#Game design assignment help

[moonlightflower-queen]

Couldn't stop thinking about the Macaria design i did a while ago

Also important:

[arielluva]

drawing my time traveler character bc she was the only good thing to come out of my concept art/3d modeling class (i learned nothing about character design or 3d modeling and this character was the only assignment actually about character design that we did (i did my senior project on character design and learned way more about it than a whole semester long class that was supposed to teach me it))

im also going insane trying to track down the shoes i used for inspiration for hers but alas i cant find them

[oblique-lane]

References for Anomaly Diversion!!!

Official!! finally!!

I wanted to make their design stand out, so I created them from scratch; they're not loadouts you can find in-game. Plus a little bit of character description because I'm dying to talk about them and their roles in the story (*wearing a shirt that says "please talk to me about my fic"*).

Now I can finally draw them often!!

Somewhat goofy clothing sheets under the cut↓↓↓

I tried to design them the way their silhouettes and colors stay recognisable, as if they were meant to be used in-game later, to not to break the gameplay rules. I also wanted them to look as tf2-like as possible, I studied the hell out of the 3d models and on the last three I guess it started to turn out decent. Drawing Spy is still pain though.

Or maybe it's just that I'm not attracted to the majority of the mercs visually?? That's why they don't look satisfying?? Lmao. Need to adjust them to my tastes later.

I'm not sure I can exactly explain my design choices with these... How exactly they correlate to their characters. There is something, but I went for it fully intuitively.

//

For BLU scout I went for the softer, rounder oversized clothing to accent his insecurity and the need to shield himself for comfort. It still needed to shape his torso (game rules) but his hood and sleeves do the deed. There is also a strict rule in how to draw his freckles: they look more like moles and there's 7 or 8 of them. You won't believe me if I say this is lore relevant.

For RED Scout, I went with the more aggressive military style. I think I literally took this jacket design from a real military one. There should be an accent on his heavy relations with the army. His clothes are tight because he still likes himself.

RED Sniper is giving hunter vibes, forest type. BLU Sniper looks more like a fisher or a winter hunter. Not sure what deeper meaning I could assign to this except that BLU Sniper was heavily referenced on Ogata Hyakunosuke.

BLU Spy should radiate tiredness. His look is quite unkept for his standards but at this point it doesn't matter anymore. The turtleneck and the boots are special requests from @/gentlesurgeryenjoyer (xoxo)

BLU Medic just looks so freaking cool in a black shirt. It was a vision. I'm not sure if black and white accents mean anything in terms of which side those characters are on. I also wanted to separate him from another famous horror witnessing Medic.

And Miss Pauling was the most satisfying to draw, it was a gift to draw her last... I gave her pants because it's getting cold outside at the time when the story takes place. I also find it very impractical to go killing job in a pencil skirt, I'm sorry. She probably also wears snickers underneath.

And also thanks to @nightly-headache for helping out and assistance!

[bueckets]

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part 2

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell. 

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star. 

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA. 

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be. 

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation. 

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.” 

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it?  ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats. 

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

Continue Reading Part 2

[alexanderwales]

Game Review: Underhill

Note: This review contains no screenshots, because this game doesn’t actually exist.

The dwarves are mining, the bugbears are lumbering through the mushroom farms, the imps are scurrying to and fro, and all the traps at the entrance to the dungeon are armed and ready. From a bird’s eye view, it seems as though everything in the underhill is humming along, but that’s only because the problems are invisible from far away. The dwarves have found a new vein of moonmetal, which they’re taking to their infernum foundries to melt down and make better tools and weapons. Unfortunately, the moonmetal has a waste product, and the imps have been transferring that to the midden rooms. Normally there’s a garbage troll that loves to feast on all kinds of scraps, but the moonmetal byproduct is toxic to him, and in another two days he’s going to wind up in the infirmary, which will cause the middens to overflow. That, in turn, will result in general disorder and work stoppages, and the dungeon will find itself on the verge of collapse.

This is Underhill, the newest and most ambitious game from Kyle Mormont. He describes it as ‘a left turn from Rimworld’ and claims heavy inspiration from Dungeon Keeper, though anyone who goes in expecting their experience with those games to help might find themselves frustrated.

Take the case of the poisoned garbage troll. In a Rimworld knockoff, you might expect that you would designate a midden zone and assign a garbage troll to it, then check a box to make sure that the moonmetal byproducts are sent somewhere else. In Underhill, there’s nothing like that level of information or control, and trying to avoid the poisoning, if you even know that it’s coming, takes a much different sort of work.

Excavation

The game starts with a single ability, ‘Dig’, and gives you a side of a hill to dig into. The UI is essentially non-existent, with only two small Diabloesque orbs in the lower left and lower right to show your mana and power, and a very small selection of powers that accumulate over time, but which stay very small throughout the entire runtime of the game. While the UI is minimal, it’s clearly had a lot of work put into it, particularly in the way that new buttons are added: when there’s a new power, the UI shifts to accommodate it, making it feel slightly uncomfortable, like a mole that you weren’t sure was there the day before. At every stage, it looks as though that will be its final form, but it’s always difficult to be sure if you’ve seen everything there is to offer.

The game is also cagey with the information, especially at the start. You’re not told what to dig, though the hill is the only thing in front of you, and you’re not told why you should dig. But unless you’re particularly stubborn, you’ll dig, and once you have a tunnel dug out, you’ll get your first visitor poking their head in, almost always a goblin, the most basic and least specialized of the dungeon inhabitants. If he finds things to his liking, he’ll make it a home, and the first trickle of power will start coming in.

“The game is meant to be played blind,” explained Mormont, who flagged me down when I joined the game’s small but vibrant Discord. “You’re meant to come in knowing nothing and experiment to figure things out. That’s supposed to be the joy of it. The goblins come in, and you don’t know what they want, so you have to watch them and figure it out. It’s a watching game, a learning game.”

Goblins like tunnels that aren’t much bigger than they are and rooms that are about three goblin heights across. There are no rulers or grids, at least not when you start the game, but the initial option to dig has a standard width, and that’s just about as wide as a goblin tunnel should be. Nothing in the game communicates that this is what a goblin likes except watching what the goblins do. On my second playthrough after an untimely collapse of my dungeon ecosystem, I understood the game a little bit better and did some of the research work that it seems to want, which meant creating eight different rooms of various sizes to figure out which ones that goblins would go to. They prefer to be close to the things they need, which in the beginning means being close to the dungeon entrance, but my notes eventually filled up with details on the proper height, size, and shape of a goblin room.

Mad Scribblings

Underhill loves that sort of thing. There’s an in-game book that’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before, a blank journal that fills in with drawings and details, especially with regards to the ecosystem components, but is completely idiosyncratic. One of the design goals for the journal was that it look like a real journal, something that someone was slowly filling with their own observations, rather than being an encyclopedia with lost pages. For that reason, the journal is dynamic, filling up as you go, the notes stretching across pages. I’ve only had a few hiccups with it when the unseen writer wrote down a detail or two that I hadn’t figured out on my own.

“It’s messy, it’s organic,” says Mormont. “That the aesthetic. There are numbers in the background, but you should never see them, and they should be very difficult to intuit. I want people to be thinking on the non-number level.”

This is one of the reasons given for using a system without a grid, though the trade-off is that it gets difficult to get anything looking nice and ordered. Digging out a goblin home in a square that’s three goblin lengths across is an exercise in frustration. In theory this encourages messiness and a ‘let it be’ approach, but in practice it can be hard to embrace the organic mess that the game is trying to encourage.

Once the goblins have settled in, you can watch them go about their lives and see what they need. The process of discovery is one of the game’s main selling points, and as you watch, you’ll see that goblins form themselves into families, which form into clans. Goblins have biological needs in the form of water, food, and waste, and also seek shelter, which is why they move into your dungeon in the first place. If the dungeon is cramped with goblin families, they’ll throw their trash just outside the dungeon, but if there are enough rooms, the goblins will designate one of them as a ‘midden’ and start throwing their food scraps, broken tools, and other waste there.

The game doesn’t tell you that the room is a midden, just as it doesn’t tell you most things. The midden is one of the things you’ll learn about over time by watching. And it’s from one of those early middens that I got my second dungeon denizen: the garbage troll.

The Age of Discovery

I don’t want to spoil everything in the game, because it’s a game of discovery, but it would suffice to say that the garbage troll took care of one problem and created another. The garbage troll has his own needs and wants, and if those needs can’t be satisfied within the dungeon itself, he’ll either go out into the wider world where he might create all kinds of problems, or conversely, create problems within the dungeon by eating things that aren’t trash — an example being goblin possessions.

The game rolls on like this, with more monsters slotting themselves into place as it goes on. The ability to dig is your only tool for what seems like slightly too long to me, but as more creatures come to occupy your dungeon, your power slowly grows, and new abilities do eventually make themselves manifest. Water is one of the early ones, and comes up more than I had expected from the start, being one of the primary tools you have to shape the dungeon and its inhabitants. There’s a dungeon species that can’t cross running water, which means that it can be kept to one side of the dungeon and out of trouble by having a small stream trickling through. Similarly, water is one of the main ways to keep a dungeon clean, and helps to automate the movement of sewage down into somewhere a colony of garbage trolls are living. When the dwarves move in, they use the water for their own fastidious cleaning.

Part of the joy is in watching all the elements interact with each other. Even right at the start, there’s joy in seeing the goblins go out hunting beyond the range of your vision and come back with food, which they clean and prepare before eating. The animations are crude but evocative, done procedurally, and the game has a lot of clutter even when the dungeon is still developing, whether that’s fast-growing moss that creeps over the rock walls or the tiny mushrooms that grow in the midden (and can be cultivated by a druid later into a permanent food source). Surprisingly, everything is procedurally driven, even when it doesn’t feel like that would be necessary, and this is used to full effect to allow different varieties of creatures to have different motions to them. The goblins come in different sizes and body types, and can even grow from children to adults.

Obsessing Over the Depths

Sometimes, all this work leaves me scratching my head. One of the later game creatures, the nibbler (named after pen nibs, not a Futurama reference), goes around your dungeon and counts things, which are recorded in its notebook and exposed to you through a special button in the UI. In a different game, this would just show you the internal count of everything that the game knows the dungeon contains, but in Underhill, the creature has his own modeled understanding of the dungeon, and will only report on things that he can directly count. If you want to know how many goblins there are, and don’t want to count yourself, you have to wait until the accountant goes to take a peek into the goblin warrens. If the number of goblins changes, you’ll have to wait until he checks again to get the updated number.

I was watching the nibbler take stock of one of the dungeon storerooms, and noticed that he was using his finger to count the boxes, which was a fascinating detail. What was more fascinating was that he apparently lost count and had to start over while in the middle of this. It was such an immersive detail that it seemed like few people would ever notice, and had to have taken a lot of time. But as I watched more, I saw that he was losing his place while counting far more often than I thought he should, sometimes twice a room.

When I asked on the discord whether this was a bug, Mormont responded within a few minutes asking me whether I had dwarves in my dungeon. When I replied that I did, Mormont had an answer ready to go. “The dwarves like to brew alcohol, and if you have nibbler, you’ll see him drink some ale when he stops by there doing his count. If he’s drunk, he has a harder time counting. There aren’t that many mitigation strategies for that yet, since it’s hard to restrict the nibbler’s movement.” When I suggested that the behavior could be triggered a little less often, Mormont had a rant ready to go.

“That’s not how it works,” Mormont wrote. “There aren’t triggered actions. There’s not some variable in the game that passes a certain threshold and says to play a confusion animation and restart the count. The nibbler is actually counting. I had wanted to do a full vision system for all the creatures, but there’s too much overhead, so it’s just simulated instead. It counts with its finger because that makes the process go faster. It gets lost in the counting when it’s a bit tipsy because it can’t see its finger as well and its internal count of how many objects there are is more likely to be wrong.”

The obvious question was why you’d choose to do it that way when you could just have the nibbler report the actual numbers.

“Because it’s funny,” said Mormont.

There was a long pause where I think I was supposed to agree that it was funny, and then Mormont started typing and posted a wall of text five minutes later.

“One of my formative memories in gaming was when I was playing Oblivion,” he wrote. “I was trying to steal from this woman, and she saw me, and that was fair play, but then she started attacking me, so I thought to myself ‘wait, I can just kill her’, and so I did. I went out of the house and into the countryside, then to a major city, where a guard stopped me and asked me to answer for the crime. He had no way of knowing that it was me, and I found it really frustrating, because it didn’t make any sense. Obviously what was going on behind the scenes was that there was some kind of hasMurderedSomeone flag that was triggered, and it instantly went to every guard in the whole world the moment the murder happened. As a game designer, why do you implement things that way? Because it’s easy. But it has an impact on how the game plays, and I think you either have to make that a part of the story the game is trying to tell — psychic guards — or work to make sure that all the little moving parts work together. This is a game of moving parts.”

These are the kinds of rants that Mormont likes to go on. He’s more of a preacher than a game developer sometimes, and it’s the small things that seem to get him going.

Does this make for good gameplay? I think it does, with the right mindset. There’s a risk with the opaque approach to information that a player might not be able to tell quite why something is happening or how to stop it. If you view your job as being that of an investigator and scientist, the oddities are engaging rather than frustrating. However, if you’re trying to build the perfect dungeon that has all the creatures working in concert with each other, it can hurt to have it all spiral out of control and not be able to diagnose the problem after the fact.

The Secrets, Cataloged

After I had put in twenty hours, I opened up a channel on the Discord for veterans of the game, which turned out to be a mistake. I won’t spoil it, but there were entire aspects to the game that I had been missing out on simply because there were some conditions for attracting certain dungeon denizens that I had never thought to try. From reading through the different comments people have, that’s not an uncommon experience, and “there are witches in this game?” is a common sentiment. Much work has been put into cataloging all the game’s secrets, and there are three different spreadsheets that seek to track the interrelations of the different elements.

“I don’t like the spreadsheets,” Mormont says in a post below each of the pinned spreadsheets. “Making your own notes and discoveries is the game. Understanding and watching is the game. The game isn’t about making a perfect dungeon from instructions that someone else left you, it’s about being surprised and seeing what happens, using the scientific method to get an intuitive understanding of what’s actually going on. As soon as it’s all numbers and figures it becomes dead, like a butterfly nailed to a corkboard. This isn’t meant to be a team game. It’s not meant to be a game that you watch someone else play on Twitch. It’s a personal journey of growth and discovery. It’s balanced around a regularity of discoveries, so the average person keeps on hitting them. It’s digging in the science mines and continually hitting new veins.”

I didn’t delve into those documents. Instead, I did as was suggested and added to my notebook, both the one in game and the one that I kept beside my mouse. When Underhill hits, it really hits, and there’s something immensely satisfying about understanding these little creatures that move around in your dungeon, going about their business. By itself, that might almost be enough, but aside from the note-taking and investigation, there are the fresh injections of newness that come with new denizens, deeper depths, and new materials.

(Never) Ending

The dwarves were a turning point in my game, but apparently they come much later for most people. Their habitats need to be square, and they’ll spend a lot of time with chisels making sure there are as many right angles as possible. Dwarves will take over if you let them, because unlike goblins, they can dig on their own and see to all their own needs. They want to live in the dungeon and seal themselves off from the outside world, and so long as you don’t get in their way, they’ll develop their own city that meets its own needs.

My first reaction was that this defeated the whole point of the game, but after some time sitting there watching them work, I realized that it was just another way of underscoring what the game had wanted me to get from it all along: I was supposed to be learning from the dwarves, learning about the dwarves. Eventually, I was learning all the things that dwarves won’t do for themselves, all the ways that they would naturally make a society that was worse than the one I could help them make. It was a variation on a theme, in a way. As it turns out, the game is full of those.

I’m fifty hours in now, and still seeing all the ways that the game is developing its core ideas, stumbling through different lessons and trying to figure out the inner workings of all the creatures, materials, and substances. But if I were a goblin, this would be a hole that was just the right size for me.

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how i organize my google drive for maximum efficiency :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

i use google drive to organize mostly everything, and the truth is, my google drive used to be an absolute disaster zone, we're talking hundreds of "untitled document" files and random screenshots saved who knows when. but after one particularly stressful finals week where i lost a paper for three hours, i completely overhauled my system. here's exactly how i organize everything now!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the folder structure that changed everything ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

first things first, i use a simple top-level organization system:

📁 𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴: all school-related files

📁 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭: journals, goal tracking, finances, etc.

📁 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦: blog drafts, design projects, photos

📁 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦: completed classes and old projects

📁 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘴: templates, reference materials, guides

the key is keeping your top level super simple, i used to have 20+ folders here and it was overwhelming! now i can find anything within seconds because i know exactly which category it falls under.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my academic folder system ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this is the most detailed section of my drive! inside my academics folder:

📁 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

📁 class 1

📁 class 2

📁 class 3

📁 class 4

📄 semester schedule

📄 assignment tracker

inside each class folder:

📁 notes

📁 assignments

📁 readings

📁 projects

📄 syllabus

i color-code each class folder to match my physical notebooks and planner tabs, this visual consistency helps my brain switch between subjects more easily!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ file naming conventions that save me ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the absolute game-changer was developing a consistent naming system:

for class notes: DATE_CLASS_TOPIC example: 06.10_psych101_memory_systems

for assignments: CLASS_ASSIGNMENT_STATUS example: econ202_midterm_essay_final

for group projects: CLASS_PROJECT_MYPART_VERSION example: marketing300_campaign_research_v2

this might seem excessive, but it means i never have to open files to figure out what they are! plus, sorting by name automatically puts everything in chronological order.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my favorite google drive hacks ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

these little tricks make everything run even smoother:

𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: i star current project files so they always appear at the top of my drive

𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨: right-click folders to give them colors that match your physical organization system

𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺: i keep a "templates" folder with pre-formatted docs for essays, lab reports, notes, etc.

𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴: i set important folders to be available offline (has saved me during wifi emergencies!)

𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴: using "type:pdf" or "after:2023-09-01" in the search bar to filter results

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ maintenance routines ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

even the best system falls apart without regular maintenance! here's my schedule:

𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘱 (15 min): every friday afternoon, i sort any stray files into their proper folders and rename anything with default names

𝘮𝘪𝘥-𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘵 (30 min): halfway through each semester, i check that everything is where it should be and create any new folders needed

𝘦𝘯𝘥-𝘰𝘧-𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 (1 hour): i move completed classes to my archive folder and set up the next semester's structure

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ sharing & collaboration settings ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

as someone who works on lots of group projects, getting these settings right is crucial:

𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴: i create specific shared folders for each group project rather than sharing individual files

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴: i'm careful about giving "edit" vs "comment" access depending on the project

𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: i always disable "anyone with the link can edit" to avoid accidental changes

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my best google drive tips ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

create a "quick access" document with links to your most-used files

use google drive's "workspaces" feature to group project files temporarily

download the desktop app to easily drag and drop files

set up automatic google photos backup for screenshots and images

use keyboard shortcuts (shift + n for new folder is my favorite!)

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ final thoughts ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

remember that the perfect organization system is one that works for your brain! mine has evolved over years of trial and error, and i still tweak it each semester. the key is consistency, whatever system you choose, stick with it long enough to make it habit.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[bu3ck3r]

breaking the silence

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 11.4k

a/n: hi loves here’s the prompt and im so sorry it took so long for me to write it but i was really busy and i just wasn’t satisfied with what i wrote at first so i had to change it and im still not that satisfied but i hope y’all like it also i really wanna know y’all’s opinions about my writing so just dm me or smth ty

Paige Bueckers wasn’t nervous.

That wasn’t her thing. She was confident, always had been. Whether it was playing basketball, working out, or even training some of the best up and coming athletes, she handled everything with ease.

So why was she standing outside this gym, adjusting the strap of her bag for the third time, pretending she wasn’t stalling?

She sighed and shook her head. This was ridiculous. She was here for work, simple as that.

Pushing open the doors, she stepped into the facility. It was a top tier private training center, the kind designed to bring athletes back from career-threatening injuries to the peak of their game. Really nice equipment, therapy rooms, nutritionists, it had everything.

Including, apparently, her.

Azzi Fudd.

Paige had been briefed on the team working with the player she’d been assigned to help, but nowhere in that email did it say Azzi was the sports psychologist on board.

And yet, there she was, standing near the weight racks, holding a clipboard, looking annoyingly beautiful.

For a second, Paige thought Azzi hadn’t noticed her. She was in deep conversation with the athlete they’d been called in to assist—Aaron Williams, a promising young player who had suffered a brutal ACL tear and was fighting to make a full comeback.

Then, just as Paige thought she might make it to the locker room unnoticed, Azzi turned.

Their eyes met.

A flicker of surprise flashed across Azzi’s face before she schooled it into something unreadable. Paige felt her breath hitch. It had been two years since they’d seen each other. Since UConn. Since late night study sessions that turned into them just talking for hours. Since sitting next to each other on long flights, shoulders pressed together, Paige always whispering something dumb to make Azzi laugh. Since that one night, the one they never talked about, where the line between friendship and something more had blurred just a little too much.

Paige should’ve been prepared for this. But Azzi Fudd standing in front of her, dressed in fitted leggings and a zip-up hoodie, her arms crossed, eyes scanning Paige like she was assessing whether this was real or not.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in a gym,” Azzi said, voice smooth but carrying that familiar edge of teasing.

Paige forced herself to smirk, ignoring the way her pulse picked up. “Didn’t think I’d see you pretending to read that clipboard.”

Azzi huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Still the same.”

“And you’re still avoiding my question,” Paige shot back.

Azzi sighed, finally lowering the clipboard. “I’m the mental performance coach for Aaron. Have been for a couple of months now.”

Paige arched a brow. “Damn. And you didn’t think to warn me?”

Azzi smirked, tilting her head. “Would you have come if I did?”

Paige opened her mouth, then shut it.

Before she could fire back, Aaron walked over, glancing between them. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Azzi answered first. “We went to UConn together.”

“Best friends,” Paige added, her eyes flickering toward Azzi to see if she reacted to that term.

Azzi didn’t, at least not outwardly. “Something like that.”

Aaron let out a low whistle. “Well, this should be fun.”

Fun. Yeah, that was one word for it.

Paige kept her focus on Aaron, running through the first set of evaluations. Strength, mobility, balance, she handled it all professionally. Except for the moments when she was way too aware of Azzi’s presence.

Like when she was stretching Aaron’s hamstring and felt Azzi’s eyes on her. Or when she caught Azzi biting her lip, deep in thought as she made notes, and Paige’s brain short-circuited for a solid two seconds.

She knew she wasn’t subtle, either.

At one point, Azzi walked past her to grab a resistance band, and Paige’s gaze dropped, completely involuntarily, to her waist, then her arms, then back up.

And Azzi saw.

Paige knew because the second she looked up, Azzi was already watching her, eyebrows raised, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Something on your mind Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice light but laced with amusement.

Paige, caught red-handed, rolled her shoulders back. “Yeah, actually. I was just wondering how long it’s been since you picked up a dumbbell.”

Aaron laughed, and Azzi’s jaw dropped.

“You—” Azzi huffed, shaking her head. “You’re literally impossible.”

Paige grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, but there was no hiding the small smile that slipped through.

And just like that, the tension they had been pretending didn’t exist started to feel even harder to ignore.

They wrapped up after an hour, Aaron heading off to cool down while Paige and Azzi were left alone near the lockers.

Azzi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying Paige like she was still trying to figure her out. “You didn’t tell me you were training athletes now.”

Paige shrugged, unzipping her bag. “You didn’t tell me you were counseling them.”

Azzi’s expression softened. “It helped me a lot, back when I was recovering from my own injuries. I figured maybe I could do the same for someone else.”

For the first time all day, Paige didn’t have a quick comeback.

Instead, she smiled, genuine and warm. “That’s really amazing Az. I mean it.”

Azzi met her eyes, and for a moment, it was just them.

Then Azzi looked away, pushing off the wall. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other again.”

Paige watched her go, her heart doing something stupid.

Yeah. A lot of each other.

And that was definitely going to be a problem.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Paige Bueckers had always been competitive. It didn’t matter if it was basketball, a casual game of horse, or trying to make Azzi Fudd blush. If there was a challenge, she was taking it.

So when she caught Azzi checking her out during a session?

Yeah she was ready.

Aaron’s recovery plan was a grind, and today’s focus was rebuilding lower body strength. Paige was in her zone, demonstrating exercises, correcting Aaron’s form, and making sure the player wasn’t compensating in ways that could set them back.

Azzi was standing off to the side, observing, her arms crossed, her expression serious.

Paige pretended she didn’t notice the way Azzi’s eyes lingered on her, but internally? Oh, she noticed.

And she was about to make it worse.

Aaron was finishing a set of deadlifts when Paige stepped next to the weight rack, stretching casually, making sure Azzi had a full view of her arms.

“Gotta love strength training,” Paige said, flexing a little as she rolled out her shoulders. She glanced over, catching Azzi’s reaction.

Azzi’s eyes flickered down for half a second, half a second too long, before she looked away, lips pressing together.

Busted.

Paige smirked. “What do you think, Az? Solid form?”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, not meeting her gaze. “Your ego is truly something else.”

Aaron, completely oblivious, snickered. “She’s always like this?”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head. “Always.”

Paige grinned. “You love it.”

Azzi didn’t answer, just focused very, very hard on her clipboard, but Paige caught the way her fingers tightened slightly around it.

After wrapping up, the three of them walked toward the facility’s smoothie bar. Aaron was chatting about their progress, but Paige was fully focused on Azzi, who was fully focused on avoiding looking at her.

Paige leaned in a little as they walked. “You know, Azzi, if you wanna feel my arms, you can just ask.”

Azzi actually choked.

Aaron turned, confused. “You good?”

Azzi coughed, waving it off. “Fine. Totally fine.”

Paige bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Azzi side eyed her. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige shrugged, completely unbothered. “And yet, here you are.”

Azzi had nothing for that.

Aaron, still clueless, shook his head. “Y’all are something else.”

Yeah. They really were.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Paige was lying on her bed, mindlessly scrolling through her phone when it buzzed.

Azzi: Do you always flirt that much in professional settings?

Paige grinned.

Paige: Only when there’s someone worth flirting with.

Azzi took a full two minutes to respond.

Azzi: Unbelievable.

Paige laughed, rolling onto her back.

Paige: So you admit it?

Azzi didn’t text back.

But Paige knew.

Oh, she knew.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Azzi Fudd prided herself on her discipline. It was what got her through grueling rehab sessions when her own basketball career was on the line. It was what made her a damn good sports psychologist. She knew how to separate emotions from the job. So why, why, was Paige Bueckers making that impossible?

Aaron’s training session was intense today: heavy lifting, explosive movement drills, the kind of work that left them exhausted but satisfied. Paige was coaching them through the last of their reps, and Azzi was supposed to be focusing on their mental stamina.

Supposed to be.

Instead, she was losing a battle with herself.

Because Paige was in her zone, all confident energy, all muscle and smirks and cockiness.

And Azzi hated that she liked it.

She tried to ignore it. She really did.

But then Paige had to go and push her buttons.

Aaron was mid-sled push when Paige glanced over at Azzi, catching her watching.

Busted. Again.

Paige wiped her forehead with the hem of her shirt, flashing toned abs she definitely didn’t need to show off before throwing Azzi a look.

“Wanna race?” Paige challenged.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Paige nodded toward the sled. “Me vs you.”

Azzi scoffed. “That’s not my job.”

Paige grinned. “Oh, I know. Just wondering if you still got it.”

Azzi felt her pulse spike. Paige knew exactly what she was doing.

Aaron looked between them, sensing the tension. “Ohhh, this is happening.”

Azzi exhaled slowly. “This is stupid.”

Paige just shrugged. “Backin’ out?”

Azzi gritted her teeth. Damn her and her stupid, competitive ass.

She stepped up. “Fine.”

Aaron counted them off. “Three… two… one—”

They pushed.

Paige was strong, annoyingly strong, but Azzi had power too. She dug in, matching her stride for stride, neither of them giving an inch.

By the end, they collapsed, breathless, tied.

Paige, still grinning, turned to her. “Not bad Az.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, trying not to let her smile show.

When they finished the workout Aaron left first, exhausted. But Paige and Azzi stayed back, cleaning up the space.

Paige stretched, exhaling. “Didn’t know you still had that in you.”

Azzi, despite herself, smirked. “What, thought I got weak?”

Paige’s gaze flickered over her too slowly, like she was definitely thinking something else.

“Nah,” Paige murmured. “never.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

She looked away fast. “I should go.”

But Paige just kept looking at her, eyes unreadable.

Azzi turned, walking out before she did something really stupid.

Like kiss her.

Or admit she wanted to.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Azzi had a problem.

And that problem was Paige Bueckers.

She’d spent years perfecting self control, learning how to separate personal feelings from professional situations. But then Paige had waltzed back into her life, all cocky smiles, ridiculous muscles, and relentless flirting, and suddenly, Azzi was failing.

Badly.

And tonight? Tonight was worse.

After their intense training session, the gym was nearly empty. Aaron had left, but Paige and Azzi lingered, tidying up the space.

Azzi turned to grab her water bottle from a bench, and that’s when she felt it.

Paige’s eyes. On her. Lingering.

Azzi froze for a beat, then slowly turned. Caught.

Paige didn’t even look away.

In fact, she smirked.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Paige shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just admiring the view.”

Azzi’s face heated. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige just grinned wider. “No, seriously. Do you even know how good you look in those leggings?”

Azzi’s brain short-circuited. “Paige-”

“I mean, the way they fit?” Paige kept going, knowing exactly what she was doing. “It’s honestly kinda unfair.”

Azzi opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Paige tilted her head. “What? No comeback? That’s new.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She could not let Paige win this one.

So she took a breath and fired back.

“You know,” Azzi said, crossing her arms, “for someone who talks this much, you don’t seem to notice that you’re the one getting checked out half the time.”

Paige blinked.

And that’s when Azzi saw it, Paige was not expecting that.

Azzi smirked. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Paige recovered fast. “Oh, so you do think I look good?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t already know that.”

Paige stepped closer, voice dropping slightly. “Yeah, but I like hearing you say it.”

Azzi swallowed. Why was it suddenly hot in here?

She grabbed her bag before she did something dumb. “I’m leaving.”

Paige, still grinning, walked with her. “Uh huh. Sure you don’t wanna keep talking about how good I look?”

Azzi did not answer.

Mostly because Paige was winning again.

And Azzi was in serious trouble.

Paige insisted on giving Azzi a ride home. Azzi should have said no. She didn’t.

The car was quiet at first, just the soft hum of the music.

Then Paige spoke. “So, you really think I look good?”

Azzi sighed. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

Azzi exhaled, glaring at the window like it could save her. “Paige.”

Paige grinned. “Azzi.”

Azzi groaned. “Yes, okay? You look good. You know you do.”

Paige smirked, pleased. “And you look good too.”

Azzi glanced at her, surprised. “You’ve already said that.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah, but I really mean it.”

Azzi looked away, fighting a smile.

Because for all of Paige’s teasing, when she said things like that? She meant them.

And Azzi felt it.

Too much.

Azzi had spent most of the ride home trying not to think about Paige’s words.

You look good too.

She should’ve brushed it off. Paige was always flirting, always teasing,it didn’t mean anything. Right?

Except, it kind of felt like it did.

And Azzi was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, she wanted it to.

Paige pulled into Azzi’s apartment complex and threw the car into park. Neither of them moved to get out.

Paige drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “You gonna invite me up or just leave me sitting here?”

Azzi snorted. “Why would I invite you up?”

Paige shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you enjoy my company?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Debatable.”

Paige smirked, turning in her seat. “Nah. I think you like having me around.”

Azzi hesitated.

Because she did. Too much.

Paige’s voice softened. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if we kept in touch?”

Azzi blinked at the sudden shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

Paige leaned back, exhaling. “I mean, we were close. And then… we weren’t.”

Azzi swallowed. “Yeah.”

Paige tapped the wheel again, thoughtful. “I missed you.”

Azzi’s heart skipped.

She hesitated, then admitted, “I missed you too.”

Paige smiled, slow and real. “See? I knew you liked me.”

Azzi sighed. “Get out.”

Paige laughed, but she didn’t push.

Not yet.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

The next day, Paige and Azzi met at the gym again for another training session with Aaron.

Azzi told herself things would be normal.

Then Paige showed up in a tight black tank top that did nothing to hide the definition in her arms, and Azzi immediately lost that battle.

Paige caught her looking.

And smirked.

“Like what you see?”

Azzi refused to react. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige flexed, just to be annoying. “Can you blame me?”

Azzi turned away, muttering, “Unbelievable.”

Paige, still smirking, leaned in. “If you want me to train you, just say the word.”

Azzi ignored the way her pulse spiked. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah, maybe for now.”

But Azzi could feel her looking every time she moved.

And maybe… maybe she liked it.

After the session, Paige handed Azzi a smoothie without asking. “Drink. You look tired.”

Azzi huffed. “I’m not tired.”

Paige arched a brow. “Lying to me? Wow.”

Azzi took a sip, because arguing was pointless.

Paige watched her, something softer in her eyes. “Seriously, Azzi. You taking care of yourself?”

Azzi hesitated.

Because sometimes, she wasn’t.

Paige nudged her shoulder, quieter now. “Do I need to start looking out for you too?”

Azzi hated that her stomach flipped.

She covered it with sarcasm. “Oh, great. Paige Bueckers, personal trainer and life coach.”

Paige grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself.

Because the truth was she kind of liked having Paige in her corner again.

Even if it was dangerous.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Azzi wasn’t stupid.

She knew exactly what was happening between her and Paige. The lingering glances. The teasing that wasn’t just teasing anymore. The way her pulse jumped whenever Paige got too close.

She told herself it was harmless. That Paige was just being Paige, flirty, cocky, impossible.

But then Paige stopped playing.

And suddenly, Azzi wasn’t so sure anymore.

It started with an offhand comment.

Aaron had just left, and Azzi was about to grab her stuff when Paige stretched, arms over her head, tank top riding up just enough to be distracting and said, “You know, I could fix your form.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Paige grinned. “Your squat form. It could use some work.”

Azzi scoffed. “Excuse me? I have perfect form.”

Paige laughed. “Oh yeah?Prove it.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”

She set her feet, dropped into a squat , textbook perfect, and glanced up at Paige. “Happy?”

Paige tilted her head, amused. “Hmm.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Oh my god.”

Paige stepped behind her, too close.Her hands hovered over Azzi’s hips. “Can I?”

Azzi froze.

Her brain screamed at her to say no, to shut this down before it became something she couldn’t ignore.

Instead, she whispered, “Yeah.”

Paige’s hands landed lightly on her waist.

Azzi forgot how to breathe.

Paige’s voice was softer now. “You’re leaning forward too much. Engage your core more.”

Azzi couldn’t focus on anything except Paige’s hands.

“Try again,” Paige said.

Azzi did.

Paige’s thumbs brushed over her sides. “Better.”

Azzi stood up fast, almost knocking into Paige. “Okay. We’re done here.”

Paige just grinned. “Told you I could fix it.”

Azzi grabbed her water bottle, refusing to meet Paige’s eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Paige chuckled. “You love it.”

Azzi didn’t answer.

Because maybe, Paige was right.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

They left the gym together, like usual. But something was different.

Azzi could still feel Paige’s hands on her.

And she was pretty sure Paige knew it.

The car ride was quiet. Tense in a way that wasn’t bad, just charged.

Paige tapped the steering wheel. “You okay?”

Azzi exhaled. “Yeah.”

Paige glanced at her. “You sure?”

Azzi nodded, too quickly.

Paige smirked. “You’re flustered.”

Azzi groaned. “Shut up.”

Paige laughed, but it was softer now. “Relax, Az. I’m just messing with you.”

Azzi didn’t know how to explain that that was the problem.

Because it wasn’t just messing around anymore.

And they both knew it.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Azzi lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every single stupid little moment with Paige.

The way she looked at her. The way she touched her.

The way she made Azzi feel like she was always one second away from something she couldn’t take back.

And for the first time, Azzi didn’t think she wanted to.

Azzi wasn’t used to this.

She could handle stress. Pressure. High stakes situations where the difference between winning and losing was a split second decision.

But she couldn’t handle Paige looking at her like that.

Like she knew exactly what she was doing to Azzi.

Like she was waiting for Azzi to break.

And the worst part?

Azzi wasn’t sure she wanted to hold it together anymore.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Paige had always been confident. It was part of who she was. But this? This was something else.

They were in the gym again, another session with Aaron, and Paige was being a menace.

Every time Azzi looked up, Paige was watching her.

Not subtly.

And when Azzi caught her? Paige didn’t even look away.

It was infuriating.

And unfairly attractive.

Azzi tried to focus on Aaron, on the work, on literally anything but Paige’s gaze burning into her skin.

It didn’t work.

Because Paige was relentless.

She stretched, flexing way more than necessary. Smirked when Azzi’s eyes betrayed her and flickered to her arms.

And when she caught Azzi looking, again?

She grinned. “Something you wanna say?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, forcing herself to look away. “I’m ignoring you.”

Paige chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

Azzi exhaled sharply. This woman.

Paige wasn’t done, though.

She leaned in, voice low. Too close. Too warm. Too much. “You know, if you wanna keep staring at me, you could just admit it.”

Azzi turned to face her, fully prepared to shut this down.

But then Paige’s eyes dropped, just for a second.

And Azzi realized, she was doing it too.

For the first time, Paige looked a little…caught.

A little off balance.

And that’s when Azzi did something she never thought she’d do.

She pushed back.

Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You’re staring too P.”

Paige blinked.

Azzi smirked. Gotcha.

Paige recovered fast. Grinned. “Can you blame me?”

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

She opened her mouth, to say what, she didn’t even know.

But then Aaron called for them, and the moment was gone.

Azzi exhaled. Thank God.

After the session, they walked out together, like always.

Paige was quieter than usual.

Azzi nudged her. “What? No smart comments?”

Paige glanced at her, thoughtful. “Just thinking.”

Azzi raised a brow. “That’s dangerous.”

Paige snorted. “Shut up.”

“You ever think about it?”

Azzi blinked. “Think about what?”

Paige stopped walking. Looked at her.

Azzi’s heart jumped.

Paige exhaled, almost like she was about to say something real.

Then she smirked. “Never mind.”

Azzi frowned. “Paige—”

But Paige was already walking again.

And Azzi was left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Azzi was laying in bed, replaying every moment.

Every glance. Every word.

The way Paige almost said something.

And for the first time, Azzi admitted it to herself, really, truly admitted it.

She didn’t just like this thing between them.

She wanted it.

And maybe…

Maybe it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

Azzi wasn’t in denial anymore.

She had spent weeks pretending that what was happening between her and Paige was just playful banter, harmless, a game they both enjoyed.

But now?

Now, it was too obvious. Too intense.

And Azzi was so tired of pretending.

It started early next morning.

Azzi had barely walked into the gym when Paige leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with herself.

“Morning pretty,” Paige drawled.

Azzi sighed. “What do you want?”

Paige smirked. “Not even a hello? I thought psychologists were supposed to be nice.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Hello, Paige.”

Paige grinned. “Much better.”

Azzi tried to step past her, but Paige blocked her path, deliberately.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Paige tilted her head. “You seem tense. Need a personal trainer to help loosen you up?”

Azzi scoffed. “I’m fine.”

Paige shrugged, stepping closer, too close. “You sure? Cause you’ve been looking at me like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

But she didn’t back down.

Instead, she held Paige’s gaze. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

For the first time, Paige looked caught.

Just for a second.

Then she grinned. “You’re getting cocky Azzi.”

Azzi smirked. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around you.”

Paige’s eyes darkened, just slightly.

And that’s when Azzi knew.

They weren’t dancing around this anymore.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Aaron was in the weight room, stretching before their session, which meant Azzi had a few minutes of freedom. Or at least, she thought she did.

Because Paige was still in her space.

She was lifting weights, deliberately showing off. Flexing a little too much. Making sure Azzi noticed.

Azzi did.

Unfortunately.

Paige caught her staring. Again.

And this time, she didn’t let it slide.

She set down the weights, wiping her hands on a towel and turned to Azzi with a slow, knowing grin.

“You checking me out Fudd?”

Azzi’s heart jumped.

She tried to play it cool. “You’re imagining things.”

Paige chuckled. “Mmm. Am I?”

Azzi refused to let her win this one.

She tilted her head. “Even if I was, it’s only fair. You’ve been staring at me for weeks.”

Paige blinked.

Azzi smirked.

Paige recovered quickly. She stepped closer, so close Azzi could smell her shampoo.

“You’re right,” Paige murmured. “I have been staring.”

Azzi’s breath caught.

Paige’s voice dropped. “And you like it.”

Azzi didn’t answer.

Because Paige wasn’t wrong.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

Later that day, they were alone in the office, going over Aaron’s progress.

Paige was leaning over Azzi’s chair, pointing at something on the laptop, but Azzi wasn’t listening.

Not when Paige was this close. Not when Paige smelled this good. Not when Paige’s voice was low and teasing.

At some point, Paige stopped talking.

Azzi turned her head, and suddenly, they were inches apart.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed.

Azzi’s pulse pounded.

Paige’s eyes flickered to her lips, just for a second.

Then she pulled back.

Too fast.

Azzi swallowed. “Paige—”

Paige cut her off. “We should go.”

Azzi exhaled, frustrated. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

But as they walked out together, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Because whatever this was?

It was about to explode.

Azzi couldn’t deny it anymore. She had been trying to focus on her work, on her client, but everything kept coming back to Paige.

Every time she saw Paige’s easy smile, the way she leaned in when they talked, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited about something, it made Azzi’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself that this wasn’t just a fleeting feeling. It had been building for months, creeping in unnoticed.

But the next day, as they walked together to the gym after their session with the player, it was harder than ever to ignore.

Paige was walking beside her, close enough for Azzi to catch the faint scent of her perfume, a mix of lavender and something more, something that felt entirely like Paige. It made her heart race, and she kept her gaze straight ahead, trying not to let Paige see how much she was affecting her.

“So, how’s the day been?” Paige asked, glancing over at her with a playful glint in her eye. She was leaning into her usual teasing energy, but Azzi couldn’t shake the vulnerability that seemed to linger in the air between them.

“It’s been fine,” Azzi replied, her voice steady even though she felt anything but calm. “Busy, but good. You?”

“Same,” Paige said. There was a beat of silence before Paige added, “I’m really glad we’re doing this together again. I didn’t think I’d miss you this much.”

Azzi stopped walking for a second, her heart skipping in her chest. She turned to face Paige, not hiding the surprise in her expression. “You didn’t think you’d miss me?”

Paige’s eyes softened. “Well, maybe I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Having someone who understands me… who gets how I think. It’s been nice.”

Azzi’s breath caught, her thoughts swirling. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Paige reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. It was a casual gesture, but there was something so intimate about it, something Azzi couldn’t ignore.

Paige’s hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, and Azzi felt the warmth of her touch sear through her. She swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. “You’re always so… forward,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “Don’t you ever hold back?”

Paige smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Not really. Why hold back when I know exactly what I want?” Her words were playful, but the intensity behind them made Azzi’s heart race. There was something heavy in the air between them. Something that wasn’t just about their work or their friendship.

Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “And what is it you want, Paige?”

Paige stepped closer, her gaze steady on Azzi. “I want this..this connection we have. I want us to be… more.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her thoughts a tangled mess. She didn’t know what to say. She had been trying so hard to pretend that her feelings weren’t there, that she was fine just being friends, but now it was impossible to deny. Her pulse quickened as she stood frozen in place, staring at Paige.

“More?” she whispered.

Paige nodded slowly, her expression softening. “Yeah. More. More than just this. More than what we’ve been pretending this is.”

Azzi felt her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and she could feel the pull between them like a magnetic force, drawing them closer with each passing second.

“I—” Azzi started to say, but before she could finish her thought, Paige’s lips were on hers.

It wasn’t a kiss of desperation or heat, but something deeper, more tender. It was a kiss that held all the weight of their unspoken feelings, all the years of friendship and unacknowledged longing. Paige’s lips were soft against hers,, asking, inviting her to take the leap.

Azzi hesitated for only a second before she kissed back, her hand resting gently on Paige’s neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her touch. The world seemed to disappear as they stood there, caught in the moment. It was everything Azzi had been holding back, everything she hadn’t been able to say or express.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads leaning together in a moment of shared vulnerability.

Azzi smiled softly, her heart still racing. “I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

Paige’s lips curled into a grin. “Same.”

Azzi shook her head in disbelief, but there was a lightness in her chest now, a freedom she hadn’t realized she needed. “You really know how to mess with me, don’t you?”

Paige laughed, the sound light and warm. “Guess I’ve had a lot of practice. You’re just too cute when you try to act all composed.” She winked playfully.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft, filled with warmth. She stepped closer to Paige, her voice quieter now. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The moment felt fragile, like a delicate thread that might break if they weren’t careful, but for once, Azzi didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t feel like she had to protect herself from what she was feeling. With Paige, everything felt right.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

The following days felt surreal for Azzi. It was as if the world around her had shifted just slightly, like an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. After that kiss with Paige, things felt different, better, more open. Yet, Azzi was still trying to figure out what this meant, both for their personal lives and their professional dynamic.

They continued to work with the athlete, pushing through each day with a mix of intensity and subtle glances, the air thick with unspoken words. Paige was constantly teasing her, her playful energy never far from the surface. Every time Azzi caught herself staring at Paige, she quickly looked away, her face heating up with the kind of embarrassment she hadn’t felt in years.

But then Paige would catch her, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You okay there, Fudd? Something on your mind?”

Azzi would force a smile, trying to maintain her professional composure. “Just making sure you’re not slacking off,” she’d joke, though it was clear the teasing was a cover-up for the unacknowledged tension between them.

They were in the gym one afternoon, the athlete pushing through some light drills. Paige was on the other side of the room, working with the player, while Azzi kept an eye on their progress. She couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly Paige moved, how confident she was. There was a strength to her that Azzi admired, but also something about her presence that made Azzi’s pulse quicken.

As Paige turned and caught her staring, she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “You’re doing it again, Azzi.”

Azzi’s heart skipped. “Doing what?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Staring at me like you’re about to say something,” Paige said, her voice playful but laced with something else, something that hinted at deeper feelings.

Azzi cleared her throat, glancing away quickly, trying to regain her composure. “I was just making sure you didn’t break your own rules.” It was a lame excuse, but it was all she could think of in the moment.

Paige crossed the room, her footsteps light but confident. She leaned in slightly, her breath warm on Azzi’s cheek as she whispered, “You know, you really should just admit that you’re into me. It’d be a lot less confusing for both of us.”

Azzi froze. She hadn’t expected Paige to be so direct. The words hung in the air between them, too close for comfort, and yet Azzi found herself unable to move. There was something intoxicating about the way Paige looked at her, something that made it hard to keep her guard up.

“I—” Azzi started, but the words caught in her throat. Her heart was racing, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, but she couldn’t find a way to express what she was feeling. Instead, she took a step back, breaking the moment, trying to regain some control. “I’m just… not sure we should mix things up like that.”

Paige’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Azzi could see the vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. “I get it, Azzi,” Paige said, her tone quieter now. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and I don’t want to mess that up. But I also know what I want, and I’ve never been one to shy away from what I feel.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this,” she admitted, her voice soft.

“You don’t have to be ready right now,” Paige said, her voice gentle, reassuring. “I just want you to know that whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The warmth in her words was undeniable, and for the first time, Azzi felt the weight of her own hesitation begin to lift. Maybe Paige was right, maybe this didn’t have to be as complicated as Azzi was making it. Maybe they could still have what they had, even if it meant something more.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

It was the night before their athlete’s championship game, and the atmosphere in the hotel was buzzing with excitement. Paige and Azzi were sitting at the bar, having a quiet drink together to unwind before the big day.

The room was filled with the hum of excited chatter, but all Azzi could focus on was Paige. She was sitting next to her, her leg brushing against Azzi’s every so often, sending electric jolts through her body. They hadn’t talked much about what had happened between them earlier in the week, but it was impossible to ignore the tension that still lingered between them.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her voice low, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as she studied Azzi.

Azzi took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nervous energy that had settled in her stomach. “Just thinking about the game tomorrow,” she said, though that wasn’t entirely true. There was something else on her mind, something that had nothing to do with the game.

Paige tilted her head, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “You know, I can’t help but notice how quiet you’ve been tonight.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “what’s going on?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, trying to hide the fact that her heart was racing. “It’s just… this whole situation. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Paige reached out, gently placing her hand over Azzi’s. The touch was simple, but it sent a shockwave through Azzi’s body. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Paige said quietly. “We can just take things one step at a time.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but the closeness between them was undeniable.

Paige’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Azzi,” she said softly. “Look at me.”

Azzi did, meeting Paige’s gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no pressure, no expectations, just the two of them, here, in this moment.

Paige’s thumb gently brushed over Azzi’s hand, and her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? Whatever this is between us… it’s worth exploring.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace. Maybe Paige was right. Maybe they didn’t have to have everything figured out. Maybe they could just take the leap and see where it led.

And so, with a soft smile, Azzi finally allowed herself to give in. She leaned in just enough to let her lips brush against Paige’s, and for a brief moment, the world fell away.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

The locker room was alive with excitement. The team had just clinched the championship win, and Paige couldn’t stop smiling. The athlete they had been working with for months had finally broken through, pushing past all the mental and physical barriers that had held them back. It felt like a hard-earned victory for everyone, especially for the athlete, who had fought tooth and nail to get back on the court after a serious injury.

The after-party was buzzing with energy, everyone celebrating their success. Paige and Azzi were both basking in the afterglow of their hard work, watching their athlete bask in their well-deserved spotlight. Paige had her drink in hand, and Azzi, looking impossibly beautiful in a tight, deep brown dress, had already drawn the atttention of several admirers.

As the crowd shifted around them, Paige couldn’t help but focus on Azzi. She hadn’t been able to stop stealing glances all night. Azzi’s dress hugged her body in all the right places, and Paige could feel her heart rate spike every time her eyes lingered on her. There was a magnetic pull between them, one that Paige had never quite been able to ignore.

“You look incredible,” Paige said, stepping a little closer to Azzi, her voice a bit more unsteady than usual. She was trying to keep her cool, but the alcohol and the way Azzi looked in that dress was making it nearly impossible.

Azzi glanced up at her with a smile that was both playful and warm. “You’ve said that like five times tonight,” she teased, but there was something in her eyes, something soft, something more vulnerable, that Paige hadn’t seen before.

Paige leaned in, her voice low as she replied, “Well, it’s true. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time again.”

Azzi’s smile faltered just slightly, her eyes flicking between Paige’s lips and her eyes. “You’ve been staring at me all night. What’s going on P?” she asked softly, her voice laced with curiosity.

Paige didn’t shy away. Instead, she stepped even closer, her chest brushing against Azzi’s. “Can’t help it,” she murmured, her hand lightly grazing over Azzi’s arm. “Every time I look at you, I can’t stop thinking about how damn beautiful you are. You make it hard to think about anything else.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the compliment, her eyes widening for a second before she let out a quiet laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?” She took a small step back, as if she was trying to process the gravity of Paige’s words.

Paige couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched across her face. “What can I say? I speak the truth,” she said, her gaze intense but playful. She took another sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol ease the tightness in her chest. “Besides, you’ve always made it hard for me to think straight, Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the honesty in Paige’s voice. “Is that so?” she asked, her tone both teasing and serious. “You’ve always had a way of getting under my skin.”

Paige’s pulse quickened at the words. The tension between them was almost unbearable now, thick with unspoken feelings and long-buried emotions. She took a step forward again, the space between them practically nonexistent.

“Yeah, well,” Paige said, her voice suddenly much softer, “there’s something about you that makes it impossible for me to forget you. You’re always on my mind.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re not exactly helping me out here,” she said, her words coming out slightly slurred. “I’m trying to keep it cool, and you’re making it really hard.”

Paige, now fully aware of how touchy she was getting after a few drinks, couldn’t stop herself. She took a step forward, letting her hands rest gently on Azzi’s waist. “Maybe that’s the point,” Paige said, her eyes softening, the tension between them palpable.

Azzi’s breath hitched, but she quickly recovered with a laugh.

The party was still in full swing around them, but it felt like the rest of the world had faded away. Paige couldn’t tear her gaze away from Azzi, not when she was so close, not when the chemistry was so thick in the air.

Azzi let out a little laugh, her eyes catching Paige’s in a way that made her stomach flip. “You’re dangerous when you drink, you know that?”

Paige shrugged, looking at her with a teasing grin. “I’m just being honest,” she replied. “If you want me to be real with you, I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

Azzi froze, her eyes wide, as she took in Paige’s words. “Are you serious?”

Paige was no longer sure where the alcohol ended and the honesty began. “More serious than I’ve ever been,” she said softly, her gaze intense as she watched Azzi’s reaction. “I want to kiss you, Azzi. Right here. Right now.”

Azzi blinked, clearly caught off guard. “God, Paige, you’re drunk,” she said, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that told Paige Azzi wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

“Well,” Paige said with a grin, leaning in just slightly closer, “I’m not the only one who’s been sneaking glances all night, right?”

Azzi’s expression softened, and she let out a sigh. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

The words hung in the air for a second, both of them processing what had just been said. Then Azzi, looking a little tipsy herself, surprised Paige by reaching up to touch her cheek, her hand warm and steady.

“You’ve always known how to make me blush,” Azzi said, her voice low, and Paige’s heart leaped in her chest. “I’m just… afraid we’ll mess it up. But damn, it feels like it’s already happening, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe that’s the best thing,” Paige said, her tone flirtatious but also gentle. “We’ve always been in sync. Maybe it’s time we let ourselves have something real.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes soft. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But you’re still dangerous when you’re drunk.”

“I’m dangerous all the time,” Paige winked.

Paige looked down at Azzi’s lips, the desire clear in her eyes. The words she had held back for so long seemed to surge to the surface. “You… You always make me second-guess myself,” Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never knew what to do with what I felt for you. I still don’t.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand gently resting on Paige’s arm. “I’ve always felt it too,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion. “But I was afraid… afraid of what it would do to everything we’ve built, to what we were.”

Paige swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked into Azzi’s eyes. “I don’t care about that anymore,” she confessed, stepping even closer. “I don’t want to hold back anymore, Azzi. I just want to be around you.”

Azzi hesitated, her breath coming a little faster now. “Paige…” she started, but the words were cut off when Paige closed the space between them, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

It wasn’t like the first kiss. This time, it was deeper, more urgent, filled with everything they had both held inside for so long. Paige’s hand moved to Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against hers. Azzi melted into it, her fingers curling into Paige’s hair, tugging her closer. The kiss deepened, each of them exploring, savoring, like they were both finally giving in to everything they had been resisting. When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested against each other, both of them breathing heavily.

Azzi smiled softly, her hands resting on Paige’s shoulders. Paige smiled back, her fingers brushing over Azzi’s cheek. “What are we waiting for?” she asked, her voice light but filled with desire

Azzi’s smile widened, and for the first time, she seemed completely at ease. “I think we should get out of here,” she murmured, her lips curling up at the corners. “Before we do something crazy.”

Paige chuckled, her hand finding Azzi’s as they began walking toward the exit. “You’re right.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a playful gleam in her eyes. “You’re bold when you’ve had a little to drink,” she said with a laugh.

Paige shrugged with a grin. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” she replied, her voice low with a hint of flirtation.

They walked out of the party, the cool night air hitting their faces, and they both knew that things were about to change. They didn’t need to say anything more. The unspoken connection between them was all they needed now.

As they reached the elevator, Paige glanced at Azzi, feeling a surge of affection. “I don’t know where this is going, but I’m glad it’s with you.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes soft and sincere. “Me too, Paige. Me too.”

The door to Paige’s hotel room clicked shut behind them, locking them in a space suddenly charged with anticipation.

Neither of them spoke at first, but the silence wasn’t empty, it was full. Full of all the words they weren’t saying, all the tension that had been building between them since the moment they reconnected.

Azzi stood near the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving Paige’s. “I’m gonna take a shower” her voice soft, playful.

Paige exhaled a laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I think i need one too.”

Azzi took a step closer, her hands finding the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. The tank top underneath did nothing to hide the toned muscle beneath her skin, and Paige felt her mouth go dry.

Azzi smirked at the reaction, tossing the shirt aside. “You gonna just stand there staring, or are we actually doing this?”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re getting real cocky, you know that?”

Azzi grinned. “Only ‘cause I know you like it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Paige didn’t hesitate any longer. She reached for Azzi’s wrist, tugging her toward the bathroom without another word.

The bathroom was warm, a subtle mist lingering from when Azzi had turned the shower on earlier. The sound of running water filled the space as they stepped inside, the small room amplifying the intimacy of the moment.

Paige turned to face Azzi, watching as she peeled off the rest of her clothes. Every inch of skin revealed made Paige’s breath hitch just a little more.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You gonna join me or what?”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head at how effortless Paige made this seem. She quickly stripped down, feeling the heat of Paige’s gaze as she did.

The moment they stepped under the water, it was over.

The first touch was tentative, Paige’s fingers brushing against Azzi’s skin, tracing droplets of water sliding down. Azzi inhaled sharply at the contact, her own hands coming up to rest against Paige’s waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige murmured, voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

Azzi smiled, softer this time. “You too.”

Paige leaned in, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s for just a second before tilting her head, letting their lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was perfect.

Azzi’s hands tightened on Paige’s waist, pulling her closer. The warmth of their bodies pressed together sent a shiver up Paige’s spine.

“Damn,” Paige breathed against her lips. “Been waiting for this.”

Azzi smiled, tilting Paige’s chin up so she could kiss her again, deeper this time. The steam wrapped around them, making every touch slick and heated.

Paige’s hands moved, trailing down Azzi’s back, tracing every line of muscle, every dip of her skin. Azzi let out a soft gasp when Paige’s fingers pressed into her hips, nails digging just slightly.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, breathless.

Paige groaned at the way her name sounded on Azzi’s lips, pressing their bodies impossibly closer. “Yeah, baby?”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, leaning into Paige’s touch. “Just… don’t stop.”

Paige had no intention of stopping.

Paige’s strong hand reached out, tracing a slow, deliberate line along Azzi’s damp shoulder. The warmth of her touch sent shivers down Azzi’s spine, igniting every nerve. As water streamed down their intertwined forms, Azzi leaned in and captured Paige’s lips in a searing kiss, deep, unhurried, and filled with years of unspoken desire.

Their kiss deepened, each caress a tender exploration of every hidden longing. Azzi’s fingers danced along the curve of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer until the heat between them grew undeniable. In the steamy glow, they kissed again, more urgently this time, fingers interlacing as they sought to erase the distance that had always lingered between them.

Paige’s hands roamed over Azzi’s ass, feeling the curves of her body that had always captivated her. Every touch was a conversation, every gentle squeeze or lingering stroke spoke of a passion that had been waiting to be confessed. The rhythm of the falling water echoed their soft moans and shared laughter as they exchanged playful kisses along the collarbone, their lips soft yet insistent.

“Tell me you’re feeling this,” Azzi murmured against Paige’s lips as she traced light kisses down her jawline. The intimacy of the moment left them both trembling, their kisses becoming a silent affirmation of everything they’d longed for. Paige’s response was a series of delicate, searching kisses that traveled slowly, mapping the contours of Azzi’s face and expressing a vulnerability that was as powerful as it was beautiful.

In the warm shower, the boundaries between them dissolved completely. Their touches became bolder, their kisses more fervent, each one a promise of the connection they’d always shared. Azzi’s hand cradled Paige’s face as she pressed her lips against hers once more, the passion building with every lingering, heartfelt caress.

Under the steady cascade of water, every kiss, every touch, wove them closer together, washing away the hesitations of the past. In that exquisite, sensual moment, their souls communicated in the language of tender kisses and gentle caresses, each movement a declaration that nothing, not even time, could keep them apart.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

The soft light of the morning streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the hotel room. The air between Paige and Azzi was thick with unspoken words, but there was also an undeniable shift in the atmosphere, a soft, almost comforting tension.

Paige woke up slowly, her head feeling slightly fuzzy from the drinks the night before, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made her heart race. It was the fact that Azzi was lying next to her, their bodies tangled in the sheets, the warm weight of Azzi’s arm resting across her waist.

For a few moments, Paige just stayed still, trying to process everything. The kiss. The touches. The confessions that had been hanging in the air for so long. She had never expected any of this to happen, yet here they were, in the quiet aftermath.

Azzi stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Paige, a small, shy smile spread across her face, and for a second, Paige’s breath hitched in her throat. The woman she had secretly wanted for years was here, next to her, and it felt more real than anything she had ever imagined.

“Good morning,” Azzi said softly, her voice still a little groggy but warm and full of affection.

Paige smiled, her heart doing a little flip in her chest. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice a little hoarse. She moved closer, resting her head on Azzi’s chest, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, the softness of her skin.

There was a comfortable silence, just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms. Paige finally spoke, her words carefully chosen. “So… what now?”

Azzi chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Paige’s face. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I think we’ve got a lot of things to figure out.”

Paige looked up at her, her eyes serious. “I know we do. But… Azzi, I don’t want to pretend anymore. Not after last night. Not after everything.”

Azzi’s expression softened, her hand gently caressing Paige’s cheek. “I don’t want to pretend either,” she whispered. “We’ve both been pretending for too long, haven’t we?”

Paige nodded, her heart pounding. She could feel the weight of their history, the years of unsaid words, but now, here in the quiet of the morning, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

“We have all the time in the world,” Azzi said, her voice warm and reassuring. “Let’s figure it out. Together.”

The sincerity in Azzi’s voice made Paige’s chest tighten with emotion. She smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “I can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Azzi smiled back, her thumb tracing soft circles on Paige’s arm. “Neither can I,” she said. “But I’m glad we are.”

They stayed in that quiet, intimate moment, not needing to say anything more. Words weren’t always necessary when it felt this right.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

A few weeks had passed since that night in the hotel room, and things between Paige and Azzi had shifted in ways that felt almost surreal. They were no longer just two people reconnecting, they were building something new, something real. Something that felt like it had been waiting for them all along.

The gym had become a regular meeting place for them, but it wasn’t just about the athlete they were helping anymore. It wasn’t just about recovery or progress. Now, it was about them, about what they were becoming.

Paige and Azzi had slipped into a new routine, one where they were constantly teasing each other, exchanging glances full of meaning, and laughing at all the inside jokes that only they understood. Their playful flirtation had turned into something deeper, something that neither of them wanted to rush, but neither could deny.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense training session, they found themselves alone in the locker room, the rest of the team having already left.

Azzi was sitting on a bench, stretching out her muscles, when Paige came over to her, a mischievous grin on her face.

“What?” Azzi asked, looking up at her, her expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Paige leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You look good in that tank top. But I bet you’d look even better without it.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “You never stop, do you?”

Paige smiled, moving closer. “Why would I? I’ve got to keep you on your toes.”

Azzi tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You think I’m not already?”

Paige paused, then gently reached for Azzi’s hand, pulling her up from the bench. “You know,” she said softly, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat as she looked into Paige’s eyes, seeing the depth of emotion there, the vulnerability she had never seen before. “What do you mean?”

Paige took a step closer, her hand resting against Azzi’s arm. “I mean that I’m all in. No more pretending. I want this. I want you.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. She had known how she felt for so long, but hearing Paige say it out loud made everything feel more real than ever. She smiled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want you, too.”

The space between them seemed to disappear in that moment, and before either of them could second-guess it, their lips met in a kiss that was soft and slow, full of all the unspoken things they had been carrying for so long. The kiss was a promise, a promise to no longer hide, to no longer be afraid of what they wanted.

As they pulled away, Paige smiled, her forehead resting against Azzi’s. “I’m glad we’re finally here.”

Azzi’s smile mirrored hers. “Me too. We’ve got a lot ahead of us, but I think we’re ready.”

And for the first time in a long while, Paige felt at peace. The future was uncertain, but with Azzi by her side, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

It had been a couple of weeks since they had finally admitted to each other how they felt, and things had only gotten better between Paige and Azzi. Their playful banter, shared smiles, and stolen glances had turned into something deeper, something that was now moving toward the kind of relationship that Paige had always dreamed about but never quite knew how to find.

One evening, Paige decided it was time to take the plunge. She had been thinking about it all week, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was nervous. Sure, she had always been confident, but when it came to Azzi, it was different. The weight of her feelings was heavier now, and she wanted to make this moment special.

Paige found herself pacing around her apartment, running her fingers through her hair and muttering to herself. “You got this,” she muttered, glancing at her phone. It was already 6 p.m., and she still hadn’t called Azzi. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be too forward, but she finally dialed Azzi’s number, trying to keep the nerves from showing.

The phone rang a few times before Azzi answered, her voice soft and sweet. “Hey, what’s up baby?”

Paige grinned, suddenly feeling a little more at ease. “Hey beautiful, so, I’ve been thinking,” she began, biting her lip. “I know we’ve been hanging out a lot, but I want to do something different tonight. I was wondering if you’d be up for, well you know, going on a real date with me?”

Azzi was quiet for a moment, and Paige could hear the smile in her voice when she finally spoke. “A real date, huh? That sounds nice.”

Paige’s grin widened. “Yeah. Dinner, maybe. Something low key. We could do whatever you want, though. It’s just… I want to spend more time with you.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I think I can manage that.” There was a brief pause before Azzi added, “When do you want to do this?”

Paige’s grin widened. “How about in an hour? I’ll come pick you up?”

“I’ll be ready,” Azzi replied with a slight chuckle.

A little over an hour later, Paige arrived at Azzi’s apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had chosen a casual outfit, a black leather jacket, a white t-shirt, some silver jewelry and a pair of jeans, something she knew would make her feel confident, yet still look effortless. She rang the doorbell, her palms sweaty from the anticipation.

Azzi opened the door, and Paige’s breath caught in her throat. Azzi was wearing a simple, yet stunning, black dress that hugged her figure just right. Her soft curly hair, falling over her shoulders, and her smile was enough to make Paige’s heart skip a beat.

“Wow,” Paige said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You look… amazing.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed a soft pink as she adjusted the strap on her dress. “You look really good P” she said, reaching for her purse. “I didn’t think you’d actually go all out for this date.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You think I don’t know how to impress a girl?” She winked playfully, and Azzi rolled her eyes, clearly trying to hide her smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi said, but she was laughing. “Let’s just get going before you talk me into something I’ll regret.”

Paige chuckled, offering Azzi her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I promise, no regrets.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

The night was filled with laughter and conversation, and it felt so effortlessly easy to be with Azzi. They went to a cozy restaurant that Paige knew Azzi would love. It was quiet, intimate, with soft lighting and an incredible menu.

As they sat down, the chemistry between them was undeniable, but this time it wasn’t just about playful teasing, it was about getting to know each other in a deeper way.

“So,” Paige began, taking a sip of her wine, “tell me something about your time at UConn that I don’t know. Something I don’t even know about you.”

Azzi leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Hmm. Well, I don’t know if you remember this, but when i was freshman, I used to sneak into the gym in the middle of the night just to practice my shots. Everyone was always so busy with their own schedules, but I hated being behind. So I’d go by myself, thinking no one would catch me.” She smiled at the memory. “You were one of the only ones who ever caught me.”

Paige laughed softly, shaking her head. “Of course I caught you. You were always sneaking around, trying to get better. I remember that night so clearly. You were drenched in sweat, trying to make that one shot. I should’ve known then that you were a little bit of a perfectionist.”

Azzi chuckled. “I was such a perfectionist back then. Still am sometimes.” She met Paige’s gaze, her smile softening. “I think I just wanted to prove myself.”

Paige’s expression softened as well, and she nodded. “I get it. You’ve always had this drive. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow playfully. “Really? You admire my stubbornness?”

Paige smirked. “I admire your dedication. You’re always pushing yourself, even when it’s not easy.”

Azzi grinned. “Well, I’m glad someone noticed.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “What about you? What’s something about me you’ve never told me?” she asked, her voice quiet and teasing.

Azzi thought for a moment, then leaned in slightly. “Honestly, I always knew you were going to be amazing. You were always so calm and collected. I think you were one of the only people I knew at UConn who didn’t let the pressure get to you. And I could tell you cared so much about everyone, even when you didn’t say much. You’re always the one who listens, always the one who makes sure everyone’s okay.”

Paige blushed slightly at the compliment, ducking her head. “I… I never really knew what to say in those moments. But I always tried to be there for my teammates, for you.”

Azzi’s heart warmed at the sincerity in Paige’s eyes. “You were always there, Paige. Always.”

Paige smiled, meeting Azzi’s gaze again. “I’m glad. And… I’m glad we’re here now.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down. They weren’t at UConn anymore. They weren’t players and trainers, they were just two people, sitting across from each other, sharing a quiet moment that felt like it was meant to be.

“Me too,” Paige whispered, her voice softer than before. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Azzi smiled, and for the rest of the evening, they talked more about their past, their memories at UConn, and everything that had led them to this moment. It was a night full of laughter, warmth, and a connection that was undeniable.

And as they walked out of the restaurant, side by side, Paige knew that this was only the beginning. There were so many more moments ahead of them, and she couldn’t wait to see where it all went.

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Sugar, Spice and a Tempting Vice

VA! MC x OM! Characters

"Hey Levi, any new game recommendations for me? I just finished the last lot of books Satan suggested." You asked, plopping down your head on his shoulder to look at his screen.

"M-MC! You have to warn me before you do such things!" He muttered, his ears turning red as he scrolled some webpages pages for you. "But okay yeah these are the new games that are out recently... see anything you like?"

"Oh my God! It's out it's out!" You pointed excitedly at the screen. "Pretty Little Things is out! Finally!! I was dying to tell you all about it!"

Levi visibly stiffened up. "You-you were waiting for this particular game to come out? Are you sure it's not another game with a similar sounding name?"

"Nah uh this is the exact same one. Look up the list of voice actors in this game!"

"WHAT?! MC WHY IS YOUR NAME IN HERE?????"

"Yes! This was the new part-time job I couldn't tell you about since it was still in production! Im so glad you can just play it now!"

"...it's uh ready for download on all platforms already...so which character did voice?"

"Oh spoiler alert, my character is the only one that doesn't have a name, you have assign me one, the same way you name yourself. They even designed the characters to resemble all the VA's and add in some of their personalities, isn't that sweet?"

"Hahaha y-yeah definitely sweet! I'll be sure to check it out soon!"

"Great! Lemme know what you think of the game okay?!" You squeezed him in a small hug before you left.

Later in the Demon Brothers only group chat:

Levi: Code Red! Code Red! ASHSKSHSKSKSJJSKKS

Mammon: WHAT WHAT THAT MEANS AN MC RELATED EMERGENCY RIGHT??

Asmo: OMG are they OKAY?? Should I go check up on them in their room!?!

Satan: I'm already on my way.

Mammon: NOT BEFORE ME YOU'RE NOT!

Belphie: Is MC hurt in anyway?

Beel: Did they pass out from hunger?! I can bring them emergency snacks right away

Lucifer: Can you lot not lose your minds everytime MC is mentioned? Pathetic. Levi, calm down and tell us what's wrong.

Beel: But Lucifer I just saw you hurrying up the stairs to MC's room too...

Satan: Typical Lucifer. By the way, MC is perfectly fine, happy even. Levi what are you on about?

Mammon: Yeah MC can't stop smiling! It's a good thing that happened, you idiot! Why would you scare us like that?

Asmo: Omg apparently MC voice acted in a new game! Levi I need you to download it for me ASAP please!

Beel: Me too, please.

Belphie: Me three.

Lucifer: I've already done it, you all can do it yourselves if you could do your own work for once.

Satan: Oh shut up, MC just did it for you right now as they did it for me.

Levi: It's a Dating Simulator. With multiple H-rated DLC endings. And MC is one of the dateables.

...

Levi: Hello?!! Did you guys not see my message?!

Levi: Seriously no reaction?! You guys aren't freaked out by this?!?

Beel: I just heard several doors opening and closing at once.

Asmo: Oh come Levi, I think you already know what our reaction is Levi ♥️ How can we possibly hold in our excitement after such a news!?

Levi: Are you all downloading the game together?!!! Y'all are hogging the bandwidth too much, my download speed has gone way down!!

Simeon: Hey

Simeon: I heard some demons in a cafe, raving about a game where MC plays one of the main characters?

Solomon: Indeed MC just sent us all a link right now.

Simeon: Oh is that so? I'll get Luke to help me download it after he's done with his.

Levi: Luke is playing it too?! I don't think it's appropriate given it's certain hidden endings!!

Barbatos: MC already made sure of it. He only has access to the sibling and friendship routes. It's a special version they added for all ages.

Diavolo: It already has downloads in the ten thousands. I'm really glad to see how MC is beloved by Devildom.

Levi: Are NONE of you affected by the fact that there are erotic routes with MC's VOICE?!!

Solomon: Oh I personally cannot wait hear my adorable apprentice's performance.

Barbatos: Ahem. I'd rather not comment on it.

Simeon: Same.

Diavolo: Same.

Levi: Sigh. We really are just a helpless lot at the mercy of MC.

To be continued...

[nectar-cellar]

Downtown Roles Mod Tutorial - TS3 - Mature Gameplay Ideas

NSFW 18+ mature content / a long read   

TLDR: this is a compilation/recommendation list of mods, a tutorial on how to set up NPCs, and how to tie it all together to add some mature gameplay to your save. 😈

Misukisu/Virtual Artisan had a “Downtown Roles” mod that sadly does not work anymore for the latest versions of TS3. Her mod basically allowed players to add role sims to community lots so your sims could have more NPCs to interact with, making the lots feel more alive in a mature "downtown" sort of way.

I was inspired by her mod and I want to share how you can recreate and expand her mod’s functions with Nraas Register and Arsil’s Custom Generic Role mod. Some players might already know how these mods work, but it was a new discovery for me. I didn’t know how useful role sims could be! It got the gears in my dirty mind turning.

The main purpose of this mod list/tutorial: to add role sims to community lots for your main sims to interact with, while they’re out on the town. These will be sims outside of your household. Their main “job” is to hang out at the lot. You can let the game generate new sims to fill these roles, or assign existing sims in the town to fill the roles.

Examples of role sims you can create: 

A regular patron at a dive bar for your sim to befriend or make enemies with.

A sexy single sim at a beach, gym, pool, bar or club for your sim to mingle and hook up with. 

An escort at a brothel for your sim to woohoo with (Passion mod). 

A client for your sim to sell drugs/weapons to (MonocoDoll Vile Ventures mod and Arms Dealing mod) - I have not tested this but in theory it should work. 

You can add multiple role sims on each lot. You could have a number of partygoers on a club lot/a number of escorts on a brothel lot/a number of mobsters or criminals on a warehouse lot who will always be there when your sim visits.

Why role sims?

Townies are unpredictable - you never know which lot they’ll show up on, and how long they’ll stay. Role sims will consistently be there as the supporting characters in your main sim’s story. 

Having consistent NPCs at certain locations around town can help with story-driven gameplay scenarios.

You can move a household of your own sims into town and assign them to fill various roles. See pretty NPCs around town!

If you let the game generate new sims for the roles, then it saves you the hassle of setting up new households yourself. You can always edit them later in CAS.

Limitations: 

According to Arsil, it seems like sims who are already employed (such as most townies) will be removed from their jobs if they are assigned to be role sims. So I would avoid using any employed townies for this unless you are ok with that. Use unemployed residents instead.

I believe the role sim cannot leave the lot during the designated work hours. Your sim cannot form a group with them and go to another venue. However, you can invite the sim over or hang out afterwards from the relationship panel.

Mods Needed:

Nraas Master Controller + Integration Module

Nraas Register

Arsil‘s Custom Generic Role mod (both the floor marker and the desk)

Passion (if you want your sim to be able to have sex with the role sims on the lot or have the role sims dance on the stripper pole) 

MonocoDoll’s Vile Ventures mod (if you want to create NPC clients for your sim to sell to) 

MonocoDoll’s Arms Dealing mod (if you want to create NPC clients for your sim to sell to) 

How to Set Up: 

Step 1: Install the mods listed above. Then, open the save file you want to add some downtown sleaze to. 

Step 2: Find a community lot you want to add role sims to. This could be a bar, nightclub, brothel/motel/strip club, a run-down warehouse or block of buildings, casino, etc. I have downloaded many lots from Flora2 at ModtheSims and @simsmidgen here on Tumblr that fit the gritty urban vibe.  

Step 3: Enter Build/Buy mode. You can do this from Live mode. 

Press Ctrl + Shift + C, enter this cheat: testingcheatsenabled true 

Press the Shift key and click on the ground of the community lot. 

Click on “Build on this lot”. 

You can also enter Edit Town mode to renovate the community lot. 

Step 4: Place Arsil’s Custom Generic Role floor marker or desk on the lot. Place one for each role sim you want to create. They are located in Build Mode -> Community Objects -> Misc. If the desk looks out of place, use the floor marker instead. 

Step 5: In Live mode, click on the object -> Settings to set:

The name of the role (clubgoer/stripper/escort/mobster/etc.) 

The “work” hours the sim will be on the lot for 

The days off 

The motives to freeze or not (I recommend freezing all the motives to avoid interactions being interrupted/sims complaining due to low motives) 

If the sim you want to assign to the role already lives in town, click on the object -> Nraas -> Register -> Select -> Choose criteria -> select the sim from the list. I would avoid choosing any employed townies as they may lose their job when switching to this role. Choose unemployed residents to avoid conflicts.

Remove assigned roles: click on the object to remove the sim from the role.

Step 6: In Live mode, click on City Hall -> Nraas -> Register

Allow immigration: choose whether you want new sims to be moved into town to take the roles (enable this if you want the game to generate new sims for the roles) 

Allow immigration = False: if you set this option to false, then a new option called "Find Empty Roles" should appear. You can then assign any sim to the role object you placed, from City Hall.

Allow resident assignment: choose whether you want existing unemployed townies to be randomly assigned to fill the roles (I recommend to disable this. I had Buster Clavell show up to work at my strip club. NO!)

Pay per hour: I'm not sure how to adjust the pay for each custom role but you can just leave it at the default or change it globally

Remove roles: click on the object to remove the sim from the role, or click on City Hall -> Nraas -> Register -> Global Roles -> Remove by sim

Step 7: In Live mode, give the game some time to generate the role sims. Visit the community lot and have a look at your new role sims. The role sims should autonomously interact with other sims and objects on the lot. Using Nraas Master Controller, you can take the sim into CAS to give them a makeover, edit their traits, or replace them with a sim from your sim bin. 

Step 8: Make your sim interact with the shiny new role sims and play out the storylines you always wished were possible. Public hookups, functioning brothels, selling drugs and guns - this is what The Sims 3 was made for, baby!!! 

Related Mods:

Arsil’s Exotic Dancer Stage - if you have a club community lot, you can use this mod to hire dancers. You can use role sims to add other NPCs to the club such as guests, shady business sims, or non-dancer sex workers. 

Nraas Relativity - this handy mod can slow down the speed of time so your sim can spend more time doing their "activities"

Nraas Woohooer - if you don’t want the explicit sex animations from Passion, you could use this mod instead to provide more woohoo options. 

Passion - for brothels/strip clubs, this mod will add sex animations and the ability to have role sims dance on the stripper pole. 

MonocoDoll’s Vile Ventures mod and Arms Dealing mod - you can use role sims to create more clients for your sim to sell drugs and weapons to, like different individuals/gangs/mobs. You could have different clients hanging out at different spots in the city. 

LazyDuchess Lot Population - this mod populates community lots with townies, and they can interact with the role sims you’ve created. 

Service Sims Out on the Town - this pushes service sims to visit community lots, to add even more variety to your crowds. 

Conclusion

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading. Please let me know if you try out this style of gameplay, and if you have ideas for more role sims and community lots to make. This tutorial was NSFW-oriented but you could easily adapt it to create NPCs for SFW community lots.

[onlybeeewrites]

Three’s A Crowd

Request: Hello! I have request for a Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader. Where the reader is pregnant and has to give a speech maybe during him becoming president but in the middle of it she goes into labour.

Pairing: Coriolanus snow x Fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

warnings: pregnancy, light mentions of labor, classism, district versus capital opinions, the reader is from the capital

~~~~~~

You weren’t the first choice. You knew that. But did it stop you from turning him away his advances?

Absolutely not.

You were kind, sweet, and everyone around you knew who you were. Growing up with the Snows and your close friends, you weren’t the standout. It wasn’t a bad thing—it just was.

You came from a wealthy family. Generational wealth that had taken a hit during the War, but quickly bounced back when your family invested in clothing manufacturing. Your family helped sponsor the reconstruction of factories destroyed in Eight, and soon, the business boomed. Your wealth grew, surpassing anything you’d ever imagined.

But despite having access to the finest fashion first, you remained the same sweet girl. Always willing to give a skirt, blouse, or dress with a flaw to Tigress, saying, “It would be a shame to waste it. I just don’t have the talents to fix it.” Tigress always smiled in return.

Watching you during the Hunger Games years ago had been painful. When the games changed, and Academy students had to mentor District tributes, you were assigned Wovey, a poor thirteen-year-old from District Eight. You did everything in your power to keep your promise to get her home. But near the end, after Wovey drank some water and died within minutes, your frustration boiled over. You demanded answers, questioned the contents of the water, and felt humiliated. You had failed, and it ate at you, gnawing at your pride.

After the Games, life seemed to return to normal—for you, at least. News broke about Coriolanus Snow’s involvement in cheating and his banishment to District 12 as a peacekeeper, and the gossip spread like wildfire.

You’d liked him—been acquaintances. You exchanged basic pleasantries, nothing more. He was smart. Incredibly so. Even in silence, his eyes were constantly assessing, watching everything.

You felt sorry for him. Sorry that he was stuck in an awful district with awful people. Sorry that he’d been manipulated by Lucy Gray, that District girl who you believed was only using him. How awful those District people were.

Then, near the end of summer, after Sejanus Plinth’s death, Coryo returned to the Capital. And he was different—hardened, colder, more toned. But the way he looked at you was also different.

It began with simple compliments during classes at University. Compliments that made you blush. Then came walks to class, studying together, dinners. And before you knew it, you were standing beside him as the First Lady of Panem, ever so cold, calculating, and calculating. You saw the side of him he only allowed you to see—the soft, loving Coryo you had come to know and love.

And now here you were. Just two years into his presidency. The grand hall of your home was packed, its glittering elite seated in perfect rows as cameras broadcasted the event to the districts. Tonight, the event was designed to be a spectacle—a night of carefully crafted rhetoric.

You stood at the podium, poised, regal, your silk gown flowing over the unmistakable curve of your belly. Coriolanus had urged you to rest, to stay seated during the event, but you insisted. This speech was important.

The initiative you were launching, The Future of Panem Fund, symbolized progress—a new focus on education and healthcare for the next generation. It reinforced Coriolanus’ image as a leader who not only brought order but invested in the future. As his wife, you played a key role in solidifying that vision.

Standing before the audience, you smiled, your voice unwavering. “Good evening. I would like to thank you all for taking the time to come tonight. I assure you, it will be worth it,” you began, the polished ease of a practiced speaker settling over you. A sweet smile, a perfect face, the ideal First Lady for their perfect President.

“For too long, we have focused on the present—on survival, rebuilding, improving. But tonight, we look beyond the now. We look to what comes next. What comes tomorrow.”

A wave of nods rippled through the audience, all of them hanging on your words. You had crafted this speech carefully, balancing inspiration and strength.”

“The Future of Panem Fund is not just an initiative; it is a promise.” Your hand rested lightly on your belly. “A promise that every child in the Capital will have access to education, healthcare, and the resources to grow strong and capable.”

Applause rippled through the hall, and beside you, Coriolanus stood composed, his sharp gaze never leaving you.

You took a steadying breath before continuing. “Because the future of Panem is not written by chance. It is shaped by those with the will to guide it. Together, we will build a nation that does not just survive—but thrives.”

The applause swelled, echoing through the hall. You allowed a brief smile, savoring the moment—

And then, the contraction hit.

Your breath hitched, pain radiating through your abdomen. You gripped the podium, forcing yourself to maintain a serene expression. You weren’t going to falter.

Coriolanus noticed instantly.

Though he didn’t move, you could feel his attention shift, his calculating mind assessing every detail.

Still, you pressed on. “This fund will ensure that every—” Another contraction. This time, your breath left you in a slow, controlled exhale. You gave a short laugh, shaking your head.

Oh.

Oh, this was happening.

You turned to Coriolanus and, in a voice that carried through the microphone, murmured with quiet amusement, “I do believe I’m in labor, my dearest.”

Silence.

Then the hall erupted.

Laughter, cheers, applause—thousands of people on their feet, reveling in the spectacle. This was their perfect moment—their President, his wife, and the arrival of their child, the future of Panem.

But Coriolanus didn’t see it that way.

For the first time, his mask cracked. His usually unreadable expression betrayed sheer disbelief.

You, however, were laughing softly, gripping the podium as another contraction struck. “Well,” you exhaled, glancing back at the crowd, “it seems the future of Panem is arriving a little earlier than expected.”

More laughter, more cheers, more applause. Half the room was celebrating, while reporters scrambled to capture every moment as though it was a privilege to witness.

Coriolanus finally snapped into action.

“Go,” he barked sharply to the peacekeepers, “Bring the doctor. Now.”

The peacekeepers moved immediately, but Coriolanus was already at your side, one hand pressed to your back, the other reaching to steady you. His grip was firm, unwavering, but you felt the tension radiating off him. More peacekeepers formed around you, escorting you out of the hall and to the private part of your home.

“You should have been resting,” he muttered lowly, his voice tight as he guided you away from the podium.

You smirked despite the pain. “And miss my big speech? Not a chance.”

His jaw clenched, but a faint twitch of his lips betrayed something softer. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” you teased breathlessly, leaning into his support as another contraction hit, a small groan escaping, “you married me.”

Cameras flashed as Coriolanus led you toward the exit, his grip protective, unyielding. The crowd cheered, watching their leader—newly cemented in power—prepare to welcome his heir, the new generation to rule Panem.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #309

A Sonic-themed café recently opened in Taiwan, and they have cute little designs for the characters! Shadow and Amy both work in the kitchen:

--

Sonic and friends worked at a café for a while. Shadow and Amy were both assigned to the kitchen; with Shadow’s precision with ingredients and procedures and Amy’s experience and leadership, they made a fantastic team. As time went on, Shadow grew fonder of Amy, but he kept his feelings in check.

Or at least he did until the day Amy filled in for Blaze as a server. He stepped in the door for his shift, took one look at her...and immediately dropped his apron on the floor.

As much as Amy loved cooking, she’d been hoping for an opportunity to try waitressing and had prepared a unique outfit for the occasion. Amy wore a cute, black, 1950s-style dress with pink bows and tiny white polka dots. The skirt had enough breathing room to flow when she twirled around, and it was cut just above the knee. She’d tied her quills up in a style reminiscent of Rosie the Riveter to keep them out of her face. Finally, she donned a pair of spiffy red roller skates so she could glide effortlessly around on the tile floors as she took orders.

When Amy saw Shadow, she happily skated over and posed for him with a brilliant smile, saying she’d always loved the aesthetic of the 1940s and 50s and thought he would know better than anyone if she’d gotten it right.

Shadow’s throat went dry.

One of the scientists aboard the ARK had decorated his walls with a collection of pinup posters. Amy’s outfit looked strikingly similar to one of them. It had featured...Rita Hayworth? Betty Grable, maybe...? Whichever one it was, her pose had been far more provocative than Amy’s. Shadow had always found the collection to be tasteless, and the way the scientist talked about the model’s legs was crass and unpleasant. Shadow liked to think he was above such things.

Apparently, though, the game changed when a hedgehog was dressed that way instead, especially his favorite hedgehog.

Shadow gulped loudly and nodded, not trusting his voice. Amy practically jumped for joy and skated off to take more orders.

Cooking was a struggle. Shadow always worked by the gap connecting the kitchen to the dining room, which proved to be a blessing and a curse as Amy slid around the restaurant, elated at the activity and her new outfit. He constantly fumbled with tongs and knives while he shifted ingredients and chopped vegetables, and his healing factor came in handy when he accidentally splashed hot oil on himself. Knuckles kept a suspicious glare on him from the other side of the kitchen, and Silver asked him if he was alright a couple times while preparing drinks.

Whenever Amy popped over to pick up food, she gushed about how much fun it was and how generous customers were with their tips. Shadow privately thought it had less to do with generosity and more to do with Amy’s figure and the flashy getup clinging to it; he’d noticed he wasn’t the only one who was drooling over her.

The rest of his shift passed with disaster after disaster as he couldn’t help but admire the way Amy proudly flitted around, smiling brightly as she showed off the roller skating techniques he’d personally taught her. Knuckles chewed him out for letting himself get distracted, and Shadow couldn’t argue, nor could he stop his gaze from straying back to the cute, cheerful object of his affections.

The manager had planned on putting Amy back on kitchen duty after that day, but as it was now apparent she was their best chef AND their best server, Amy was scheduled to switch off between the two from then on. She was thrilled.

By the end of his shift, Shadow had burned nine meals, and he’d never felt like more of a hypocrite.

[mechncheese]

Answering some AU related asks in this post so I don't flood your feed ! I wanna draw some of these so those will be included in a separate post later on !

Jetfire, Ratchet, Wheeljack and Perceptor are on an Optimus assigned mission so that's why/how they're working together !

Prowl and Brainstorm join them later ! Prowl broke Brainstorm out of prison as a really terrible backup plan after the Jetfire's team gets compromised (full context for the AU's locations can be read here) but in summary, Luna 2, where the team was originally working, was raided by Decepticons. This forced Jetfire's team to jump through the Spacebridge to an unknown location.

Brainstorm and Prowl with the help of others storm Luna 2 and hijacks the Spacebridge so Brainstorm and Prowl can get to Jetfire's team. They only buy enough time for a one way trip so now Brainstorm and Prowl are stuck with the Science Team.

As a pitbull owner, this made me chuckle, I imagine he kinda acts like one too. His whale eye of judgement and him having absolutely no sense of personal space and getting into everyone's business. Sometimes he can look incredibly sad and pathetic. Who want him?

Honestly, he's probably considered it and then went "no, no bad Skyfire ! that's an awful thought !"

HONESTLY REAL, Jetfire would be the designated chef, I imagine he cooks in big ass portions because he eats a lot. Ratchet is the second designated chef of the science team, Perceptor mixed up the salt and sugar and fucked up the soup. Prowl only cooked enough food for himself.

First Aid is like ratatouille while Red Alert would overcook all his food out of fear.

Wheeljack and Brainstorm cook the worst meal ever, forced to be removed from the kitchen. Brainstorm probably steals a bite from everyone's food though just because "it tastes better when it's from your plate"

Thank you ! Brainstorm's wings get in the way of Everyone and Everything and he's probably ruined countless of Percy's (and everyone else's) carefully put together experiments. I think he has similar energy to when someone with a long ponytail turns around and accidentally whacks you in the face but on a much more painful scale.

In no particular order and mostly with the Science Team;

Staying up the longest without recharge

One sided racing with Jetfire, whether it be to the other side of the room, lounging area, kitchen, outside, doesn't matter he just needs to get there first (Jetfire chooses not to acknowledge this)

Engex drinking (He's actually an incredibly lightweight drinker, and the quickest to knock out out of the scientists but that won't stop him from trying)

Getting his lab reports done fastest

He keeps trying to challenge Perceptor in a game of scrabble and keeps losing

anything, and I mean ANYTHING in regards to Brainstorm, he will try his hardest to one up that guy

Wheeljack does not fuck around during group game night

Secretly playing a game of "lets see how many times I can lap everyone around the Science Base"

Glaring contest with Ratchet, whoever looks away first loses (also one sided, Ratchet's lost in thought)

"Do you dare me to do this thing?" "no" "ok im doing it"

Ratchet likes to nap, he's a big fan of getting rest and he definitely needs it, he probably snores like crazy tho. Wheeljack likes to drive long distances, doesn't need a location or anything he just likes driving around. Jetfire likes to read and journal his thoughts, his only way to cope and vent around here </3. Perceptor likes word puzzles, crosswords, word search, etc, he would be a HUGE wordle fan.

They have game nights together, mostly board games.

Brainstorm has never heard of the term “relax” in his life but he does like to push other bot’s buttons for fun. He wants to know what makes them tick. Prowl has never heard of the term “fun” in his life but he does like to sit in solitude and darkness in the quiet away from everyone.

The adding height to his wings bit is really funny omg

But nah, Wheeljack’s not really self conscious about his height. He prefers it over being Jetfire’s height. At least Wheeljack can fit through most doorways.

BAHAHA, where there's Prowl there’s Brainstorm and vice versa. Honestly I’m not sure which guy the Science Team fears more.

I'm sure that when they see Prowl around, they just look around the room for Brainstorm like they've just lost sight of a spider they've been keeping an eye on.

[milkoomi]

how i maintained a 4.0 gpa. ᥫ᭡

a lot of students strive to be the “perfect” student, me included! i’ve been able to achieve academic success, and i’m here to share my knowledge on how to do so! these are some things that have personally helped me, and so hopefully they can help you too! maintaining a 4.0 isn’t an easy feat, and i know that from first-hand experience. i haven’t always maintained this gpa, especially when i entered college, but i started implementing new things into my routine and study sessions that have helped me immensely!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — daily/weekly planning

this was a game changer for me! especially coming back into college after taking some time off from school, planning my day/week out helped me tremendously! it helps you set aside time for schoolwork/studying as well as things that are more personal (i.e. self care, running personal errands, appointments/events, hang outs with friends/loved one, etc.).

time blocks

if you have a planner that includes an hourly schedule, use it! i recently got one that has one, and it’s helped me so much! getting an idea of a time frame for how long you work on school assignments or for studying can also help to alleviate any overwhelming feelings that a to-do list might give you (though, i am a huge fan of to-do lists personally!).

to-do lists

if you’re like me, and you enjoy lists, i highly recommend creating a to-do list! keep it simple if those kinds of lists tend to overwhelm you and create a more generalized to-do list.

generalized list example:

review course modules

complete 2 hours of work

rest for 30min - 1hr

journal before bed

the key with generalized to-do lists is to keep them very simple! maybe include the most important goals for your day/week, but avoid including every single thing you need to get done for the day!

୨ৎ — consistent routine

i’ve talked about routines a plethora of times, and you’ll hear so many others talk about it as well, but routines are so important when you’re on the road to academic success!

i’ve been able to feel more accomplished with a set routine during the week. waking up at the same time, ensuring i set aside time at night to myself, and time-blocking portions of my day to complete tasks! a good routine will help you stay on track.

even if you don’t have a set morning/night routine, still try to establish a good study/schoolwork routine! create a study ritual where you light your favorite candle, set the mood with ambient lighting (or whatever lighting you prefer), or maybe you have a designated study spot at a library or café!

if you do create a study routine, it would also be a good idea to freshen things up a bit here and there so that the tasks don’t start to seem mundane! maybe change up the location of where you study or maybe you might want to listen to a different playlist while you work or even starting with a different class instead of the usual first choice.

don’t be afraid to spice things up in your routine, even if it’s the smallest changes. doing so can also help prevent burn out!

୨ৎ — completing assignments ahead of time

working ahead (if possible) is always a great choice to make! or even simply just getting assignments done the day they were assigned is also a good idea! get your homework out of the way so that you can create more space for personal time to rest and recharge or, if you’re feeling energized and motivated, more time to focus on studying for upcoming exams!

also, making sure you get assignments done well before their due date also ensures that you work thoroughly and efficiently. it prevents rushed work and lessens the chances of any mistakes!

be diligent when it comes to your homework assignments! if you have the time now, get it done!

୨ৎ — attending all lectures

this is so important! catching up with missed assignments, notes, and lectures can be extremely overwhelming. it leads to that feeling of needing to rush your work and then creating that opportunity for mistakes. it’s also just, in general, difficult to keep up with your classes when you aren’t physically present in class. you lose the opportunity to ask questions in class, to take proper notes, to record lectures for later studying, and you miss out on key information/announcements from your teachers/professors.

of course, there will be days where you literally cannot make it to class, and that’s okay! don’t go beating yourself up for having to take a sick day, your health always comes first! be sure to communicate with your professors and to ask any and all necessary questions!

but i only bring this point up because it’s something that’s helped me succeed. plus, some of my grade depended on my attendance, which you’ll come to find while in college.

୨ৎ — creating connections

build relationships with your classmates and your professors! this is a really great way of ensuring you get good grades! how? well, as i mentioned in my post about how to study effectively, i brought up study groups. if you start building connections with your classmates, you’ll be able to create those study groups and work with others to continue to learn and study the material! it will help so much to have another friend who can help you out with a topic that you might be struggling with!

also, connecting with your professors is really great for 1. setting that good impression for yourself and 2. building that relationship with them allows for more comfort and ease of mind when you need to go to them for extra help and guidance! your professors are there to aid you in any way they can to help you achieve success in their class. i know it might be daunting to reach out to your professors, but i promise that they’re there to help you and that they are more than willing to guide you on the path to success!

୨ৎ — implementing study methods

i touched on various study methods in my post that i linked in the previous point! but study methods can give you a variety of new ways to learn the material! also, playing around with the material in different methods can spice up your study routine while also seeing what kind of methods get the topics to really stick.

i definitely recommend referring back to my “how to study effectively” post for a more detailed discussion on studying!

୨ৎ — romanticizing school

when i started treating myself as the main character, it gave me so much more motivation to get things done for myself. including my studies!

think of yourself as rory gilmore, blair waldorf, elle woods, hermione granger, or any of those iconic, studious characters!

how to romanticize your education:

set an aesthetic for yourself

light academia

dark academia

pink academia

coquette

there’s so many different aesthetics out there that you can play around with or follow to get inspiration! pinterest will be your best friend, and i recommend creating a school/study vision board with the aesthetic of your choice!

once you’ve settled on an aesthetic (or a few, whatever you’d like!) find school supplies that relate to what you chose! fancy notebooks, planners, cool pens/pencils/highlighters, and maybe be a new bag that fits into your style! having the supplies that bring you joy make your studying experience ten times better, trust me!

dress the part

again, take inspiration from your favorite educational icons! or simply, wear what you feel the most confident in! when you show up to class knowing you look good along with having those supplies that you know look aesthetically pleasing, you feel like you’re already a top student!

your study environment

this gets talked about a lot, but when i’m studying in my freshly cleaned room that’s been decorated to my liking and i have a nice candle going with my choice of lighting, i feel like my studying experience is a million times better! even when i go to a café to study or i’m in the library to get work done, i just feel like the main character in my own movie (which i am because, hey! it’s my life!)

let your workspace be your ideal space! when you work in an environment where you can get things done and you feel comfortable, you can accomplish so much.

study playlists

those ambient vibes playlists on youtube with those really aesthetically pleasing backgrounds on them are my go-to whenever i’m getting work done. it helps set the vibe for my sessions and it puts me in a good headspace to get into the grind! so pick a playlist that motivates you to get tasks done!

my favorite youtube study music videos:

Winter Jazz Library - Chill Crossing Hour

** i also recommend this channel for all their playlists!

Get to Work Sleepyhead - jelly

4-Hour Study with Me - Emmalilyn

** Emmalilyn has so many of these kinds of 4-hour study with me videos! i believe majority of them include the pomodoro method, so if that’s something you do or want to try i definitely recommend her channel!

2-Hour Study with Me - Tanyi

୨ৎ — final notes

those are all the tips i had to share with you all! this is what has personally worked for me, so there might be some things that might not work or you might do differently! regardless, you are capable of achieving great success throughout your academic career! never forget that. school is all about learning, and one of the things you learn is what works best for you and your road to success! do whatever works for you and play around with different ideas and methods! i wish you all the very best for your academic career! i’m rooting for you!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[douqhnxtss]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 나연¡ 트와이스! ⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚✧˖°.

✦ some im nayeon headcanons as your super soft girlfriend while being a baddie yourself.

✧˖°. cw! suggestive, fem!reader, softie!nayeon, badgirl!reader, mentions of injuries and blood, reader has a soft spot for nayeon, softie x baddie, grumpy x sunshine

Cupid's Game — 01

────⋆.˚✮🎬✮˚.⋆────────⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆────

soft!gf!nayeon who loves tying bows on you. whether it be in your hair, on your fingers, wrists, neck, even your waist. she loves seeing you, her girlfriend who lives and breathes dark colours and black, covered in her cute pink ribbon bows.

soft!gf!nayeon who never fails to worship your physique. always reaching her hand out to touch the defines muscles of your abs or being in awe at your arms and their muscles.

soft!gf!nayeon who loves covering your face in kisses. again, she'll take her favorite shades of red or pink lipstick, apply it on her lips, and smother your face, covering your face in endless red and pink kisses.

soft!gf!nayeon who almost loses her shit everytime she sees you enter her peripheral vision, covered with blood. an loud shriek escapes her mouth and she's running, yelling at you, tearing up all while you just stay there, listening.

soft!gf!nayeon who makes you come with her when she goes to get her nails done, making you choose the designs based on the colour scheme she gives you. she'd give you liberty to choose the colours buy you'd just select black, navy blue and maroon.

soft!gf!nayeon who has her assigned photographer as you. she's the model and you're her "professional" photographer. finding the right angles to make the sunlight hit her skin just right, making her adjust the poses ever so slightly to have better results in the photos.

soft!gf!nayeon who sits on your lap while gently applying makeup on your face when she's bored. your hands resting on her hips as she brushes the pretty crimson blush on your cheeks while you have the most whipped smile known to mankind on your face.

soft!gf!nayeon who always wears mini skirts, clingy tops and little shorts that she knows get you riled up. twirling in front of you to show you your outfit, your eyes can't help but to perceive the delicious sight, since there's nothing left for the imagination and that's exactly what nayeon likes.

soft!gf!nayeon who tries to push you away while you keep tickling her, pushing her t-shirt, which is yours, up so that you can properly tickle her until there's tears in her eyes, while laughing yourself.

soft!gf!nayeon who is obsessed for you shorter hair, constantly running her hands through your hair, ruffling it and doing whatever, she just needs to mess up your hair 'cause you can't look too good, other girls might try to snatch you away. though, both of you know your going nowhere.

soft!gf!nayeon who is just so easy to manhandle. you practically throw her on the bed, gently, quickly getting on top of her. you trail kisses down her neck, hands back under her shirt, pulling it over her head.

soft!gf!nayeon who will never let you read in peace. you tell her that your gonna finish this one chapter and give her attention but no, she obviously won't listen. so, she keeps annoying you, kissing you everywhere, getting under your nerves and throwing a fit (cutely).

soft!gf!nayeon who has you wrapped around her pretty fingers. she tell you do something, you do it, no questions asked. you wouldn't have to be asked twice to get on your knees if she wants you to. she's your girl and she's the only person who you'll ever listen to.

soft!gf!nayeon who is super clingy and is never not by your side anywhere. when you take her out shopping, she has your arm around her waist. while taking a walk to the park, she sways your intervened hands. with your friends, she makes sure your arm is around her shoulders.

soft!gf!nayeon who outright demands selfies when your not around. you'll have just sent a selfie 20 minutes ago and she'll text you for another. like, you can never get a break. yet, you'll never complain about it either.

soft!gf!nayeon who has her own separate folder on your phone with other 10k photos. yeah, it's crazy. funny meme-esque photos are there, couple photos of her and you, photos of her, your going to have to make a new folder soon.

soft!gf!nayeon who is a sucker for cute dates. pinterest is her bestfriend. going on dates in the alphabetical order, you've done it. colour-themed dates, you've been there, done that. every aesthetic date idea she'll find, she'll make sure you two do that idea. no date plan goes unnoticed in your softie girlfriend, im nayeon's eyes.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚✧˖°.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — 「cupid's game」

ᯓ✦ 𝓊𝗻𝚒𝘷𝐞𝗋𝓢𝙚 !

note :: why do I love this sm lmao softie nayeon ftw!!! Say it w me kira Nation!!!

Douqhnxtss © 07022025 — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. do not edit, translate, repost or plagiarize any of my work !

[salemoleander]

Chaos vs. Patronage: How Life Series winners grapple with skill disparity

As the Life Series has gone on and matured into more noticeable patterns, some winners have pivoted to a mentorship/support role to their chosen 'champion'/ a favored player.

Scott spent Limited Life as a duo with Martyn, and then joined a high-skill group in Secret Life that ultimately saw him sacrifice himself trying to get Gem the win. Pearl spent Secret Life with her stated goal being one of her teammates winning, pivoting to support Scar at the end when they'd died. Now in Wild Life, she has outright stated her intent to support Impulse to get the win. (Scar supporting Jimmy in Wild Life may also fit this pattern; we'll get to that.)

In contrast, winners Grian and Martyn² are not sticking to that single-minded attempt to get a player to win, whatever it takes. They will express support for teammates winning, but generally do not take actions that would worsen their own chances of winning/surviving to help a teammate. They aren't playing "meta", which here means putting all their resources into one person.

These two categories of behavior ultimately reflect the Winners' approaches to answering the question of how to balance disparate skill levels in the series cast. (Second half of writing + footnotes under cut.)

Grian has spent game after game altering mechanics & playing with randomization to try to level the playing field without directly intervening against specific players.³ Martyn is invested enough in the narrative/story that making less-than-optimal decisions isn't hard for him or atypical (this is the player who beelines for the Nether every single season).

It seems like Scott and Pearl realized they're very strong players and are interested in nerfing themselves more actively... but they still don't want to throw the match. The compromise there is to put their effort & skill towards helping another player achieve victory.

A case could be argued that Scar is moreso the former group by nature (he's similar to Martyn in his penchant for making entertainingly bad decisions that render nerfing unecessary). However, after witnessing multiple seasons of Scott & Pearl acting as mentors, seeing them compete head-to-head in the game he ultimately won, mentorship now seems like a normalized route to take once you're a winner.⁴

¹ Unsure if BigB in LimL counts? They were a duo, but Scott fomenting Martyn's win seems to be what kicked off Pearl's dedication to support another player.

² Cleo is a winner but they do not fit this analysis for a variety of reasons I don't want to get into. So I won't, bc this is a tumblr post & not an academic paper. Ignore that there are footnotes and an academic-ass title

³ Grian seeing Scott win: "Oh no I've created an unbalanced game. Ok lets randomly assign players together to try to balance things... why has RNG betrayed me?!" RNG does not stop betraying him btw. I have another post in draft about this but it's kind of nuts how dedicated Grian is to Not Rigging The Game Even A Little.

⁴ Incidentally imo this is what will force Grian in the next few games to either end the series, create dual winners/some other atypical win structure, or bust his ass trying to get a second win & break that taboo. Based on his game design so far, he can put up with a bit of interference, but ultimately will not abide "we all do schoolyard tradesies on who gets to win until everyone gets one".

[wttcsms]

OK last concept i swear, but please think about rich ceo!character who is stuck in an arranged/for business only marriage. there’s absolutely no love, but neither of them are allowed to be with other people without suffering a heavy financial loss on their end due to the prenup negotiations. his wife has fallen in love and is actively seeing someone else, but she can’t be the one to break off the marriage or get caught cheating! it would ruin her family. so, what does she do? she calls an agency designed to catch cheating husbands.

it’s a bit sleazy, but it’s somewhat honest work, right? that’s what you tell yourself. you’re just a grad student trying to pay off student loans and your current job isn’t helping with that. but job after job has you realizing that love doesn’t exist anymore. you’ve seen so many targets fall for your honeypot scheme, and after being the final nail in the coffin (aka the reason why so many divorce lawyers are getting a fat check), you think you’ll never fall in love. especially not with a target.

when you’re assigned to character, he’s hard to break. you’re one of the best girls in the agency, and your client is demanding you get her results. you keep telling her he might be the last decent man in the world, but she’s insistent that he is a cheater and she’s paying you to catch him so you better!! it looks like you’ll have to play the long game then.

managing to snag a job as a secretary at an office that operates in the same building as his own company, you try to stage as many coincidental run ins with him. you try to catch him in compromising positions or getting photos that can be taken out of context. but slowly, you start to realize that he’s genuinely a good man. slowly, he starts to realize that you’re genuinely an interesting woman he can’t stop thinking about. slowly, the two of you start believing — and falling — in love.

yikes