hard enough though. Life kinda pulled me in another direction, you know?”

“Mmm,” Azzi hummed, scanning the room casually over the rim of her glass. “Life has a habit of doing that.”

Colin leaned against the bar, watching her reactions closely like he was trying to read her. “What about you? You from Miami?”

“Nope.”

He waited for more, then chuckled awkwardly when she didn’t offer anything else. “You got a nice smile, you know that?”

“You keep fishing, but I already told you I’m taken.”

Before he could respond, Paige appeared out of nowhere. She patted Colin’s shoulder a little aggressively to make him notice. 

Colin turned with a slight wince, rubbing his shoulder. “Yo, wassup Paige?”

Paige gave a quick nod to greet him, before sliding next to Azzi. “Wassup.”

Azzi leaned into her and softened her demeanor. “Hi, baby.”

Colin’s whole posture straightened as soon as he heard her say that. He rubbed the back of his neck as Azzi tilted her head and gave Paige a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Colin was just telling me about how he could probably take whoever I was here with,” Azzi explained, barely containing her grin.

Paige chuckled, resting her hand on Azzi’s lower back as she looked at Colin for confirmation. “Word?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That so?”

Colin held his hands up, trying to laugh it off. “Shit I didn’t know, man…I was just fuckin around.”

Paige took a long sip from her glass, letting the pause linger to make him feel awkward.

“Guess I should be scared then.”

Colin gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and then scratching his scruffy jaw like he wanted to disappear. “Swear I didn’t know she was with you.”

“You good,” Paige said, keeping her voice calm. She shifted her weight to let Azzi lean on her more comfortably before turning back to him and looking down to see a tan line in place of his ring on his left finger. “So…how’s the wife and kid?”

Colin awkwardly rubbed his bare ring finger. “They’re great. Thanks for asking.”

Usually, Paige would've left it at that. But maybe it was the tequila in her glass or the way he was eyeing Azzi when she walked up. Maybe it was the disrespect of stepping out on his family that rubbed her the wrong way. Whatever it was, she didn’t move on. “Last I saw, Jr. was just learning to walk, right?”

Colin nodded slowly. “Yeah…he’s two now. My wife's amazing too.”

Paige hummed, keeping eye contact as she raised her glass to her lips. The silence that echoed around them didn’t last long, but it was enough to make him shift uncomfortably on his feet.

He tried to recover, gesturing vaguely in the air. “You, uh…you talk to her lately?”

“Nah.” Paige dismissed the question with a shrug. “No reason to. Ain’t got much to say to anybody that’s not my girl.”

Colin nodded quickly, clearly ready to exit the conversation. “Yeah, yeah. Right. Good seeing you, though.”

“You too.” 

He backed away after saying, “Y’all have a good night.”

As soon as he was gone, Azzi let out a soft laugh and leaned further into Paige’s side, sliding her arm around her waist. “That was fun.”

Paige shook her head. “You have a weird definition of fun baby.”

Azzi tilted her head and kissed Paige’s neck, slowly right below her jaw.

Paige exhaled, closing her eyes to let herself enjoy the feeling for a second before saying, “You’re drunk “and you’re gonna get your makeup on my shirt.”

“I’m tipsy,” Azzi corrected, dragging her fingers along the seam of Paige’s pants trying to figure out just how much Paige would let her get away with. “And you don’t care about my makeup being on you.”

Paige’s hand dropped lower, fingers barely missing Azzi’s ass.

Azzi felt it and grinned.

“So what now?” Paige said.

“Let me kiss you,” Azzi said, her eyes already on Paige’s lips.

Paige leaned in, closing the small distance until their lips met. Azzi cupped the back of Paige’s neck to deepen the kiss, their tongues easing together slowly. They stayed in that bubble for a few minutes but Azzi melted into it a little too much and Paige felt Azzi nip at her bottom lip before sucking on her tongue. Paige was about to ease back but Azzi had a grip on her tie making Paige chuckle. 

Paige squeezed Azzi’s ass signaling she needed some air before she pulled back resting her forehead against Azzi’s. “You tryna get us kicked out?” she whispered.

Azzi bit her bottom lip, eyes a little hazy. “Maybe.”

She wiped at Paige’s mouth with her thumb, clearing the lip gloss and liner from her lips and chin, then rubbed her thumb across the mark on Paige’s jaw. Paige just grinned at her, letting her do it.

Cam’s voice rang through the speakers. “Alright ladies, I’m tossing this bouquet, so if you want that good luck, you better move up!”

Azzi turned toward the area Cam was speaking from before grinning back at Paige. She cradled Paige’s face with both hands, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. “Gotta a bouquet to catch.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “Word?”

“Mmm,” Azzi hummed as she slid Paige’s jacket from around her shoulders and handed it back to her for a moment. “Hold this for me, baby.” She turned, walking off toward the crowd with a sway in her steps that Paige tracked the entire time.

Paige laughed to herself, shaking her head as she walked over to sink back into her chair. The DJ’s voice came over the mic, hyping the crowd up as some of the women gathered behind Cam near the edge of the dance floor. A few of Cam’s cousins were talking trash to each other like they had this in the bag, while Rae stood at the edge hyping up Azzi. “You better get that shit, Z! I need my royal wedding!”

Cam stood with her back turned to everyone, playfully psyching everyone out with a few fake tosses that had everybody yelling.

When she finally launched it the flowers soared in an arc, drifting higher than expected, almost like she did it on purpose, and just like that, Azzi’s arms were the only ones that could reach up and grab it out of the air.

Her teammates erupted with a chorus of yells as Rae practically tackled her with a hug. Azzi laughed, holding the bouquet up with a huge grin on her face. She glanced across the room already knowing where Paige was sitting and sure enough Paige was leaning back in her chair, with her legs spread out, one arm hanging over the back of another chair. She lifted her glass in the air, not able to control the smile as her warm eyes met Azzi’s.

Azzi raised the bouquet in return, the same smile on her lips as she blew Paige a kiss.

[lilirae00]

Drinks and Paige

Summary: One-shot: Azzi has a little too much to drink and the other UConn girls don’t know what else to do except to call Paige, who’s in Dallas. 

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: drinking, alcohol, drunk Azzi, light mention of gagging/vomiting

Masterlist

—

Azzi hadn’t planned on going out.

It was two weeks before the season started, and there were still early practices, team meetings, shooting drills that left her arms heavy and sore. 

But Caroline had insisted. One last hurrah before we lock in, she’d said, pleading with those big eyes that always got her in trouble.

So Azzi had caved.

Now she found herself perched on a cracked barstool at Ted’s, surrounded by her teammates—Ice, Jana, KK, Sarah, Caroline—who were all determined to make the night count. The bar was packed with other students cramming in one last round before the season’s grind. Music thumped just enough to rattle the glasses.

Azzi nursed her second drink carefully, already feeling the heat in her cheeks. She wasn’t a big drinker. Never had been. She liked to be in control of her body—her mind. She didn’t like the slip, the way alcohol made her laugh too loud, her thoughts too soft.

But tonight was different. It felt… final.

Her last season at UConn. Her last months with this exact group of girls—teammates who had become family. Every inside joke, every late-night bus ride, every pre-game ritual was winding toward its inevitable end. Soon she’d be gone, off chasing the next thing. 

A new city. A new team. A new life.

And even though she was ready, even though she was excited—there was a lump in her throat she couldn’t swallow down. Something about tonight felt like a goodbye dressed up in glitter and music and laughter.

She glanced at Caroline who was leaning over the bar to order another round of shots, waving her credit card like she owned the place. Azzi shook her head, lips twitching despite herself.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She fished it out, thumb tapping the screen.

Paige: “Behave at Ted’s, superstar.”

Azzi: “No promises. Love you.”

Her chest squeezed in that annoying, familiar way. Paige was in Dallas, time zones apart, finishing up her rookie season, probably already in bed with an ice pack on her knee. Azzi missed her with the kind of ache that felt cellular.

And not just in the I-want-to-hear-your-voice way. It was deeper than that. She missed Paige in the fabric of her everyday life—in the locker room banter, in warmups, in the walk from class to the practice facility. 

She missed the way Paige used to flick rubber bands at her during film sessions, the way she’d lean over during stretches and whisper some stupid joke that would make Azzi laugh when she was trying to be mad.

UConn without Paige wasn’t just quieter—it was lonelier. Paige was the reason she came here in the first place. Back when everything was still only possibility and nerves, it had been Paige’s voice that pulled her forward, told her it would all be okay. That they’d do it together. And for a while, they did.

But now Azzi was finishing what they’d started—alone. And some days it felt like she was holding it all in her hands just a little too tightly, like if she loosened her grip even for a second, the whole thing would slip through her fingers. 

She was proud, of course. This team, this season—it mattered. But there was a part of her that still looked to the bench, half-expecting to see Paige there, chewing her nail, bouncing her knee, mouthing encouragement across the court.

She wasn’t. She wouldn’t be again.

And the weight of that hit harder than the alcohol ever could.

“HEY.”

The shout snapped Azzi out of her thoughts like a slap. She blinked and looked up, just in time to see Caroline’s grinning face appear inches from her own, her dark hair frizzing wildly around flushed cheeks. A shot glass was shoved into her hand before she could react.

“For Captain Fudd!” Caroline declared, voice too loud, eyes too bright.

Azzi frowned. “I’m literally sitting right here.”

“Exactly!” KK called from across the room, raising her own drink with a crooked smile. “You’re here. You don’t get to be sober tonight. Cheers!”

The girls around them whooped in agreement, a blur of limbs and laughter, the music pulsing behind it all like a second heartbeat.

Azzi exhaled through her nose, letting a dramatic roll of her eyes speak for her. But her fingers curled obediently around the warm glass anyway, cool liquid sloshing against the rim.

She could feel Caroline watching her, waiting for the spark of competitiveness to kick in. It always did.

Azzi raised her glass with practiced ease and clinked it against Caroline’s. The sound was small but sharp, a tiny crack in the soft bubble of nostalgia and melancholy she’d been floating in seconds ago.

“To the end,” Caroline said, quieter now. Something flickered in her eyes—something real beneath the buzz.

Azzi didn’t answer. She just knocked the shot back.

The burn hit her tongue first, then her throat—fast and hot and mean. Her face twisted instinctively as she swallowed, hissing through her teeth as the alcohol seared a path to her stomach.

Caroline laughed and smacked her shoulder like she’d just scored a three. “There she is!”

Azzi coughed and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, already regretting it. 

If she was being honest, she only ever really liked drinking when Paige was around. Paige, who always made sure she ate first. Who never let her take a shot without water right after. Who kept a steady hand on the small of her back in crowded rooms. Who would tuck her into bed and pull her shoes off if she got too tipsy to remember how.

With Paige, drinking felt safe. Easy. Like something she could surrender to.

But tonight, everything felt looser—unraveled at the edges. The room was too warm, too bright. Her chest still ached from the weight of memories she hadn’t meant to unpack. And Paige was still hundreds of miles away, asleep in a different bed, under a different roof, in a different life.

Azzi didn’t feel safe tonight. She just felt exposed.

And when someone passed her another shot, she took it without asking.

—

They lost track of rounds after that.

Someone stole the aux from the bar. Ice started a chant that had the whole table in stitches. KK told a story about a freshman trying to sneak into practice that had Azzi snorting drinks through her nose.

For a while, it was easy.

She let herself laugh. Lean into Caroline’s shoulder. Forget about the weight she’d been carrying since summer.

But then it got fuzzier.

Caroline ordered another round.

Azzi blinked at the glass like it was foreign.

“Carol… I’m good,” she mumbled.

But Caroline wasn’t listening. She was too busy heckling Ice about her shitty pool skills.

Azzi tried to set the drink down, but Jana nudged her. “C’mon, Captain. One more for good luck.”

She made a face. But she picked it up.

It didn’t take much. It never did.

—

Half an hour later, Azzi realized the room was tilting.

It wasn’t spinning fast—more like swaying, like the floor was a dock and she’d just stepped off a boat. 

A strange, slow kind of vertigo that made her feel detached from reality. Her vision pulsed softly at the edges. The lights overhead were too bright, and someone had turned the music up, or maybe it just felt louder in her skull.

Caroline was laughing at something KK said, her voice cutting through the noise in sharp bursts, but it sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. Azzi blinked, slow and heavy, trying to bring everything back into focus. 

The heat in her cheeks had spread down her neck, into her chest. Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes, in her jaw, even in her teeth.

She pressed a shaky hand to her forehead, fingertips cool against the fever of her skin.

“Hey, Az,” Caroline’s voice drifted through the fog, a little closer this time. “You good?”

Azzi turned toward her, eyes glassy and unfocused. There was a half-second where she just blinked, not recognizing the concern on her friend’s face. Then she let out a breathy hiccup and gave a crooked, too-late smile. “M’fine.”

Caroline’s brow creased. “Uh-huh.”

The lie hung limp in the air between them.

Azzi tried to swallow around the lump rising in her throat, but her lower lip was already betraying her—quivering like a fault line about to give way. 

The heat behind her eyes burned now, threatening to spill over. She blinked hard, willing the tears back. Willing her body to get it together.

KK noticed before anyone else. “Shit,” she said under her breath. “Is she crying?”

Azzi sniffed, immediately turning away, shoulders stiff. “No.”

But her voice cracked, and the denial collapsed with it.

“Azzi…” Caroline’s hand found her shoulder—gentle, grounding, careful not to make it worse. Her palm was warm, steady against the chaos that had taken over Azzi’s body.

Azzi hiccupped again. And this time, the tears came. Hot, shameful, unstoppable. They streaked down her cheeks before she could pretend to blink them away.

“I want Paige,” she choked out, her voice hoarse and small.

KK flinched like she’d been slapped. “Aw, fuck.”

Caroline didn’t say anything at first. She just squeezed her shoulder, her own expression folding with empathy. “Baby girl,” she murmured. “Paige is in Dallas. Remember?”

Azzi’s face crumpled. “I know,” she slurred, breath stuttering out of her lungs like it hurt to let go. “But I want her. I want… I want her to come get me.”

The last word cracked in two as it left her lips.

Her breath hitched. Her whole frame shook.

She sounded like a kid again—like the younger version of herself who had only ever known comfort as something that smelled like lavender lotion and Paige’s hoodie and soft, dry hands on her back.

Caroline reached for her, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ve got you, Az.”

But Azzi wasn’t listening. She let out another sob, tried to swallow it down, but her stomach turned. Fast.

“No. She always comes. She always—”

And then she gagged.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit! Move!” KK barked, already halfway to her feet.

They scrambled. Azzi staggered to stand, her legs rubbery and barely cooperating. Her face was flushed, soaked with tears, and her stomach was already rebelling. 

They barely got the door open before she was bent over on the sidewalk, vomiting into the night.

Caroline crouched beside her without hesitation, one hand bracing Azzi’s back, the other holding her hair up and away from her face. She murmured soft, meaningless things while Azzi sobbed and apologized between ragged, dry heaves.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi gasped. “I’m so—God, I’m sorry—”

KK hovered nearby, helpless. Her eyes were wide, her hands balled into fists.

“Paige is gonna fucking murder us,” she muttered under her breath.

Caroline didn’t argue.

Because deep down, she knew it was true.

—

The Uber driver pulled up and gave them a look like he was rethinking every decision that had led to this moment. His eyes flicked over Azzi’s slumped frame, the way her legs tangled with Caroline’s as she half-lay, half-sat on the curb. 

There was a second—just a second—where Caroline was sure he was about to lock the doors again and pull off without them.

But he didn’t. And thank God, because Azzi was barely upright.

Her head lolled onto Caroline’s shoulder, cheek pressed against her jacket. Her face was damp, flushed, and streaked with tear-salt. She mumbled things under her breath—strings of half-thoughts and emotional confessions that made everyone in the car want to crawl out of their skin.

“I want her,” she whispered, words slurring at the edges. “I want Paige. Tell her… tell her to come get me.”

Her voice broke like glass.

Caroline’s stomach twisted. She kept rubbing slow circles on Azzi’s arm, the only thing she could think to do.

“I know, Az,” she said softly. “I know. She’s not here tonight, but we’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?”

But Azzi shook her head. Small. Fragile. Desperate.

“No. I need her,” she cried, voice thick with tears. “I just… I just want her. Please.”

From the front seat, KK glanced back with wide eyes. Caroline caught the look and shook her head once, barely perceptible. They had no idea what to say. None of them did.

Because Azzi never asked for anything.

She was the sturdy one. The composed one. The one who picked others up when they fell apart. Seeing her like this—crumbling, helpless, unraveling—it felt like watching a skyscraper sway. A pillar cracking down the center.

When they pulled up outside the apartment, the night air hit them like a slap—cool and too quiet after the tension in the car. 

Caroline climbed out first and reached back to coax Azzi forward, looping an arm under her ribs to guide her. Azzi staggered, her steps uneven, her weight heavy but somehow still fighting the help.

Inside the apartment, it was worse.

Azzi whined when they tried to steer her toward the bathroom, tugging against Caroline’s grip like a toddler refusing bedtime.

“No. Wait—” Her voice caught. “Call Paige. Please.”

Jana froze in the doorway, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Ice’s hands stilled on the back of the couch.

Caroline’s voice softened to a hush. “She’s not here, babe. She’s in Dallas. You remember that, right?”

Azzi’s face crumpled all over again, her features folding in on themselves as tears spilled freely. “She always comes when I need her,” she whispered, eyes wild. “She’s supposed to come get me.”

Caroline’s heart cracked for the hundredth time that night.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know she does.”

But Azzi wasn’t finished. Her breath came in short, uneven pulls.

“I want her so bad,” she choked. “Her hands… her mouth… everything. I miss her body.”

KK let out a strangled cough. “Jesus CHRIST, Azzi.”

Jana blinked like she’d been slapped. “Okay, okay, whoa. We HEARD you. Calm down.”

Ice looked like she wanted to vanish into the nearest closet.

Caroline bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to laugh through her tears. She smoothed a hand through Azzi’s damp hair, her tone full of exhausted affection. “Okay, babe. Maybe keep the commentary to yourself. We got the message. Loud and clear.”

But Azzi just shook her head harder, tears dripping down her chin. “I just want her, Carol,” she sobbed, the words hitching in her throat. “No one else. Just Paige.”

That was it. The final blow. Caroline pulled her close, cradling the back of her head and pressing her cheek into Azzi’s hair. She didn’t care that Azzi was sweaty or crying or completely falling apart.

“I know,” she murmured, voice raw. “She’d be here if she could. I promise you.”

Azzi’s sob rattled through her chest like it was trying to escape. She sagged into Caroline, her body trembling.

KK wiped under her eyes and mumbled, “Fuck. Paige is gonna end us.”

“Can you just get water and towels?” Caroline shot back, her voice sharp enough to sting. “Please?”

KK and Jana bolted, grateful to be given a task.

Caroline gently steered Azzi toward the bathroom, step by step, speaking to her in low murmurs. But Azzi stumbled after the first few feet, breath hitching again. She gagged once, dry and painful, and then froze.

“Okay,” Caroline soothed, guiding her down to the tile floor beside the toilet. “Just breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Azzi folded onto the floor, arms limp at her sides, head falling back against the wall. Her hair clung to her forehead in damp strands. Her breathing was ragged, wet, and shallow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Caroline crouched beside her, brushing sweaty curls away from her face.

“For what?”

Azzi blinked at her, red-eyed and destroyed. “For not being okay without her.”

Caroline’s breath caught.

She wrapped her arms around Azzi’s trembling shoulders, rocking them both gently. Her voice cracked against her hair.

“You’re allowed to need her, Az,” she whispered. “She knows you need her. She loves that you need her. And she’d be here if she could. I swear to God.”

Azzi let out a sound that wasn’t even a sob anymore—just a wrecked, broken exhale that dragged everything inside her down with it.

Caroline held her tighter.

She knew what she had to do next.

Caroline’s fingers trembled as she fumbled for Azzi’s phone in the front pocket of her sweats. It took two tries to wedge it free. Her other hand stayed on Azzi’s back, steady and firm, grounding them both.

Azzi was still crumpled beside the toilet, folded in on herself. Her shoulders hitched with every breath, each one shuddering and uneven. The sobs had slowed but not stopped, coming in wrecked little waves that she didn’t even try to hide anymore. 

Her hair clung to her forehead, damp and tangled, and she hadn’t spoken in minutes—hadn’t even tried to push them away. She just stayed there, shaking.

Caroline glanced toward the bathroom doorway where KK stood frozen, pale and useless. Her voice cracked. “Can you get a wet rag?”

KK blinked like she’d just been woken up. “Yeah. Yeah, on it.” She disappeared down the hallway at a sprint.

Caroline looked back at the screen, thumb hovering. Paige’s name stared back at her from Azzi’s Favorites list, glowing steady like a lifeline.

She didn’t ask permission. Just hit FaceTime.

It only rang twice.

Paige’s face filled the screen—soft lighting, a couch in the background, takeout container balanced on her lap. Her blonde hair was twisted into a high, loose bun, strands falling around her face. She looked relaxed. Happy, even.

“Hey, baby—oh. Hey, Carol, what’s up?”

Then she heard it.

The ragged sound of crying. The weak gag from off screen. Paige’s entire body snapped into focus like a rubber band recoiling. Her brows pinched, and the smile vanished instantly.

“Is that Azzi?” Her voice sharpened. “Caroline. What the fuck is going on?”

Caroline’s throat was already raw. She shook her head, guilt thick and burning. “She’s… she’s sick. She drank too much. Paige, I’m so sorry. She was fine, and then she just—she’s a mess.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. Her voice dropped into that low, dangerous register Caroline had only heard a handful of times. “Put me on her. Now.”

Caroline didn’t argue. She shifted down beside Azzi again, cradling the phone close as she crouched low. The screen trembled slightly in her hand as she angled it toward Azzi’s crumpled body.

Azzi didn’t even lift her head at first. Her face was blotchy, red and streaked with tears, lips parted and trembling. Her breath came in small, shallow bursts. But when she finally turned and caught a glimpse of the screen, something flickered in her expression.

“Paige…” she whispered, hoarse and broken.

Paige’s voice changed instantly. She leaned closer to the camera, all steel gone, replaced with a kind of desperate tenderness. “Hey. Hey, baby. Look at me.”

Azzi’s chin wobbled. Her mouth opened like she was trying to say something else, but all that came out was another sob. She curled in tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she cried softly.

Paige’s breath hitched, sharp and barely controlled. “No. No, baby. You don’t have to be sorry. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Azzi tried to inhale but it caught in her throat. Her body shuddered with the effort.

“Come on, deep breath,” Paige said gently. Her voice had that coaxing edge now, like she was guiding a child through a panic attack. “You can do it. I wish I was there. God, Azzi, I wish I was there. But Caroline’s got you. You trust her?”

Azzi gave the tiniest nod, the motion barely there. A sob slipped out with it anyway.

Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed the phone a little closer. “She’s here. We’ve got her.”

KK returned with the cold rag, kneeling beside them. Caroline took it with a murmured thank you and laid it gently against the side of Azzi’s neck. Azzi flinched at first, but didn’t pull away.

Paige watched all of it with laser focus. Her eyes tracked every move, lips parted like she was holding back a thousand words.

Then her expression shifted.

“Caroline,” she said, voice tight.

Caroline looked up. “Yeah?”

“You know she can’t drink like that. She’s a lightweight. You’re supposed to look out for her when I’m not there.”

The guilt rushed in hot and immediate.

“I know. I know, Paige, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—none of us thought it’d get this bad.”

Paige closed her eyes for a second, breathing through her nose. When she looked up again, her face had softened—but the worry was etched in deep.

“I know you didn’t. I’m not mad, I just…” Her voice cracked. “Please. Take care of her for me. Like I would.”

Caroline nodded hard. “I will. I promise.”

Paige turned her gaze back to Azzi, and her voice dropped into something so gentle, it felt like a touch.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Azzi’s whole face twisted. “Love you too,” she cried.

“I’m not hanging up,” Paige said. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m staying with you, baby.”

Azzi nodded, leaning into Caroline’s side. Her body sagged like she was finally allowing someone else to hold the weight.

Paige’s voice was a whisper now. “We’re gonna get you through tonight. One step at a time.”

And she did.

She stayed on FaceTime the entire time Azzi was sick. She stayed while Caroline stripped off Azzi’s sweat-soaked clothes and got her changed into oversized UConn gear. 

She stayed while KK and Jana rotated in and out of the room with water bottles and crackers and extra towels. She stayed while Azzi drifted in and out of consciousness, sniffling, muttering Paige’s name like a prayer.

And when Azzi finally passed out with her head in Caroline’s lap, eyes red and lips parted, Paige just watched. Silent. Still.

Because if she couldn’t hold her, if she couldn’t wrap her arms around her and rub circles into her back and kiss the top of her head like she always did—then this was the next best thing.

And Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

—

Azzi woke up slow, heavy-limbed and disoriented, like her entire body had been filled with wet sand. 

Her mouth tasted like cotton and regret—dry and sour and clinging. The inside of her skull pulsed with an insistent, miserable throb that settled right behind her eyes and thudded in rhythm with her heartbeat.

She blinked blearily toward the window. The blinds were crooked, letting in strips of cold, overcast light that painted the room in tired gray. Her throat was raw. Her tongue felt thick. Every muscle in her body ached like she’d been run over.

She groaned softly, pressing her face into the pillow. For one blissful second, she tried not to remember.

But then it came back.

The bathroom floor. Her knees on cold tile. The burn of tears down her cheeks. Caroline’s voice saying it was okay. Paige’s voice through the phone—calm, steady, far away—telling her to breathe.

Azzi flinched, shame curling in her gut like spoiled milk.

“Hey.”

Caroline’s voice drifted in from the doorway, soft and careful.

Azzi turned her head slowly. One eye cracked open.

Caroline stood holding a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, like some kind of hungover fairy godmother. Her expression was kind, unreadable, just the right amount of tentative. She looked like she’d been up all night too.

Azzi’s voice was a croak, gravel dragged across pavement. “Kill me.”

Caroline let out a breathy, tired laugh. It sounded too light to be real—more relief than amusement. She crossed the room and sank down on the edge of the bed, handing over the water.

Azzi pushed herself upright with a low grunt, each movement stiff and resistant like her body was punishing her. The sudden change in elevation made her stomach lurch, but she managed a slow sip, willing herself not to gag.

She could feel Caroline watching her. That calm, quiet gaze that didn’t miss anything.

“Don’t you dare start apologizing yet,” Caroline said gently, before Azzi even opened her mouth.

But Azzi’s lips wobbled anyway. Her voice cracked around her next word. “Carol…”

Caroline shook her head, firm but soft. “No. Don’t. We’re good. We’re all good.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. She scrubbed a hand across her face, trying to get her emotions back under control. “I was such a mess.”

Caroline’s face softened, something maternal flickering there. She reached out and rested her hand on Azzi’s knee, grounding her.

“You were drunk. And sad. And missing your girl. That’s not a crime, Az.”

Azzi looked down at her lap, the water glass shaking just slightly in her hand. “I kept asking for her.”

Caroline nodded, quiet and without judgment. “Yeah. You did.”

Azzi swallowed hard. Her voice went smaller. “I don’t usually let it get like that. I don’t want to be that needy. I just—I couldn’t stop.”

Caroline’s expression turned fierce, protective. “Hey. Stop that. She’s your person, Azzi. You’re allowed to need her. That’s the whole point.”

Azzi blinked hard, but the tears welled up anyway. She sucked in a ragged breath through her nose.

Caroline squeezed her knee again, this time with a kind of reverence. “You should know… she stayed on FaceTime all night. Wouldn’t hang up. Not until you were asleep.”

Azzi’s chest cracked wide open. Her breath caught. She brought a hand to her mouth like she could physically hold back the wave building in her throat.

“She did?” The words came out fragile, barely more than a whisper.

Caroline nodded, her voice soft. “She watched you breathe, dude. I tried to get her to log off once you passed out, but she wouldn’t. Said she’d know if you needed her. Said if she couldn’t come get you herself, this was the closest thing.”

Azzi closed her eyes tight. One tear slipped free, tracking down her cheek in silence.

Caroline didn’t rush her. She just kept her hand steady on Azzi’s leg, thumb rubbing in slow, calming circles.

“I’m not telling you that to make you feel worse,” she said, voice warm and even. “I’m telling you so you remember exactly who you’ve got.”

Azzi let out a long, broken exhale. “God, I love her so much it’s pathetic.”

Caroline snorted, watery-eyed. “She’d say the same about you, you know.”

Azzi huffed out something between a sob and a laugh. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, dragging it across her skin without much care.

She inhaled deep—shaky, but fuller than before—and looked over at Caroline with glassy eyes. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Caroline just smiled. “Always.”

Once Caroline stepped out to give her a minute, the room fell quiet. Azzi sat there in the rumpled sheets, still clutching the half-empty glass of water, heart aching in that sharp, quiet way only Paige could manage to trigger—just by loving her so much.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen was littered with missed messages, but she didn’t look at them yet. 

She opened her messages and tapped on Paige’s name, her thumbs still clumsy and slow.

Azzi: I’m awake

Azzi: still feel like garbage but I’m okay

Azzi: I love you

The dots appeared before she even locked the screen.

Paige: thank god.

Paige: baby i’ve been checking my phone every 5 seconds

Paige: I’ve got practice this morning but i’ll call you the second i’m done

Paige: you sure you’re okay?

Azzi smiled softly, her head falling back against the headboard. Her body still ached and her eyes were raw, but the knot in her chest loosened just a little.

Azzi: Carol took good care of me

Azzi: still wish you were here though

She stared at the message for a beat, thumb hovering like she might delete it. The last thing she wanted was to make Paige feel guilty. None of this was her fault. 

Paige would’ve moved mountains to be here—Azzi knew that in her bones. But still. 

The ache lingered. The hollow spot beside her in bed, the silence that followed every sob last night, the way her body instinctively reached for comfort and found nothing but crumpled sheets. 

She missed her like air. Like something vital. 

But she’d already asked for so much last night—too much, maybe. So she didn’t say any of that. Just turned her phone face down and blinked hard at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry again. 

Paige: me too baby

Paige: so bad

Paige: don’t move from that bed until i can see your face later

Paige: and don’t even THINK about skipping lunch

Paige: i love you

Azzi exhaled through her nose, heart warm and sore all at once.

Azzi: love you more. talk soon?

Paige: always.

Azzi set the phone down beside her and closed her eyes.

—

A day later, Azzi was feeling… better. Not perfect. Not completely clear. But better.

The worst of the hangover was gone. The shame had dulled to a wince instead of a full-body cringe. Caroline had refused to let her sulk too long, dragging her out for coffee runs and early gym sessions.

Now it was late afternoon. The apartment was messy with leftover takeout boxes, empty Gatorade bottles, and KK’s giant sneakers that no one knew how she managed to lose in the middle of the floor.

Azzi was curled into the corner of the couch in sweatpants, watching Ice and Jana argue over which of them cheated at Uno last night. KK was loudly insisting she had won fair and square while Caroline just snickered from the arm of the chair.

Azzi let herself laugh, quietly, the sound feeling good in her chest.

That’s when a knock echoed from the front door.

The room stilled instantly—like someone had hit mute on the world. The laughter faded. The hum of the TV vanished under the sudden hush.

Jana twisted toward the sound, brows drawing together. “Was someone else coming over?”

Azzi frowned, her heart ticking up a notch. “No… not that I know of.”

KK, halfway through opening another bottle of Gatorade, grunted. “I got it.” She tossed the cap on the counter and dragged herself upright, grumbling as she padded toward the door with the heavy steps of someone expecting a delivery or a neighbor complaining about the noise.

She yanked it open without ceremony.

And froze.

Azzi noticed the shift immediately—KK’s whole body locked, shoulders stiff. Her expression flickered from confusion to something more rattled. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Uh… Azzi?” KK’s voice cracked, unsteady in a way that made Azzi’s stomach drop. “It’s… it’s for you.”

Azzi didn’t even get the chance to ask before a figure moved past KK, cutting through the doorway like a storm.

Paige.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t pause. She just stepped through the threshold with a quiet urgency that made the whole room tilt.

Her eyes—sharp, wide, wild with worry—landed on Azzi and never moved again. It was like nothing else existed. Like she’d taken one look and finally, finally remembered how to breathe.

Azzi’s body reacted before her brain could catch up. She surged to her feet, breath snagging in her throat. Her chest tightened with something fierce and desperate and relieved all at once.

She had barely taken a step when Paige was already moving toward her, and then they collided—arms wrapping tight, bodies folding into each other like magnets finally allowed to touch. 

Azzi didn’t even care that her breath hitched or that her knees almost buckled. Paige held her through it.

There were no words. Just the soft sound of Azzi’s exhale breaking against Paige’s shoulder. Just the way Paige buried her face in Azzi’s neck and inhaled like she could live off the smell of her skin alone. 

Around them, the room stayed silent. But no one looked away.

When they finally pulled back just enough to see each other, Paige’s eyes were wet. Her hands still held Azzi like she was afraid to let go, as if Azzi might disappear if she blinked.

“Jesus Christ,” Paige rasped, voice raw and uneven, barely more than a breath. “I leave for five fucking minutes and you forget how to handle your liquor?”

Azzi huffed out a weak laugh, the sound cracked and watery. “Shut up,” she whispered, but the tears were already spilling again, tracing down her cheeks without permission.

Paige kissed her forehead hard, arms still cinched tight around her waist. Like she needed to feel Azzi’s heartbeat against her own to believe she was okay.

Then Paige’s eyes lifted, scanning the room, her expression shifting. The softness in her face pulled taut. Her gaze sharpened just enough to make KK take an instinctive step back.

“You were supposed to take care of her,” Paige said, and though her tone stayed quiet, it held an edge that sliced through the room.

KK flinched, eyes wide. “I know,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Paige cut her off without raising her voice. “You know she’s a lightweight.”

KK nodded miserably, her usual swagger gone. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry, P.”

Paige’s gaze moved slowly across the others—Caroline, Ice, Jana—all of them suddenly still, all of them looking a little like kids caught doing something wrong.

“All of you,” she said evenly.

Jana’s mouth twisted. She lifted her hands, palms up. “We know,” she said, guilt thick in her voice. “We fucked up. We’re sorry.”

Ice looked like she wanted to sink through the floor.

Paige stared at them for another beat, and then let out a rough, exhausted sigh. The fire in her eyes dimmed a notch.

“God. I’m not even that mad,” she muttered, her voice fraying at the edges. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I just…” She shook her head once, jaw clenched. “Fuck. I wasn’t here.”

Caroline stepped forward, careful and deliberate. Her hand landed gently on Paige’s arm, grounding. “We’re really sorry, Paige,” she said, her voice thick with regret. “We pushed her too far. It won’t happen again.”

Paige studied her for a second longer, then exhaled through her nose. She opened one arm and let Caroline hug her, finally letting her guard drop just a little.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Paige murmured into her shoulder.

KK shuffled over and threw her arms around both of them with a grumble. “Fucking scary-ass girlfriend,” she muttered, but it was affectionate.

Paige let out a tired snort. “Takes one to know one.”

Jana and Ice stepped in for quick, awkward hugs before grabbing their bags and jackets, the energy in the room shifting to a quiet, respectful retreat. No one wanted to be in the way anymore.

Caroline lingered at the door. She looked back at Azzi with a soft, knowing smile. “You good?”

Azzi wiped at her face, still holding tightly to Paige’s hand. She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

Azzi’s shoulders sagged the second it did, like she’d been holding herself upright through sheer force of will. But Paige didn’t give her time to collapse.

She pulled Azzi right back in, arms tightening like she could press all the broken pieces back together.

“Hi,” Paige breathed into her hair, her voice cracking with all the things she couldn’t say.

Azzi let out a wet laugh, pressing her forehead against Paige’s. “Hi.”

Paige kissed her then—slow and tender, nothing hungry about it. Just the quiet, steady press of lips that had missed each other more than they could ever say aloud.

When they finally broke apart, Azzi pulled back enough to study her face. “How the hell are you here?”

Paige’s mouth twitched into a soft smile, though her eyes were still tired. “Got two days off. Hopped the first flight I could. Had to see you.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. “Paige…”

Paige shook her head, brushing her thumb across Azzi’s cheek. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I wanted to come. You scared the shit out of me, baby.”

Azzi looked down, fingers curling into Paige’s hoodie. “But you have to leave tomorrow?”

Paige nodded, her hand still cupping Azzi’s cheek. “Tomorrow night. But I’d fly across the world even if it meant I only got thirty minutes with you.” Her voice softened even further. “Don’t you know that by now?”

Azzi let out a broken laugh that turned into another sob. She leaned into Paige like gravity had shifted and pulled her there.

Paige kissed the tear off her cheek.

“Bedroom,” she whispered, not as a command—just a gentle suggestion.

Azzi didn’t argue. She just tugged Paige’s hand and led her down the short hallway, feet moving on instinct.

They collapsed onto the bed together like two halves of a puzzle slotting back into place. Paige curled around her, legs tangled, arms wrapped tight. 

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo and skin.

Paige rested her chin on Azzi’s head, her voice low and fraying. “Never want you crying like that again. Not for me.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath. “Just don’t want to need you so much.”

Paige’s arms squeezed tighter. “But you can need me,” she whispered fiercely. “That’s the deal.”

Azzi didn’t answer, but she nodded against Paige’s chest, finally letting herself sink into the safety of her.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in the quiet hum of the room—the soft click of the radiator, the low buzz of people walking by outside, the even rhythm of shared breath.

Eventually, Paige shifted, just enough to tilt Azzi’s chin up with two fingers.

“Look at me,” she said, voice low and sure.

Azzi blinked slowly, eyes still puffy, still shining. Paige’s mouth curved into that soft, familiar grin—the one that always made Azzi’s stomach do a somersault. 

“You didn’t think I flew all the way here just to cuddle, did you?”

Azzi let out a laugh that broke in the middle, and rolled her eyes. But her fingers were already twisting in Paige’s shirt, tugging her closer.

Then she paused, a fuzzy memory resurfacing.

“Oh god,” she groaned, cheeks going scarlet. “I think I told them I wanted your body.”

Paige grinned, teeth flashing. “You definitely did. Ice told me. And honestly? Highlight of my week.”

Azzi let out a mortified groan and buried her face in Paige’s neck. “Shut up.”

Paige chuckled, her lips brushing Azzi’s temple. “Not a chance.”

Azzi’s voice came out low and sly, muffled against Paige’s neck.

“Well… you did say you’d always take care of me.”

Paige pulled back just enough to kiss her—slow and certain, like she had nowhere else to be. “I did,” she whispered, her voice thick with feeling. “And I meant it.”

Azzi’s hands slid under Paige’s hoodie, seeking warmth and skin. Paige responded, pulling her sweatshirt off in one smooth motion, their bodies already slotting together like muscle memory.

A quiet breath. The rustle of clothes. Fingers tracing familiar paths.

A whispered “C’mere.”

A sigh.

And the quiet certainty that even 1600 miles apart, they’d always find their way back to each other.

[alumbianchronicler]

The other side of the portal was cold. Frigid, even. Snow swirled around their feet as Batman and Mr. Freeze stepped through, carrying the human-sized stasis chamber between them.

They came out onto a rocky outcrop overlooking a frozen valley, stretching out under a vast black sky swirling with the same green as the portal itself.

The two men paused, gently setting down the stasis chamber as they took in the view.

Nothing living could be seen. Nothing moved except the snow and the ever-shifting sky.

The battery attached to Nora's chamber glowed that same bright, acid, Lazarus green, though the glow was dim in comparison to the portal still open behind them.

For a few moments, the two men stared out across the valley and into the void around them.

Slowly, glancing back at Batman, Mr. Freeze lifted his hands and removed his helmet, breathing deeply in the frozen atmosphere. It was dangerous, removing the helmet in front of the Bat, but the hollow, haunted look in the vigilante's eyes suggested that he wouldn't have any issues with the man.

Not until Frost showed up again and revealed his... less than dead status, anyway.

Although... that change in color scheme... was it possible that Frost was dead after all? Changed to something Else in the opening of the Portal to the nether-realm he had helped Victor reach? Or was it simply part of the larger power-set that he had sometimes glimpsed, the one that somehow had led the boy to having knowledge of this dimension and its denizens in the first place.

Hm. He would ponder that later. He could not afford to become sentimental now; would need to continue to be ice cold and steady.

Now. Where to go?

The snow swirled, revealing a rough-hewn rocky stairway down to the valley below, where the men could barely make out what appeared to be a cave opening into the adjacent mountainside.

"That way, then," Mr. Freeze said, gesturing before clipping his helmet to his suit and bending to pick up his end of Nora's chamber.

He was so close to his goal.

Assuming Frost had been telling the truth.

Batman remained silent, following along and helping to carry the casket chamber.

He didn't kill.

He had killed.

A teenager, caught up in something he couldn't possibly know the full ramifications of, was dead.

Because of him.

The least he could do now was prevent further death, and if the project Mr. Freeze had been working toward would actually end his endeavors to find help for his wife? Batman would see that it was followed through. No matter what was to be found in this strange dimension.

For the kid.

"Need help with that?"

Both men were pulled out of their reveries by a voice, echoing oddly in the frozen air, coming from the path in front of them.

A young man, possibly still a teenager, sat on a small outcropping above the cave entrance they were heading toward. His white hair blended in with snow, as did the white accents on what looked like an otherwise-black hazmat suit, and the fluffy white fur of a thick cloak draped over his shoulders.

His bright, glowing green eyes met Mr. Freeze's gaze for a moment, mischievous, before he looked over to Batman.

"You really aren't prepared for this weather, even if he is. Come on, we've been expecting you."

The youth jumped from the ledge, floating down as softly as a snowflake to touch down on the ground. With a gesture, a bright green power surrounded the stasis chamber and it started floating, following the teen into the cave.

Mr. Freeze followed, already dreading the mischief that look on his protege's face had promised, but daring to let the hope underneath that feeling grow. He was so close to saving his dear Nora...

Batman didn't know who the teen was, but he seemed familiar with the area, and with this endeavor, so he followed as well, thoughts still cold and swirling like the snow they left behind outside.

Danny knew that this job was too good to be either true or not illegal.

But fucking hell does it pay well.

So he was only a little ashamed with himself as he stands between Batman and one Mr. Freeze.

He knew why he was hired, the look Victor gave him when they did the first interview was enough for Danny to know that the mad scientist knew a little too much about his powers.

He had wanted to just say fuck it and dip, but then Victor told Danny about Nora...and we'll if that didn't get him on the man's side then the fat wad of cash was the real closer.

(He was a poor law school student with more debt than even Sam's credit card was allowed to clear, how can he say no to 1k an hour?)

One thing lead to another, and it seemed that Danny was a willing accomplice to Freezes plan

Which might now include tearing a hole in dimensions to get to the Far Frozen because a certain yeti doctor knows a fuck ton about the disease that Nora is suffering from.

Now if only Batman would stay down long enough for Danny to explain all of this...

[touchandtwilight]

Hi, could I please get a Rumi alpha x fem reader omega, where the reader comes into heat early and is in front of several alphas, and Rumi becomes very territorial to protect the reader because she considers her omega, and in the end, she ends up helping her get through her heat (you know how 😏) Of course, only if you feel comfortable writing something like that.

of courseeee • nsfw & slight fluff under the cut

You should’ve taken your parents’ advice.

Working around mostly alphas as an unmated omega was never going to be easy. They warned you it would be complicated, exhausting even. Trying to manage your scent, your instincts, your composure. Especially when your body wasn’t bonded, wasn’t claimed.

Suppressants helped. Most days. But they weren’t perfect.

You were holding out—for your mate. Not just any alpha who got pushy when your scent flared up. You wanted something real. Someone who saw you as more than your biology.

But that choice came with its struggles and today, your body decided it didn’t want to wait anymore. Your heat came early.

Despite everything—the crowded rooms, the lingering stares, the risk that came with every shift—there was one constant. Rumi.

She was technically just your coworker, one of Huntrix’s alphas. A performer, a demon hunter, a name everyone recognized. But to you, she’d always been more than that.

She was the only one who never looked at you like you were fragile. The only alpha who didn’t let instinct override basic decency. When the others got too close, too curious, Rumi would always find an excuse to call you away. A last-minute smudge to fix on her face, a costume detail that “only you” could handle. Subtle things. Quiet shields.

You told yourself it was just kindness. But sometimes, when her gaze lingered, when her voice dropped just low enough to settle into your bones, you wondered if it was something more.

Even now, in the crowded break room, with your scent starting to slip into the air, you feel her hand slide up the side of your arm—steady, reassuring.

Her voice comes low beside your ear, quiet but serious. “Do you want to leave?”

You nod, small and tense. That’s all it takes. One hand wraps around your wrist, the other gently guides you toward the door. Before she can pull you out, someone behind you scoffs—a low voice, thick with interest.

Rumi whips around, face to face with them, "I can promise she doesn’t want you.”

“And who says she wants you, Rumi?”

Rumi stops, only for a second. Her head turns just enough for you to see her glare—sharp, unbothered, deadly calm. Then she pulls you out without another word, the door shutting hard behind you.

She drags you behind her, a tight grip on your wrist as she moves the two of you through the backstage. The sounds of the fans sounding through the back, echoing. She shoves past everyone, moving to head to her room to give you privacy. Not only is she pushing past everyone else, she's pushing past her own need to shut the two of you in her room.

"Here," she walks you in, guiding you to a couch, "stay here. Nobody will bother you here."

It's all she can get out. She needs to leave, she can feel the heat crawl up her neck and she swallows it down. Just as she turns on her heel to leave, you reach up and grip her wrist.

"Don't," you whisper. "Don't go.... stay."

Rumi’s steps halt the second she feels your fingers wrap around her wrist.

She looks back, her expression unreadable at first—but then her eyes widen slightly. You’re curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, knees pulled close. Shivering. Small. Overwhelmed.

Everything in her pulls tight.

“She’s not thinking straight,” she tells herself. Her jaw clenches. “It’s just the heat talking.”

But then you look up at her.

Eyes glassy, lower lip trembling as you tug gently on her wrist again—silent, pleading. And the soft, broken way you whisper her name shatters the last bit of space she tried to put between you.

“Rumi… please,” you breathe. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Her resolve cracks at the edges.

She exhales, slow and shaky, before kneeling down in front of you—her hands hovering, unsure.

“You need to be sure,” she says quietly, her voice tight with restraint. “Not just because it hurts. Not just because I’m here.”

"Im sure. I've been sure since the day I first met you."

With one exhale, she leans down. Her hands on either of your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. The sweetness of the first kiss fades, becoming something deeper. Both of you tumbling down quickly after waiting for so long.

A blink and she's on top of you, hands on either side of your face. Your arms encircling her neck as you squirm, gasping between each kiss. She wastes no time after, knowing you're ready. She can smell how ready you are.

Her kisses lead down your jaw, your neck, chest until she's leaving marks on the insides of your thighs. Eyes watching as you arch your back, whines and mewls escaping you as you beg for her to just get it on.

A full body shudder wracks you when she finally touches where you've been begging. Your hands shooting down to grab hold of her hair, rolling your hips onto her tongue.

"Taste so good," she murmurs, licking your clit again to hear you choke on a moan. So sensitive, it's a sight she's been waiting to see.

There's no time between foreplay and when she gets straight to it. Fucking you on her fingers, stretching you as she does to prep yourself for her. All before she presses the tip at the entrance, and she almost cums just from the sight of you. You look like utter sin, and you smell outstanding.

If you were an ocean, she was drowning. Show be dammed. She'd rather be here, nestled deep inside you hearing you scream as she wrecks you time and time again.

[sqgeism]

𓎟𓎟 "i gave you silence and you walked away from it. i can't even be mad at you for that." 𝄞 a love letter signed with various initials 𓂃𓈒

ℒ.ove mail ┈ 🍒 ꫂ idek how to feel ab this. its okay nd i need to work on my writing SIGH 😞 lovelove u all! kisses and hugs always

anaxagoras could feel there was something wrong, you didn't quite smile the way you always would—not at his playful quips—or his ramblings of a lost man. you just chuckled, emptily may he add, to everything. the blasphamer having no time to truly grieve, just laying next to you in bed and wondering, tracing back his steps to know where he had gone wrong. to understand what may have happened to make you suddenly decide to let go.

mydei wishes he didn't feel so confused, to know the reason why every time your hands felt cold when he reached out, or why you only seemed to listen but no longer understand, all of it. love slips away in the most quiet of nights, through the small cracks in the wall. making the warrior wish he had never let himself love at all.

phainon can't take it—he can't. and please god don't make him. he knows that the world will reset, and he'll have you again, but what's the point if every single time, he'll end up losing you before he can say goodbye. "angel?" he whispers, both of you quietly sat under a tree with both of your initials carved into its bark. a promise that is meant to be broken a million times over. you don't respond to his call, but his hand tightens around yours anyway. holding on to a person that will be doomed to never stay.

dan heng was distant, but you knew that. if you were choosing him and expected anything else, you'd be a fool. however, the young man always felt you were special. you never cared for his aloof demeanor, always understanding, careful for his needs. in spite of his earlier statements, he had then become a fool himself. neglecting your own wants, your simple desire to have a boyfriend who could care. hold you when nights are cold, how was he unable to do that? he didn't blame you when you started seeing caelus. not a note or much less, text. he had never loved you enough to be considered a true couple to begin with.

whats a gunslinger without his target? an odd statement to reference a 'lover', but it's true. you and boothill have been a cat and mouse since a bounty was placed over your head—the thrill keeping you two together, with the faintest scent of romance and stolen kisses in the night. but of course, no one wants to settle for the brief sparks of romance. and you weren't about to be the first. so boothill points his gun at you and your hands don't even itch for your rifle, just staring, smiling even. as if a testament—i'd rather die than go on with this for this any longer.

the problem with loving veritas ratio is that he will both try to leave you and hold on at the same time. the first, because he knows you're trying to leave. the second, for the same reason. he wants it to be easy for you, because he knows better than anyone else that it hasn't been easy loving him all this time. he's sharp, too much for his own good, that its begun hurt the one person he never wanted it to. so he watches you leave every room he's in without looking back, each time his walls build up higher and higher.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[formulafanfics13]

Do you remember when Lando was a cashier on Silverstone? I was thinking about reader having no clue what f1 is about but her bestie is obsessed and invited reader to watch it live and decided to buy some merch that happens to be lando's. When they were queuing reader saw him but had no clue who he is and just straight up ask him to go out with her cus he's cute, but he laugh bcs he thought it was a joke and she's confused bcs she litterly had no clue and in the end he did end up going out tgth.

Thank you so much!!! ❤

you’re cute. wanna go out? - LN4

Masterlist

summary: you know nothing about F1 but tag along to Silverstone with your best friend, who forces you to buy a papaya cap. While queuing at the LN4 merch stand, she sees Lando Norris behind the counter, has no clue who he is, and boldly asks him out because he’s cute. He laughs, thinking you're joking, but realises you're genuinely clueless and into him. Completely charmed, he gives you his number and you end up going out that night.

warnings: swearing, chaos, f1 slander (in a loving way), secondhand embarrassment, reader is confident and bold and doesn’t know a damn thing about racing, lando is confused then charmed, best friend is screaming on the sidelines

It started with a hat.

A bright papaya orange hat, to be exact. The kind that looked offensively loud in natural daylight. The kind your best friend insisted was a must-have because it matched the number on her handmade poster and made you look like you “gave a single fuck about this race,” which you didn’t. At all.

You were here for vibes. For beer. For shirtless guys in grandstands and overpriced chips. But mostly, you were here because she begged you.

So now you were standing in line at some weird pop-up tent called LN4 Store, which sounded like a robot prison or an airline terminal, waiting to spend £40 on a cap you’d wear for four hours and never touch again.

You were halfway through zoning out when you saw him.

Behind the counter. Wearing the same orange shirt. Ringing up merch with a stupidly nice smile and curls damp with sweat. He looked like a very well-groomed cashier from a high-end Adidas pop-up, and your brain, already sun-dulled and slightly hungover, made one very simple decision:

He’s hot.

You stared again. He looked like he should be modeling the merch, not selling it. His shirt clung a little too well to his chest. His mouth was curved in this soft, sleepy grin like he was enjoying the chaos of people losing their minds over him. His forearms flexed every time he picked up a water bottle.

And your brain, in its infinite wisdom, said fuck it. When it was your turn at the counter, you stepped forward, plonked your papaya cap on the till, and said: “You’re cute. Wanna go out sometime?”

He paused. Eyes flicking up. His mouth twitched. Then he laughed , short and stunned, like you’d made the funniest joke of the day. “Nice one,” he said, still grinning. “That’s a new one.”

You blinked. “What?”

He tapped the hat. “You rehearsed that for the merch queue?”

“No?” You frowned. “I meant it. You’re hot. I don’t care what your name is.”

The laughter slowed. His grin faltered. He stared at you like he’d been hit with a frying pan. Your best friend was having a stroke beside you.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he said.

You tilted your head. “Why would I joke about that? . I’m just trying to shoot my shot.”

He blinked. “You… don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

“You’re buying a hat.”

“I’m buying the hat,” you corrected. “My friend made me. I also have no clue what sport this is. Racing? Cars? Something with tyres?”

He looked like he’d short-circuited.

You shrugged. “Anyway. Still cute. You free later?”

There was a long pause

And then, slowly, the stunned look on his face melted into something else. Something soft and golden and a little delighted. Like he was trying not to be charmed and failing spectacularly.

“I’ve got… qualifying,” he said.

“That a sport thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it life-threatening?”

“Sometimes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Will it be over before dinner?”

He laughed again. but this time, it was quieter. Warmer. Like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening but didn’t want it to stop.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess it will.”

You nodded. “Cool. Give me your number, pit crew.”

His smile turned into a full-on grin. He grabbed a receipt, scribbled on the back, and handed it over like a secret mission. “Text me after the race,” he said. “Seriously.”

You took the receipt, winked, and turned on your heel before your best friend could combust beside you. She chased after you like she was trying to smother a scream with her shirt.

“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED,” she shrieked.

You held up the receipt. “I got a number and a hat. You’re welcome.”

“DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS??”

“Nope. But he’s cute.”

[serioussideblog]

Adding onto this as an autistic person:

- A few autistic people, such as myself, are actually hyperverbal, but this comes with its own set of unique problems sometimes. You may notice me talking about things I like a lot in the waiting room - that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m okay. I just might rather talk about my special interests in detail than think about how much xyz hurts or how I’m about to have a painful or potentially scary thing happen. And you may even notice me using more negative language and speaking on more negative aspects of my special interests - for example, when I was waiting for a neurologist appointment to try to find out the cause of my muscle spasms*, they had Disney Channel on in the waiting room, and Disney is one of my special interests, but I turned to Mom2 and let her know that it was perhaps tragically ironic that the show playing was one in which Cameron Boyce was one of the actors, considering we were concerned I might have the same disease that felled him.

- Another thing that may or may not be related to my hyperverbal nature is that I tend to describe pain in terms that doctors seem to not have heard before. Like, no, that doesn’t feel like it’s throbbing or stabbing or shooting or dull or sharp or whatever, that pain feels like I’m being punched, or like the body part is about to fall off, or like I got slapped…you get the idea.

- At the same time, I may not want to disrupt my routine too much for something that feels like it’s not a big deal. Please be specific if you think there are certain things I shouldn’t be doing. Telling me “yeah, that’s [insert condition], do this stretch/take this medicine/whatever and it should go away” may not be enough information. I don’t like missing out on anything, I don’t like letting people down, and I don’t like changing my general schedule for no good reason, so you need to tell me if you think I need to take days off work or whatever, because otherwise my default is “act as much like normal as possible.”

- Speaking of not wanting to let people down, some autistic people may have other conditions, or may have certain beliefs, that may cause them to think that, for example, their discomfort doesn’t matter, or that they are less deserving of help than others, or that they should only “bother” a doctor if they have “real problems”, or that nothing can be done to help them, or that they may “deserve” pain. Many of us have experienced bullying or abuse, and even those who haven’t may have suffered from something else happening in their lives that instilled in them unfortunate habits or beliefs. Many of us remember things really well, which is normally something of a “superpower”, but when the things we’re remembering are traumatic or unpleasant, it’s not fun.

- Intelligence and cognition are different! I have lots of intellect, but my cognitive abilities are only so-so. Organizing and processing things is hard, all autistic people are cognitively disabled in some way, even those of us who are not intellectually disabled! Please learn the difference and take it into account! Just because I taught myself to read at the age of 3 doesn’t mean I can understand why someone told me I’m being rude, and just because I can fit lots of information in my brain doesn’t mean it’s in there neatly.

- Please don’t chalk everything up to the autism. Again, we can have other disabilities, and we can get sick and hurt just like anyone else. I think this is a less prominent issue than it used to be, but you need to make sure you’re not just going “ah yes this is an autism thing” when it could be something entirely different.

* Thankfully, I don’t have epilepsy. The only thing we can guess is long COVID nerve damage of some sort, but not epilepsy, thank God.

I think that in addition to giving autistic people lessons on social skills they also ought to give family members lessons on how to better communicate with autistic people because tbh the effort ought to go both ways and also there’s a lot of things it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out when it comes to talking to my own brother

[writeeverything]

I've been thinking about a scenario where a robber/burglar breaks into the house and the Dateables Home Alone the house to protect the Player.

Thoughts?

[Oh, hey! Thanks for this! This is a fun idea. I had no clue how to write this, so I'm just gonna ramble lol. Hope that's okay!]

So the first line of defense definitely has to be Curt and Rod, Wyndolyn, and Dorian.

Curt and Rod do their usual people-watching. Instead of finding some poor saps to roast or fashionable folks to admire, they've been noticing some suspicious characters lurking about the neighborhood. It seems like they like to people watch, too, but for reasons way more nefarious than what Curt and Rod do.

They learn from Wyndolyn that they're burglars. The tall one's named Harv and the short one's named Larry (yeah, I think I'm creative lol). They've been prowling around the neighborhood to see which house they want to rob. It just so happens that they've set their sights on this house. They're known as the Wet Bandits and because their calling card is leaving the water running after they rob whatever house they set their sights on. Which is an interesting choice, but whatever, right?

You know what else is an interesting choice? Targeting your house.

But who can blame them? For all they know, they think you're an easy target because you're alone. Hell, maybe on a really bad day, you don't even leave the bedroom. This is especially true since the Dateviators provide you with plenty company there, but they don't know about those, so that's neither here or there. Plus your house is bound to have some top of line shit in there since they heard they heard a rumor that Valdivian had its hands in the development of the house.

And something tells Dorian they won't stop at stealing the denizens of your house. The thought of you hurt or worse is something he cannot allow to happen. He won't allow for you to fall victim to these blokes, though. He swears on everything he's made of, they're not getting in. Not on his watch.

It's Curt who brings up, nervously: what if they do? This gives them pause for a while…until Wyndolyn and Rod give each other a look that just spells trouble. Dorian asks what they're thinking and when they present their plan, he's confident that no harm will come to you.

These guys won't know what's coming to them.

It's in the dead of night when the burglars decide to strike. Harv and Larry find little to no resistance getting into the front door and they're clueless enough not to even question it. Harv immediately notices Telly, tries to unplug him against Larry's instruction. Typical Harv; always eager to get his grubby fingers on shit before scoping out the area.

Telly's plug isn't even out for five seconds when a massive electrical surge burns the shit out of his hand. Eddie and Volt's doing, of course. Harv starts screaming like hell. Larry tries to hush him while guiding him to the bathroom. Tells him stop crying and run some water over it for a few minutes. He's going to check the office for some valuables.

Larry is sure he hits the jackpot because there's your computer, just waiting to be hauled away. He's a little reluctant, though. Don't want to end up howling like Harv. The idiot. There's nothing much in here besides the computer, though. A cork board in front of the desk, a trash can—is that a mouse trap with some cheese in it?—and improperly mounted shelves…

A geode sits on top of one of those shelves. That ought to be worth something, right? Right as he shoves Rongomaiwhenua into his backpack, the shelf that she once sat on collapses and falls on his feet—along with two heavy ass books. Just books. Right on his crusty ass toes. Score one, Shelley. Score zero, Larry.

He doesn't get a chance to recover before he hears Harv screaming again. He pushes through the throbbing pain to hobble over to the bathroom. The sink was left running, but the water might as well have been set on hellfire. Thank Winnifred and River for that. Larry tries his luck with the shower, stepping inside and turning it on. He finds the smallest bit of relief before the door slams on him and the water is scalding hot again.

Larry looks on in horror as his partner in crime is damn near boiled alive like a lobster. It seems like an eternity before he's able to wrench the door open and drag Harv's soggy self out of the shower from hell. There's gotta be something wrong with this house. Whether it's some new kind of convoluted booby-trapping security system or not, they shouldn't stay to find out.

They hear something as they scramble out of the bathroom. Some shuffling at the top of the stairs. For some reason, despite everything, they investigate. With Larry in the front and Harv in the back, they inch closer and closer. The stairs creak in protest. Once they're halfway up, a soccer ball is launched right at Larry's face. Then a basketball at Harv's. A football manages to trip them both up and somehow, the tumultuous tumble they take down the stairs feels suspiciously eternal, and extremely, maliciously painful.

There's an animal fear that threads through the marrow of their bones when they scramble for the front door, sweating and heads ringing. A single thought running through both of their heads.

This house hates them.

This house hates them, and it wants them out. So out they haul ass, with Dorian hittin' 'em where the good lord split them.

You appear at the top of the stairs, Dateviators equipped as you thank everyone for their assistance. You were supposed to stay with Mateo and Betty for most of that debacle, but you had to do something! It was you that sent the various forms of Dunk flying down the stairs and he seemed super stoked to be a part of the action!

And thus ended the run of the Wet Bandits. We're gonna ignore that there's like 5 more movies in the Home Alone series lmao.

[kxsagi]

I literally promised myself i wouldn't request from you cause of the numbers you'd receive and because its closing, I'm just do one mine request maybe am one shot (you can make it as short as you want), isagi x reader were reader is kinda like the shy quiet type that doesn't like to speak in group (also cause she has a natural quiet voice) and so when she tries to say something post people don't hear it but Isagi hears reader and answers her always, even when there alone and reader speaks so quiet and he tells her (you can imagine the situation) "you always have my full attention", thank you before hand hun!!! And good luck with writing and all

“𝐨𝐡, 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐲”

a/n: cath, you can always request girlie!!! don't be afraid to, i love your ideas and i enjoy writing for friends 🥰

group dinners were... exhausting. 

not bad, just a lot. a lot of voices. a lot of movement. a lot of clinking plates and half-finished conversations you couldn’t quite jump into because by the time you found the courage to speak, someone else had already changed the subject. 

you didn’t mind being quiet, really. it was just how you were – soft-spoken, a little shy, the kind of girl who tilted her head to listen instead of talk over others. your voice was naturally quiet too, the kind that even at full volume sounded like a gentle whisper. 

and tonight was no different. you sat tucked beside reo and bachira, hands folded in your lap under the table, eyes flicking between speakers as laughter and stories bounced around the room. 

“top five comfort movies – go,” reo said, snapping his fingers like a game show host. 

“ooh! ‘kiki’s delivery service’!” bachira blurted. 

“howl’s moving castle,” nagi muttered without looking up from his phone. 

“spirited away,” someone else chimed. 

you smiled a little to yourself, waiting for the right moment, before shyly murmuring under your breath, “i like… ponyo.” 

it barely made it past your lips. no one turned. the conversation moved on without pause. 

but one boy looked up immediately. 

isagi. 

his head tilted toward you with soft curiosity, like he’d been waiting for you to speak this whole time. “ponyo?” he repeated, voice warm. “i love ponyo.” 

your eyes widened just a little, surprised. “you do…?” 

“yeah,” he grinned, and his whole face lit up with that soft, boyish glow that always made your heart flutter. “i watched it like five times when i was a kid. i used to want to live underwater just so i could meet her.” 

you laughed – just a tiny one, tucked behind your palm. he smiled even wider when he heard it. 

“what about you?” he asked, voice dropping just enough so it was only for you. “why do you like it?” 

you hesitated. “it’s… very sweet. and calm. and pretty.” 

“just like you,” he said without thinking. 

you blinked. 

he turned pink. “i mean– i didn’t mean– you know–” 

you giggled, this time fully, and tucked your chin down to hide the smile stretching across your face. 

later, when everyone was gone and the street had quieted down into something softer, you stood beside him under a streetlight, the two of you swaying a little with the breeze. 

you whispered, barely above the night air, “thank you… for listening earlier.” 

isagi turned to you immediately, like his ears were always tuned to your frequency. “you never have to thank me for that.” 

you played with the hem of your sleeve. “it’s just… most people don’t really hear me when i talk.” 

he stepped closer. not so close that it startled you, but just enough for his words to feel like they wrapped around you. “you don’t have to be loud for me,” he said, soft but certain. “i hear everything you say. always.” 

your breath caught. 

his hand brushed against yours, warm and careful. “i like your voice. it’s gentle. makes me feel like i have to hold it with both hands.” 

you looked up at him slowly, heart fluttering somewhere near your throat. 

“and when you talk, even if no one else hears you,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “you always have my full attention.” 

you didn’t say anything for a moment. just stared at him with wide, starry eyes, the kind only reserved for the boy who made you feel like being quiet wasn’t a flaw. 

and then, in a voice just above a whisper, you said, “ponyo loves sosuke… you know.” 

isagi blinked, before smiling so brightly it made your chest ache. 

“then i guess i’m sosuke,” he said, pulling your hand gently into his. “because i’m already in love with you, too.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[callsign-swan]

part one part three

"Nice shoes," Clark said as you walked into work, coffee your hands. Your new heels seemed to echo around the step with every step you took towards your desk.

You lifted your heel to show it off to everybody around you. Clark, Jimmy, Lois, Ron, Cat. Anybody who would look at your new heels that maybe weren't appropriate for work. (Pink and slightly too tall, with a bow around your ankles like ballet slippers).

"Thanks," you said, unable to hide your grin. "My boyfriend got them for me."

If you took a look in Clark Kent's wallet (don't ask me why you would take a look in Clark Kent's wallet), you would have found a receipt for a pair of shoes. A pair of pink shoes that fit you so well.

As tall as they were, he still towered over you. Standing in your living room, in his blue suit, he was still taller than you. And he loved it.

Behind her coffee cup, Lois met Clark's eyes. Her eyebrows went up, but Clark shook his head. He wasn't ready to tell you, wasn't sure he ever would be.

He knew he'd come to regret telling Lois about your relationship. But she knew who he really was (the perks of being an investigative journalist who was good at her job), was the only one he could talk to.

Whatever she was communicating with her eyes was right. Clark knew he had to tell you at some point.

At some point soon.

When you sat down to work, Clark tore his eyes away from you. He listened as you began typing. Slow, at first. But you sped up as you got into the flow of it. Clark worked, for all of five minutes.

"So, when do we get to meet this guy?"

You stopped your typing, nails no longer clacking against your keyboard. When you laughed, it wasn't the same laugh you reserved for him, hidden away in your apartment when he was someone else. But it was still a lovely laugh.

"Oh, that's not happening," you said, spinning your chair towards him. You crossed your leg at the knee, as if to show off your shoes again.

Clark spared them a glance. But then you said something under your breath, said it so quietly he wasn't supposed to hear it. But he did.

Maybe you've already met him.

Well, he just had to tell you, didn't he?

***

A knock at the door you weren't expecting. In a pink, silk and bunny slippers, you opened the door to your apartment.

As soon as you saw him, you smiled. You'd never seen him like this before. Dressed normally, not in the blue suit with the red cape behind him. White shirt that stretched around his arms and slacks.

Slacks you saw earlier in the day, but you didn't put that together at first.

"Oh, I like this," you said as you stood on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted you back, with just one arm wrapped around you, and walked you into your apartment.

"Yeah?" He asked, kicking your door shut. "You like me in my work clothes?"

You nodded your head as he sat down with you on his lap. It had very quickly become your favourite seat.

"Listen," he said in a way that had your anxiety spiking. He heard it in your heartbeat. "You said to Clark earlier that maybe I'm someone he's met."

You rolled your eyes, stopping your lips from curling into a scowl. "I hate that you two know each other."

Instead of answering you, he pulled something from his breast pocket. A pair of black glasses that should've looked familiar to you.

But they didn't.

Not until they were on his face.

Suddenly, Superman was gone and Clark Kent sat before you. Immediately, you climbed off of his lap.

"Unbelievable," you found yourself saying as you put some distance between the both of you. "Unbelievable, Clark! You tricked me!"

He reached for you, but you stepped away. "Honey, its still me," he said gently. "I'm the same guy you've been dating this whole time."

"Yeah, and you've been my coworker this whole time! Clark, you lied to me!"

He took his glasses off, tucked them back into his pocket. "I didn't want to do it this way," he said. "I wanted to do it the other way, wanted you to fall for me as Clark. But then I saved you and we did it backwards."

You rubbed your hand over your face, grateful for the lack of makeup. "We've been going out for months, Clark! Two whole months and you didn't tell me!"

"I was trying to keep you safe!"

At that, you paused. Clark couldn't stop himself from standing up, from towering over you. It wasn't supposed to be intimidation, you knew. You couldn't explain why it felt so right to step closer, to press your hand to his chest, feel his beating heart.

"You were trying to keep me safe," you echoed. Your other hand came up to touch his cheek. "I think I can forgive that."

"Really?" He didn't mean to ask it.

(Really, you just couldn't stay mad at him. And part of you had always known it was Clark Kent. Clark was the only person that towered over you in the same way your boyfriend did. He had the same voice, too, although Clark's seemed deeper, like he was always tired. But it was him. You always knew it was him.)

He kissed you. Hands on your waist, lips against his. Yeah, that was your boyfriend all right.

a/n: I wanna do a whole group of blurbs for this reader (I'm calling her Pink) and Clark!

[anghraine]

My tag ramble on the last past got me thinking about how I've felt like the fundamental agony of Spock's death is understood very differently in TWOK and TSFS.

In TWOK, Spock's death is about, well, death. The horror is that he dies and there's no possibility of anyone averting it. Kirk's entire characterization is bent around death and loss in the film (to a degree that I think conflicts strongly with his original characterization on many levels, but serves the film) to build up to that moment and its aftermath. The thing that makes Spock's death particularly dreadful in terms of the pre-existing dynamic between them, the symbolism of the glass pane separating him from Kirk as it happens, was unsurprisingly suggested by a figure from the original production (William Shatner, in fact). Otherwise, the fallout of Spock's death, Kirk's grief, and Kirk coming to terms with it are framed as about honestly engaging with the inevitability of death and that acceptance leading to moving on with renewed vitality.

TSFS drastically shifts the emphasis. Kirk in TSFS is not remotely rejuvenated by accepting death, but struggling with shattering grief at the loss of Spock, whom he all but calls his better half (the noblest part of myself). But the movie takes the symbolism of the glass pane and runs with it: for Kirk, Spock's death is all the more devastating because, specifically, Kirk was prevented from being in the same room with Spock as he died. Spock died hearing him, but unable to see or touch him. Kirk never sounds more broken than when he says to Spock's father:

We were separated. He couldn't touch me.

Their separation at such a moment is deeply unnatural. It never even occurs to Sarek that Kirk would not have been at Spock's side as he was dying or that Spock would have given his katra to anyone else. This isn't because Sarek misunderstands Spock's friendship with McCoy; it's because Sarek simply doesn't know the particular details that prevented Kirk from being there, and assumes Kirk is failing to uphold his unique duty to Spock. Once Sarek fully understands, he not only returns to laying the responsibility for Spock's rites on Kirk specifically while knowing Kirk doesn't have the katra, but has full faith that Kirk will carry it out, and by Vulcan standards, is positively reassuring and supportive towards him.

TSFS also goes out of its way to create a sharp contrast between Sarek's understanding of Kirk's very unique and unexplained position in Spock's life, which at first Kirk himself doesn't realize Sarek fully grasps (Sir, your son meant more to me than you can know), and Kirk and Spock having professional, non-confidant colleagues who know they were close friends but find this woefully inadequate to explain Kirk's towering sense of duty to Spock even in death. A few trusted friends and relatives find Kirk's reactions and behavior worthy of compassion and admiration, but otherwise respectful colleagues regard it as baffling and unhinged. He can't even explain what's driving him to someone like Admiral Morrow, not really; he can only assert what his duty is.

Sarek, towards the end of the film, saying "tell them" about Spock's friends, and then correcting himself to "tell Kirk"; Spock's other friends falling asleep while Kirk alone among them stands vigil; Sarek respectfully taking Kirk aside to honor his sacrifices and Kirk affirming his absolute commitment to Spock; Spock, almost entirely devoid of memory, recognizing Kirk as Jim and no one else and Kirk's ecstatic joy in response—I mean. The coding here is not subtle.

And I think there is something to how TSFS not only powerfully retains the intense queer coding of the Kirk/Spock relationship from TOS and TMP in particular, but while that coding was most overt in terms of shame/repression and adoration/union before, here the queer subtext is strongest and most nearly text in association with mourning. TSFS amplifies the symbolism of the glass pane into a whole meditation on the weight of grief when you couldn't even be in the room as your loved one was dying, when he couldn't touch you or see you and all you're left with is an incalculable duty to his memory—a duty that most people don't understand why you feel and which you can't possibly explain to anyone not already in the know without torching every other part of your life. And then you end up torching your life anyway because fuck this shit, anyway. It's not just queer, it's queer in a form that was as distinctly topical in 1984 as TOS was in the 60s.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pick a Picture: 𝖠 romantic scenario in your future with your future partner𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open! (🔮 From Monday 15 until Friday, July 25st, all services are 10% off. If you book more than one reading, you’ll receive 15% off your total instead!)

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

🫧⋆｡˚Masterlist🫧⋆｡˚ 🫧⋆｡˚Masterlist 2🫧⋆｡˚

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 1:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Lovers · Knight of Cups · Six of Cups

Hi pile 1! wow pile 1… what's coming for you is straight out of a movie and im not kidding, im even in awe with this 😭. I get the hint that there's a reunion, but not necessarily with an ex; it could be someone with whom there was a short bond, a connection from the past that never quite blossomed, or even a new person who, when you look into their eyes, you'll feel like they've been in your life before. It's a very intense scene, very much like a romantic movie. I imagine you walking along on random day, lost in your thoughts pile 1, and suddenly you see them. It's not just the shock of meeting each other, it's the emotional connection that unleashes (i even feel like you two will pick the emotional intense situation from the get go). It's as if everything stops for a second. There's going to be a conversation, and probs and exchange of something, this could be info, maybe sudden gift, etc.

This person comes with the Knight of Cups, and that tells me about someone who not only feels deeply, but is also ready to say it. They don't come with games. They come with their heart on their sleeve. And that's where The Lovers comes in. It's not just romance or attraction, it's that moment when both of you feel that this is FINALLY it. You see each other, you choose each other, and this time it's with maturity, with a real desire to build something. You're going to find in each other something that you've been missing for a long time, a sense of belonging in each other <3. Im picking up on the song Ditto by NewJeans 😭, so cute <3.

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 2:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Moon · Page of Cups · Two of Pentacles

Hi, pile 2! This pile has a completely different energy than the first. This feels intimate, so to speak. I see a very specific scene as I channel you reading: its a room with low lights (maybe candles, a warm lamp). Outside, it's cold; but you are inside with your partner and they are looking a bit different this time, like you are picking up on them acting weird (?) It's like they're doing a lot of emotional calculations inside (I'm listening: should I tell them? Should I shut up? Is it time? What if everything changes?) but they still make up their mind. They say it. It's something more real, more human. Maybe it's a shy phrase, like: "I don't know when it happened, but I care about you more than I thought." They will be SCARED AF pile 2😭, its cute tbh. And you're going to stay silent for a second, because you feel the same way. Or because you didn't know how much you needed to hear that until you did. It's so cute. It's love in its purest form, like when someone shows you a side of themselves they don't let anyone else see. This person may have been struggling internally to balance all of this. Maybe they're afraid of commitment, or at a point in their life where they don't know how to fit into a relationship. But they still choose to take a chance. Because there's something about you that calms them. That gives them peace. That makes them feel like maybe this time it's worth it for real.

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 3:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Chariot · Ace of Wands · Ten of Cups

Hi, Pile 3! Your next partner is going to have that spark that pushes you out of your comfort zone. A person with a "what if we do this?" energy, who proposes something sudden, out of the blue. A getaway, a mini-trip, a different night. And you're going to say yes clearly. You and this person are going to share something so spontaneous and unstructured that you'll have no choice but to show yourselves as you truly are; i feel like you may be soemone who likes to have control over everything, and this person will challenge you to show your more carefree side. And that's where the magic will happen. Im seeing the image of the two of you sitting in a car looking at the city lights from afar, somewhere lost, talking about life. No distractions, no cell phone, no obligations. Just you. You're going to feel as if this is what you were looking for. The Ace of Wands speaks to me of a strong desire, not just physical (although that's also true, obviously), but that desire to be present with the other. What begins as an adventure will transform into something lasting. And i feel like it's not just the place, the trip, or the plan, it's your person. And that person will choose you, every day, even when things get complicated <3, so cute honestly pile 3, let go and let yourself enjoy <3.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[spiderooos]

★ HEY STRANGER.

summary. you know you’re supposed to not talk to strangers, let alone accept anything from them: it’s stranger danger after all. but this is the most earnest stranger you’ve ever met in your life. oh, and he happens to be rather good-looking too!

includes. lando norris x fem!reader, reader works in the publishing industry, 90s rom-com fluff, meet-cute ?? , cheesy dialogue, reader is slightly too much of a hopeless romantic and slightly delusional (so me), loverboy!lando, a vague ending my attempt at being norah ephron (lol).

wc. 3.1k

notes. i am a converted lando fan (look away those who know me irl !! ) and i unfortunately find him very appealing to write about now, so here’s a quick fix, rom-com style. also this is my first stab at writing in a LONG time so be gentle on me pls.

masterlist.

Statistically speaking, strangers weren’t the ones who usually harmed a person, it was those who they knew, had intimate and close relations it. But, also statistically speaking, being a young woman in this world means there’s always a reason for someone to approach you. It’s just how life goes. So why the hell were you so surprised that there was mail for you? Your family did say they’d write to you after all.

“Do you know who sent it?”

The mailman grunted, “I already told you lady, I have no clue!”

Frowning, you turned over the envelope, fingers running across the seam where it sat unbroken, reading the name stamped. It was your address. The new one. The one you’ve still not familiarised yourself to. “Yeah, but you’d have to have some idea! I don’t know who it’s from!”

“Look, I’m not paid enough to know who gives you what piece of paper. I just make the rounds giving them out. Now can I please go?”

You waved him off, his disgruntled garble following you as you turned back into your house. Something about young people thinking they’re the centre of the universe . . . nothing you hadn’t heard before.

So maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea taking the damn letter back inside with you—especially since there was no return address—but you couldn’t help but feel it was something monumental.

“Stop, you’re being delusional, bitch.”

But even with that warning, your body was moving towards the writing desk, moving to sit and open the contents of the letter before you could even stop yourself. Well at least the police would have one set of fingerprints if anything were to go awry.

The paper was slightly crinkled, stamping the exchange of hands on its body as you smoothed it down.

Hey, considering that you’re reading this I see that you’ve gotten my letter and decided to open it (very trusting of you, stranger). You don’t know me—

“You’re damn right I don’t bud,” you mumbled, drinking in the words written by the anonymous author.

but I’m the previous tenant of the flat you’re staying in. I have no clue how long ago you moved in— well it can’t be that long since I moved out two months ago (you suck a glance at the boxes you still had to unpack, a soft chuckle escaping you) but I just wanted to write in case you needed a friend, or a tour guide or something else. I am totally down for whatever. Although I am a stranger so if you don’t write back that’s also totally cool. Anyways, hope you like the place as much as I do!

Your friend (??)

You couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in you at the punctuation use, eyes glancing at the post script. My name is Lando Norris.

Well, maybe stranger danger isn’t so bad. His address was written right below his name. He literally gave you a way to contact him! The least you could do is reply to his letter, as odd as it is to see someone write one so casually in the 21st century, but you suppose it added to the charm.

Grabbing a clean sheet of paper, you hesitated for a second before pressing the tip of your pen to paper. You penned your name, introducing yourself before you could get lost rambling like he did.

Hello, Lando Norris. I got your letter.

.

The reply came to you a week later.

And you could clearly read the address on the front this time. At least it matches the place on the last one. And so did the disgruntled scowl on your mailman as he handed the letter to you, his salt and pepper hair waving in the wind as he walked away, once again muttering about kids trying too much when there’s technology around. You stifled your laughter, eagerly ripping open the letter right outside your door.

Hey there!

It’s Lando (again). Glad you liked my little letter, and no I’m not a serial killer. (“Yeah right, and I’m not an idiot,” you hummed, still skimming through the words he’d written). I happen to be a totally normal bloke in my 20s, who now happens to have a pen pal. And if you still think I’m some deranged weirdo, you’re the one who answered a letter where I said you weren’t obligated to. So who’s crazy now? Not me, that’s for sure! —you could feel your lips pulling up at the corners— And to answer your question from your letter: I do not write to everyone like this, just the pretty ones. Now for my question—

You paused, blinking at what you’d just read. Did this Lando Norris dude just call you pretty? “Smooth, Norris.��

What’s your favourite flower?

Your amazing pen pal,

Lando Norris.

The laughter bubbling in you was instantaneous. Of course he’d be your age and trying to flirt with you. He could be fooling you, you waved your hand as if the thought were following you around as you found a clean sheet of paper. Maybe he wasn’t fooling you, and was just as earnest as you were. You really hoped it was the latter.

Hey Lando,

My favourite flowers are carnations, specifically the white ones.

.

The mailman came around empty handed for around three weeks. Sure there was the odd post for bills and subscriptions you’d forgotten to cancel (you really needed to stop accepting those damn cookies on every site), and your grandma asking how you were settling into your new place. It was quiet, but you’d made more progress now than you had in the first two weeks since you’d moved in.

You’d spent most of your time trying to meet the deadline that you’d been given by the publishing house. The night had been spent reading through the words you’d last seen four months ago, correcting words with a red pen as you flipped through the manuscript at a pace so slow, a snail could outrun you. Brightness flooded in from the open window, dragging you away from the paragraph in the second act. The only conflict you could think of right then was that of strangling your editor for leaving because daddy’s money finally came in and it didn’t have him requiring a low paying job. Palms digging into your eyes, you stared at the numbers that lit up your phone screen. 6:57 am. Another long, and sleepless night. Why do people need to rush creativity so much?

Getting up from the desk, you contemplated making your own breakfast or getting some from the coffeeshop at the end of the street, the idea of fresh bread sounding more inviting than another day of stale instant coffee. Within record time you were semi decent (you’d put on shoes and attempted to wash the exhaustion off of your face), and had barely shut the door when you heard the voice of your saviour. Okay, it was just the mailman, but he was looking more annoyed than usual today so you knew you’d gotten a reply.

“Here, your loverboy answered you finally. You can stop moping now.”

Ignoring the fact that your mailman had never spoken more than two sentences to you (that too at your prompting), you cried out indignantly. “I was not moping!”

He fixed you with a look, one that all the elderly perfect over their time on earth, the one that speaks to their life experience. “Kid, you’re moping. I can see you peeking out of those curtains”—he pointed at your living room window—“every morning looking at me like I’m some messenger pigeon solely for you and your lover. It’s frankly sad.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with you,” you mumbled, eyes now on the envelope as you turned back towards your door, the adventure of fresh baked goods unimportant. Lando had finally written back. “Thank you,” you called over your shoulder, not noticing the mailman rolling his eyes fondly at your retreating figure as he continued on his day. Ah, young love.

The envelope was bulkier this time round, like there was more than just a letter in there. You slid your thumb under the flap that was stuck, tearing the page from its adhesive safehold and pulling out the paper, along with petals to a flower you recognised instantly. Carnations.

Your cheeks burned as you set aside the dried and pressed flower, unfolding the letter.

My dear lovely pen pal,

I hope the flower survived the journey it has to make, if not I’m sorry and I’ll give you another one soon. Now I know you’ve noticed that the address is different this time, it’s why I’ve been unable to answer you as soon as I’d hoped to. I’ve been absolutely swamped with work and I’ve finally gotten some time off. I hope you didn’t miss me too much. I certainly wouldn’t have survived the past couple weeks without your constant letters.

You smiled, even through the scoff at Lando insinuating that he was someone close enough for you to miss. He rambled on about how the heat in the Middle East was not great for his sensitive skin, but the nights were splendid. He wrote at length about the different foods he tried, how the people were, and their culture.

So now for my question: have you ever been to any place outside the UK? (I’m assuming you’re from here, if not, where are you from? I just realised I’ve forgotten to ever ask you that) And what was your favourite place you’ve ever been to?

The response was drafted in your mind before you could even sit down, pen already scribbling away on the new parchment.

I am from here, although my parents aren’t. And yes, I have been outside the UK, although I’m not telling you where—you hesitated, before adding—that’s something I tell people on the third date.

.

Time changed faster than you did in your new home. The plants you’d bought in the summer were now gloomy in the grey weather of these colder months. Your friends had gone home for the holidays, with a promise of seeing each other in the new year. You, on the contrary, were nestled in your bed, trying to soak in the last few hours of peace before your family all came over and began the carnage that is preparing the holiday meal. You couldn’t wait. Your sister was bringing over your niece today for the first time since you’d moved and you were so excited to see her reaction to the actual fireplace you boasted in your living room. It was going to be—

The door knocker rapped against the wood once again, bringing you out of your daze of your grandma’s home cooked meal that she made every holiday without fail, with your mother hovering behind her in case she required help due to her age (before being yelled at and sent out). The covers were wrapped around you like a straight jacket, leading to an unceremonious tumble to the floor before you picked yourself up, walking to the front door.

“Surprise!”

Before you could even exclaim your shock at seeing your sister, a 3’11” sized tornado crashed into your legs, gripping tightly as she squeezed with all her might. “Beanie!”

You ruffled her hair fondly, “Hi munchkin, how’ve you been? Woah, you got a visit from the tooth fairy!”

Lacy grinned up at you, all teeth and gums. “She even gave me the jelly beans you told her to!”

You smiled, glancing up at your sister who just shrugged. “I’m so glad she did. I told her to get those ones for my favourite girl.”

Lacy giggled, holding her hands up to you, so you crouched down, letting her climb on your back as your sister walked in with their bags. She followed the two of you, talking about their trip as you led the two of them to the guest bedroom where you dropped Lacy down on the bed, jumping in next to her as she squeals, laughing up a storm as she sits up, jumping on the bed to test its “bouncybility.”

“So how’s it going with your little pen pal loverboy?”

You looked up from where you were now engaged in a vicious pillow war with a seven year old, who whacked you with a ‘you snooze you lose, beanie!’ as she continued dancing away from you. “It’s going fine.”

“That’s all? You’ve never met him?”

You glanced once again at the seven year old who was once again invested in seeing how high she could jump, smiling at her. “Yeah, I mean he’s busy all the time sooooo,” you shrugged.

Your sister sighed, calling your name. “You’re hung up on a guy you’ve never met?”

“You sound like mum.”

“Well one of us has to be the voice of reason,” she retorted, sorting through Lacy’s stuff, putting them away in the drawers of the armoire. “Have you ever asked to meet? . . . Oh my god, speak up woman!”

“So bossy, how does James stay with you all year round?” You grumbled, watching your sister roll her eyes at you. Some things never change. “Lando’s asked but I haven’t said anything about actually meeting him yet.”

You didn’t have to look up to see the way your sister was staring at you, you’d grown up with that look: one both judging yet feeling everything you felt. It was a skill you’d only ever seen her master, her brows drawn as she frowned with the most understanding eyes. “Say yes then, it’s the holidays!”

“I don’t know Lils,” you mumbled, walking towards your kitchen to feed the hungry little gremlin hanging between you and your sister, “the whole point of a pen pal is that it’s a pen to paper relation with someone, not face to face.”

“Jesus, you’re as stubborn as dad; just think about it.”

You hummed, noncommittal, instead turning towards Lacy who was swinging her legs as she sat on a chair that was much too big for her. “Now what would the princess like for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!”

.

Think about it, you did.

Your sister and niece left two days ago, Lily all but telling you to announce yourself as single and available to Lando right at his doorstep. . . which you could’ve done multiple times, but it’s the principle of the matter, Lily! However, you still haven’t done anything except stare at the letter that starts with: Hello gorgeous (I know you’re as beautiful as you are funny, you don’t even have to tell me). Lando Norris is nothing but a flirt, and a horribly good one at that.

Dear Lando,

Merry Christmas! (Do you celebrate it? If not Happy Holidays!)

My sister Lily just left, and took along the Princess of this castle. She very much reminds me of you, excitable and bubbly. But I digress, Lily’s been pestering me about how the person I’ve been the closest to in the last few months has been someone I’ve never even met. Clearly she doesn’t understand what a pen pal is. It’s got me thinking though, that maybe she has a point, she is simply looking out for me under all her bossiness and needs to butt into my love (??) life. Okay, I’m rambling now, but since you’re still home for the holidays and not back in Monaco, I was wondering if you’d like to finally put a face to the person you’ve been writing to? You know, just to ensure you’re not being catfished. Here’s my number—

You hand hovered over the last line, tempted to scratch it out before scribbling down the numerical digits that would give him quicker access to your life.

I’m waiting for you.

.

The room was dark, blanketed in the shade of the night. You groaned, picking up the phone vibrating on the nightstand. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Lando.”

You shot up, pulling away from your phone to see the time and pinch yourself to check if you’re still asleep and ouch, definitely not. “Oh, thank god you’re not old.”

The voice on the other end laughed, slightly high pitched, tinny and entirely warm. “Well I’m glad we sorted that out. Are you busy?”

You shook your head, before realising the man on the other end can’t see you. “No, I’m not.”

“Really?” He seemed amused. You liked the way it sounded in him. “It sounds like you were asleep. I can hear you yawn.”

“I am no— okay maybe I was asleep," you yawned, falling back onto your bed, “but in my defence, it’s currently half past two in the morning.”

The apology was out of his mouth, rushed and clipped. “I’m sorry but I kind of need you to do me a favour.”

“What is it?” You stifled down another yawn.

“I need you to open the door.”

You paused, blinking slowly as you sluggishly charted the words, before sitting up once again. “What do you mean?”

“Just do it!”

“Oh my god, you are a serial killer and you’re going to kill me now in the dead of the night—“ you slipped into your house slippers, tiptoeing quietly to the front door all while hissing down the phone, more to yourself than him towards the end, “and I’ll be the dumb, naive victim who decided to speak. This is why they speak of stranger danger! Girl are you—“

The man outside your house was handsome. The holiday lights twinkled softly as he stood at the top of the staircase, one hand still holding his phone as he called out your name, mouth moving softly to form the way your name sounds.

“Hello? Love, are you still there?”

You huffed out a breath of air. “Yeah, I’m there.”

He was grinning up at the peephole now, like he could tell you were standing on the other side. “Great. Now can you open the door please? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“Oh shit, fuck! Sorry!” You pulled out the door chain from its hook, every click of the locks turning open sounding even slower than the last until there you were, staring at the person who’d taken up free space in your brain, running laps with every reply.

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here.”

You laughed, pocketing your phone into your sweatpants. “I sent that letter this morning.”

Lando simply let out a soft breath, lips pulled into a smile as he shut his phone as he cut the call. “I couldn’t wait.”

You grinned.

SPIDEROOOS © 2025.

[yoxiaogi]

Gravity always pulls me to you

clark kent!superman! x female reader

SUMMARY: after months of flirting he finally had enough

You heard about the monster on the news—some dimensional anomaly tearing through downtown. A void had split open above the skyline, and a creature the size of a stadium fell through. The League scrambled. Streets were evacuated. Power flickered across half the city.

The reports said it was another dimensional breach—something. You didn’t need the details. Clark would handle it.

He always did.

And Superman defeated it.

Of course he did.

You watched from your apartment window—the flashes in the clouds, the heat in the sky. They said he was holding the line. Said he was pushing it back into whatever hell it came from.

And now... silence.

Not from the city, no. The aftermath buzzed in the distance—sirens, emergency lights, the murmur of a city still catching its breath.

But in your apartment, everything had gone still. Even the air had shifted—heavy, charged.

Then, the faintest thud on the balcony.

You didn’t startle. You didn’t even look right away. You already knew who it was.

You slid open the door slowly, glass whispering against metal. He was standing there in the dark—still in the suit, shoulders squared like he hadn't come down from the fight yet.

Ash clung to him. His cape was torn near the bottom, fluttering in the breeze. The "S" on his chest was cracked through the middle. Burn marks streaked across the symbol. Dust clung to his hair.

You watched him—the way his shoulders hadn’t quite relaxed yet, the way his hands stayed open at his sides, like they weren’t sure whether to reach for you or keep their distance.

But his eyes—they were locked on you.

“Clark?” Your voice was quiet. You didn’t move toward him. Not yet.

He stepped inside without a word. Didn’t hover. Didn’t posture. The way he walked—heavy, direct—it wasn’t the kind of entrance Superman made. It was something else. Something raw.

“I shouldn’t be here yet,” he said finally, voice rough. “I know that.”

You waited.

“There are reports to write. Debriefs. Debris fields to scan for radiation. And I just—” He exhaled, jaw flexing. “I couldn’t do any of it. I couldn’t… stay in that world one second longer.”

You leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him closely. His breathing was uneven, shoulders still tense like the fight hadn’t fully left his body yet.

“I kept seeing your face,” he said. “In the middle of it. While I was flying, while I was throwing everything I had at that thing—you were the only thing I could hold onto.”

That landed heavier than anything else he’d said.

You stayed quiet. Let it settle between you.

“You’re still in the suit,” you murmured, eyes flicking over him.

“Didn’t want to wait.”

Another pause. The air was warm between you now, like the pressure had finally broken.

His voice dropped. “I’ve been trying to keep everything separate. What I do. What this is.” He motioned between you both, vague but purposeful. “But today, all I could think about was you.”

You could feel your heartbeat pick up. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. No theatrics. No declarations. Just fact. Weight.

The moment hung. Neither of you moved, but the charge in the space between you was impossible to ignore. Months of back-and-forth. Lingering glances. Brushed hands. Quiet tension hiding under every joke, every “accidental” touch.

“Why now?” you asked, voice low. “Why tonight?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not about how I feel when I look at you. Not about why I always found reasons to come by. Or call. Or linger.”

Your gaze didn’t drop. “I noticed.”

“I figured,” he said, a small, dry breath of a laugh. Not quite humor—more like relief.

You reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of the cracked emblem on his chest. The heat of him, even through the suit, grounded you.

“I don’t need a speech, Clark,” you said. “I just want to know you’re really here. Not because it was a bad night. Not because you got scared. But because you chose this.”

“I did.” His voice barely cleared a whisper. “I do.”

You nodded once. No overreaction. No breathless swooning. Just quiet understanding.

You didn’t overthink it.

You stepped into him.

He caught your waist before your hands even reached his chest. And when you kissed him, it wasn’t careful.

It was heat.

Immediate, sharp, and overdue. His hands gripped tighter than you expected—one at your hip, the other in your hair. He kissed you like someone who’d replayed this a hundred times in his head and was done waiting. Like the fight had taken too much and left him needing something real.

You didn’t hold back either. Months of flirtation burned through fast. You tilted your head, deepened it, let the taste of smoke and adrenaline mix with something softer—something familiar.

When you finally broke apart, neither of you spoke right away. His forehead rested against yours, breath still heavy. Hands still on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.