#How to Build an MVP

[seobestpeers]

Learn what an MVP is, its key benefits for startups, and how to choose the right development partner. Click to read our full blog for all the insights. https://www.bestpeers.com/blog/what-is-mvp-and-how-to-choose-the-right-mvp-development-service-provider

[buzzybrains-software]

The modern business environment requires product ideas to be validated quickly and efficiently to compete effectively. That’s where building a Minimum Viable Product (MVP) comes into play.

An MVP allows for testing your concept, gathering user feedback, and making informed decisions before investing significant resources into a fully-featured product. In this comprehensive guide, we will take you through how to build an MVP and provide valuable insights along the way.

[waywardsalt]

completed fe conquest on hard mode :)

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagoras & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[infostride]

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[solxamber]

Hi can I have Ignihyde for # 8, fluff or comedy. Thank you!

Anime Boot Camp || Idia Shroud ft. Ortho

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "This is non-negotiable" ; Genre: Fluff with Comedy ;

You should’ve known better. You really should have. But Idia had given you one of those rare, half-excited, half-nervous smiles, and you’d been putty in his hands.

“Sure, Idia,” you’d said with zero hesitation. “I’d love to watch the new season with you.”

A seemingly innocent offer. A simple act of camaraderie. And then, Idia had dropped the bomb.

“Great. We’ll start from season one. It’s non-negotiable.”

Season one?

“Wait—how many seasons are there?” you asked cautiously, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

Idia adjusted his tablet, the glow highlighting his sinister grin. “Nineteen. Not including the movies, OVAs, or the bonus material. But don’t worry, the filler episodes are only about 35%.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—uh…” you stammered, searching for an escape. “Do we really need to watch everything? I thought we were just watching the new season?”

“You can’t watch season 20 without context!” Idia exclaimed, horrified. “You’d miss all the foreshadowing and character arcs! It’s essential to the viewing experience.”

You looked at him, and there it was: the genuine excitement in his eyes, the rare spark of passion that made him absolutely irresistible. Damn your stupid heart.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Let’s do it. Start from episode one.”

Idia’s face lit up, and if you weren’t already melting, his quiet “Y-you’re the best,” would’ve sealed the deal.

That’s how you found yourself on Idia’s couch, sandwiched between him and Ortho, with snacks piled precariously around you.

“This is the start of a life-changing journey,” Ortho said cheerfully, handing you a soda. “Big Brother has been waiting for someone to share this with forever!”

You glanced at Idia, who was trying to hide his blush behind his hoodie.

“You sure we’re not biting off more than we can chew here?” you asked weakly as the opening theme of season one blasted from the giant screen.

Idia waved you off. “Nah. If we watch at 1.5x speed, skip the ending songs, and only take five-minute breaks every eight episodes, we’ll finish in about four days.”

“Four days?”

“Non-negotiable,” he reminded you smugly, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

By day two, you’d developed Stockholm Syndrome for the characters.

“NO, KAZUTAKA, DON’T DO IT!” you yelled, clutching the blanket you’d stolen from Idia’s bed.

“It’s his tragic backstory arc,” Idia explained, completely unfazed by your emotional outburst. “He has to do it for the narrative payoff in season 14.”

You groaned. “This show is going to kill me.”

“It builds character,” Idia said, smirking.

Meanwhile, Ortho was a model of efficiency, pausing episodes precisely for snack breaks and bringing you hot towels like you were at an anime spa. You were starting to think Ortho might be the MVP of this whole operation.

“Ortho, you’re a saint,” you said as he handed you a cup of tea.

“I just want to support Big Brother’s happiness,” Ortho chirped, beaming.

Idia mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his hoodie tighter.

By day four, you were fully invested.

“THE PLOT TWIST! I KNEW IT!” you screamed, nearly knocking the bowl of chips off your lap.

“Pshh, called it back in episode 47,” Idia muttered, though the gleam in his eyes said he was enjoying this more than he’d admit.

“You did not!” you argued.

“I’ve seen this, like, three times, noob,” he retorted smugly.

Ortho, who had already created a mini shrine for your endurance, clapped in delight. “You’re catching up to Big Brother’s level of dedication!”

When the final credits rolled, you leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “We did it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“I can’t believe you survived,” Idia said, looking at you with a mix of awe and amusement.

“Maybe a family sometimes,” you said, stretching, “is just you, your crush, and his technomantic humanoid brother.”

Ortho tilted his head. “Does that mean you’re officially part of the family?”

You froze, glancing at Idia. His face was redder than a lava eel, and he was aggressively pretending to read something on his tablet.

“Well,” you said, smirking. “That depends on your brother.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hoodie. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbled.

And yet, when you shifted closer to nudge him playfully, he didn’t pull away.

Masterlist

[everrinsly]

a/n; for those who ever doubted you, knock 'em dead, soldier. think i wrote this during finals week when i was in uni.

this one is very special to me because it reminds me of myself; i remember i wrote it to the song "sooner or later" by mat kearney ahh

college year vibes.

burn the whole league with suna. fluff. slight angst. sakusa and tsukishima mentioned.

more reads!

~~~~~

[Then]

He wasn't the star, not even a star. And maybe... he never will be. As sad as that sounded, it felt like the truth.

Suna had just finished a rough match. One of those games where nothing clicked, where his blocks were off, where his timing felt late by milliseconds that cost everything. His coach felt it, his teammates felt it, he felt it. And you. YOU felt it.

And it's not like his university's volleyball team was bad—no, they were real fucking good actually. Made it to Collegiate Nationals every year, which was why everything was riding on him harder. Because this loss was on him.

Now, Suna sat on the edge of the press stage, towel hanging over his shoulders, face blank, void of any and all emotions. Cameras on him and his teammates.

Until the reporter spoke.

“This question is for Suna—do you still plan to go pro? Division I?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Simple. One word. Because that was all he could push out right now.

Another reporter leered forward, voice light but sharp. “Even with performances like tonight’s? I mean—no offense, Suna, but you’re kind of a slow-starter. Even since high school. Not exactly the kind of guy a pro team’s lining up for.”

There was an awkward pause. Even the coach shifted uncomfortably.

Then, the audacity of this man to continue—

"I mean—look. When you compare the current MVP of the Collegiate League, Sakusa, to you... it's a no-brainer who the V.League is going to choose, right? Especially for Division I."

No one spoke. He smirked and continued.

"And... even when you look at Tsukishima, who has already received an offer from the Division II Sendai Frogs—there's not a doubt in my mind that he would be a great fit for Division I. Maybe replace you—"

Suna coughed. Something fierce lingered in the shadows of his green eyes, but it was gone after a blink.

Then, in precise Suna fashion, he just muttered, “Maybe they’ll change their minds.” Sharp. Firm. Steady.

But you knew Suna. You knew Suna well. And no matter how composed and nonchalant he appeared on TV, he was not fine.

When you found him later that night, he didn’t speak.

He was at the back of the athletic building, sitting on a step in the dark, one knee up, chin on his arm. Still in his uniform.

“You were good today, Rinnie,” you said softly, offering him a blueberry-flavored chuppet. One that you hurriedly grabbed from your minifridge before rushing out of the dorm building to find him.

He gave a low laugh, accepting the chuppet and immediately munching. “I was shit.”

“No. You were trying.” You sat next to him. “They don’t know how hard you work.”

He didn’t look at you, but his voice came quieter this time. Soft. Uncertain. Not Suna-like. “What if they’re right? What if I’m not fast enough?”

You hesitated, then leaned your shoulder against his and dropped your head, resting perfectly on his shoulder blades.

"You're analytical, Rin. You take time to visualize the court and the players... before striking them down one-by-one. I think that's special."

He hummed quietly. He didn't believe you. So you continued—

"But who cares, you know? They can wait. You’re a slow burn."

You lifted a finger up to boop his nose—

"You’ll still light the whole damn League up eventually.”

That got a tiny huff of laughter from him.

“You believe that?”

You nodded, cheeks hot. “Yeah. Because it's you. And I believe in you.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned his head on yours and let the silence hold him.

And then his phone pinged with two tagged notifications on Instagram.

From Sakusa. A clipped video of the reporter grilling Suna. The caption—Suna's one of the very few who can analyze my movements and block my spikes. All in just a few minutes.

From Tsukishima. A black screen (very Tsukki-like). The caption—I actually put in a process for Division II personally. I've got other hobbies I want to pursue, and I'm not a volleyball freak. So keep my name out your mouths... and Suna's good.

You laugh at Tsukki's.

And Suna...

He looks lighter for the first time tonight.

[Now]

The crowd was deafening.

Cameras flashed. Confetti rained. Teammates tackled. And Suna stood at center court, jersey clinging to his skin, bright as a star. THE star.

Because the V.League Championship trophy was sitting right by his feet.

EJP Raijin — Champions.

The reporters swarmed him. Microphones angled toward his lips. Cameras aimed right at his face.

“Suna Rintarou—you just helped take EJP to a championship title. What does this moment mean to you?”

Suna’s eyes scanned the crowd. Calm. Confident. Older now. Sharper. Fiercer. The same to you, but more to the world.

Still your Rinnie.

“It means everything.” Simple because that was the truth.

“You’ve grown a lot,” another added. “What do you think changed? Back in college, there were questions about your speed, your drive—”

He smiled then. Slow. Dangerous. Lethal. Like he was waiting for this comment.

“Yeah,” he said into the mic. “I remember.”

The press paused.

“There was a reporter,” Suna continued, voice steady. “Said no pro team would want me because I was a slow-starter.”

Silence.

You stood up from the VIP seating area decked in EJP gold, just watching him—same way you always had. Unwavering. (With a tote bag filled with multi-flavored chuppets and some salmon onigiri, of course).

Suna turned his head toward you in the stands, gaze locking with yours for half a second.

“But I had someone who waited.”

The reporters blinked. “Waited?”

He tilted his head. “Believed in me. Even when I didn’t. That’s the difference.”

Flashbulbs exploded.

“So,” one stunned reporter asked, “do you have anything you’d say now to that college-era criticism?”

Suna raised a brow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Another beat of silence.

“…Thanks?”

He smirked straight at the camera. The jumbotrons captured his face (fangirls squealed).

“For being wrong. Because his bald-ass proved me right.”

After all the interviews, when he finally got a moment for himself, he found you in the back hallway, out of the spotlight. You were already teary-eyed, hands stuffed in your EJP hoodie pockets.

You knew. He knew. Nothing had to be said.

But still, he leaned against the wall next to you and nudged your shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmured, a soft voice reserved just for you. “I lit it up, huh? Burned the League?"

You smiled. “Told you.”

And then—

He pulled you into a hug, arms tight around you, breath warm by your ear.

After a beat of drowning in each other, still embraced in a tight hug—

"Did you bring my chuppets?"

You giggled, reaching up to card a hand through his damp hair.

"Of course I did."

[demie90s]

Sideline Siren

WNBA Legend!reader x everyone

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Your a retired legend turned Nationals host—and you’ve still got it. Suited, sultry, and entirely too smooth with your words.

Warnings: Flirting with everyone, power and charm, chaotic menace energy, older woman fantasy, light teasing

Word count: ~ 0.5k

It’s Nationals weekend and I walk in like I got drafted by God herself. Long coat swinging, edges laid, lips glazed, heels sharp. I ain’t even checked in yet—just strutted through the main hallway with my media badge swinging and every eye in the room tracking me like a top prospect. I’m not even on a team anymore, but somehow, I’m everybody’s pregame ritual.

I was supposed to host, commentate a lil, keep it PG for the press and the cameras, but I’ve never been the type to follow rules. Especially not when the room is crawling with fine-ass women in compression shorts and full lashes.

First up? Dijonai Carrington. All that pretty, energy tucked into a jersey that looked painted on. I didn’t even wait for the polite hello.

“Dijonai,” I said, real smooth, slow like honey, “if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’—I been tryna behave this weekend but you makin’ it real hard. No pun intended.”

She laughed, biting her lip, and NaLyssa Smith turned around with that smirk like she already knew I was trouble. “Ain’t nobody tell you to look this damn good just to host.”

I shrugged. “Somebody gotta represent for the grown and horny.”

They laughed, but I wasn’t joking.

Kelsey Plum walked by next—short, fine, thighs nice as hell. I leaned over the table just to let her know.

“You look like you play to much….”

She blinked, then smiled—little shy. I liked that. I could work with that. “You tryna find out?” she asked.

“Baby, I’m tryna lose everything.”

Then here come Jackie Young, fresh out of warm-ups. Face calm, cool, collected. But that’s the thing about Jackie—she don’t gotta say much. She just look. Like she analyzing you. Undressing you with her mind while pretending she ain’t thinkin’ a damn thing. I caught her glance and licked my lip.

“You ever feel like we already married?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you propose this early to all the women you meet?”

“Nah,” I said. “Just the ones I want to build a legacy with.”

She turned around. Got her.

And then I saw A’ja Wilson. Queen. MVP. One of one. And lookin’ like a goddess walking across hardwood. I couldn’t help myself.

“A’ja,” I called. “You hit 2,000 points… how you feel about hittin’ one more?”

She cocked her head. “You?”

I smiled. “Me. And then again. Then maybe breakfast.”

“Somebody get her outta here!” she laughed, but she didn’t walk away.

Cameron Brink passed behind me tall and deadly in her Nike warmups. That ponytail bouncing like it had its own rhythm. She gave me a look. Not a smile. A look. I grinned.

“Cam, if you ever tired of dating girls who giggle too much… I can offer silence and stamina.”

She gave me that slow, amused blink, then kept walking. But I know she heard me.

Then there’s Rickea Jackson. Pretty face. Pretty everything. I didn’t even flirt. I just stared. She looked me dead in the eyes.

“Say it.”

“I want you.”

She smirked. “Say it slower.”

“I. Want. You.”

That’s when Natasha Cloud walked over. Fine, tall, smooth voice. I couldn’t resist.

“Tash,” I whispered, “if you need any more chocolate in your life, I’m a good source of antioxidants.”

“You tryna get snatched up?” she asked.

“Snatch me then.”

The players weren’t the only ones catching strays. Paige Bueckers and Nika Mühl showed up too, fully grown and lookin’ like trouble. Paige had that slick smile, like she already knew I was lookin’. Nika? Arms crossed. That cocky stance. Full-blown Euro menace.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Nika asked.

“Cause you stand like you got me saved under ‘problem’ in your phone.”

She laughed.

Paige leaned in, brushed past me and whispered, “You don’t even realize you’re in our group chat already.”

I damn near fumbled my mic. Halfway through the day, I’m hosting sideline, and I feel someone slide up next to me.

“Why you flirtin’ with everybody but me?”

I turned and saw Britney, arms folded, tall as shit. Just sexy and intimidating.

“I was saving the best for last,” I said.

“Well,” she smirked, “show me.”

So when the cameras cut? I made sure to “accidentally” cut my mic. And I walked off with her like I had somewhere urgent to be. Which I did.

Backstage. Hotel lobby. Anywhere she wanted me. Because at the end of the day, I’m not just a host. I’m a legend. And when legends show up?

The whole league listens.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[botanicalsword]

Restorative power for Saturn ✧ Roasting 12 Signs

☁ Please skip this if you're sensitive. ☁

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Saturn is the strict teacher of life, handing out lessons in discipline, responsibility, and growth. Are you paying attention, or are you too busy daydreaming about that escape plan?This can help navigating the challenges associated with Saturn in their signs while enhancing their strengths

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Restorative & Refreshment through 12 signs :

Saturn in Aries - impulsive decisions Don't try to sprint a marathon, train. Great ideas but patience is always the key. Think before you leap, or you might just leap right into a pile of regret

Saturn in Taurus

"When Saturn is in Taurus, it’s like your financial advisor suddenly becomes your strict gym coach. No more late-night infomercial temptations for get-rich-quick schemes! Instead, it’s all about the slow and steady grind—because who knew that building wealth was more about sweat than shortcuts?"

Saturn in Gemini - communication or misunderstanding Especially if you don’t want your friends thinking you’re planning a surprise party when you’re really just trying to order pizza. Mastering the art of clear expression is essential, or you might end up with anchovies when you really wanted extra cheese

Saturn in Cancer - emotional maturity 'How to Not Cry at Work' - Learning to manage your feelings is crucial, especially when your boss asks for that report you forgot about—again

Saturn in Leo - earning respect Don't demand it like a toddler, no more flashy displays of confidence - roll up your sleeves and show what you’re made of. Authenticity is the name of the game, because no one respects a lion that roars but never hunts.

Saturn in Virgo - every detail matters perfectionism is your middle name being the editor of your own life’s novel, but even the best writers have to hit delete sometimes, be precise but be decisive

Saturn in Libra - finesse and balance your relationship remember the game of Jenga? one wrong move and everything could come crashing down. Don’t be the one who pulls the wrong block and ends up with a dramatic scene.

Saturn in Scorpio - inner strength and resilience hire a personal trainer for your fears, time to confront those insecurities You’ve got to face the villain within before you can wear that cape of empowerment

Saturn in Sagittarius - discipline it’s great to dream big, but don’t forget to pack a lunch for the trip! while philosophical pursuits are fun, discipline is the real MVP! balance your lofty ideals with some good practicality

Saturn in Capricorn - ultimate workaholic’s dream work hard, then work even harder No complaining. It’s all about that no-nonsense attitude. Just remember, even the most dedicated goats need a break, don’t forget to schedule some ‘me time’ between those ambitious goals

Saturn in Aquarius - thinking ahead think like having a blueprint on your hand - This placement encourages you to build for the future, not just chase after shiny, immediate gains. So, put on those innovative thinking caps and start planning for a sustainable tomorrow—because the future won’t build itself!"

Saturn in Pisces - spiritual discipline time to confront reality instead of escaping into daydreams -this warns against the allure of escapism, urging you to develop a strong spiritual foundation. Grab your inner compass and navigate those life challenges - because daydreaming won’t pay the bills. (now Saturn transits to Pisces! Hold on tight everyone!)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

>> 41 posts for Love/ relationship insights >> Back to Masterlist ✧ Explicit Content

Exclusive access : Patreon

[average-mako-enjoyer]

crying screaming throwing up 1/3

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I just bitched about the lazy writing and world-building in Mass Effect, but I wouldn't love these games if they didn't have moments where everything was on point (or close to it): the writing, the animation, the voice acting, everything.

Here's one of my favorite scenes, it's very short and I bet you've never thought about it before, but it's so, so good, I'm obsessed with it and I have to scream.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only time that Shepard really freaks out is after the Mars mission. It happens right on screen, we don't hear it from someone else, we don't have to headcanon it, we get to see Shepard not as a protagonist, not as a savior of the galaxy, not as a soldier, but as an actual human being, simply scared shitless.

I also love that it starts with Liara immediately realizing what's going on. You can see that she freaks out too, because Shepard is freaking out, and the camera lingers on her reaction as it shifts from fear to sadness to understanding. And then we finally get to see the condition of our favorite Virmire survivor, and it's just oof.

When we go back to Liara, she already knows what to do.

And then we finally get to see Shepard. All these erratic movements are completely out of character. Throughout the three games, we only see Shepard move with some sort of intention (yes, because it's a game, and it's supposed to be that way, but think beyond that; it's also Shepard's characteristic as a person), and there's no intention in this. Shepard is holding on to the examination table, trying to lean down or move forward, and that's because now, in this situation, he can do nothing. No amount of self-sacrifice, quick thinking, tactical advantage, or stupid badassery will help. There's someone on that table he clearly cares about, and he has no say in the matter.

And Liara knows it. She leans forward to look Shepard in the eye and draw his attention to herself. She starts soft and pleading:

And dude, Shepard's expression is everything. It's sad and scared and open... again, completely out of character.

And then we can watch Liara's expression change when she sees that Shepard heard her. Her tone is no longer soft, it becomes quite aggressive.

It is all very deliberate. And it works! Shepard is still terrified, but he furrows his eyebrows and his expression closes. Now he looks more like the Shepard we all know and love.

Another change of tactics, and oh my god. Say what you will about my girl Liara, she is a real MVP here. Notice how she goes soft again and just gives Shepard a suggestion. She knows the best way to snap him out of his panic and sense of sheer helplessness is to push him to start giving orders again.

And again, it works! This sounds and looks like our usual Shepard.

Oh, I love these animations. The change from something hard-assed and in control to something vulnerable... Whoever animated this, let me kiss you on the mouth, let's ride into the sunset. You're beautiful and I love you.

✨Gentle touches✨ Not like our usual Shep at all.

Now to part 2 because I have even more gifs

[wishfulsketching]

So. That was Arcane. As a whole.

Best episode of the season was episode 7. I might be a bit biased thanks to Silco and Vander living it up as their older selves but also, Ekko is truly the mvp of the show.

I hmm. Well. Victor. I see what was going on there. I see the vision. I loved lot of it. I had the sudden realizations of "that's Victor, right" before it happened....dude looked more like Jesus than ever before too. But uhh. Hmm. Hmm. There is like a chapter missing between s1 and s2 with Victor. Or more like mid season 2 chapter. Love my boy still. I did not care for his Machine Herald look. I liked the idea of the face being split. It hmm. I feel like they said, instead of showed, a lot with Victor this season.

My controversial opinion: Isha was unnecessary. The black rose mage stuff was unnecessary. Same end result could've been achieved with other means. Vi was just there to experience things and be sad. Jinx can't have shit and should suffer all the time, I guess.

BUT

Nice

My man was a positive voice for Jinx. Uhhh in a way. Kinda made her go suicidal but like, he was trying. He is always trying. Even after death. Maybe after his hallucination talk people will understand that Silco wasn't just a evil dude with evil things to do, he was as trapped as everyone else in Zaun and wanted to break free.

Tho, I doubt it. The main enemy in Arcane is the class divide. In my eyes.

I do love the exploration of Hextech and how using magic in a technological way can be super dangerous and fuck shit up. I wanted to see that. And I did see that in season 1, when Jayce realizes how dangerous the hextech weapons are! Exploring the time loop and how abstract magic is, was great! I just.

I love this show. Very much. Season 1, no notes. It's made for me.

Season 2 seems like a people pleaser. And I am pleased! Yet I also wanted something different.

I am still happy because I got my vindication. Zaundads is canon, fuck yeah! No man looks at another man like that and is not in love with them!

I loved that they kept that Vander still tried to kill Silco. Silco went "yea ok that ass too good to quit. What is little murder between lovers, anyway. Come here bby"

Only thing. Silco should've interacted with Jinx in the alternative timeline. A simple "you look beautiful" when she has her entrance or "hey here's snack have fun building whatever you guys are building. Don't make too much noise, your father and I need to get up early tomorrow ok bye bye my perfect little genius"

[tossawary]

I remember being a little surprised while watching "Transformers: Animated" (2007) when Soundwave appeared as a newly constructed Decepticon on Earth, designed by Megatron through Sumdac, because I was more familiar with continuities where Soundwave is one of the first Deceptions, Megatron's MVP for a few million years or so. (I think "Transformers: Prime" Soundwave might be my favorite design just because he is SO ominous all of the time.)

I've encountered a few fanfics supposedly set in TFA canon that appear to either forget or decidedly ignore this newborn earthling Soundwave in favor of the ancient right-hand Soundwave, who also has all of his G1 cassettes. Which is fine! Most TF fanfics are some form of canon soup! And this particular choice has led me to develop the fun fic AU idea that there could actually be TWO Soundwaves in the TFA universe. Or, at least, there was at some point another Soundwave before this new one.

Like, Megatron is trapped on Earth and has the opportunity to build a Decepticon? He's going to try and build a new Soundwave to the best of his abilities. His most loyal and useful follower! Doesn't really work out as hoped for, resources were limited, it's not as if he has all of the OG Soundwave's blueprints on hand, but who the fuck else was he going to try to recreate here? Starscream??? No.

The key thing I'm imagining here is that New Soundwave somehow makes it back to the rest of the Decepticons, so they can all react to the fact that Megatron has a CLEAR favorite. There's going to be some seething jealousy (Starscream, for sure, even if he's off on his own now). Also, a lot of "YIKES!!!" whether OG Soundwave is alive or dead. If OG Soundwave is dead, then there's a "Oh, Megatron has NEVER gotten over that guy, huh?" element. (Presumably, Shockwave knew the OG and is going to have some Opinions on this mess.) If OG Soundwave is still alive, there's the wary uncertainty of nobody knowing how he's going to react to Megatron making a new version of him while stranded.

It's funny to imagine New Soundwave and OG Soundwave hating each other's guts, like, it is ON SIGHT. Neither of them can fully articulate why. Either they're trying to murder each other all the time or they silently resign themselves to being cooperative co-workers while loathing each other with a passion.

On the other hand, it's also funny to imagine them immediately doing a handshake, silent Soundwave to Soundwave communication, and becoming new best friends. OG Soundwave has ALWAYS wanted a creepy twin. He is DEEPLY flattered that his missing boss tried to create a weird earthling clone of him; it is the best and most sincere compliment that a loyal evil lackey could hope for from their boss. They are going to be SO efficient together.

[phoenixcatch7]

Deep in my ff7 rereads so here are my favourite fandom fics, hands down.

End as you mean to begin <- 130k+ of time travelling cloud parenting the remnants, seeking asylum in a war torn wutai to keep all four of them out of shinras hands while sephiroth is absolutely Going Through It in midgar. Great Genesis characterisation and cloud mothering his way to an international incident. Bonus gender hijinks, hilarious misunderstandings and zack. Unfinished.

The fear of falling stars <- 500k+ and soon to be completed. Cloud and insane!Sephiroth time travel back to their shinra days and I cannot emphasise enough how much cloud is Not Doing Well. Gorgeous wordplay and top tier banter. Utterly unhinged blood enemies to ??? to ?????? to lovers sefikura. It's E rated and probably the tensest I've ever been reading fic lol, it is not lighthearted! But it's incredibly well written and the characters are phenomenal (zack my beloved) so if you've got strong nerves (and like a quarantine pairing) I'd definitely recommend it.

Voice of the gods <- 170k+ of almost idyllic gods and avatars au. Slow, soft and full of world building, it's a lovely relaxing read of cloud getting anointed the envoy of sephiroth, god of war, and slowly growing into his role and joining the ranks of envoy. Lots of side characters take larger roles here, and sephiroth himself is a darling without losing his sharpest edges. Unfinished.

I CAN FIX HIM (series) <- possibly my favourite sephiroth characterisations ever. 130k and growing of pure shaking this man like a doll in a perfect mix of almost delirious crack and gutting angst (often both at once!). Very good writing, every single funny moment hits like a truck and keeps building until you're choking with laughter. Bonus points to ROADTRIP! for being utterly, utterly insane. I cannot emphasise enough just how GOOD every single character and their dynamics are written.

Just anything ff7 written by AimeeLouWrites, if you've been in this fandom for any length of time you'll have heard of her. Great concepts, great executions and aus for DAYS.

Five hearts to make him whole <- 130k+ of time/dimension travelling cloud getting sent to a world of soulmates - and his alternate self bagged all four soldier firsts. Alternate cloud also died violently a few years ago and boy did those soulmates (not) take it well. Our cloud, of course, was not read in on any of this. Shout out to the emotional support chocobo! Unfinished?

Shall I find rest <- another soulmate agszc (?) dimension cross but this one is 100k+ of post AC cloud and Tifa waking up and deciding to make it everyone else's problem. They're so done with all the drama. Bamf nibel duo to the end and Tifa is the mvp. Unfinished.

Advanced release <- 250k+ and it's sephiroth receiving the original game in a strange packet that appeared in his room. It spirals into a messy and painful exposure of conspiracy, lies and inevitable tragedy. Video game logic is a running gag and zack remains the only actually stable person in the whole sorry mess but he's also Having a Terrible Experience. Really well written!!! Unfinished.

On broken wings <- 160k+ of pure post AC sephiroth redemption from his pov. Him struggling to find his place in a new world and experience real human connection evolves into MOOGLE EMBASSY need I say more?? Unfinished.

With Great Power Comes Meddling Fucking Gods <- 470k+! Poly WEAPON cloud gets yoinked back to the past (feat agzs), dies for a few days and misses his family SO bad but he is determined to change the future for the better. Probably the most healthy and mature cloud ever lol. Unfortunately for him, insane!sephiroth is pulling a inner hollow and gaia herself isn't talking. If you like symbolism, whoo boy!! The dream sequences are a DOOZY (and drowning in eroticism). Wonderfully written, the divide between sane!sephiroth and his counterpart is really cool to see. E rated at times but it's absolutely DELIGHTFUL and WEAPON cloud is such a treat. And I cannot emphasise enough the symbolism. Zackkura (kinda) and slow burn! Unfinished.

A brand need not be seen <- 180k+ in a world of soulmates where the four firsts have clouds name on their wrists. Trooper cloud is tentatively, desperately hopeful. Then a smoking hot op af adult cloud appears, with no names on his wrists at all. It's a really cute flirty fic despite covering shinra politics, identity crises, huge self worth issues, lots of trauma, and finding your own place in the world. Unfinished.

Memory's struggle <- 250k+ of cascading time travel. Basically everyone goes back, which goes great XD. Everyone... Except cloud. I read this a while ago but I do remember poor cloud just getting loved and spoiled by literally everyone and freaking out about it lmao. He was so confused! Unfinished.

Additional edit:

A solitude of space <- a wonderfully soothing 90k complete of sephiroth getting resurrected and moving to stardew valley to become the farmer. It's sooooo peaceful and following him as he grows into his own person and experiences real normality and community is lovely, if a touch angsty. Eventual sefikura with cloud moving to the farm when he's not doing deliveries. It's just. Really nice. I think I cried at the end. Finished!

One-Winged Angel's Self-Saving System <- 55k+ sephiroth enters the Chinese fantasy Scum Villain world in place of the scum villain himself! (He's the third person to take on that role, but who's counting?) Reborn into a plant body he's set loose on an unsuspecting world with a completely different magic system (sentient swords! Immortality!), with only the guide of a mysterious hallucinated ai. Freedom to make his own choices! Aroallo seph rep! He messes up the plot so bad, recruiting accidental love interests with kill counts and resurrecting long lost immortals. It can get a bit heavy but it's really fun and sephiroth has no intention of ever going back. Unfinished.

The SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun <- 73k+ of the opposite of the last fic: the scum villain (the 2nd) gets isekai'd into sephiroth! Shen qingqiu, aka the modern world native shen yuan, fails to resurrect into his prepared plant body and wakes up in a new fictional world, once again as the villain. With his limited memory of the games and his immense knowledge of cultivation (scum villains magic system) he tries to get a grasp on his new life while evading hojo, the president, his new subordinates and the war front while cultivating to immortality - something shinra is VERY interested in. When I tell you these two fics have a GRIP on me. I've written so many fic ideas around them. It's actually insane. The first thing he does is completely redecorate his rooms and buy a whole new wardrobe, which is totally not suspicious XD. Unfinished.

The fifth act <- 160k, it's a good ol' time travel fic - with a twist. The truest exploration of ripples in a pond, or how kindness, when true, can be returned in most unexpected ways. Or maybe how a single act of good can change the world.... Or maybe it's about how you must never turn your back on an enemy. Cloud has people to save and people to kill, and only time will tell which is which. Complete.

Of Things That May Be Only 'Verse <- another series! At 250k, it's about sephiroth resurrecting, only to, uh, slip and crack his head lol. This sends him spiralling through a vision of a cosy life he'd never dreamed, and when he wakes up? He wants it so bad. But that means behaving. Slow burn sefikura redemption, side Cid/Vincent (vincid?) which ngl did convince me of the ship, domestic fluffiness and found family galore! And the whole series is complete!!

Little seph <- a 160k series about the AC sephiroth revival going wrong. Stuck in the body of a kid, post AC sephiroth is a feral kitten carefully domesticated with the power of pancakes, wing preening, and deeply uncomfortable sleepovers. He's a brat, a pest, a murder machine, but he just wants to be part of a family even if he pretends he doesn't. Eventual sefikura, and overall just a very good read. Fully complete!

We are no heroes <- 70k series, about a secretly time travelled sephiroth desperately trying to save his friends and finally, maybe, rest. When I tell you this had me SOBBING. I was BAWLING. Extremely good, zack is best boy. This man is just so tired. Beautiful descriptions. And, again, complete! Yay!

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Coaching Violation: Part 12

paige x azzi

a/n: Contains some sexual content, minors DNI. If this is the end I'm sorry this is the end... I think this is the end. Please don't be mad at me if you don't want this to be the end...But I really do think this is the end... oh gosh I feel like you guys are gonna be mad at me for this being the end... let me know if you think this is okay to be the end...(can you tell I'm nervous to end this???)

word count: 4.2k

Azzi’s Apartment – A few weeks post Paige Resigning

The sun was just beginning to set when Paige collapsed back against the couch, phone facedown on the coffee table, a half-drunk iced tea sweating beside it.

Azzi came out of the bedroom barefoot, her curls still damp from a shower, wearing Paige’s old USA jersey like it was hers now — which, technically, it was.

Paige looked up and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Azzi asked, settling next to her.

Paige didn’t answer right away. Just reached for her hand, their fingers tangling in a practiced rhythm.

“I walked away from everything else,” she finally said. “This part? The being yours part? It’s the only thing I’ve never been scared of.”

Azzi leaned in, kissed her cheek. “So let’s tell them.”

They didn’t do a full photoshoot. No matching fits. No soft-focus beach pic or dramatic caption.

Just a single photo on Azzi’s Instagram — the two of them in sweats on the back steps of her apartment building, laughing at something Paige had just said. Azzi’s hand on Paige’s thigh. Paige’s gaze fixed on Azzi like she hung the damn moon.

The caption was simple:

A love like this couldn’t stay hidden forever.

An Hour Later – Social Media Chaos

The post hit like wildfire.

Within fifteen minutes:

#Pazzi was trending again.

Someone resurfaced the blurry bar photo from Vegas with a new caption: “We knew it. We KNEW it.”

WNBA Twitter declared it a national holiday.

JJ Redick commented, “You fumbled the league but secured the MVP. Respect.”

KK posted a screenshot of their group chat with, “Took y’all long enough. 🥂”

Paige hadn’t touched her phone since they posted.

She just watched Azzi laugh — full body, nose-scrunching laughter — as she read the comments aloud.

“Oh my God,” Azzi choked out. “Someone said you give ‘white girl with a clipboard’ but also ‘I’d ruin my life for her.’ Accurate?”

Paige smirked, stretching her arm along the back of the couch. “I did ruin my life for you, technically.”

Azzi leaned into her side, still grinning. “And I’d do it again.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Azzi looked up, quiet now. “You okay?”

Paige nodded once. “I think I am. For the first time in a long time… yeah.”

They sat in the glow of their decision — phones buzzing, world watching — and for once, it didn’t feel like a burden.

It felt like freedom.

Two Days Later – Downtown LA

They’d made it out of the honeymoon era and into the firestorm.

ESPN picked up the story by breakfast the next morning. Outlets were using every photo they could dig up — press conference screengrabs, post-game hugs, blurry fan photos from Vegas that now felt less like speculation and more like clues to a long-buried love story.

Paige had turned off her Twitter notifications after someone tweeted a side-by-side of her scowling in a suit next to Azzi in her jersey, captioned:

“Why does this look like a power couple in an HBO prestige drama?”

She didn’t disagree.

What she didn’t expect was the media pivot. Once the initial “scandal” fizzled out — no league investigation, no policy statements — it transformed. Not into approval, necessarily. But curiosity. Support.

Paige had spent so long preparing for backlash that she didn’t quite know how to process neutrality. Or worse — praise.

Azzi’s Apartment – Late Afternoon

Paige dropped a grocery bag on the counter and leaned back, watching Azzi unpack produce like it was a normal Wednesday. No flashing cameras. No one whispering behind their backs at practice. No reporters calling for comment.

Just… peace.

Azzi glanced over. “You’re staring.”

“Just making sure this is real.”

“It is.” Azzi tossed her an apple. “We did the hard part.”

Paige caught it. “Did we?”

Azzi closed the fridge with her foot, then walked over, looping her arms loosely around Paige’s waist. “You resigned. I almost had a breakdown. We admitted we’re in love in the middle of the bedroom floor. Then we came out to the world. Babe, if this isn’t the hard part, I don’t want to know what is.”

That made Paige laugh — really laugh — for the first time since the announcement.

Azzi tilted her head. “Still want to go off the grid?”

“Not yet.”

They curled up on the couch later, legs tangled, laptop open, watching an old season of Top Chef. Every so often, Paige would sneak glances at Azzi, just to make sure this wasn’t some temporary illusion.

She wasn’t dreaming.

Azzi caught her staring again. “You’re really bad at being subtle.”

“I never claimed to be subtle.”

“Well,” Azzi said, voice low. “You don’t have to be anymore.”

Paige pulled her closer. “I love you.”

Azzi’s heart clenched in that exact way it always did when Paige said that. Like it was stitched straight into the rhythm of her chest now.

“I love you too.”

And this time, it didn’t sound like a goodbye. It sounded like a beginning.

Sparks Game - Crypto Arena

Paige’s POV

She wasn’t coaching anymore.

Wasn’t lacing up sneakers or taping ankles or running film breakdowns until her eyes went blurry.

But somehow, for the first time in what felt like years, Paige Bueckers finally felt like herself again.

And ironically?

It looked a lot like being on the sidelines — this time with zero pressure.

It had been a month since the chaos died down.

Azzi’s season was still in full swing. Paige’s life?

A carefully curated cocktail of early morning Pilates, daytime freelance work she never advertised (okay, maybe she helped out on a youth development camp KK had dragged her into co-running), and late nights spent curled into Azzi’s side like it was her favorite position on the court.

It wasn’t the WNBA grind.

But it was theirs.

Tonight, Paige sat courtside, cross-legged in her vintage Sparks sweatshirt that definitely wasn’t for sale, sipping an iced diet coke she’d already had refilled twice. Her hair was in a bun. Her phone was tucked away. And her attention?

Laser-focused on the court — and the 5’11” half-scorching, half-smirking woman in jersey #35.

Azzi Fudd was torching the Sky like they’d personally offended her.

Azzi had barely hit the shot before Paige was on her feet.

Hands in the air. Voice louder than she meant to be. The kind of celebration that made security do a double take — not because she was out of control, but because she was unmistakably in it. Fully, publicly, irrevocably in it.

“Let’s gooo, baby!” she yelled, then cupped her hands like it might somehow echo directly to the court.

Azzi didn’t even turn. Just jogged back on defense like she hadn’t just made the crowd stand to their feet. But Paige caught it — the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. That’s all she needed.

Back on the bench, Rickea nudged Rae with her elbow.

“She’s so whipped,” Rickea said under her breath.

Rae laughed. “It’s actually getting out of hand. Did you see her jump up like she hit the shot?”

“She probably felt like she did,” Rickea said. “I think her brain still thinks she’s on the roster.”

Azzi plopped down beside them as the timeout buzzer sounded, towel slung around her shoulders, cheeks flushed.

“You good?” Rae teased, tossing her a Gatorade.

Azzi gave a shrug. “I mean, yeah. Just out here tryna impress my girl.”

“Mission accomplished,” Rickea said, nodding toward courtside.

Paige was standing now, talking animatedly with a group of fans who had asked for a picture between quarters.

“Tell me why she looks more famous than you right now,” Rae muttered.

Azzi didn’t answer — not out loud, anyway. But the soft smile on her face said everything.

“She was yelling like it was Game 7 of the Finals,” Rickea added. “I swear, I heard her say ‘baby’ so loud the ref looked over.”

“I told her to play it cool,” Azzi said.

“And she told you she doesn’t know what that means,” Rae deadpanned.

Azzi laughed. “Exactly.”

Out on the court, the huddle broke and Paige caught Azzi’s eyes immediately. She held up three fingers and gave a mock-bow, mouthing something exaggerated that looked a lot like that’s my shooter.

Azzi flushed. Bit her lip. Threw a towel at her.

From the bench, Rickea just shook her head. “Two more games. Tops. Before someone from the league sends y’all a friendly little PDA fine.”

Azzi raised her brows. “For what? We haven’t even kissed courtside.”

“Yet,” Rae corrected.

Azzi tried to look offended. Failed. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Rickea leaned in, quieter now. “You know we’re happy for you, right?”

Azzi nodded, soft. “Yeah. I know.”

Back on the sideline, Paige sat again — bouncing her knee, fingers twitching like she wanted to be out there, but her gaze never left Azzi. Not for a second.

She was dialed in. No clipboard, no coaching title, no rules to hide behind.

Just her. Unpaid. Unbothered. And completely in love.

And for the first time in a long time, that was more than enough.

Post-Game – Locker Room Lounge

It had become routine.

Paige didn’t go into the locker room anymore, not unless specifically invited — boundaries were easier to maintain now that they were together in the open. But she did loiter just outside. Always with a drink in hand. Always in her sneakers.

Azzi appeared fifteen minutes post-buzzer, curls pulled back, media smile wiped off.

“Hi,” she said like it was a secret.

“Hey,” Paige grinned. “You, uh… broke at least four laws of physics tonight.”

Azzi shrugged, stepping into her space like gravity had a favorite.

“You see the wink?”

“Oh, I saw it,” Paige said. “Nearly dropped my drink.”

“Good,” Azzi teased. “Would’ve been worth it.”

Paige slipped her fingers around Azzi’s wrist and leaned in, whispering low. “You wanna get out of here? I think you’ve signed enough jerseys and kissed enough babies for one night.”

Azzi snorted. “You saying you want to kiss me instead?”

Paige didn’t blink. “Every chance I get.”

Later – Azzi’s Apartment

Paige’s POV

They ended up back at Azzi’s place — though, lately, it felt less like hers and more like theirs. No one had said it out loud yet, but the truth was in the details. Her favorite hoodie hung from the kitchen chair. Her sneakers were by the door. There were protein bars in the pantry only she liked, and Azzi had stopped questioning the new toothpaste brand in the bathroom drawer.

It was quiet now — not heavy, not tense. Just the soft kind of quiet that came after a day that asked a lot and gave back even more.

Paige was sprawled across the couch, her bare feet tucked into Azzi’s lap. One of Azzi’s hands rested loosely on her ankle, fingers drawing absent circles over her skin, while the other scrolled her phone. Reruns of some sitcom played muted on the TV, the kind where you already knew the punchlines but didn’t care. It was a background hum to the real comfort in the room.

“Hey,” Paige said, not loud — just enough to pull Azzi’s attention back.

Azzi glanced over. “Yeah?”

“You know what I was thinking about earlier?”

“If this is about another couples Halloween costume—”

Paige smirked. “Not this time.”

She sat up a little, sliding closer until she could press her thigh against Azzi’s.

“I was just thinking about last year. Where we were. How scared I was to go after what I really wanted.”

Azzi’s expression softened. Her fingers drifted higher, brushing against Paige’s calf.

“And now…” Paige gestured vaguely around the apartment. “This. All of this. Us.”

A breath passed between them, quiet but full.

Azzi leaned in. “I know. It still doesn’t feel real.”

“It is though,” Paige whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Even if ESPN calls tomorrow?”

Paige grinned. “Even if ESPN calls tomorrow.”

The kiss that followed wasn’t hungry. Not yet. It was gentle. Certain. The kind of kiss that said we’re here now. That they’d survived the push and pull and ended up exactly where they were supposed to.

But then Azzi’s hand slid under the hem of her hoodie, and Paige’s heart kicked hard against her ribs.

It didn’t have to turn into anything more — but Paige wanted it to. She craved the kind of closeness that meant nothing in the world was uncertain anymore. Not her feelings. Not Azzi’s. Not this life they were building out loud.

She let Azzi pull the hoodie over her head. Let her touch. Let herself lean into the way Azzi’s fingers ran along the bare skin of her back like she was rediscovering her in a whole new context — post-soft launch, post-secret, post-everything.

“I still get nervous around you sometimes,” Paige murmured.

Azzi blinked. “Why?”

Paige cupped her cheek. “Because you still make me feel like I have something to prove.”

Azzi leaned in. “Then prove it.”

The kiss that followed lit a fuse inside her.

Azzi’s lips were warm, slow at first — until Paige climbed into her lap, knees on either side of her thighs, bodies aligned. Azzi groaned into her mouth, gripping her hips like she couldn’t stand the space between them anymore. Paige deepened the kiss, grinding gently into her, her hands sliding up under Azzi’s tank top to feel the dip of her waist, the arch of her ribs.

The couch creaked beneath them. Neither cared.

She tugged the tank off Azzi’s body, exposing golden skin and soft muscle. She looked so unfairly beautiful like this — flushed cheeks, lips pink and kiss-swollen, eyes blown wide with want.

Paige kissed down her neck, biting softly beneath her ear, then licking over the mark in apology. Azzi’s breath stuttered.

“Bedroom,” Azzi whispered.

They half-stumbled, half-laughed their way down the hall, hands and mouths never parting for more than a second. Once inside, Paige backed her toward the bed, gently lowering her down like she was something precious — something she knew she was allowed to touch now, fully, freely, without fear.

Azzi reached for her again, but Paige grabbed her wrist, pinning it softly above her head.

“Let me,” she said.

Azzi stilled.

Paige kissed down her chest, lingering between her breasts, then lower — teeth dragging lightly along Azzi’s ribs, leaving warmth and goosebumps in her wake. She took her time peeling the shorts off her hips, pressing soft kisses to each new inch of exposed skin like a prayer.

Azzi was already wet.

Paige didn’t say anything — she just dipped her head and gave her what she wanted.

What they wanted.

She licked slowly at first, savoring the taste, the way Azzi moaned and tangled her fingers in Paige’s hair. The way she whispered her name like it was the only word she still remembered.

Paige flattened her tongue and circled it, teasing the sensitive spot until Azzi’s thighs trembled around her. Then she slid two fingers inside her, curling them deliberately as her mouth kept pace, her entire body in sync with Azzi’s unraveling.

“Fuck—Paige—” Azzi gasped, her voice shaking. “I—”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

Paige felt her come apart, watched it unfold in real time — hips lifting, eyes fluttering shut, breath catching like she’d been trying to hold it in for hours and couldn’t anymore.

But she didn’t stop there.

Azzi pulled her up into a kiss, desperate and messy, still catching her breath. Paige licked into her mouth, tasting her own name there, smiling into the kiss because god, this was hers.

She pressed their foreheads together. “Want to make you feel what you make me feel.”

Azzi’s hands slid into her waistband. “Then let’s do it together.”

And when she said that — when she looked at her like that — Paige lost the last of her control.

They shifted until they were on their sides, facing each other in the middle of the bed. Paige slid her hand back between Azzi’s legs. Azzi did the same. Their hands moved at the same time, fingers slipping in, stroking with matched rhythm and need. Their breaths synced. Moans spilled into each other’s mouths.

It was tender and intimate in a way Paige didn’t know existed until now — watching Azzi’s face twist with pleasure at the same exact moment hers did. Feeling her come at the same time her own orgasm tore through her, body locking tight and then breaking open in the safety of Azzi’s arms.

Afterward, they lay there tangled up, skin damp, limbs heavy, the quiet stretching like velvet between them.

Azzi brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “You okay?”

Paige turned her head on the pillow and looked at her. Really looked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think I finally am.”

She leaned forward and kissed her again — slow, grateful, full of everything words couldn’t reach.

And somewhere between the weight of their shared breath and the softness of the sheets, Paige realized something with absolute certainty.

There was no hiding anymore.

They were known. Loved. Together.

And she would spend every day proving that choosing Azzi — fully, publicly, permanently — was the best decision she’d ever made.

Apartment Kitchen

Paige’s POV

Three months after the WNBA season came to an end.

The email came at 10:03 a.m. on a Wednesday — buried between a coupon from Target and an overdue notice from some newsletter she never meant to subscribe to. Paige almost didn’t see it. She’d been halfway through unloading the dishwasher, humming whatever song Azzi had played on repeat that morning, still wearing an old Sparks hoodie and basketball shorts she definitely didn’t steal (Azzi would argue otherwise).

Subject line: Let’s Talk Basketball — ESPN Inquiry

She froze. The dish in her hand was still wet, slipping slightly as her grip went loose.

She read it once.

Then again.

Then a third time, aloud this time, like saying it would make it more real.

Her heart pounded in her chest, sudden and heavy. She blinked. Set the bowl down carefully before she dropped it.

A laugh bubbled up — not because it was funny, but because it was happening. Finally. The thing she didn’t know she’d wanted so badly until it knocked on her inbox, asking if she was ready to come home in a different way.

Two days later – Café Verve, Downtown LA

The café was tucked between a plant shop and a boutique yoga studio, the kind of place that smelled like oat milk and ambition. Paige had been there before — once with Azzi after a workout.

This time, though, it was just her.

She arrived ten minutes early.

Not because she was nervous, she told herself — but because she didn’t want to walk in sweaty from a last-minute sprint or have to fight a line of influencers ordering lavender matcha.

She wore the jeans Azzi liked — the ones that didn’t sag but weren’t try-hard skinny. A plain white tee under the cropped bomber jacket Azzi once called “dangerously competent,” and a clean pair of black and white Dunks. Her hair was tied back, makeup minimal. Chill, but intentional. Like, yeah, I might know how to break down a 1-3-1 zone better than your assistant coach, what about it?

The recruiter was already there when she walked in — older woman, mid-forties, sharp bob and even sharper presence, seated by the window with a half-drunk cappuccino and a manila folder on the table.

“Paige Bueckers,” she said, standing. “I feel like I should be asking for an autograph.”

Paige laughed, shaking her hand. “Only if you’re prepared to be disappointed. My signature looks like a chicken stepped in ink.”

“Even better,” the woman smiled. “I’m Rochelle. Thanks for making the time.”

They sat. Paige ordered an iced vanilla latte, no whip. When it came, she drank it too fast, the cold shocking the back of her throat. Nerves. She was good at pretending they weren’t there, but she felt them — like static in her hands, like a tight line stretched across her ribs.

“So,” Rochelle began, sliding the folder closer. “We’ve been following you for a while. Obviously your playing career speaks for itself — and the coaching stint, brief but strong. We’ve had your name on our short list for a bit now.”

Paige blinked. “Even before I got injured?”

Rochelle nodded. “Honestly? Yeah. Some of us saw it coming. Not the injury — but the shift. You’re someone who sees the game. Not just plays it.”

That landed. Paige’s shoulders softened just a touch.

“We’re always looking for voices who can bring clarity without condescension,” Rochelle continued. “Especially on the women’s side. You know the game, and more importantly, you know how to talk about it in a way people want to hear.”

“I’ve never done broadcast before,” Paige said, fingers wrapped tight around her cup.

“You’ve never played it safe either.”

That made her laugh. “Fair.”

Rochelle leaned back. “Tell me what you’re seeing this year. Women’s college ball. Who’s impressing you?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate.

She launched into it — talking through this year’s SEC depth, the Big Ten sleeper teams, the freshman guard out of Oregon who reminded her of a younger Jewell Loyd. She broke down the current top-five defensive schemes being run in Power Five programs and explained — almost without realizing it — why a certain top-seeded team’s offense looked elite but was bound to fall short without better spacing.

Rochelle listened, nodding along, the corners of her mouth lifting as Paige’s words picked up pace.

“You talk like a coach,” she said.

“I think I just… haven’t stopped thinking about the game. Even when I wasn’t playing. Or coaching. I’ll be at dinner with Azzi and notice a ball screen I would’ve run differently on the TV in the background.”

“You still want to be in it.”

Paige hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Rochelle tapped a nail against her cup. “Not a lot of people can pivot without feeling like they’re failing. Like stepping off the court is some kind of death sentence.”

“It felt like that for a while,” Paige admitted, voice quieter now. “I thought if I wasn’t in a jersey, I wasn’t anyone. But… lately, I’m realizing I don’t have to stop being me just because the role changed. I still see the game. Still love it.”

Rochelle smiled. “That’s what we’re betting on.”

Paige’s brows lifted. “You’re offering?”

“Not officially,” she said. “Not yet. I’ve got to pitch you upstairs. But this?” She tapped the folder. “This meeting? It was to see if you’re serious. If you’re ready.”

“And?”

“And I think you are. I think you’re ready to do something that sounds a lot like staying in the game — just from a new angle.”

Paige exhaled, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel tight in her chest.

She wasn’t being replaced. She was being repurposed.

Later that night, back in the apartment with takeout between them and Azzi’s head in her lap, Paige told her everything.

“She said I talk like a coach.”

Azzi grinned without opening her eyes. “You are a coach. You just happen to be hot and jobless right now.”

“I think I’m about to be only one of those things.”

Azzi peeked up. “The jobless part?”

“Hopefully.”

Azzi smiled wider. “That’s my girl.”

Paige smoothed a hand through her curls, her fingers still tingling from holding the coffee cup too tight all morning.

“I didn’t know if I was ready.”

“And now?”

“I think I’ve been ready. I just didn’t know there was still room for me at the table.”

Azzi rolled over, facing her fully now. “You don’t need to wait for a seat anymore, Paige. You are the table.”

Paige laughed — not the polite kind, but the real one. The kind that cracked her wide open.

Maybe she wasn’t a point guard anymore. Maybe she’d never coach a championship team. But she could still speak the language.

And now someone was finally listening.

She didn’t have to let it go.

She just had to shift.

And god, was she ready.

Her first taping wasn’t live. They eased her in with pre-recorded segments — breakdowns of top draft prospects, commentary on defensive schemes, analysis of conference play. But the minute the camera turned on, Paige felt alive.

No nerves. No hesitation.

Just her. The game. And a microphone.

She’d found her court again — this time made of lights and lenses instead of hardwood.

And when she got home later that night, worn out but buzzing, Azzi was there waiting. Dinner on the stove. A bottle of sparkling cider on the counter. And a hand-written card with block letters that read: Told you they’d call.

Paige pulled her into a hug from behind, rested her chin on Azzi’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

Azzi grinned. “You didn’t. We chose each other.”

And that was the truth of it.

Love wasn’t luck. It was choosing — over and over. And Paige was finally ready to choose herself, too.

ESPN wasn’t the end of her story.

It was the next beginning.

And for the first time since it all fell apart…

She finally knew how to stay in the game.

And even better?

She had someone to go home to after the final buzzer.

[schemmentisimpasours]

I'll Be Your Biggest Fan- Headcanons

Summary: I have realized my headcanons are self indulgent and I give zero fucks. I have tryouts coming up in two weeks and I'm freaking out. I needed this. These are comfort characters and how they would support you in your sport.

Warnings: None

Characters: Olivia Benson, Ayanna Bell, Melissa Schemmenti, Ava Coleman, Penelope Garcia, Tara Lewis, Chessy, Athena Grant, Henrietta Wilson

Masterlist

~-~

Olivia Benson

Has pictures of you from your games all over your office. Uses you for examples for overcoming adversity after trauma and how you found your sport to recover. When she can make it to games has her own handmade jersey with "Y/N's Wife" scrawled on the back. Has been caught wearing it to the hospital or scene more than once if she gets called away. If she can't make it she is watching the livestream through stolen moments. Sends you sweet text messages before every game. Will sit in the front row and break down the whole game for anyone who asks. The moment you step on the floor she stops talking and becomes hyperfocused on you. Always shoves snack in your bag because you will forget. When you bring home a medal she uses it to drag you to bed then hangs it next to her awards. She calls it the wall of badass women and puts a picture of RBG next to it.

Ayanna Bell

Invites the whole squad to watch as a team building exercise and everyone gets so into it that they stop everything to attend your games. Ayanna is wearing an old jersey every time even forcing Elliot into one until he caves and buys his own t-shirt. Is drinking on the sidelines with him heckling the refs. The loudest in the room when it comes to cheering you on. Has pictures of you both in her office holding various MVP awards. Is calling you before games to remind you she loves you and can't wait to see you kick ass. Makes sure dinner is ready when you get home and a bubble bath with epsom salt to soothe your aching muscles. Will break down her favorite moments for you while you wash off. She is crying when they place the medal around your neck and finds a shadow box to keep it safe in.

Melissa Schemmenti- Is in the front row of all your games, sitting right on the floor as close as she can get. Has a team shirt with "Y/N's Girl" printed on the back. She adds a patch to a varsity jacket that she carries around with your number on it, and all the tournaments that you go to. Takes pictures of you if you get MVP and frames them on the wall. Has a wall dedicated to any awards or medals that you have won over the years. Anytime someone comes to the house she shows it off with pride. She is screaming at the top of her lungs every time that you are on the floor. Has been known to yell at a ref or two, but make sure it is never enough to get you in trouble (she has a reputation to protect after all. Yours not hers). Is memorizing all of your stats and breaking down plays with you on old videos. Finally gets recruited to be a third-turn bench coach so she can travel with you and spends every moment giving encouraging speeches. Makes your team her new favorite over the Eagles and even misses the Super Bowl to attend your championship game. When you take home the win you let her wear the medal like she won it because without her you would have never gotten back into the sport in the first place.

Ava Coleman

Has a custom varsity jacket made that she wears over every outfit because she always wanted to be the girl with a hot person's varsity jacket. Packs you a cooler with snacks and waters filled with electrolytes. Constantly reminding you to stay hydrated and keep BioFreeze on her to soothe any aching muscles. Is in the front row with a sign that she spent hours making. She protects it and ends up using it all season long. Pushes you to go to every after party so she can parade you around and gush about how amazing you are. Keeps a variety of essential oils in her purse that she rubs on you to try to catch the sore muscles before they start. At the championship game she invites everyone from Abbott to come cheer you on. As they place the medal around your neck she has a shit eating grin. You place the medal around her instead and Ava looks like you gave her the whole damn world on a silver platter. She hangs it up in her office back at Abbott.

Penelope Garcia Is watching through her fingertips, squealing every time that you get hit. She sits in the front row on the edge of her seat the whole time 911 pulled up on her phone just in case. When you do an exceptionally good move, she is the first on her feet, screaming and jumping in her heels. Will make a large sign with your name across it.(Most likely covered in glitter that will get everywhere but you don't care). Wears team merchandise that she bedazzled. If she can't make it to a game directly it is pulled up on a couple of different monitors in her office so that she can catch all the action. Will often pull up your old games when cases are particularly dark and she needs the distraction. Will call you after every game to check on you and make sure you are okay. Has a framed picture of you in your gear on her desk. When you win a medal she wears it to the office for the next week.

Tara Lewis

Is pissed any time they are on a case and can't come. Watches the livestream screaming loudly. Calls you right after the game to check on you. Will let you go through every play while listening to your team talk in the background. When in person she is up on her feet the whole time cheering. She is wearing your old jersey plus any team merch she can get her hands on. Yelling at anyone who so much says a bad thing about you. After the game is drinking beers with you and chicken wings. She gushes over how amazing you looked. She flys in for the champ game to surprise you and you cry as she hugs you. When you win the medal has a shit eating grin on her face but cries when you hug her. It becomes the center wall art above your tv.

Chessy Is feeding you big game day lunches before every game. Has a first aid kit tucked into her purse because she is terrified that you are going to get hurt. After the game has your favorite drinks and a sugar treat on hand to keep up your blood sugar levels. Wears an old jersey of yours to every game where she sits on the floor desperately holding Hallie or Annie's hand while you skate. Is cheering the whole time and yelling at the refs when they call a bullshit penalty. Even swears once or twice when she gets really into the game. Tells anyone that shows up at the vineyard all about you and shows them pictures of you during your games. Will travel with you as much as she can but often is at home with the game pulled up on the TV the whole house gathered around to watch you. Calling you to leave encouraging voicemails during half times and texing you after games to make sure you eat. When you bring home a medal she hangs it up in the living room next to a picture of you and her at your championship game.

Athena Grant

Is yelling at any perp who tries to make her late for your games. One time even brings in a repeat offender because she isn't up for his bullshit and forces him to watch the game handcuffed. Changes out of uniform in the bathroom so she can rep her shirt that says- Y/N's Wife. Is on the sidelines cheering to much anxiety to sit. Will start to pace any time she thinks that you are hurt. At halftime she is hugging you and giving you words of encouragement. Constantly tracking points because she swears the refs aren't doing their job sometimes. After the game is giving you compliments and reassuring you that you did a great job. Is making sure you eat immediately after and buys your favorite dessert to celebrate. Picture of you in the visor of her squad car that she pulls out after a particularly hard day. When you win a medal she brings it to work to show it off before hanging it above the fireplace in the house.

Henrietta Wilson

Signs up the 118 to be the medics for every game so she will always be there.Often making bets with Bucky over silly things like how many beer bellies they will see or people asking questions about the sport. Is sending you reassuring winks and smiles to try and remain professional. But more than once is caught standing out of her chair screaming you on. Will know before you do if you need medical attention. Is checking you after every game to make sure you are okay. Has an ice bath set up for you to decompress and will do it with you out of solidarity. And because the warm shower that comes after is her favorite part. Constantly reminding you how amazing you are. Keeps a picture of you getting ready for a game in her uniform at all times. She protects it at all costs. When you win a medal she is waiting for you jumping up and down with excitement. She has a large order of flowers and chocolates sent home to celebrate. Tells everyone at the 118 that she officially has the coolest wife of the station.

~-~

(no taglist for headcanons 🤷🏻‍♀️)

[itadoraki]

Final Boss!

—————————————————————————

Idia Shroud x R.femele. (Player number)

—————————————————————————

.

.

Ignihyde dormitory game room.

The blue light of the monitor reflected on Idia's face as he bent forward, his fingers dancing on the keyboard with a speed that would make any mortal brake. His blue locks floated more intensely, accompanying the heat of the digital battle.

- "NO, NO, NO— what do you mean she deviated from my ultimate again?! What kind of reaction is this, a perfect frame?!" - he shouted, his voice too loud for his introverted standard. - "She's a monster."

You were sitting in the corner of the sofa, lying down with your cell phone in your hands, a smile contained on your lips. Pretending disinterest, you watched the drama of your boyfriend who, as much as he was a genius, had not yet put the pieces together.

- "You're still fighting that player... what's her name again?"

- "Zero.San.666," he said with reverence and terror. "The biggest of all. The legend. The shadow that has haunted the rankings since I was 13 years old."

You turned your face, biting your lower lip to contain the laughter.

- "And how are you doing?"

- "How am I-?! I'm like the number two of the entire server and yet she destroys me! With build troll! I tried three different setups today... I was even humble! And even so she read me as if she had access to my... my source code!"

You layed on the couch, looking at him with a mischievous glow.

- "You'll see, she knows you too well."

Idia snorted and turned the chair.

- "No one knows me well. Neither in person, nor digitally. Just Ortho and... you, maybe. But you don't even play this game, so you don't count."

You laughed, and he frowned, confused by your expression.

- "What was it? You look like someone who dropped anime spoilers and didn't tell anyone."

You got up, went to him and leaned over, lightly touching the edge of the keyboard.

- "Hout if I said I know Zero.San.666?"

- "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? DO YOU EXCHANGE MESSAGES WITH HER?!"

- "Not exactly..."

You quickly typed on his notebook, accessing the same server, and logged in with your account. When the screen loaded, the name Zero.San.666 appeared at the top - with the MVP signature and the legendary avatar that only the top 3 had.

Idia froze.

Absolute silence.

Only the sound of the "ding" of the system recognizing the account and the trophies.

- "You... are... the..." - he stammered, his hair starting to sparkle in light purple, a sign of imminent emotional collapse.

You shrugged, innocent:

- "Number one champion for four years. Secret rival. Your girlfriend. Nice to meet you again, Shroud."

Idia pushed the chair back with a thud and got up so fast that she almost stumbled. The eyes were wide, the hands trembling.

- "You're the final boss. The elite. The unbeatable player who destroyed my dignity in infinite duels, and I... I KISSED YOU YESTERDAY!"

You laughed so loudly that you almost fell sitting down.

- "And you thought I wasn't going to make fun of you today..."

Idia walked in circles, muttering:

- "This is like... the biggest plot twist of school romance + shounen anime + guild betrayal. My heart wasn't programmed for THAT."

He stopped. He looked at you. A little red, a little panicked... but very impressed.

- "So... do you mean you've seen me wearing a pink rabbit skin and still kept dating me?"

You crossed your arms.

- "I thought it was cute."

He fell to his knees.

- "Marry me."

You laughed and went to him, gently pulling him back to reality with a touch on the cheek.

- "How about you beat me first, Player Two?"

Idia stared at you, her hair calming down slowly. Deep in the eyes, in addition to shock and shame, there was pure admiration. Because at that moment, he realized that:

• You were more than the understanding girlfriend.

• It was the rival who always made him want to be better.

• And, above all, he was the only person who really spoke his language.

- "...You're my final boss. And my safe checkpoint too. That's kind of unfair."

You smiled, squatting until you faced him.

- "So let's play. As a team. This time, together."

And there, between laughter, monitors and legendary avatars, Idia Shroud understood that the real game he wanted to win... was to keep you by his side.

—————————————————————————