#Day 4: Yellow Flowers

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish life pictures and etc.

[kazeharuhime]

Warawara Stringaana

Also called the Laughing Stringcorn, this rare plant was thought to be extinct for many years until it was found again on an island off the coast of north Fuline Ah and recultivated. The bracts of the plant smell sort of like buttered popcorn, though their actual taste is rather faint but not unpalatable. It is overall a very mild-tasting plant. Its inflorescence is sometimes dried and fried during festivals on the continent, though it is rather dry and tasteless on its own, it can be used to absorb other flavors, or simply dried for decorative purposes.

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[riverbends]

BLUEBIRD

(andrew “pope” cody x f!reader)

part one: wingspan | mdni | MASTERLIST

this fic is a continuation of this concept.

synopsis: your daughter leads you to the brooding, shark-eyed man who quietly lingers down the aisle.

tags: ANGST, season 4 pope, more angst, age gap, heavy yearning, very brief mentions of violence, eventual smut soon i promise lmfaoo wc: 2.4k (i definitely intend to write much longer chapters) cat says: this is set some time around s4ep1 and the perspectives shift back and forth.

He finds you here again. The same day, two weeks later.

Only, this time, he can’t hide from your child, who springs up on her toes upon seeing him linger by the bread racks. Ten feet away, give or take. As soon as she tugs on your sleeve, he blinks and shifts his attention to a bag of rye bread slices in an attempt to feign intrigue with something other than you.

Still a blur in the periphery of his sight, you lean down to catch her whispers while she cups a little hand around your ear.

“Ohhh,” you coo in a hushed voice. He hears you laugh then, and it seizes his heart. He has nowhere to run; nothing to conceal him. A ‘deer in the headlights’ kind of dread. His throat dries and tightens when blurred shapes approach his right flank. Your daughter is dragging you toward him with all the might in her four-year-old body. “Slow down, please, Sam,” you try to warn her.

He’s left with no other choice but to glance to his side and acknowledge the two of you (The haunting image of something he could’ve had, once upon a time, if Smurf didn’t get into his head. Another woman, another child, neither of which he felt he deserved).

“Hi, I’m so sorry,” you smile apologetically, feeling the ache of regret gnaw on your innards. You see his jaw tense. His arms remain firmly crossed and you take note of the way they bulk up and swell under his shirt sleeves. A vein snaking along his freckled forearm. “She just really wanted to say hello,” you look down at your child, who beams and swings her hand with yours. He looks down too, stone-faced and unconcerned.

A fading purple welt brands his cheekbone and it draws your attention to how worn he looks. Little nicks and scars peppering his nose with the ghost of someone’s locked fist crashing into the cartilage. You notice his hand curling over his bicep as shades of yellow and red bloom like withered flowers under the marred skin of his knuckles.

He must be a handful of weeks out of an old fight, and you wonder what kind of man throws his body into a torrent of violence and then gifts a kid—and quite morosely at that—some snacks (presumably) out of the kindness of his heart.

For a moment, you’re mortified by the possibility that your daughter has mistaken him for the wrong man. Or that he, for whatever reason, has entirely forgotten the random interaction he initiated in the parking lot two weeks ago. The box of chocolate pretzels he bought for your daughter is still sitting half-empty in your pantry.

“Hello,” Sam waves with her free hand, but she’s suddenly shy after all that nagging and pulling. She moves to wrap herself around your leg, squishing her face against the side of your thigh.

Pope watches you rest your hand on the crown of her head, and he has to chase his breath while keeping a straight face. Lena echoes in the back of his mind. Haunts him. Your child is probably a few inches shorter than she would be, though he’s not even entirely sure if she’s still the same height now. He knows it’s a ridiculous notion that his niece could have grown so significantly in only a matter of months. But even a day without her feels longer than a lifetime, and then some.

Pope has also never really been smooth with people, let alone beautiful young mothers such as yourself. Wouldn’t blame you if you confuse his muted wonderment with blunt apathy.

You’re flooded with relief when he finally nods at her, even when he says ‘Hi’ in a colourless tone. You wonder if he’s ever spoken to a child before. It’s a little sweet, nonetheless.

“That was really kind of you,” your voice pulls his eyes back up to you, “buying the pretzels for her last week. I don’t know how you noticed.”

You search his face as if the set of his features will give him away and answer all your multiplying questions. It’s pathetic how much the gesture had moved you—a memory you haven’t stopped revisiting since that day he found you and Sam by your car. When was the last time somebody paid attention to her? To you?

“Just mildly observant,” he shrugs. Mildly doesn’t even begin to cover it, but you don’t know that.

You wouldn’t say that you find his stare to be too unnerving, but it’s not exactly comforting you either. His eyes are a shade you can’t properly distinguish and the way he looks at you seems to darken his irises significantly. Pupils blown wide; colour, swallowed up. You might as well be trapped in some configuration of a microscope, your myriad cells all laid bare for his study.

Sam decides she longer has any interest in the man and circles around your legs to look at the rows of bread beside you. She’s crouching by your feet, attempting to count past thirteen and repeatedly starting back at one. You look up again to find his eyes boring into a fraction of your bare collarbone.

All this time, his body has been facing the bread racks while his head is angled to the right. You wonder if his neck might be sore.

Your hands sink into the pockets of your shorts, “You really didn’t have to, but thank you. Again.”

He leaves a pause like he has to chew on your words before finding his own.

“You couldn’t afford it,” he says. “Wasn’t a problem.” Maybe you’re kidding yourself, but he sounds a touch softer. Again, you’re trying to figure out where he could’ve been when you had to say no to Sam and how much of the conversation he remembers. No matter how much sense you try to make of it, nothing about him seems to add up.

“Money is tight,” you say with a nod before averting your eyes almost in shame. Like you’re trying to sand down the sharp corners of your deficit so as not to further humiliate yourself. But, to Pope, you don’t do a very good job of it. Hiding your shame, that is. He can’t figure out how to communicate his sympathy without coming on too strong.

Before he can stop himself, he tilts his head, asking, “Where’s her father?”

The bluntness of it stuns you a little bit, but then you’re laughing again, as soft as the first time. His insides liquify at the sound.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you sigh, “I’m not sure these days. Probably the other side of the planet.”

You say it so casually, but you still can’t get a laugh out of him. He’s scanning your face like he knows you’ve got more to say, and you probably do, but you’ve never cared enough to remember her father’s name because he sure as shit doesn’t remember hers.

“He doesn’t support you?” Pope presses before he wonders why he even bothered asking. Who, in his life, can stand up and say that their father actually acted like one? Out of all of his mother’s lovers, who had been the least deplorable? How many of them had actually cared about anything besides themselves?

He once thought that Baz, at the very least, would break the cycle of abandon.

You glance down at your kid, wary of her ears, before manoeuvring around her and stepping closer to him. The proximity has him feeling lightheaded, but he pivots to face you with his whole body this time. You lower your voice, sharing half-secrets with a brooding stranger in a grocer’s aisle.

“We weren’t really together,” you start, a little scared that he might think differently of you now (You don’t know that it’s near impossible to scare him off with whatever you’re about to confess). “I was young—too young. He was older. And charming, at first.” Your mind revisits old memories like spoiled milk.

Something burgeons deep inside him, closely comparable with the need to disinfect. To clean. To wipe your skin free of the residue of that man. He doesn’t think it makes you dirty, not in the slightest. But he sees it as a stain on your life and he finds himself incensed by the idea that you’ll have to spend year after year trying to scrub it all away. Betraying his better judgement, he has already half-convinced himself to do it for you.

“How young?”

You think on it for a moment, swallowing a knot of worry. “Eighteen.”

Pope remembers his sister, then. Youth: so forcefully ripped away.

“What about him?”

“He was in college,” you shrug. The bastard never actually disclosed his exact age – one of the many things you’re too embarrassed to admit. “Hosted ragers every weekend and breezed through study. Sam’s almost five now and I still try to convince her that I had her all by myself. But I can only lie for so long.”

Pope can guess that you’re in your early twenties, a little younger than Deran. He’s only met you twice and he can already feel his resolve burning. There is a temptation to keep you here until you’ve told him every harrowing detail you can recall from the moment you learned Sam was growing in your belly up until now.

If you couldn’t afford an extra item on your grocery list, then he’d wager you really don’t have anyone at all. What he feels now is foreign to him; has him abandoning logic and sense when he plucks his wallet from his back pocket.

“What?” You’re laughing nervously as you watch him thumb through folded cash, holding out three 50s and a 20 like he’s just giving you simple change. He doesn’t budge. Doesn’t do anything to encourage you to take it either, but the notes are just loosely lodged between his index and middle fingertips. He moves his hand a fraction forward. You start shaking your head when you realise he’s being serious. “No, Jesus Christ, I can’t. I don’t even know your name.”

“Andrew,” he says it like it scraped his throat on the way out, but his eyes soften when you repeat it under your breath. A sacred thing on your tongue. He almost asks you to say it once more.

“I still can’t take this,” you shake your head again, smiling like you’re apologising. He is adamant in his stillness. “Look, I appreciate it, really. But—”

Before you can anticipate his movement, he’s swiftly slipping the cash into the front pocket of your shorts, tucking it in further even when you try to move away from him.

He steps back when you surrender, his arms hanging limp at his sides. You’re both frozen on opposite walls of the aisle with nothing but four feet and a heavy silence between you two. You start to breathe a little fast when guilt boils beneath your chest.

“It’s too much,” you bow your head and bury your face in your hands, conflicted. Under most circumstances, you’d take offence to the size of his insistence, the way his fingers demanded space for the notes in your pocket. The way he almost crowded you against the shelves behind your back, despite your attempts to swat him away.

But there were fractions of seconds where you caught the troubled crease in his brow as he fussed with your hands and your shorts. Part of his containment had cracked and sent pure anguish flashing across his face, like he’d fall apart in front of you if he couldn’t make you accept his offering. Didn’t seem motivated by pity, but rather driven by some anxious necessity.

You sniffle and audibly exhale into your palms.

His hands twitch with the ache to move. To fix. Bruised and bloodied as they are, he is overcome with the urge to wrap them around your wrists and uncover your face. Not to force you into baring the shame you’re trying to mask, but to fervidly show you that he is no stranger to it—the kind of shame that careens out of helplessness.

“For her,” he says quietly, almost pleading across the gap. Sam looks up at Pope from the floor. “Take it for her,” his voice wavers and he’s not entirely sure if he’s still referring to your child, or the one he entrusted to a family in the suburbs. The child for whom he would’ve moved mountains. And wouldn't he still? Isn't that why he continues to buy whatever he used to feed her and let it expire in the pantry? Isn't that why he's here?

You pull your hands away; eyes, glossy and red. The sight strikes him where it hurts, and he kicks himself for putting you under pressure.

He shifts on his feet, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean,” he pauses briefly, trying to breathe again, “to come on so strong.” Pope watches you dig the cash out of your pocket and reconfirm to yourself exactly how much he’s given you before you’re shaking your head again.

“Fine. I’ll…I’ll keep the 20,” you sift through the green notes in your hands, “but I am not taking the rest—”

“No, no,” he backs into the bread racks, a hand motioning in the air for you to keep the money to yourself. The moment you try to speak again, he’s off. Leaves you with nothing but a flat “goodbye” before charging down the aisle like you’re suddenly the last person he wants to see. Your heartbeat resounds in your skull.

Sam babbles about something but it’s nearly indecipherable because that man seems to have dragged all the sound away with him. Her calls accumulate and you’re pulled back into yourself. While you reluctantly slot all $150 into your wallet, your daughter reaches into the basket he left on the ground.

“What’ve you got there, Sammy?” You try to smile, coming to crouch down beside her.

Two jars. Smooth peanut butter and sweet strawberry jelly—that’s all he left. Of course, this aisle just indicates that he was initially looking for bread.

“Hmm,” you watch Sam twist the jars in the basket. “He’s a little funny, don’t you think?” You ask Sam, smoothing her hair back from her face, “An adult man shopping to make PB&J.”

You wonder, then, if he had intended to make sandwiches for a child, and have you prevented him from doing so? Did you really scare him away? You stall with Sam a little longer, guarding his basket with the pathetic hope that he might return.

One moment, and another longer. Your knees grow sore. You take the ache as your cue to leave.

next part

[imaginespazzi]

Part 15: Love You Always

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

I never made promises lightly (and there have been some that I've broken) but I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold

(In which a go with the flow writer may have changed a lot of things, but this was always meant to be the ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Mainly just fluff with a little bit of angst and hurt/comfort

Words: 22.7K (lowkey upset I was 1.3K words off of making a 24K gold joke but ah well)

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce, Concussions/Fainting,

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Welcome to the end! This fic is my baby and I cannot believe that we've made it to the last chapter. There's a fair amount of creative license taken in this chapter in regards to W logistics so just bear with me for the plot/drama. The editing in this is shoddy as hell so please be my editors and point out typos/grammar mistakes. I wanted to thank all of you so much for all the love you've given GH. You guys have made this fic worth writing and whether you left a live-react, a general ask, a comment, reblogged it, hearted it or just read this fic, know that all of you mean so much to me. I would love your final opinions on this final chapter if you choose to share them. And of course we still have Stephie's version. So as per always my loves, let me know what your liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next!

July 2007 

It’s golden hour. The park is illuminated by a resplendent yellow shine; sparkling drops of gold shimmering against the clear water of the pond that Paige is currently dipping her toes into. The echoes of the music from the gazebo contrasting against the lull of guest chattering fill her ears, as she reaches down to lazily run her fingers through the water. Paige pulls her dress up slightly, careful not to get it wet as she sits down on the bank. It isn’t her preferred attire by any means, but at least she’d gotten out of wearing the frock with pompous frills and ruffles that her mother had first picked out for her flower girl outfit.

The warmth of the sun dances against her cheeks as Paige involuntarily lets her eyes close, breathing in the much-needed moments of peace. It’s not that she’s unhappy with this wedding -her mother deserves to be happy and her new husband seems like a perfectly decent man. But there’s this hollow feeling of things will never be the same again that’s made itself home against Paige’s ribcage. And it’s not an unfamiliar feeling per say, not when it’s been festering within her since her parents got divorce. But today makes it feel finite. Once upon a time, there used to be Bob and Amy and Paige and a little house in the suburbs that, before it was filled with screaming, had been filled with laughter. Now there’s Amy and her new husband and maybe soon there will be Bob and his new wife. And then there’s Paige, who’s stuck moving between two houses, neither of which seem to fill the void of the old one. 

Paige is only six years old and perhaps she doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of adult relationships, but she thinks she understands this one concept. And It’s a rather startling realization for such a young child to have, but she’s almost certain it’s true. 

Things that are lost, stay lost; they don’t come back to you. 

“I like your dress,” Paige’s eyes fly open at the sound of a small voice, shyly complimenting her dress.

Confused, she follows the sound of it till her gaze lands on a little girl, probably close to her own age, giving her a dimpled grin. Paige looks the dark-curled stranger up and down for a moment, taking in her casual shorts and pink butterfly t-shirt and she suddenly feels a little self-conscious in her own far-too-formal-for-a-park appearance, despite the compliment. 

“Thanks,” she says meekly, playing with the blue ribbon tied around the middle, “it’s my flower girl outfit.”

The other girl’s eyes gleam with excitement, “you were in a wedding?” 

Paige nods, the beginnings of a smile starting to peek through her own lips, “yeah,” she points towards the gazebo in the distance, “the rec-petion is happening over there.”

“That’s so cool,” the brunette remarks as she plops down next to Paige, daintily sliding off her sandals so she can slip her feet into the pond, “why are you here then?”

Paige hesitates, “it’s very loud.”

The other girl nods in understanding, “my Mommy and Daddy’s wedding was really loud too.”

Paige turns sharply towards her at that, “you went to your Mommy’s wedding too?”

Explaining the divorce to her classmates had been complicated enough -she barely understood the concept herself- but then, when she’d broken the news that she’d be attending her Mommy’s wedding this weekend, she’d gotten a whole other round of confused glances. 

Children don’t go to their Mommies weddings, one of the girls had said matter-of-factly, looking at Paige like she’d made some incredulous exclamation. Mrs. Carter, her favorite teacher, had overheard and intervened, sympathetically explaining the entire situation -and the supposed normalcy of it- on her behalf. That had been the extent of it and it had been enough to disband the small crowd of kids that had gathered around her. But there was something about the slight glint of pity in Mrs Carter’s eye and the almost judgemental tone of that one girl, that had left Paige feeling queasy about the whole ordeal. And so she’s surprised by how casually the darker-skinned girl in front of her mentions her own mother’s wedding, like it really was as normal as Mrs. Carter had explained it to be.

“Yeah I did, when I was littler, ” the girl admits happily, “they got married on a bask-ball court and it was lots and lots and lots of fun and I ate so much cake that I had a tummy ache after,” she giggles conspiratorially at her own words and there’s something so contagious about the sound of it, that Paige can’t help but laugh along. 

“Did you wear a pretty dress too,” she asks curiously, secretly pleased when her question makes the other girl’s face light up. 

“I did. It was like yours but it was pink,” the little girl sighs contentedly, “when I have my own wedding, I’m gonna wear pink again.”

Paige scrunches her nose, “you can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Silly girl,” the blonde shakes her head, “my Mommy says you have to wear white when you get married. It’s tradition.”

The other girl frowns, “but I love pink.”

“Maybe you can have something else in pink like-,” Paige pauses, thinking really hard, “like pink flowers in your book-et.”

The brunette seems to contemplate it for a while before another bright grin breaks out on her face, “I like that. You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Paige beams, her face glowing almost as bright as the world around them and then a sudden thought strikes her, “oh my name is-”

“Shush,” the other girl cuts her off, hurriedly placing her tiny hand against Paige’s mouth and the blonde’s eyes widen. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice muffled. 

“You can’t tell me your name silly,” the brunette says firmly, “Mommy says we don’t tell strangers p-ivate info-mation ‘cause what if they-” she drops her voice to a whisper, “what if they wanna kid-nap us.”

Paige wrangles herself free, giving the girl an odd look, “I’m not going to kid-nap you. I’m just a little girl. Little girls can’t kid-nap people,” she says, affronted, “are you gonna kid-nap me?”

“Of course not! I’m too nice-”

“Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“No- that’s not,” the other girl blushes, looking rather flustered, “it’s just what my Mommy says and Daddy says Mommy’s always right and I have to listen to her.”

“Fine,” Paige concedes, a little amused by how pitiful the girl in front of her looks, “I’ll tell you my middle-name instead and then when we meet again and you’re not a st-anger anymore, I’ll tell you my real name.”

“Who says we’ll meet again?” the brunette asks softly. 

“I do. I say so. I just know we’re gonna meet again,” Paige smirks, an air of arrogance around it but she really does believe it and she doesn’t know how she knows -is perhaps too young to understand the concept of a gut-feeling- but she just does. There’s something about this girl, about her big brown doe eyes and her carefree smile and the way talking to her just feels so comfortable, that has Paige convinced they’re destined to meet again, destined to be in each other’s lives. 

The girl seems to mull over Paige’s words for a moment before she finally stretches her hand out, “okay. I’m Jazlyn.”

“Jazlyn,” the blonde tests it out slowly, as she shakes Jazlyn’s hand, “that’s a pretty name. I’m Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you Madison,” Jazlyn says, her voice filled with sincerity as they release each other’s hand, fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary. 

“You too,” Paige replies politely as the two of them kick their feet back and forth in the cool water, ‘you said your Mommy and Daddy got married on a bask-ball court? Do you play?”

Jazlyn nods enthusiastically and that warm feeling that comes with finding common ground with a new friend, flickers through Paige’s heart, “I love bask-ball.”

“Me too,” Paige grins, “it’s my favorit-est thing in the whole wide world.

And then there’s no stopping the conversation between them, the two of them speaking a mile per minute as they cover as many topics as their little minds can think of. Paige learns that Jazlyn’s mother used to play basketball and had passed her passion onto her daughter. The other girl might not have lived much life yet, but whatever she has lived, has been immersed in the sport. It’s so different to Paige’s own story with basketball that had started only a year or so ago when her parents had started her in little league to get her mind off of the divorce. But it’s clear that despite their different starts, their love for the sport is the same. And Paige has basketball friends but no one quite seems to understand the thrill of making an orange ball go through a hoop as much as Jazlyn. 

The world slowly morphs from a golden hue into something darker, the water beneath their feet turning cold as the rays of sun hitting it begin to disappear. Golden hour is over. But the two of them barely notice, too enthralled in a silly argument about who the best Spongebob character is. Paige says Patrick. Jazlyn says Gary. Paige thinks Jazlyn’s lost her mind because Jazzie come on he’s a snail to which Jazlyn immediately raises her eye-brow because and Patrick is starfish Maddie, what’s your point? 

“Oh no,” it’s Jazlyn who seems to notice the time first, her eyes widening as she haphazardly stands up, accidentally flicking Paige with water when she slides her feet out of the pond, “I should get back to my Mommy and Daddy.”

“Right,” Paige swallows, a hollow feeling in her chest as she realizes her new friend is about to leave, “you can’t stay a little bit longer?”

Jazlyn shakes her head apologetically, “sorry Maddie. ‘Member I told you, we’re going back to Virg-inia tomorrow so I have to help Mommy pack all our things.”

Virginia. 

That’s the other thing Paige had discovered about the girl; that she wasn’t from around here. Jazlyn had come to visit her grandparents, just as she tended to every summer. She’d spent the last part of her holidays in their lodge, which coincidentally bordered the park -with the fancy gazebo- that Paige’s mom had booked for the reception. Paige had learned that this was a part of Jazlyn’s routine apparently, to stroll to the pond right before sunset and it was close enough to where she was staying that her parents let her go by herself. She’d told the blonde that for the most part the walks had been rather boring, peaceful but uneventful. Until today, when she’d stumbled upon Paige, sitting at the exact place Jazlyn would normally sit.

And, tomorrow, the other girl will be gone.

Paige isn’t quite sure where exactly Virginia is -geography isn’t her strong suite- but she knows that it’s far away from Minnesota, far away from Paige. They’ve just met; it feels almost wrong for them to already be torn apart. 

“Are you gonna visit again?” Paige asks slowly, her voice tinged with hope.

“Prob-ly. Like I said, we visit every summer,” Jazlyn says, as she slips her sandals back on, “are you gonna be here next time?”

“I think so,” Paige grins as she stands up herself, noticing she’s just an inch or so taller than the other girl, “Mommy’s new house is pretty close to here.”

Jazlyn’s smile stretches her entire face as she juts out her pinky, “so we’ll see each other again?”

“Def-nitely,” Paige promises as she interlocks her own pink with her friend’s, “I’m gonna miss you Jazzie. Even if I just met you.”

Jazlyn’s eyes soften before she pulls the other kid into a hug, her head fitting just a little too perfectly into the crook of Paige’s neck, “I’m gonna miss you too Maddie.”

They part reluctantly, too young to understand the confusing magnetic pull between them, but still perceptive enough to understand that, despite having only just met, there’s something between them. 

“Bye Maddie,” Jazlyn says quietly, her lips trembling for a slight second as she waves at the blond, slowly backing away. 

“Bye Jazzie,” Paige calls out, watching as the other girl smiles at her one last time, before turning on her heel and starting to run back home. She watches her go until her silhouette disappears and a slight shiver -that isn’t just from the summer wind- runs up Paige’s skin. 

“I hope I see you soon,” she whispers into the wind, almost like she’s making a wish, before hugging her arms around herself and heading back towards the gazebo. 

But soon isn’t quite soon. Because not even six months later, Paige’s mom and her new husband move to Montana, the house by the park sold to the highest bidder. When August rolls around, with the promise to Jazlyn weighing heavily on her mind, she begs her father to take her up there but instead, bound by a custody agreement, he puts her on a flight to go visit her mother instead. It’s not his choice to make and really, Paige is too young to fight it, so instead that becomes a part of her summer routine. Every August, Paige goes to Montana and slowly but surely -as is natural with little kids- the memory of meeting the girl with the dark curls and big doe eyes and a bright smile, slowly fades away. 

That is, until she’s 15 and participating in a camp for USA basketball and she meets Azzi Jazlyn Fudd. 

And the memories don’t quite come rushing back -it’s been nine years and her recollection of things that happened when she was six isn’t particularly good- but there's a flicker of recognition that ignites in her stomach. That same feeling she’d felt all those years ago, comes rushing back into her veins as their eyes meet across the court and by the way Azzi’s face softens just a little bit, Paige can tell, she feels it too. 

The feeling that the two of them are destined to be in each other’s life, that they’re destined to always find each other over and over again. 

*** 

July 2033 

Wings 76     Valkyries 94

American Airlines center is filled with the sound of crowds of fans grumbling as they leave the arena, their home team having suffered an expected loss to the Valkyries. Paige has no ill-will to the Dallas fans -they’d treated her with nothing but love her time here- but she can’t help but smirk a little, the competitor in her, just always a little too cocky about winning and shutting the opposing team's supporters up. 

But there are still fans of her tenure at Dallas here and Paige can’t escape the horde of signs being shoved in her face, waiting for her autograph. The fans have been crazy since she was in college and as grateful as she is for the fame, sometimes, just the sheer amount of people that seem to avalanche her out of nowhere, overwhelms her just a little bit. Still, Paige poses for the pictures and signs the most ridiculous poster with a warm smile on her face but her mind is wandering far off, thinking about walking through the tunnel and finding her person standing there, waiting so they can go do media together. 

It’s that thought that has her rushing a little bit, her signature becoming messier and messier as she slowly reaches the last of the fans. Paige shoots the crowd one more charming grin, before she slips away -the for the people smile on her face morphing into something more intimate as she rushes towards the tunnel. It’s been almost three weeks since Paige had gotten her head out of her ass and finally gotten the girl, and every single second since has felt like magic. 

“Hey superstar,” Azzi calls out to her as she makes it about halfway into the tunnel and Paige feels her heart skip a beat as she finally catches sight of the brunette, leaning against the wall, watching her with a smirk of her own. She’s slipped on a Valkyrie’s shirt over her jersey, her hair slightly mussed from the pace of the game and Paige thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Hey baby,” she whispers, as she saunters over to Azzi, tugging the younger woman into her arms as she brushes their lips together, “I missed you.”

The brunette rolls her eyes fondly, her hands locking behind Paige’s neck as her fingers play with wisps of baby hair, “we were just on the court together. It’s been maybe seven minutes since you last saw me.”

“Seven minutes too long,” Paige says airly as she steals another kiss from Azzi’s lips, “I miss you every second we’re apart.”

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi shakes her head as removes herself from Paige’s grasp, giggling when it elicits a small whine of protest from the blonde, before she intertwines their hands together as they start walking towards the media waiting room. 

They barely make it into the area before there’s a blur of limbs whizzing into their legs, causing both of them to laugh as they try to keep themselves from falling over at Stephie’s attack. The little girl grins up at them, a lavender #5 jersey -that makes Paige practically glow with pride- framing her little body. Stephie had taken to alternating between her customized #5 and #35 jerseys between games and even though technically today should’ve been Azzi’s turn, the little girl had insisted that she needed to wear #5 today. 

To show Dall-s that she’s only ours now, Stephie had said with a possessive scrunch in her face when Azzi had dramatically complained of the betrayal. The logic had been enough for the brunette who’d agreed in a heartbeat that of course, you’re right, everyone should know she’s ours as she’d winked at Paige. The blonde had only chuckled, but really it had sent a ember of warmth through her veins, filling her heart with the comfort that came from knowing the people she considered hers, considered her to be theirs. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks, you played so well today,” Stephie gushes, arms still fervently wrapped around both of their knees as she grins up at them, “and-and-and I cheered so loud for you guys. The loudest. So loud that even Pops had to tell me to be quieter. Can you believe it Pops had to tell me to be quiet,” the little girl giggles like it’s absurd that her grandfather -the most boisterous man she knew- could tell someone else to be quiet, “but I told him I’d only be quieter when you guys played less good-er and you guys never played less good-er so I never had to be quiet,” she finishes with a proud smirk. 

Paige laughs at her enthusiasm, winking at Tim who’s spluttering justifications, as she swings Stephie into her arms, before plopping onto the sofa with the little girl comfortably settled in her lap, “You were that loud huh? I knew I heard you.”

Stephie beams, “you heard me?”

“Of course I did. Why do you think all my shots kept going in? It’s cause I knew my Stephie-bean was cheering the loudest for me,” Paige says, as she pulls on the little girl’s nose. 

“The loud-est-est-est,” Stephie stretches her arms proudly before she wraps them around Paige’s neck, bringing the blonde closer to her so she can press a long sloppy kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh okay I see how it is,” Azzi pouts dramatically as she perches on the armrest next to them, “guess nobody was cheering for me then.”

“Silly Mama,” Stephie shakes her tiny little hands reaching up to cup her mother’s face across Paige’s body, “I said I was cheering for both of you.”

“But only Miss Buecks is getting kisses. Where’s Mama’s kiss?” Azzi asks cheekily as she expectantly juts out her face towards Stephie. 

But before the little girl can do the honors, Paige beats her to it, foolishly grinning like a teenager in love as she presses her own lips to Azzi’s cheek, “there you go baby, there’s your kiss.”

“Paige!” Azzi exclaims, eyes widening in surprise as a light blush creeps up her cheeks. 

Paige shrugs mischievously, “What? You wanted a kiss Az, I gave you a kiss.”

“I was- I was-,” Azzi splutters, “I was asking Stephie.”

“Oh, were you? My bad. Didn’t realize, lemme take it back,” Paige smirks as she places her lips back onto the brunette’s cheek, suctioning them inwards like she’s trying to reverse what she did previously, “there! I took my kiss back.”

“Paige!” Azzi squirms again, her face crimson now as she rubs at her cheek, glaring at Paige who looks far too pleased with herself. 

“You’re so red Mama,” Stephie giggles, all of her teeth showing. 

“Zip it Stephie,” Azzi says, attempting to sound strict but there’s no bite to her tone and instead Stephie and Paige look at each other for a second, before bursting into another round of laughter. 

Azzi groans, “I hate both of you.”

Stephie removes one arm from Paige’s neck, so she can loop it around her mother’s, bringing the brunette closer to the two of them, “no you don’t Mama, you love us the most-est-est-est in the world.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, but there’s no stopping the sappy smile that her daughter’s words elicit, “maybe just most-est-est,” she concedes as she nuzzles her head against Paige’s, her finger gently rubbing Stephie’s cheek. 

They stay like that, the three of them cocooned in their own little bubble as Stephie recites her favorite moments from the game and the two adults listen on intently, adding a comment or two here and there to humor the little girl. This is Paige’s happy place; she thinks if peace had a definition, it would most definitely just be a picture of this: her, Azzi and Stephie, just existing together. 

“Excuse me, Paige, Azzi, they’re ready for the two of you now,” a polite voice breaks in through the calm and Paige looks up to see their media manager looking pointedly at the two of them. 

“Alright Stephie girl,” Tim calls out, “let's you and me go get some ice cream, while your Mama and Miss Buecks go do press.”

Stephie frowns, her grip instinctively tightening around the two women, “can I come with you?”

“Stephie-” Azzi begins gently, slowly rising off of the armrest. 

“Please Mama,” Stephie implores, jutting out her bottom lip, “Ri-Ri says Uncle Twin used to let her do media with him sometimes. She showed me a video of it and everything. I’ll be good I promise,” she places a hand on her heart, “I just wanna be with you and Miss Buecks pretty please.”

Paige bites her lip, still a little scared to overstep boundaries since last time but she sends Azzi a pleading look, not wanting to let go of Stephie either. And really Paige has already fulfilled her saying no to Stephie quota for the week considering it was her, who’d said no to the little girl when she’d asked for extra whipped cream on her waffles this morning. 

“Fine,” Azzi relents with a sigh, “but you better be on your best behavior Miss Stephanie and you too Paige,” she says pointedly to the blonde who holds her hands up in mock surrender. 

 “I’m always on my best-est-est-est behavior Mama,” Stephie says proudly as she slides off of Paige’s lap to allow the older woman to get up. As soon as she does, the little girl reaches for her hand, intertwining one through Paige’s and the other through Azzi’s as she excitedly bounces in between, pulling them towards the conference room, “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

Murmurs ring out through the press cohort as the three of them enter together. Despite Azzi’s reassurance that she had no intent to hide their relationship this time around, neither of them were really the type to make a big public announcement acknowledging it either. But there had been a picture of Stephie and Azzi -both casually sticking their blue-tinted tongues out at each other while holding rainbow popsicles- that Paige had added to her life lately photo dump around a week ago, which had sent the rumours flying about what their potential relationship status might be.

As Paige and Azzi take their seats, Stephie looks thoughtful between them, clearly deliberating on where -or rather on who- she wants to sit. Eventually, she climbs onto Paige’s lap and the blonde smirks triumphantly as Azzi’s mouth falls open. 

“Guess I’m the favorite,” the older woman says cheekily into the mic in front of her, causing a few chuckles to echo throughout the press room as she drapes an arm around the little girl’s middle -right against the #5 of her jersey- allowing Stephie to get comfortable. 

Azzi shakes her head, the edges of lips turning upwards despite her attempt to look betrayed as she addresses the rest of the room, “y’all should know the ball isn’t the only thing she steals,” she says in reference to Paige’s three steals tonight, “she also apparently steals other people’s places as their child’s favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“That’s not true Mama,” Stephie quips defensively, “you guys are tied.”

“But me just a little bit more though right Stephie-bean?” Paige whispers conspiratorially, poking the little girl in the stomach and causing her to squeal.

“Miss Buecks stop,” Stephie says in between peals of laughter, “Mama said we have to be on our best-est-est-est behavior remember?”

“Oh right, right, right,” Paige nods vehemently, pretending to compose herself as the media personnel look on amused at the antics on display, “best behavior from now on I promise.”

The first couple of questions are directed to Azzi -mainly about her career high in blocks (4) and that she’d gone 7 for 10 from three- and Paige allows herself to dissociate a little bit. She hooks her chin against Stephie’s shoulder, bringing the box score closer to herself so she can look through it. The little girl leans in alongside her to look at the paper in front of them and Paige almost laughs at the concentration with which Stephie’s eyes trace the numbers. 

“Only three rebounds tonight Miss Buecks?” the little girl notes keeping her voice low so the mics won’t pick it up as she raises her eyebrow at Paige and attempts to tsk tsk tsk.

“Can’t do everything I guess,” the blonde replies playfully, pointing out that she’d more or less stuffed the stat-sheet beyond that. 

“But you still gotta rebound Miss Buecks” Stephie says gravely, with all the wisdom of a little girl who’s grown up around a lot of basketball, “don’t you always say to Mama that she has to rebound more? Cause rebounds win champ-ships right?”

“Not you using my own words against me. You’re too smart for your own good,” Paige mutters under her breath but there’s a gentle smile -one reserved solely for the little girl cuddled to her chest- playing on her lips, “but alright Coach Stephanie, I’ll get more rebounds next time.”

“Good. You should,” the little girl retorts happily, as she goes back to reading the box score, continuing to occasionally point out other things that peak her interest, to Paige. For her part, the blonde is so lost in this little bubble she’s in with Stephie -intently listening to the little girl’s analysis as they giggle over something they’d both found funny- that she doesn’t even register a question being sent her own way until Azzi loudly clears her throat. 

She raises her head at the sound and even though the whole room is looking at her, Paige’s eyes -as they often seem to do whenever the brunette is around- immediately turn towards Azzi. The younger woman’s gaze is focused on the two of them, something unmistakably soft hidden behind the amused quirk of her eyebrow, as she tilts her head slightly towards the reporters, trying to signal that it was the older woman’s turn to answer a question. 

“Sorry,” Paige clears her throat sheepishly, “what was the question?”

The reporter -a young man that she recognizes as working on one of the Dallas sports news channel- chuckles, “sorry to interrupt Paige; she’s a lot cuter than we are, I understand,” he teases good-naturedly and a series of amused laughs ring out through the room as Paige nuzzles Stephie closer to herself, “I was just asking -this is your first time playing in Dallas since you left, how does it feel to be back?”

“It feels great,” the blonde admits with a smile, and although it’s partly the politically correct answer, she really does mean it, “I’ve always loved playing here you know, the fans always- always showed out for this team when I was here and it’s great to see they did again today. It was a little weird being boo-ed by the same people who used to cheer for me when I was shooting free throws- but you know- that’s sports and you know they still clapped for me when I came out so I’mma take that as they still love me just a little bit cause I’m pretty easy to love,” Paige winks and can practically feel Azzi rolling her eyes at the gesture, as the reporters laugh at her feigned cockines, “but yeah you know- it was great to be here. You know this place used to be home once-”

“And now home is me and Mama,” Stephie announces, cutting Paige off mid sentence as she turns around in the older woman’s lap, her big brown eyes glittering as she looks up at her, “right Miss Buecks?”

It’s like everyone seems to hold their breaths at the little girl’s words; there’s no denying the meaning behind them. Paige opens and closes her mouth, trying to figure out the right way to respond. She glances towards Azzi, trying to figure out how the other woman wants them to play this. The brunette is already looking at her, her eyes slightly wide at what her daughter had just said but filled with the promise of we’ll always be your home as she gives Paige a slight nod, her lip curling upwards into a small grin. 

“Right Stephie-bean,” Paige says softly, addressing the little girl more than the media, “my home is you and Mama.”

“You’re our home too Miss Buecks,” Stephie grins toothily as she reaches up to press an open mouth kissed against the blonde woman’s cheeks before turning her little body back towards the press, unaware of the spark of emotion her innocent little declaration had birthed in Paige’s heart. She looks at Azzi again, finding her eyes moist with the same tears of pure happiness that she knows are reflected on her own, a testament to finally getting everything they’d dreamt of as two naive college students, curled into each other on a twin-sized bed. 

And then there’s a familiar cough resounding through the audience and Paige feels her entire body stiffen. She reluctantly drags her gaze away from Azzi and amidst the sea of smiling faces -all of whom had clearly found the scene rather sickeningly cute- she finds a distinctly known face scowling up at the podium. Olivia. 

"Miss Buecks," Stephie whispers, as she lifts herself a little off of Paige's lap so her lips are level with the blonde's ear, "why does that reporter look so mad?"

Paige swallows, her grip tightening protectively around the little girl on her lap,

 “It’s nothing honey,” she reassures but there’s little conviction in her voice. 

Paige can almost feel the tension radiating off of Azzi’s body, clearly recognizing who the reporter is and she has to fight the urge to reach out and grab the younger woman’s hand, to squeeze or trace light patterns against her skin. She doesn’t know how she’d spent so long not realizing her ex-wife was sitting second-row at the press conference. Paige had known Olivia was gonna be here, had been mentally preparing for her to be covering the Dallas game and yet, perhaps because she’d been so preoccupied with Stephie and Azzi while walking, she’d barely taken note of the woman. 

“This is a press conference, not your home,” Olivia remarks icily and all the other reporters twitch uncomfortably in their seats, clearly aware of the dynamics at play, “so if y’all are done, I think we’d all love to go finish this off and get back to our own homes as well.”

Azzi’s hands clench under the table and this time Paige doesn’t bother fighting it; she uses the hand not gripping Stephie, to grab for the younger woman's fists under the table, rubbing soothing circles against her knuckles to try and calm her down. It’s like there’s magic in her touch -the same that seems to exist in Azzi’s when she touches Paige- and slowly but surely it begins to calm the brunette down. 

Still keeping hold of Azzi’s hand underneath the podium, Paige musters up an apologetic smile for Olivia, “sorry- that was uh- that wasn’t very professional of us.”

“Well workplace relationships aren’t quite professional either,” Olivia remarks pointedly, an unsettlingly saccharine smile on her face, and it’s like a cold chill -most definitely not from the air conditioning- settles across the room, “but that’s never been an issue for you has it Paige?”

Paige stares at the journalist in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to respond. Since the divorce, despite the amicable appearances, Olivia had always had a thinly-veiled passive-aggressive jab ready to integrate into her post-game media questions. But there was nothing thinly-veiled or remotely passive about this particular remark and Paige is completely caught off-guard, her body freezing at the sheer amount of vitriol in her ex-wife’s voice. 

As if sensing her unease, Stephie leans back into Paige, almost as if she’s trying to provide some semblance of comfort. Under the table, Azzi flips her hand over, unclenching her own fist so she can intertwine their hands together as she gently squeezes the blonde’s hand, a simple gesture of i’m here that makes Paige relax just a little bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, her voice a matching syrupy sweet as she focuses her attention on the reporter, “I was under the impression you wanted to continue the press conference but well-” she tilts her head almost mockingly, “you don’t seem to be asking any basketball questions so unless you have one of those, I suggest you let the others ask their questions because like you said, we’re all ready to go home.”

There’s a quick flash of anger in Olivia’s eyes but she’s quick to compose herself, putting on a tight-lipped smile as she addresses the two of them again, “I do have a basketball question thank you Azzi,” she spits the brunette’s name out bitterly and Paige tries to not show her irritation on her face, choosing instead to focus on the pressure of Azzi’s fingers playing with her own, “the two of you have been known since college for your chemistry- on the court that is of course- apparently Paige has a knack for finding your or something. But over the last two games, only two of your shots have been assisted by her? So I guess I’m just wondering, is the chemistry fading? Were you guys maybe just trying to force something that used to exist but isn’t meant to anymore?”

It’s a ridiculous question laced with farcical underlying meanings and Paige can tell it takes every little bit of restraint left in Azzi’s body to not curse Olivia out right then and there. 

“And what happened in the game before the last two?” the brunette asks calmly. 

Olivia shrugs, “does it matter? I’m asking about the last two games.”

“Did you watch that game?” Azzi presses. 

“There was a Wings game on at the same time. I had priorities,” Olivia answers airily. 

“Fair enough,” Azzi says, her voice deceptively casual as she narrows her eyes at the other woman, “I’ll tell you what happened then. The game before that, Paige assisted on six of my eight made shots. The game before that one, she assisted on four of them. The game before that, on five of them. I guess it’s gone down a little these last two games but as a journalist you should probably know that two games doesn't make a trend. So no, we’re not trying to force something that used to exist. We’re building off of something -off of a chemistry- that has always existed,” she glances briefly at Paige, her stoic expression softening, “and always will,” before turning back to Olivia with cold eyes, “does that answer your question?”

Olivia purses her lips as she nods reluctantly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Azzi retorts.

There’s only two more questions after that, the atmosphere in the room having clearly shifted and all the rest of the reporters clearly eager to escape the still-lingering tension. Paige doesn’t let go of Azzi’s hand, that and Stephie’s occasional fidgeting on her lap, the only thing keeping her fully grounded. 

As soon as the press conference officially concludes, Azzi’s out of her seat, marching out of the media room with vengeance and Paige knows exactly where she’s going. 

“Stephie sweetheart, you go hang out with Pops for a second okay,” she tells the little girl, pointing her in the direction of Tim who had been waiting on the sidelines, before rushing to catch up with her girlfriend. 

“Az-” Paige attempts to say as she falls into step next to the younger girl, trying to match her furious pace, “baby come on it’s not worth it.”

Azzi ignores her, continuing on her tirade towards Olivia, who is where she always is, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Azzi hisses, coming to a quick half in front of the reporter and Paige stops right behind her. 

Olivia quirks an eyebrow, “excuse me?”

“Oh don’t even try that bullshit with me. Look I get it okay- I get that you have issues with Paige and probably with me and that’s fine. You have every right to dislike us- maybe even hate us but pulling that stunt in front of all the media? You don’t get to do all that.”

“And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Olivia asks, not even attempting to keep up a pretense of cordiality. 

“Do not test me,” Azzi warns, “you know damn well I can have your credentials to cover the Wings revoked with one word.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know me,” the brunette cuts off Olivia’s weak protest, “you don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do for the people I love.”

A flicker of hurt rushes across her ex-wife’s face and Paige suddenly feels a slight pang of guilt taking birth in her stomach. In front of her, Azzi lets out a shallow breath, clearly having noticed the same thing. 

“I know what it’s like you know,” the younger woman says slowly, her voice much softer now, “I know what it’s like to lose Paige. I know what it’s like to see her with someone else. I know how much it hurts,” Azzi swallows, shaking slightly like even the memory of it is hard to relieve before her voice hardens again, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you take that hurt out on us like that. Next time we’re in Dallas, if you pull that shit again, know that I will absolutely get you fired.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, pointedly looking away from Azzi as she crosses her arms around her body. Knowing the lack of response would only irritate the brunette further, Paige takes a step towards her, gently pressing her thumb against Azzi’s wrist to get her attention. 

“Hey Az, baby how about you go check on Stephie? Maybe get changed so we can head out,” she says softly, giving the younger woman one of her patented charming smiles, “I’ll come find you guys in a little bit.”

For a second it looks like Azzi’s going to protest but there must be something in the look that Paige gives her and instead she sighs, nodding as she lightly bumps her forehead against the blonde’s temple, before walking back towards the media waiting room. Paige can’t help but watch her go until her silhouette disappears, can’t help the just for Azzi smile that stays glued on her face till the brunette is out of her sight. 

“You used to tell me you didn’t do nicknames,” Olivia’s tone is tinged with resigned bitterness and Paige takes in a sharp breath before turning slightly to face her ex-wife. 

“What?”

“I told you- on our first date I think- that you could call me Livvy and you said- you said you don’t do nicknames. Or pet names. But clearly,” she gestures in the direction Azzi had gone, “you do.”

Paige pauses, letting the other woman’s words sink in as she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry.”

Olivia chuckles unhumourously, “for not calling me by pet name or for all the stuff your girlfriend just said?”

“Neither, “Paige replies cautiously, “and Azzi didn’t say anything wr-”

“She threatened to get me fired-”

“Because what you did in there was really fucking unprofessional Olivia,” Paige defends immediately, matching the loudness in her ex-wife’s tone. 

Olivia narrows her eyes, “so then what exactly are you apologizing for Paige?”

“I’m apologizing for making you feel like you have to be unprofessional. You’re a really good journalist and I- I hate that I make you act differently. And I know that- I know it comes from a place of hurt and I know I’m the reason that hurt exists. And I don’t think- I don’t think I ever properly told you how sorry I am for it,” Paige nibbles nervously on her bottom lip, “so that’s- that’s what I’m apologizing for.”

Olivia’s quiet for a second and when she finally does speak, there’s  a fragility hanging onto her words, “I was right, wasn’t I? All those arguments- during all those fights about- about her when I said that you were still in love with her- you- you never denied it. You just- you would always change the topic- say that it wasn’t about her. But I was right, wasn’t I? You did still love her.”

Paige hesitates, “Olivia-”

“Give me this one last thing Paige, please,” Olivia pleads softly, “just- tell me I was right.”

“You were,” Paige admits finally and both of them seem to let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding, “I’ve loved her since I was fifteen and there hasn’t been a moment since then that I haven’t been in love with her.”

Olivia flinches, screwing her eyes shut for a second, “I thought that would hurt more to hear but it-” her eyelids flutter open as for the first time in a long time, she gives Paige an almost genuine smile, “it almost feels good to hear. To know I wasn’t crazy.”

“You weren’t. I’m sorry,” Paige repeats again, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I know. Me too. You’re right- you’re both right. I- I shouldn’t have done what I did at the press conference. I’m sorry- for that and for all the other ones too,” Olivia acknowledges slowly, “tell um- tell Azzi that too. That I’m sorry and I uh- I’d really appreciate it if she didn’t try and get me fired.”

They both giggle softly at that and it feels like a weight being lifted off of Paige’s shoulders, something almost like closure. 

“I’ll make sure she knows,” she promises. 

“Thanks,” Olivia nods, folding her press notes into her purse as she gets ready to leave, “bye Paige.”

Paige smiles, “bye Olivia.”

And then she turns around, and walks back towards Azzi, back to where she’s always belonged. 

***

Azzi’s sitting on the couch in the locker room -having changed back into regular clothes- by the time Paige returns from whatever conversation she’d been having with her ex-wife. She’s aware she’d probably been a little harsh on the other woman -knows that the not-so-kind feelings she has towards said woman is definitely unwarranted- but she’d had the audacity to target their relationship -to target Paige. And that had been enough for Azzi’s anger to cloud the more empathetic side of herself, who understood the hurt the other woman must have felt at having to watch the three of them -happy and giddy with love- on the podium together. 

“How did your conversation with your ex-wife go?” she asks as Paige enters the locker room, swinging her feet up to lounge them on the armrest. Azzi’s not normally a petty person but the mere existence of another woman having been married to her Paige, seems to evoke that side of her more often than not. 

The blonde shoots her a pointed look as she walks over to her stuff, “that was unnecessary and you know it.”

“It was. I’m sorry,” Azzi rubs her neck sheepishly, “but I really do wanna know what happened.”

“I apologized,” Paige says, slipping her jersey off and Azzi’s momentarily distracted by the sight of her girlfriend's abs, tongue instinctively darting out to lick her lips, that she doesn’t quite register what the older woman had just said. 

“What?” she frowns when the realization finally does hit, “why would you apologize?”

Paige sighs, slipping on the light blue oversized shirt -the one Azzi loves because it brings out the color of her eyes- before reaching for the darker cargo pants that had accompanied it, “because she only pulls shit like this because I hurt her. And I guess it worked cause, she apologized too.”

“You’re a good person, you know that?” Azzi says softly and she means it. Sometimes it amazes her just how amazing Paige is despite it all, just how humble and kind she's remained despite the fame that surrounded her. 

Paige grins, finally dressed as she plops on the couch next to Azzi, lifting the younger woman's legs up and rearranging them so they’re settled comfortably on her lap. 

“I know but I like hearing you say it,” she says as she lets her fingers run across the exposed skin of Azzi’s thighs. 

The younger woman raises her eyebrows as Paige’s hand moves higher up, a smirk on the blonde’s face, “what are you doing?”

“You’re hot when you get all protective and shit you know that,” Paige says slowly, pulling Azzi closer to herself, clearly pleased when she’s met with little resistance, “it’s really sexy when you get all defensive. Especially when it’s about me.”

“Oh it is, is it?” Azzi asks, eyes hooding over when Paige presses her lips against her neck, her movements gentle but purposefully as her hands continue to roam up and down the younger woman’s legs, “Paige- fuck-,” she groans when the blonde’s teeth graze against her skin, “baby we’re in the lockerroom. Anyone could walk in.”

“Let them,” Paige says, mouth moving down to work against her collarbone, and Azzi shivers, almost losing her restraint, “been wanting to do this all day. Since you came out in this skirt- fucking tease aren’t you baby? And then you were so hot on the court- so sexy when you’re confident.”

“Paige please,” Azzi reaches out a hand to still Paige’s movements, finger enclosing over the older woman’s hands, knowing she’s one moment away from caving in and letting Paige have what she wants, “we gotta go baby. Gotta get back to the hotel and I swear, once Stephie’s asleep in my parents’ suite, you can do whatever you want to me.”

Paige smirks against her skin, “whatever I want?”

“Whatever,” Azzi promises coyly, pulling the blonde’s face out of her neck so she can meld their lips together. 

“I like the sound of that,” Paige grins as she finally lets go of Azzi, standing up and pulling the brunette up with her so she can lace their hands together, “where is Stephie anyways?”

“With Ice and Jana. Something about aunty-niece bonding time,” Azzi answers with a slight fond shake of her head, only a little concerned about what mischief their friends might be up to with her daughter. 

And sure enough, when Paige and Azzi do finally find the little girl, she’s sitting in between their former college teammates on a picnic bench right outside the Dallas facilities,  her mouth stuffed with saltine crackers and her entire face decorated with crumbs.

“What on earth,” it’s Paige who recovers first, eyes darting back and forth between Ice and Jana, who both also have a mouth full of saltine crackers, and Stephie. 

A series of indiscernible noises ring out from the three people in question, the crackers in their respective mouths clearly prohibiting them from being coherent and Azzi isn’t sure whether to be concerned or to laugh. 

“They’re doing the crackers challenge,” a new voice explains helpfully, and Azzi follows the sound of it to find KK’s face -bright and goofy as always- grinning at her from Jana’s phone screen. Their former teammate waves excitedly, “HI MOM AND DAD.”

“Of course, you’re here too,” Paige chuckles as she lines up behind Stephie, rubbing the little girl’s back as she continues to scarf down crackers. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” KK asks, affronted and then glances at the timer, “chop chop ladies, y’all only have 20 more seconds left- anyways what are you tryna say P Boogers?”

Paige rolls her eyes as Azzi stifles a laugh, taking a seat as she keeps a watchful eye on her daughter just in case. 

“I am way too old for you to be calling me that nickname Kamorea.”

“You are too old,” KK admits thoughtfully and Paige immediately guffaws, “but not too old to be called P Boogers. Anyways, countdown time 10, 9, 8…”

Azzi shakes her head as Paige joins in with KK, banging her fists on the table for emphasis and for a second it almost feels like they’re back to being a bunch of twenty-something year olds just learning to navigate life together with a ball in their hands,  “4, 3, 2,1!!!”

“I WIN,” Stephie announces, spraying the table with crumbs as she jumps up from her seat to claim victory. 

“NO YOU DIDN’T,” Ice protests loudly, her voice still muffled by the remnant of crackers, as she points to her bowl, “I have two left and you have two and a half.”

“The half doesn’t count Aunty Icey,” Stephie says matter-of-factly. 

Ice splutters, “what do you mean it doesn’t count,” she looks at Jana, who’s clearly still having trouble swallowing as she coughs, “Jana help.”

The Egyptian shakes her head, struggling to breathe and Azzi -with a pitying look on her face- hands her a glass of water that she gratefully takes. The entire scene is chaotic and yet, it brings the brunette a sense of peace, like something she hadn’t let herself realize was broken, is healing. 

“KK,” Ice rounds on the shorter girl on the phone, once she realizes Jana’s not gonna help her, “KAMOREA TELL THIS- THIS- THIS CHILD THAT I WON.”

“No Aunty ‘Morea,” Stephie says sweetly and by the way KK’s face immediately softens at the nickname, Azzi already knows who the younger woman is about to declare as the winner, “tell Aunty Icey that I won because the half doesn’t count right? Cause I’m littler and my mouth is smaller than hers.”

“ARE YOU SAYING I HAVE A BIG MOUTH,” Ice explodes, her eyes widening when Stephie shrugs impishly and then proceeds to high-five a laughing Paige who almost has tears spilling out of her eyes. 

“She makes a good point Isuneh,” KK says finally, “you do have a big mouth-”

“Kamorea when I fu-”

“Ice!” Paige warns, coughing slightly as she recovers from her laughter. 

Ice glares at her, “when I fudging catch you.”

“I’m not scared of you Isuneh,” KK says ruefully, “anyways I hereby declare Stephanie Katarina Fudd, the winner of this saltine challenge.”

Paige and Stephie burst into cheers as Ice continues to shake her head, “y’all are some cheaters.”

Stephie sticks her tongue out at the older woman before bounding over to Azzi, swinging her arms around her neck as her mother lifts her onto her lap, “Mama, Mama, Mama, did you see I won?”

“I did,” Azzi chuckles, as she brushes the crumbs lining her daughter’s mouth. 

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna eat another car-ker again though,” the little girl makes a face, patting at her stomach, “I feel sick.”

“My poor baby,” Azzi coos, “eating a bunch of saltines after you’ve already had dinner will do that to you.”

Stephie pouts at the call-out, “but Mama I had to win the challenge. Miss Buecks says never say no to a challenge you know you can win and I knew Mama, I knew I could win and I did.”

Azzi looks over Stephie’s head at Paige, who grins sheepishly at her before coming over to sit right behind them on the bench, so her chest is pressed to Azzi’s back and she can wrap her long arms around both mother and daughter.

“I did teach her that,” Paige confesses, “and I mean,” she winks conspiratorially at Stephie, “she did win.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Azzi rolls her eyes, her body relaxing as she leans back into the warmth of Paige’s body, humming contently when the older woman presses a quick kiss against her temple. 

“It’s good to see y’all are disgustingly cute as ever,” KK’s voice interrupts the calm, but there’s no real bite to her teasing; in fact there might even be a little bit of relief, “ion know how Jana’s dealing with the two of you again.”

“It’s a hard life,” Jana says solemnly, having finally recovered from the whole cracker debacle by having downed a whole bottle of water. 

“I bet. Do they still do that thing they used to do? Where they just keep staring at each other with dopey smiles and not saying anything?” KK inquires, a mock disgusted expression on her face.

“Oh they might do it more than they used to actually,” Jana complains as both Paige and Azzi try to protest, “it’s sickening stuff. Free me forreal.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Paige grumbles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, smiling only when Stephie lightly pats her head in consolation. 

“Don’t be mean to my Mama and Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently, turning towards her Aunties with a small frown, “they’re a little gross-”

“HEY.”

“Sorry Miss Buecks. But you are sometimes. But it’s okay,” the little girl grins, “because you’re in love and it’s okay to be a little icky in love.”

Azzi smiles at her daughter's wise words; thinks the little girl and their former teammates are probably both right. They are a little gross and disgusting and sickeningly in love but it’s their love. It’s the only way they’ve known how to love since they were fifteen -nauseatingly but all-consumingly- and she wouldn’t change that for anything. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Ice defends finally. 

“See, this is why you were always my favorite child back in school,” Paige fistbumps Ice and and immediately both Jana and KK let out a chorus of protests. 

“I knew it,” Ice smirks triumphantly, “but no forreal. I’m really glad y’all found your way back to each other. I can’t lie, after that time you drunk-called Azzi and said all that stuff to her, I didn’t think y’all-” she stops abruptly, eyes widening in realization of what she’d just let slip out. 

“Ice,” Jana hisses, glaring at her former teammate before looking concernedly at her two current ones.

Azzi twists uncomfortably, “P-”

“When did I drunk-call Azzi?” Paige asks slowly, her voice dripping with confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“Did I say that?” Ice chuckles nervously, her tone unusually high-pitched, “oh you know me, always make up stuff for no reason. Why would you drunk-call Azzi? Why would I even let that happen, amirite?”

“Nice job Isuneh, real convincing,” Jana mutters under her breath as Paige continues to look unconvinced. 

“Mama,” Stephie cuts in, peering up at Azzi with big questioning eyes, “what’s drunk-calling?”

“It’s nothing sweetie,” Azzi reassures the little girl before looking pointedly at Ice, “you still driving us back to the hotel?”

Ice nods hesitantly, “I got a carseat and everything just for little miss Stephanie.”

“Good, it’s the least you could do,” Azzi bites out, referring to the secret the other woman had just accidentally let out -one they’d preserved for four years- and Ice at least has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “how about you and Jana take Stephie and start heading towards the car, we’ll catch up in a second.”

“Trust me Az,” KK calls out, still on facetime, “I’ll make sure they don’t lose her.”

Despite the newfound tenseness around them, Azzi smiles at her fellow UConn alum, “I’mma hold you to that Kamorea.”

“What is Ice talking about? What drunk phone call? What did she mean by all that bullshit I said to you,” Paige says immediately as soon as the trio of Jana, Ice and Stephie have made it far enough out of earshot, moving herself so that she’s now facing the brunette, “what did I say?”

Azzi gulps, searching to see if there’s even a hint of recollection in the blonde’s face, “you really don’t remember it do you?”

Paige shakes her head helplessly. Sensing how much it’s stressing her out to not know, Azzi takes in a deep breath, intertwining their fingers together, trying to provide the older woman with some semblance of comfort -of what happened in the past, is in the past- to make her feel just a little more at ease. 

“Baby,” Paige pleads, “please tell me.”

“It was a couple of years ago. Probably- probably a month or so before your divorce or something and I guess- I guess you and your ex-wife, you guys had- you guys had a big fight or something and you were drunk- like really drunk,” Azzi begins. 

Paige nods along, “I think- I think I know what night you’re talking about. Olivia and I- it wasn’t just one fight. It was constant, almost every night and then it just got really bad one night and I- I dragged Ice to a bar and I- I definitely drank too much,” she cracks a smile, “clearly cause I- I don’t even remember calling you. I can’t believe Ice didn’t tell me before.”

“I told her not to,” Azzi admits and she thinks it’s rather ironic that Paige has no memory of a phone-call that had been the only thing occupying her mind for days after it happened. But then again, that’s how she’d wanted it. She hadn’t wanted Paige to remember that phone call -hadn’t wanted her to feel those same waves of wretched guilt -the ones the blonde’s words had drowned Azzi in- that came crashing into you with hurting the person you love the most in the world. 

“Az,” Paige presses softly, “what did I say?”

Azzi closes her eyes -and it’s almost like she can hear that call again, can hear the vitriol in the bullets Paige had aimed towards, “you- you were really upset Paige. Whatever fight you guys had, had- I guess- I guess it was about me and you- you were mad at me because of that. I think- I think you blamed me for it.”

“What? Shit baby, that was unfair of me,” Paige says immediately, squeezing the brunette’s hand “it wasn’t you. There was a lot wrong with me and Olivia and I- I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“Not you shouldn’t have. Not for that at least,” Azzi acquiesces and even with her eyes closed she can feel Paige frown. 

“What else did I say?” the blonde urges, attune to the fact that there’s more to the story that the younger woman hasn’t revealed yet. 

Azzi swallows, not wanting to tell her, “does it matter? It was a really long time ago.”

“But you remember it. I can tell- you remember it and that means- that means it must- it must not have been something good and I just- Azzi- baby I need to know,” Paige presses. 

“It was nothing- honestly- I mean you’ve said that stuff to me sober too. I already knew- I already knew how upset you were with me about saying no,” Azzi babbles, “I mean yeah it- it hurt to hear it all over again and you- you sounded so broken but it wasn’t- it was nothing-”

“It’s not nothing,” Paige cuts her off frustratedly, “Azzi please, what exactly did I say?”

“Paige-”

“Azzi.”

Azzi lets out a sharp breath as she finally opens her tear-filled eyes, her voice small when she finally does speak, “you said you hated me.”

Saying it out loud seems to make all the hurt of the moment, that she’s slowly buried away since, come rushing back into her body, like a thousand needles -all at the speed of lightning- being pricked against her skin. 

“I- I what?” Paige asks throatily, a myriad of emotions sprinkled all across her face as she processes the brunette's word. 

“It’s- it’s fine,” Azzi rushes out, partly because she doesn’t want to dwell on these memories and the way they haunt her and partly because she wants nothing more than to take away all the pain clearly visible on the older woman’s face, “really Paige- it’s fine. I knew- I knew you were drunk and that you didn’t mean it- that it was the alcohol speaking. It’s- it’s fine,” she repeats again, unconvincingly. 

“It’s not fine,” Paige whispers, “baby I- I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“No- no Paige you don’t-”

“I do,” Paige says firmly, cupping Azzi’s face with two hands, “you can’t lie to me baby. I can tell- I can always tell with you- I can tell that I hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Azzi.”

“It’s okay Paige. I promise it’s okay,” Azzi reassures, resting her own hands on top of the blonde’s, “it doesn’t matter anymore. That was- that was then and what matters is now. I know you love me.”

“And I always have,” Paige presses her forehead against Azzi’s, her fingers gently caressing the younger girl’s cheeks, “I need you to know that- that no matter what I said- I never- I never hated you baby. I couldn’t- not even if I wanted to because I'm pretty sure I’ve loved you since the second I set eyes on you. I love you even more now and I swear I've loved you every moment in between. I promise.”

“Me too. I love you. Always,” Azzi says softly before pulling the love of her life into a searing kiss. 

They’ve both thrown grenades at each other, shot well-aimed bullets at each other’s hearts in an attempt to avenge the pain the other had given them. For a long time, all that was left around them was a wreckage of empty casings and deep gash wounds that refused to heal. 

But those wounds are healing now. 

Because for all the ways Paige and Azzi had destroyed each other, they’ve always known that they’re still the only bandages to each other’s scars and slowly but surely, they’re starting to fix every piece of each other they’d broken, healing together. 

*** 

August 2033 

Tempo 54        Valkyries 57

It’s been a defensive slogfest of a game, neither team fully getting into rhythm offensively and the frustration is beginning to show. There’s a minute left in the game and the score is tight, the Toronto Tempo -a franchise still struggling to find its identity- is putting up hell of a fight against the current top team in the league. Paige can tell that players on the other team are desperate for this win- for the glory that would come with breaking the Valkyrie’s current 5 game win streak right as they’re about to head into all-star break. 

She’s at the top of the key -having just gotten the ball off of a perfect hand-off from Joyce- when it happens. Paige’s defender gets stuck on the screen and she lets the likely dagger three fly, a cocky grin on her face as the ball swishes through the net, just as the shot-clock runs out. 

And then

THUD 

Paige has almost run halfway back on defense when the loud sound of a body hitting the ground -far harder than it ever should- rings out through the arena. The sharp ring of the ref blowing the whistle echoes next and then, nothing. 

Silence. 

Concern ebbs through Paige’s veins as her eyes immediately search for Azzi. It’s habit really -has been since she was fifteen- a natural instinct to seek comfort in the brunette that had started front the moment they’d started playing together. Even when they’d been on opposing teams in the league -their first year as rivals who’s animosity ran much deeper than the court- Paige remembers when one of her former Wings had gone down with an injury during a game against the Valkyries, it had been Azzi she looked for first. 

And so it’s a given of course, that now -when they’re more each other’s than they’ve ever been- that Paige is looking for Azzi, looking for the comfort and reassurance and whatever happens as long as I have you it’ll be fine that the younger girl’s presence brings. She squints her eyes at the blurred combination of maroon and lavender jerseys rushing towards whatever had happened under the basket, her own feet moving in the same direction. At first, she’s confused why she can’t seem to find that familiar #35 and then-

Paige’s eyes snap towards the ground as she comes to an abrupt stop just a few meters away from the scene. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

And Paige Bueckers has been scared a fair few times in her life; remembers the absolute panic of when a four year old Drew had been admitted to the hospital with a fever, can still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins the first time she watched Azzi tear her ACL, doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolute dread that had hit her when tearing her own, or that sinking familiar feeling as she watched her best friend endure her second one. Paige knows fear all too well. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to the way her stomach lurches at the sight of Azzi Fudd, her Azzi, lying -eyes closed, body unnaturally still- on the cold hard floor. 

It’s an image she thinks will haunt her forever and if she could, she thinks she’d bleach her eyes just to get rid of it. But no matter how many times Paige blinks, Azzi stays on the ground, completely unmoving. 

Paige watches for a second, still rooted to her spot, as her other teammates on the floor -Jana, Joyce and Tessa- crowd around the girl on the floor. She can almost see waves of tension rolling off of their bodies and it isn’t until Tessa turns around, beckoning for their team doctor -her eyes shining with distress-that Paige finally finds herself running towards Azzi. 

“Baby,” she whispers, falling onto the ground next to her girlfriend -comforted slightly by the fact that she can clearly hear her still breathing-, “c’mon Az, don’t scare me like this.”

Nothing. No response. 

“Paige,” Jana’s hand on her shoulder is meant to be something comforting but instead it feels heavy and Paige shrugs it off, ignoring the younger woman’s words. 

“Azzi,” she repeats again, reaching out but hesitating to touch the girl. 

“Paige you gotta move bro,” it’s Joyce this time, “you needa let the doctor see her.”

Paige ignores her too, pulling Azzi’s head onto her lap, “this isn’t funny baby. You know I don’t deal well with shit like this.”

In the distance, she can hear her teammates telling their team doctor what had happened. Something about Azzi colliding against a player, trying to move back and instead losing balance and hitting the floor hard.  The crowd has gone from silent to antsy, curious murmurs tinged with anxiety ripple throughout the stadium. In the distance, it almost sounds like someone’s crying. She hears the doctor trying to reassure her, something about how Azzi’d probably just got the wind knocked out of her or perhaps she’d hit her head first and that it was maybe a concussion. Nothing too bad. But Paige doesn’t care. 

Because she still can’t see Azzi’s pretty brown eyes. 

“Azzi,” Paige says more urgently, “c’mon baby please.”

She keeps repeating it like a mantra, decisively not listening to her teammates or the doctor’s pleas to let the latter please examine the girl on the ground. And logically, Paige knows that’s what she should do but she can’t find it in herself to move until she gets something -just an inkling- that makes her feel certain the brunette is going to be alright. 

“Baby please.”

Azzi’s face twitches. The slightest movement first and then something more clear, until her eyelids start fluttering. It takes her a couple of beats to get them fully open, like it’s a struggle to do the most basic thing. But she does. 

And Paige lets out a sigh of relief, body almost sagging as the weight of worry that had been holding her up eases just a little bit at the sigh of dark brown eyes -confused and slightly bleary- staring up at her. 

“Wh-what’s going on,” Azzi manages to slur together, her eyes blinking rapidly as she looks up at Paige. 

“It’s okay,” Paige reassures immediately, her thumbs caressing the younger woman’s cheeks, “you’re okay baby.”

“I- I don’t- what-,” Azzi continues to ask disorientedly as she looks from Paige to the doctor and teammates still hovering over her. She tries to sit up and almost immediately falls back as Paige’s arms reach out to steady her. 

“Careful baby,” the blonde mumbles as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, letting her lean on her for a second, before pulling the brunette’s arm around her shoulder. She gently lifts her up onto her feet and the crowd begins to clap, a collective sigh of relief resounding through the arena. 

“We’ve got her,” one of the assistant coaches says softly as she and the team doctor try to take Azzi off of Paige, “I know you wanna be there for her but we’ve got this.”

The older woman is about to protest, not wanting to let Azzi out of her sight when despite her confused state, the brunette shakes her head, moving herself out of Paige’s grasp so that her entire body weight rests on the doctor and the assistant coach instead. 

“Go win it,” Azzi whispers, mustering up a small but sincere smile. 

Paige hesitates for a second before nodding as she watches the love of her life being steadily walked off the court as she herself is pulled into a team huddle. There isn’t much time left and victory is practically imminent after Paige’s last three-point shot. But still, there’s a newfound determination amongst the players, the will to win it for Azzi. 

And win it they do. 

The rest of the game passes in almost a blur and all Paige really remembers of it is that the Valkyries are in full control of the last couple of possessions. But for as much as she’s present on the court, Paige’s entire mind is already off of it -her play driven by the need to just have this game end so she could go see Azzi. It feels like every crevice of skin is burning with a fire that can only be doused by holding the brunette in her arms again, touching and re-memorizing every part of her to give her the reassurance that she’s okay. 

When the buzzer does finally ring, Paige couldn’t possibly care less about the win and if she hadn’t been media-trained since practically the age of 15, she wouldn’t have even bothered with the formalities of going through the handshake line. But she knows the media is watching every move -that they’d spin some ridiculous controversy out of her not shaking hands with the player who had been the catalyst to Azzi’s injury. So she rushes through it, not so accidentally squeezing said player’s hand just a little too tight before she’s ignoring the entire world and running towards her girl. 

The crowd is rambunctious still but it’s all white noise to Paige as she weaves through the people -players and managers and all of that- trying to get off the maroon and white court. She’s almost there when the now more clear sound of familiar crying stops her in her tracks and she feels her heart plummet into her stomach as she comes to a quick freeze. Paige had been so consumed by her own emotions, by her own fear when she’d seen Azzi on the ground that she hadn’t considered that there was someone else in the crowd -someone else who’s world revolved around Azzi just as much as hers did- that had been witness to the scene as well. 

Paige turns around slowly, her eyes scanning the stands right behind the Valkyries bench. With everyone on the move as the crowd thins out, it takes a second before she finally finds who she’s looking for and as soon as she does, it feels like her feet have a mind of her own, speed walking and then almost running towards the sobbing little girl in the stands. Paige almost kicks herself for not having thought of Stephie first, for not having considered that whatever fear she was feeling -the innocent child was likely feeling twofold of that. 

As if sensing Paige beelining towards her, Stephie looks up from where she’d been crying into Katie’s neck just in time to spot the blonde. The puffy-faced girl’s eyes widen, her lips forming words that Paige can’t quite decipher -still too far to properly see them- but then Stephie’s wriggling out of her grandmother’s arms, trying to race down the stands towards the blonde. Paige feels a panic course through her veins, not wanting the little girl to get lost in a sea of people trying to leave the arena and she picks up her pace. For a brief second, she loses sight of Stephie and her already rapidly beating heart seems to somehow quicken even more, like it might just beat out of her chest. 

She swears she doesn’t breathe again until the little girl comes into view, pushing through the much larger people in front of her. There are still tears streaming down Stephie’s face but it’s clear the little girl is determined to get to Paige who can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief, almost having reached the steps leading up to the section Stephie had been in. But that relief quickly turns into anger as she watches her little girl being stopped in her tracks by a tall burly security guard, who grabs Stephie with far more force than necessary. The little girl’s eyes shine with fear as she tries to fight his grip and Paige feels a newfound fire -one that burns stronger than any other sense of protectiveness she’s ever felt before- simmer in her stomach as she finally reaches Stephie. 

“Mommy,” the little girl calls out as soon as she spots the older woman -her tone terrified- and Paige feels something snap. 

“Get your fucking hands off of my daughter,” she snarls, pulling Stephie out of the security guard’s grasp and into her own arms instead. 

“Mommy,” Stephie whimpers again, her voice uncharacteristically scared as she burrows her head into Paige’s neck, her tears wetting the collar of the blonde’s jersey.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” Paige whispers quietly. 

“I- I’m sorry. I- I- I didn’t- know-,” the security guard- splutters but Paige ignores him, already turning away she rubs her hands up and down Stephie’s back. 

“It’s gonna be okay sweet girl,” she soothes gently, “I’ve got you.”

“Mommy, is Mama okay?” Stephie asks, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin, “can you take me to her? Please Mommy. Wanna see Mama. Please. I wanna see her”

“I know sweetheart. I know,” Paige tries to calm the shaking girl in her arms, her feet moving as fast as they can while holding her, “we’re going to her right now okay?”

“Wanna see Mama,” Stephie continues to repeat, her voice quivering.

And logically Paige knows Azzi’s okay; she’d seen her get back up with her own two eyes. But still, she doesn’t think that fear, the one that had consumed her the second she’d seen the other woman lying on the ground, that’s consuming both her and Stephie right now, will be quenched until they see Azzi, until they’re both securely wrapped in the safe arms of the woman who feels like their home. 

“Almost there baby,” Paige says softly as she turns the corner towards the medical room, her steps getting faster in anticipation of almost reaching her destination. 

“Mommy I was so scared,” Stephie confesses, her face still firmly tucked into the blonde’s neck, “so scared for Mama. She- she didn’t get up for so long. Made me so scared.”

“Me too sweetheart,” Paige admits as she comes to a stop right outside the door, “but she’s okay. Look sweetheart,” she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, as she slowly opens the door, crossing her fingers that she hadn’t just told a lie. 

Azzi’s leaning back against the bedrest, a cold compress pressed against her forehead with her eyes closed. But they flutter open at the sound of a door opening, going wide as she catches sight of Paige first and then the little girl in his arms, whose bottom lip trembles as soon as she sees her mother. It’s like the air rushes back into Paige’s lungs as she slowly walks towards the other woman’s bed, that fog of worry muddling her brain slowly starting to clear as she takes in the fact that her Azzi is okay. 

“Oh sweetheart come here,” the woman in question coos immediately, holding her arms out for Paige to place Stephie into them. 

“Are you okay Mama?” Stephie asks worriedly, tiny little hands cupping her mother’s face, “you’re really, really, really okay?”

“I am baby,” Azzi reassures softly, nuzzling the little girl’s nose as Paige perches on the bed next to the two of them, “just a little headache but I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You scared me a lot,” the little girl says slowly, her eyes brimming with fresh new tears as she burrows her head against the crevice between her mother’s neck and her head, “it was so scary Mama. You were on the ground for so long and you weren’t moving and even Mommy looked so scared and Mommy never looks scared cause she’s the bravest of them all right.”

Mommy. 

Paige freezes. She’d been so caught up in the stress and anxiety of it all that she hadn’t even registered the word that had been falling so naturally out of Stephie’s mouth. But now- now that she can process it all -can let that word seep into her veins and make itself home in her heart- it feels a little bit like a magical spell has been cast over her, shrouding her in an indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her entire body.

“And-and-and the secu-ty guard wouldn’t let me come see you,” Stephie continues to babble, still oblivious to the impact of her own words, “and he- he tried to stop me but Mommy didn’t let him. She told him to get his-” the little girl pauses, eyes widening when she remembers exactly what Paige had said to the security guard. 

“What did she say? What did Mommy say Steph?” Azzi’s eyes twinkle as she briefly glances at Paige over Stephie’s head, clearly having also noticed the little girl’s use of the new term. 

“She told him to get his” Stephie lowers her voice to a whisper, “bad word hands off of her daughter.”

“Her daughter huh?,” Azzi repeats, looking back at Paige who flushes slightly. 

It had slipped out in the heat of the moment but really, that’s how Paige has seen Stephie since the minute the little girl had crawled into her lap that first day at the Valkyries facilities. Or maybe even before that, when she’d met her at All-Star Weekend and the little girl had spoken to her for the first time.. Or maybe it was after the semi-finals when she’d first held her in her arms and Stephie had smiled at her for the first time. Or maybe it was even earlier than that. Maybe it was the day of her wedding, when she’d spoken to Azzi’s stomach -to Stephie- for the first time. Because the truth is that Paige has always subconsciously thought of Stephie as hers, as theirs. 

Tears -happy ones, fucking ecstatic ones- prickles against Paige’s waterline as the little girl slowly turns around in Azzi’s lap to face her. 

“Mommy you said a bad word so you owe me a ki-” Stephie stops as notice the little droplets of water dripping down the blonde’s cheeks, “why are you crying Mommy?” she asks concernedly, “are you still scared about Mama? She’s okay Mommy. See-” she points back towards Azzi, “Mama’s okay.”

“I know- I know she’s okay baby,” Paige wipes at her tears, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of her voice. 

“Then- then what’s wrong Mommy? Why are you crying?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose with a mixture of confusion and worry. 

“Because you-” Paige swallows, “you called me Mommy.”

“Oh,” Stephie says quietly, biting her lips as she looks up at Paige, suddenly looking even smaller than she really is, “is that- is that okay? Can I call you Mommy?”

“Is it okay? Oh sweetheart,” Paige holds Stephie’s face in between her hands, “it’s the best thing anyone’s ever called me.”

“Even better than Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks coyly. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh and she thinks she’ll miss that little nickname -it had become an innate part of her in a sense- but it can’t be compared to being called Mommy, to being called a name that makes Stephie completely and wholly hers. 

“Even better than Miss Buecks,” Paige confirms, causing Stephie to shriek as she launches herself onto the blonde, making the older woman laugh as she almost falls backwards, squeezing the little girl -who slots into her arms like the missing piece of a puzzle- as tight as she can. 

“And you called me your daughter,” Stephie remarks gleefully. 

“Did I? Hmmm I don’t remember that,” Paige teases, tapping her chin like she’s pretending to think deeply about it. 

“Don’t be silly Mommy,” and there’s that word again and the blonde feels her heart flutter against her ribcage as Stephie flicks her nose, “I heard you.”

“Oh you did, did you?” she asks, flicking the little girl’s nose right back. 

“I did,” Stephie grins triumphantly as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “because you’re my Mommy and I’m your daughter.”

She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, a universal truth that destiny itself had written for them and Paige feels her breath hitch at the sincerity in the little girl’s tone as she brushes a loose strand of hair out of Stephie’s face, before her eyes trail over the child on her lap to meet with Azzi’s over her head. The brunette’s gaze is fixated on the two of them, unshed tears dancing on her waterline as she takes in the scene, watching intensely -a contrastingly soft smile on her face- as if she’s trying to take a mental image of it to keep it safe in the treasure chest of her most precious memories forever. 

Paige looks back down at the little girl latched onto her body, “I like that,” she whispers as she nuzzles her face against Stephie’s, “I’m your Mommy and you’re my daughter.”

***

It hits Paige again that night when they’re back at the hotel suite. Stephie’s fast asleep in her bedroom, the sound of her soft breathing filtering in through the small crack in the door. Azzi’s curled against Paige’s chest, one arm thrown around the blonde’s waist, the other pressed against her own body. Despite the scary fall, the concussion symptoms didn’t seem to be anything too severe but had made her adequately exhausted and as soon as their little girl had been tucked into her bed, Azzi was pulling Paige down into theirs and wrapping herself tightly around the blonde’s body so they could go straight to sleep as well. 

Their little girl. 

God, Paige can’t help but goofily grin up at the ceiling as she replays Stephie calling her Mommy over and over again in her head. She’s won a lot of things in her life. The individual accolades, the championships and a game-night or two here and there but they all seem to pale in comparison to the high of this win. Because really Paige has considered the little girl her daughter for a long, long time and even though she’d always known that Stephie loved her back just as much as she did, she hadn’t been sure if the little girl saw their relationship through the same lens as Paige did. 

And now she knew she did. That Stephie considered her, her mother, just as much as Paige considered her, her daughter. The thought makes her giddy and Paige almost giggles out loud. 

“Baby, I can literally hear you thinking,” Azzi mumbles against her chest and Paige bites her lip, her arms tightening around the younger woman’s body. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just so excited,” Paige whispers -still in awe of the whole thing- and she feels the woman on top of her sigh into her neck at the the way the blonde's entire body is buzzing, “Az did you hear what Stephie called me? She called me Mommy, Azzi. Can you believe it? I’m her Mommy.”

“Well she wasn’t gonna call you Miss Buecks forever,” Azzi concedes, her voice still heavy with sleep as she keeps her head comfortably buried against the warmth of Paige’s skin. 

“I know- it’s just- I just-” Paige swallows, the emotions suddenly just a little too heavy against her throat, “I’m just so fucking happy Azzi. I’ve just- I’ve wanted this for so long. You and her. It’s all I wanted. And- and there were so many times- so many fucking times I wasn’t sure I was ever gonna get it and now- now I have you and I have her. And it just- it means everything to me. The two of you- you guys mean everything to me.”

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, her hands tightening around her waist as she draws her impossibly closer to herself, “you mean everything to us too Paige.”

Paige places a featherlight kiss against the crown of Azzi’s head, letting their words hang soak in the air for a second before speaking. 

“I used to imagine it, you know,” she says slowly, “what it would be like to be with you two. I- I’d stare at the pictures you’d post -even if you posted barely any- but whatever you did post of the two of you, I’d stare at it for ages. And I’d- I’d imagine myself with the two of you. Wherever the two of you were- whatever you two were doing- I just- I imagined myself there too. I’d think about what it would be like- to be in whatever picture you posted. Holding you- holding Stephie. It’s all I wanted. To be with you guys.”

There’s another moment of silence and the only sound is that of the  two of them breathing -almost perfectly in sync- echoing throughout the room. Paige uses her thumb to trace circles around the younger woman’s waist as Azzi props herself up on her chest, her face -as beautiful as the first time Paige had seen it from all the way across the court- illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 

“The first time Stephie smiled,” Azzi begins, her hands fidgeting with the collar of Paige’s nightshirt, “she was in her crib and I was standing over her. And as soon as she smiled, I turned to look next to me. But there was no one there. When she said her first word, I did the same thing. And when she started crawling- when she started walking. All of her little firsts- every time she did anything, I’d- I’d look next to me and there was never anyone there,” Azzi draws in a shaky breath as she looks back up at Paige, “and I- I imagined it too. What it would be like if I could turn next to me and see you there. What it would be like for you to be with us. I wanted you there with us so fucking much baby.”

“I wish I had been,” Paige says wistfully, bringing her hands up to cup Azzi’s face as her thumbs gently wipe at the younger woman’s tears.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters,” Azzi moves her body up so her face is hovering right over Paige’s and she’s smiling that smile that Paige loves, the one that’s filled with promise and reassurance and hope, “you’re here now and you’re ours and we’re yours.”

“All mine,” Paige whispers back as she tugs Azzi down onto herself, making sure every part of her skin is touching the brunette’s as she melds their lips together in a slow and lazy kiss. 

They can’t escape the regrets of the past, can’t escape the moments they’d missed out on but there’s still so much life left to live -so much left to do together- and Paige thinks she’ll never take any of it for granted. No matter how much time has passed in this journey to get here, to get her girls, to get her family and make them hers, she has them now and she intends to keep them like this until the end of time itself. 

***

December 2033 

Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of watching Paige and Stephie together. It’s a sight she sees every day now and yet, every time she sees the utter gentleness with which the blonde treats the little girl, every time she sees the complete adoration with which the little girl looks at the blonde, it almost feels like Azzi’s heart might just explode with how much she loves the two of them together. And every day she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that she gets to be the third piece of their mosaic, the three of them fitting together perfectly like they were always meant to be. 

There’s a fond smile on Azzi’s face as she watches the two of them now, Stephie propped up on Paige’s feet as the older woman sways the two of them around to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. The two of them are in contrasting shades of green to match Tallulah’s chosen color scheme for the wedding. Paige is in a dark bottle green suit and Stephie flower girl dress is in the same pastel green shade as Azzi’s bridesmaid one. It had been the little girl’s idea, once Paige had picked out her suit, for the two of them to have matching bottle green bows around their waists that matched the blonde’s outfit. And as they’d all gotten ready together, when Azzi had glanced at the mirror, she couldn’t help but think they looked like the perfect little family she’d always dreamed of having for herself.

There’s a crowd of people on the dancefloor and while most other spectators are likely either not paying attention, or watching the lovely bride and groom, Azzi’s sole focus is on her daughter and her girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It almost feels like too mild a term for what Paige is to her. Even when they’d been girlfriends the first time, Azzi had still thought the word did little to encapsulate just how much Paige meant to her. And now that they’ve been through so much more, the word feels even more inadequate for the brevity of their relationship than it had the last time around. Because really, Paige is the love of her life, she’s an innate part of Azzi’s being and the years without her had felt a little bit like trying to live with a part of her soul missing. She thinks the word girlfriend just doesn’t quite capture all of that. 

“Hey,” Azzi’s broken out of her reverie by a body sliding into the empty seat next to hers and she turns her head to find Drew sitting next to her. 

“Hi Drew,” she says softly, a little surprised at him having approached her. 

Since that dreadful night at Paige’s, Drew has made a handful of appearances in their lives. He’d been at a couple of their games and he’d definitely been there when they’d won the championship but he was a busy guy and with the WNBA season ending just as the NBA season began, time barely permitted him from staying for more than a night. And when he did, Stephie -enamored with the idea of having another uncle- had consumed most of his time and the two of them had bonded quickly with the little girl, as she did most people, having him wrapped around finger. It had taken a little bit but one or two awkward conversations at games they’d sat together in later, Drew had fit right back in with Jose and Jon (and Katie and Tim of course) too and it had been a no-brainer that he’d be invited to the wedding. 

But despite all of that, there’s still a lingering awkward tension between her and Drew’s relationship, which Azzi hates. They’re civil of course -Drew seemingly having less reservations about her Paige’s relationship now- and they’ve even been able to share a laugh here and there in group situations but she misses the little boy who’d once been her menace-mischief-making partner in crime. She misses the way they’d conspiratorially giggle non-stop over nothing, the way they’d tease their siblings in tandem, the way they’d always take each other’s side (much to everybody else’s chagrin) no matter what. And she misses being another person Drew could confide in, being another version of his older sister that he could come vent to about anything and everything. She misses him being like another little brother to her that had once looked up at her with so much adoration, instead of this guarded, hesitant expression he seems to wear around her all the time now. 

“Paige’s feet are gonna hurt like hell tonight,” Drew remarks, his eyes fixated on the same scene Azzi’s had been. 

The brunette chuckles, watching as Stephie continues to happily dance on Paige's feet, the blonde smiling down at her, showing no sign of the likely discomfort that would eventually hit her after a night of carrying the little girl’s weight on her toes. 

“I told her not to,” Azzi shakes her head fondly. 

“Of course you did,” Drew’s lips curl into a half-smile, “but Stephie’s enjoying herself and there’s nothing Paige wouldn’t do to make her happy. She really loves your little girl.”

“Our little girl,” Azzi corrects gently and Drew’s smile seems to deepen at that, “and Stephie loves her back just as much.”

“I know,” Drew says softly, “I knew from the first time I met her. It’s why I was so scared that night.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “Drew-”

“It wasn’t just about Paige,” Drew continues on, “I mean I was scared for her too of course but- I know what it’s like you know. To be really attached to someone when you’re little- to think of someone like family and then one day they just- they’re gone.”

Azzi swallows, her hands fisting on the table as guilt inches up her spine. 

Drew’s eyes are still trained ahead of him as she speaks, “and you’re so young -even if you’re not that young- that no one even really tells you what’s happening. All you get is vague answers and you have to figure it out yourself- figure out why someone you used to see all the fucking time just isn’t there anymore. It hurts and I-” his voice cracks, “I didn’t want that for Stephie.”

“Drew,” Azzi whispers again, her voice filled with raw emotion as she look at the young man -who for as much as he’s grown up, is still just as reminiscent of the little boy she’d once known. 

“Do you remember that one summer you guys had like a family reunion barbecue type thing? And of course Paige and I were invited cause we- we were family too,” Drew asks slowly. 

Despite being a little confused by the change in topic, Azzi nods her head, “summer of ‘23.”

“Yeah and there was music and everyone was dancing. Well I don’t know if you could call what Jon was doing dancing,” Drew winks and Azzi laughs at the memory of her youngest brother doing the most ridiculous moves on the dancefloor. 

“Thank God he’s gotten better since,” she grins, briefly glancing over to where Jon is dancing normally with his date. 

Drew chuckles, “yeah thank God indeed. And you and Paige were dancing, but I wanted to dance with you too, do you remember?”

“Yeah I do. I think you cut right between us and Paige was NOT happy about it,” Azzi smirks, remembering the way her girlfriend had pouted at the interruption. 

“No she wasn’t but you said yes to dancing with me anyways. You always said yes to me no matter what. And I wasn’t nearly as tall back then so you-” Drew finally looks at him, that neutral expression having finally given away to something far softer, “you let me stand on your feet just like Paige is letting Stephie do right now. And we danced for god knows how long and now that I think about it, I’m sure your feet really fucking hurt too. But it didn’t matter, you kept dancing with me anyways.”

“You were having so much fun,” Azzi chokes back a sob, “that’s all that mattered, “ the brunette pauses, “Drew I-” she hesitates for a split second before reaching for his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Drew is silent for a moment, his head downcast as he plays with the edges of the table-covering, before finally looking back at Azzi with watery eyes, “I’ve really missed you Azzi.”

“I missed you too, pookie,” Azzi whispers, squeezing his hand tightly as they smile wistfully at each other.

They stay like that for a little while, basking in each other’s company as the hum of chatter and music drawls on around them. 

“Hey Az,” Drew says after a while as he stands up, a smirk on his face as he reaches his hand out towards her, “you wanna dance with me? No stepping on toes is necessary this time I promise.”

Azzi giggles, grinning ear to ear as she accepts his outstretched hand, “I’d love to dance with you Drewski.”

She lets Drew drag her out to the dancefloor, skillfully maneuvering them around the other guest until they’re right by Stephie and Paige. A surprised laugh rumbles from her throat as Drew twirls her around, the sound of it causing Paige to catch sight of them. The blonde’s lips part slowly as she takes in the sight of the two of them dancing, shock gradually morphing into something happier, like she’s been waiting for this moment. Azzi knows how important her and Drew’s relationship has always been to Paige, and even if the older woman hadn’t said anything about it, Azzi knew -Azzi always knew when it came to the blonde- that the distance between two of her favorite people in the world this time around, had been bothering her. 

Azzi’s not sure how long they dance for -she just knows she’s completely at peace right here in this moment- but it catches her off guard when Drew spins her again, making her stumble a little as she goes crashing into a solid body and familiar arms come to steady her waist. 

“My turn?” Paige asks softly, her blue eyes glittering with love and adoration as she smirks at Azzi. 

“Won’t your date mind?” Azzi teases, referring to Stephie -who after having been explained the concept of a plus-one- had been adamant that despite Paige having her own invitation to the wedding, that the blonde was going to be her date. Sorry Mama, you’re just gonna have to go alone, cause Mommy’s going with me, the little girl had said, her arms wrapped around a beaming Paige from behind, as she’d stuck out her tongue at Azzi, who had of course played along with a dramatic gasp. 

Paige laughs, her arms tightening their grip on the younger woman, who in turns fastens her own arms around her neck, “she’s abandoned me for my brother.”

“Oh I see, so I’m your second choice?” Azzi raises her eyebrows, trying to hide the smile on her face when she sees Stephie giggling as Drew lifts her and up and spins her around. 

“Baby, you are the only choice,” Paige whispers as she brushes their lips together. 

Azzi sighs contentedly, pulling the blonde in closer so she can deepen the kiss as their mouths move expertly against each other, and for a while it feels like that cliché feeling of when the world fades away and it’s just the two of them. 

“Can we go home yet?” Paige murmurs against her lips, her hands sliding dangerously low against the silk material of Azzi’s dress. 

“It’s my brother’s wedding. We can’t leave till the rest of the guests do,” Azzi pats the older woman’s cheeks, giggling softly to herself when Paige lets out a low disappointed groan, letting her head fall onto the brunette’s shoulder. 

“Have I told you how much I love that dress on you,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s collarbone, causing her to shiver at the sensation, “think you should keep it on tonight.”

Azzi’s eyes widen at the implication, heat pooling in between her thighs as Paige places a series of subtle kisses against her neck, “Paige, we’re in public.”

“I know. I don’t care,” Paige says and as if to prove her point, she lets her hands drift downwards to quickly squeeze Azzi’s ass. 

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately and she can feel the blonde’s cocky smile against her skin, clearly pleased with herself. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it Az,” Paige’s teeth lightly graze against her jaw and Azzi tries her best to swallow the whimper threatening to spill from her lips, “I know you baby. I know your body- know what you like.”

And it’s true. Paige knows Azzi’s body like it’s a treasure map and she’s a treasure hunter on the search for gold. She’s memorized every little detail of it -marked every crevice with her name- could navigate it with her eyes closed if she wanted to. Paige is nothing if not a diligent learner when it comes to Azzi and even the little things that have changed over the years, the blonde has already vigorously committed them to memory. 

“Paige stop,” Azzi says again, reluctant yet firm, as Paige bites just a little too hard in a way that’s likely to leave a tenuous but still spotable mark, “our daughter is right there.”

That seems to do the trick as Paige finally pulls away. Not completely of course, her hands are still gripping tightly onto Azzi’s waist but enough so the brunette can see her face. It blows Azzi away sometimes, the sheer amount of love reflected in Paige’s face; she can’t quite believe that she gets to be the recipient of it all, that Paige and her love are all Azzi’s. It makes her want to kiss the blonde all over again. 

“I like when you say that,” Paige softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “our daughter.”

Azzi grins, her fingertips playing with strands of blonde hair, “it’s what she is, isn’t it? Ours.”

“This isn’t fair Az,” Paige huffs and Azzi raises an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Why not?”

“Because now I wanna kiss you again and if I kiss you again-”

Azzi doesn’t let her finish because fuck it, she really wants to kiss Paige again too. So she does. Because she can. Because Paige is hers, hers to kiss, hers to hold and hers to love. Besides, they’re making up for eight long years of being apart, it’s only fair they get to indulge in a little bit of PDA. 

Clearly, Jana doesn’t agree because no sooner have they started getting lost in each other again, when there’s the sharp sound of a throat clearing behind them. They withdraw from each other breathlessly to find their younger teammate looking at them with an amused smile. The separation lasts for about two second as Paige turns Azzi around and pulls the younger woman’s back flush against her chest, hooking her chin over the brunette’s shoulder as she keeps her hands fastened around her waist. Jana rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh. 

“Something you need El-Alfy,” Paige asks pointedly. 

“I need the two of you to be less gross,” Jana supplies snarkily, “you’re gonna scar the children. And anyone who’s single,” she says the last part under her breath, eliciting laughter from both Paige and Azzi which only makes her scowl deepend, “it’s not funny. Some of us are sad and lonely and having to watch you to be in love is sickening.”

“Well why are you watching us?” Paige says cavalierly, “it’s wedding Jana. It’s literally hookup central. Go find someone hot to fuck.”

“There's not a single man over six feet here,” Jana bemoans miserably. 

“José’s got some 6’7 friends,” Azzi supplies helpfully, raising her hands in surrender when Jana glares at her. 

“Lemme correct myself, not a single attractive man over six feet,” the Egyptian amends. 

“I mean you could always hook up with a woman instead. Trust, women are much better and there’s plenty of pretty girls here,” Paige says casually and Azzi sideyes her. 

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” she asks slowly. 

“Oh um-,” Paige stutters nervously, “well I couldn’t tell you that of course. I mean like- I haven’t looked or anything cause you know you’re the only one I look at baby- only you I swear- but like you know girls in general are pretty so like- I’m sure she could find someone pretty. Just nobody as pretty and gorgeous and beautiful as you of course.”

Azzi laughs as she presses a quick kiss to her silly girlfriend’s cheeks, “you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“You think I’m cute?” Paige waggles her eyebrows at Azzi, clearly not satisfied with the chaste kiss on the cheek as she steals one from the brunette’s lips instead, “I think you’re cute too baby.”

“And I think you guys are nauseating,” Jana cuts in, pretending to barf, “but please I’m begging, when y’all get married, please invite me some attractive tall men.”

It’s only for a second but Azzi still feels the way Paige tenses against her teammate's words. The blonde recovers, the stiffness gone as fast as it had come but it sends a ripple of confusion and worry down Azzi’s spine. 

“We’ll try our best. Just for you J,” Azzi promises their younger teammate and even though Paige nods along, there’s something almost half-hearted about her agreement. 

“Thanks you guys. Knew I could always count on my mother’s to get me laid,” Jana winks as she pulls both of them in a quick hug before bounding over to the bar. 

Azzi turns herself around in Paige’s arms, her eyes scanning the blonde’s face as she tries to piece together what’s going through her mind. The older woman smiles but there’s something unspoken hidden behind it, like she wants to say it but isn’t sure how. 

“Hey,” Azzi whispers, hands reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “what are you thinking? Talk to me baby.”

“Nothing I just-” Paige takes in a deep breath, her thumbs rubbing circles against Azzi’s waist like she’s trying to ground herself in the brunette’s presence, “Jana said- she said when we get married. Like it’s a given or something and we- we haven’t really talked about it so I just- I don’t know Az- I guess I just- is it a given?”

And Azzi can see the carefully camouflaged insecurity in Paige’s eyes, that flash of you didn’t want to marry me that the older woman won’t say out loud but is still clearly running through her thoughts. They’ve worked through a lot of it, had countless conversations even after finally getting together so that they could overcome the past but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still some things lingering between them -some lesions that are still waiting to be healed. That familiar sting of guilt spurns in her stomach as Azzi presses herself even closer to Paige and there’s a thousand things she wants to say -and she’s sure she eventually will- but for now, she keeps it simple and hopes it’s enough to reassure the blonde who’s looking at her with hopeful eyes. 

“Yeah,” she says softly, tapping her forehead against Paige’s, “I think it’s a given.”

*** 

February 2034 

Paige had assumed that being home for the weekend would mean spending every second with her girls. Throughout the course of the last two months, it had been Stephie and Azzi who had visited her down in Miami to cheer her on for Unrivaled but it just so happened that the schedule had been set up perfectly for to take this weekend off and Paige was ecstatic about finally being home for a little bit. Her plan had been to do nothing but laze around, arms wrapped tightly around Azzi with Stephie cuddled right between them where she belonged as they talked or watched movies or played board games. Whatever they did, as long as they did it together, it would be perfect for Paige. 

After a very much perfect morning, where Azzi had woken her up with slow i missed you in our bed morning sex and then the two of them had taken Stephie out for brunch, Paige had been looking forward to a very perfect afternoon with her girls as well. Instead, it’s very much not perfect and somehow Paige finds herself driving back from a bakery all the way across town, alone. It had started with Stephie insisting that she just had to have her favorite chocolate cake from that one bakery that they’d gone to that one time that just happened to be an hour drive away from their house. Much to Paige’s surprise, Azzi had almost immediately agreed with the little girl but knowing the brunette’s sweet tooth, it wasn’t really that shocking. And if both her girls -with their identical dark brown doey eyes staring up at her expectantly- wanted something, who was Paige to refuse. 

So of course she’d happily agreed, telling the two of them to get ready so they could come here and that maybe they could even stop by the park right next to the bakery after. And that’s when it had happened, both mother and daughter up in arms in protests about how they absolutely could not go with Paige because Stephie was oh-so tired and Azzi had a killer headache, followed by but Mommy I swear the chocolate cake would wake me up and yeah baby I think some chocolate cake could really help with the pain. Paige had stared at them wearily, confused by their antics but still unable to say no.

And now Paige is driving back, grumbling under her breath about they’re lucky I love them with the chocolate cake securely fastened into the passenger seat that should be occupied by her girlfriend. She pulls into the driveway still grouching but it quickly morphs into an expression of confusion when she notices a big purple sticky note -that definitely wasn’t there when she’d left- taped on their door. Frowning, Paige slowly gets out of her car, going around it to grab the cake before slowly making her way up the porch steps until she’s right in front of the door and can fully make out the words -written carefully in Azzi’s handwriting- on the sticky note. 

Welcome back home baby <3 

Thanks for getting our favorite chocolate cake. Since that day when you showed up on our porch, you’ve gone above and beyond for us and we love you for it. Thank you for always doing everything we ask and for doing the things we don’t. But more importantly, thank you for always coming back. 

Love you always, 

Stephie and Azzi <3

A wobbly smile stretches across Paige’s face as she reads the letter, her heart fluttering at the sincerity behind the words Azzi had written. Suddenly desperate to have her girlfriend and her daughter in her arms, Paige rushes to open the door, ready to see the two of them waiting for her. 

But they’re not there. 

Instead there’s a beautiful path of rose petals winding down the floor and Paige’s mouth falls open at the sight.

“Azzi! Stephie. I’m home,” she calls out, her eyes searching for her two most favorite people in the world -and answer to what the hell is going on- but instead of them she finds another large sign, this time written in Stephie’s uneven handwriting.

Follow The Flowers Mommy!

Paige laughs at the smiley faced heart that Stephie had placed in the corner, can practically imagine the concentrated look on the little girl’s face when she’d been drawing. She has no idea what all of this is but she knows she’s excited to find out. 

“What are you two up to,” she mutters under her breath as she does as the sign had said and follows the path of flowers. 

It leads her into the kitchen first and Paige immediately notices a purple envelope on the counter. Gently putting down the chocolate cake she’d been cradling in her arms, she reaches for the letter. 

Hi again baby,

Paige Bueckers you are good at a lot of things. But cooking? Definitely not one of them. If I had a dime for everytime you burned something in this kitchen, I would probably have enough dimes to pay for one of your old college NIL deals (well maybe not that much cause damn baby you were expensive). But that’s okay my love, you’re still the only person we’d spend our mornings flipping pancakes with. 

(Stephie wants me to remind you that chocolate chips are definitely better than blueberries though!) 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige’s lower lip trembles as she finishes this letter, holding it closer to her heart as she continues to follow the trail of roses into Stephie’s bedroom. There on the little girl’s bed is another purple envelope, almost camouflaged against her lavender bed sheets. Taking a deep breath after having slowly caught onto the fact that these letters are going to kill her in the best way possible, Paige reaches for the paper on her daughter’s bed. 

Hi Mommy! 

Mama’s still gonna write this for me because writing is so tiring but it’s me Stephie speaking (Azzi’s note: your daughter is just as lazy as you are Bueckers.) 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as she continues reading. 

Do you remember when you went back to Dallas before you moved here, and you used to facetime me and Mama every night and you’d stay on the phone while Mama read me my bedtime story until I fell asleep? Mama says that if you make a wish right before you fall asleep, there’s a really, really, big chance it might come true. She was right because Mama’s all right and guess what Mommy? My wish came true! I wished that instead of facetime, you’d be here with us in real life for my bedtime story. And now you are and you always will be. 

Love you always, 

Stephie and Azzi <3

Paige catches a brief glance of herself in Stephie’s vanity mirror as she finishes reading the letters. Her face is a little blotchy and red, big fat happy tears cascading down her cheeks as she tucks the paper back into the envelope. She remembers that first night on facetime like it had happened yesterday; remembers making the same wish that Stephie had time and time again. And she thinks her daughter is right -or really that Azzi’s right as per always- wishes do come true. 

  Hurriedly wiping away her tears, Paige rises back onto her feet, ready to continue on this journey that Stephie and Azzi had set out for her. She follows the roses into the guestroom -which could basically be rebranded as Jana’s room with the amount of times she’s started to stay over- and almost trips over her feet in her quest to get to the next letter. And next to it is an unclear package that confuses Paige but she figures the letter would tell her all about it. 

Back to me again baby, 

This is the room where it all began again. I know technically we started a little before and we officially didn’t start again until a little later but that night is when I knew. I knew that whatever I felt for you eight years ago, hadn’t gone away. Not at all. In fact, if anything, it had gotten even stronger, even deeper. Loving you comes as naturally to me as breathing. It always has. And I loved you before- of course I did- but it’s nothing compared to how much I fucking love you now. 

“I love you too,” Paige whispers into the room. She’s not sure if Azzi can hear her -still doesn’t quite know where exactly her girls are- but she’s certain that they’re connected enough that her girlfriend can feel her emotion no matter where she is. 

Anyways baby time to take your clothes off in this room again! 

Wait, wait, wait don’t get too excited Bueckers. I know you’ve got a one-track mind but baby first of all, Jana might never come over again if she finds out we’ve fucked in this room and second of all, we’ve got plenty of time to do that after. I promise. 

Stephie and I picked something out for you to wear tonight. It’s in the parcel next to you. Put it on and come find us. We really hope you like it!

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie (even though she has no idea what this letter says for obvious reasons) <3

Placing a quick kiss against where Azzi had kissed it herself in red lipstick, Paige puts the letter back in the envelope before grabbing for the package next to it. She tears it open gently, to find a light purple vest with matching pants. The outfit is familiar and Paige vaguely remembers lying next to Azzi, browsing through an online catalog when the fit had caught her eyes. 

“Can’t get nothing past you huh baby?” Paige remarks with a fond shake of her head. 

Once she’s put the vest and pants on -and shaken her hair out of her ponytail for good measure because Azzi loves when her hair is down- Paige embarks down the path of flowers once again. This time it leads her to their bedroom. Paige had basically moved in the day they’d gotten back together -a stream of her stuff slowly and steadily building up in what had then been Azzi’s room- but they’d never really had a proper conversation about and it had basically been an unspoken agreement till the day Paige had casually mentioned that the lease on the house she’d initially rented in the Bay Area had ended. So I guess I’m officially moving in with you guys, she’d joked to which Stephie had wisely pointed out that she did in fact already live here. And that was that. This was Paige’s house just as much as it was Stephie and Azzi’s. 

Her eyes scan the room, taking in all little bits of PaigeAndAzzi that are scattered throughout it, until she finally finds another purple envelope tucked into a book on the bedside table next to Azzi’s side of the bed. Paige’s left hand flies to her mouth when she gets close enough to see the cover of the novel, a strangled noise escaping her throat. Because the book isn’t the one Azzi’s currently reading. 

No, this is their book. The one that had been left unfinished years ago and Paige had been so convinced they would be left to the same fate, that they’d be left incomplete. 

With trembling hands, she picks up the book, leafing through it to open it to the pages that have the letter eased between them. But before Paige can take out the envelope, her eyes swim with tears when she notices the words that Azzi had circle -in purple highlighter of course- scratching out the character’s name for Paige’s own. 

I’m in love with you, Sutton Paige Terrifyingly, irreversibly, life-alteringly in love with you.

Paige brushes her thumb against the words, like she’s trying to let them sink into her skin and become a part of her bloodstream. They might be someone else’s words but she knows they convey everything Azzi feels for her. Taking another shuddering breath, Paige finally opens the envelope. 

Hi again baby, 

I’m sorry for how much I know I’ve made you cry (don’t even try hiding it Paige Bueckers I know you’re a sobbing mess right now) and I can’t wait to see you and wipe your tears away. You’re almost there P!

We never finished this book. Ironic that it’s called those who wait and baby I think we’ve waited enough. You know, I’ve come across this book many times in the years we’ve been apart and I’ve considered if I should buy it- if I should finish it by myself. But it never felt right. 

Not without you. 

Because baby you have been there for the beginning of almost every story in my life and I want you to be there for the ending of every single one. Mine. And Stephie’s. 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige catches her teardrops in her palms before they hit the letter, not wanting the water to damage it. She intends to treasure every single one of them for the rest of her life; thinks it’ll be the perfect memorabilia when she’s eighty years old and her and Azzi go rummaging through their storage and find this bundle of purple envelopes and Paige gets to relieve this day -the one she’d been worried not too long ago wouldn’t be perfect- all over again. 

Antsy to finally see her girls, Paige finds herself almost running towards the next stop on the trail of roses, which happens to be their living room. There, hidden behind the newly customized cushions with their names -Paige, Azzi and Stephie- embroidered on them, is another purple letter that she immediately snatches up. 

This is our last letter to you baby. 

And I think it’s fitting that you should find it here, in our living room, where everything came back together for us. I can’t lie to you Paige, I was so fucking scared you’d make a different decision. I was so scared that you’d walk away from us- that our present and the possibility of our future together wouldn’t be enough to overcome our past. 

I don’t know if I would have survived that. I guess I would’ve had to learn to. For Stephie. And she would’ve learned too, for me. But there would have always been a little part of us missing. 

Because you complete us Paige. Stephie and I- we aren’t whole without you. You’ve always been our missing piece baby, and we’re so grateful that you came back to us, that you made us whole again. 

Love you always, 

Azzi and Stephie <3

Paige holds the final letter against her heart for a while, letting her head replay all of the beautiful words her girls had written for her. She doesn’t know when they’d planned this, can’t imagine how they’d somehow pulled it all together within the two hours it had taken her to get to the bakery and back but she knows she’ll cherish this day forever. 

“I’m the luckiest fucking woman on this planet,” she whispers to herself as she follows the final trail of roses that lead her out to the garden in the back. 

It’s golden hour outside and it feels like their backyard is shrouded in a golden hue that makes it feel like everything -the trees and the leaves and the flowers and the sky are shimmering in drops of gold. Paige is almost blinded by it for a second, blinking her eyes rapidly to adjust to the blazing sunlight as she finally catches sight of her girls. 

They’re standing in the middle of the garden -in the middle of a heart to be precise but Paige can’t quite tell what the shape’s been made out of- Stephie in a dress and Azzi in a pantsuit that’s the exact shade of lavender as the outfit they’d picked out for the blonde. The two of them wear matching exuberant smiles and Paige thinks if she could pick the last image to flash through her mind at the end of her life, she’d pick this one. 

“Hi Mommy,” Stephie waves excitedly with one hand, her other carrying a bunch of papers that pique Paige’s interest, “did you get our chocolate cake?”

Paige laughs as she starts to make her way down towards, “you know I did sweetheart.”

“Do you like our surprise?” the little girl asks, almost vibrating with enthusiasm as Paige gets closer and closer to them. 

“I loved it-” the blonde cuts herself off with a gasp when she finally realizes what the heart had been created out of.

Carefully curated photographs, some with all three of them and some of just Paige and Stephie or Paige and Azzi, have been perfectly set up around them. All their beautiful memories aligned in the shape of a heart with Stephie and Azzi right in the middle of it, just waiting for Paige to join them inside. 

“You guys. This is-” Paige chokes back a sob as she finally reaches the two of them, “this is perfect you guys. I can’t believe you guys did all of this.”

“Sorry we made you drive all the way across town,” Azzi says sheepishly, “we wouldn’t have had time to set this up otherwise”

“It’s perfect,” Paige repeats as gently brushes her hands through Stephie’s hair before placing a chaste kiss against Azzi’s lip, “it’s everything.”

“You’re everything,” Azzi counters and Paige notices her shuffling her feet nervously before she speaks, “and we- wanted to show you that.”

“You did so good, baby,” Paige reassures, reaching out to squeeze the brunette’s hand, “all of it. The letters, the outfit, the book. God baby, it’s all just- it’s all perfect.”

“That’s not all though Mommy,” Paige feels a tiny tug on her arm and she turns away from Azzi to look down at Stephie who’s staring shyly up at her.

“There’s more?” the blonde asks softly, as she kneels down in front of the little girl, hands rubbing up and down her shoulder. 

Stephie bites her lip as she nods, holding out the elusive papers that Paige had previously noticed in her hands, “these are for you.”

Paige takes them from her slowly, keeping one hand wrapped around he little girl’s bicep as she takes in the words -printed in big bold jet black letters- on the document. Her eyes widen in shock as she swivels her head around to look at Azzi. 

“These- there are-” Paige swallows roughly, “these are adoption papers.”

“Yeah they are,” Azzi confirms quietly, “I um- I tracked down Stephie’s-” she pauses, clearly unsure of what term to use for the man that had abandoned the two of them -the man Paige thinks is the dumbest person in the world for having abandoned the most wonderful two people in the entire universe-, “I tracked down Stephie’s donor and I uh- I had him sign away any and all parental rights.”

“Az,” Paige whispers in awe, knowing just how much strength it would’ve taken Azzi to have even considered reaching out to that man. They haven’t spoken much about it beyond when Azzi had told her the full story but Paige had realized quickly that there was a lot of resentment there and it fills her with warmth to know that Azzi had overcome all of that, just to do this for Paige. 

“Mommy,” Stephie calls out softly, tiny hands gently cupping Paige’s face to bring her attention back to her, “you’re already my Mommy. You do everything a Mommy’s supposed to do. You pick me up from school and you get me ice cream and you give me cuddles when I’m sad and you give me tickles to make me happy. You watch movies with me and teach me how to play bask-ball and you dress me up in your clothes and you tease Mama with me and you give me goodnight kisses. And you love me, just like Mama does,” the little girl sniffles and Paige’s own eyes are watering as she brushes away Stephie’s tears, “but Anya says that you’re not my Mommy of-shaly because- because we’re not related. I think that’s really stupid and I told Mama that too and she said she agreed but that- that you could become my Mommy of-shaly too if you- if you adopt me. So Mommy-” Stephie takes a deep breath and Paige feels herself shiver with anticipation, “will you adopt me?”

“Yes,” Paige says as soon as the little girl finishes her sentence and then she’s pulling Stephie into her arms, kissing all over her daughter’s face as she keeps repeating herself, “yes, yes, yes. Of course I’ll adopt you sweetheart. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Stephie giggles in Paige’s arms, wriggling slightly as the blonde continues to pepper sloppy kisses all over her skin, “you have to sign the papers first Mommy.”

“Right, right of course. I need- I need a pen,” Paige manages to blabber out as she looks around as if willing for a pen to appear magically out of thin air. 

“Here,” Azzi's voice breaks in through the excitement, holding out a ballpoint for the blonde to use and as Paige reaches for it, she can see every emotion of her mirrored in the brunette’s eyes. 

Her gaze locks back with Stephie’s as she signs the papers, watching the little girl’s smile deepen with every flick of her wrist. 

“Done,” Paige exclaims as finishes off her signature, setting the document aside as she swings Stephie into her arms, standing up and twirling the girl -her daughter almost officially- around in circle as the two of them whoop with delight. 

She’s so caught up in the moment -in the peals of Stephie’s vibrant laughter- that she almost misses when it happens. Everything around her seems to freeze as Paige stops abruptly, her eyes fixated on Azzi- Azzi who’s kneeling in front of her, Azzi who’s holding open a velvet box with a diamond ring. 

“Baby,” Paige breathes out as she slowly lowers Stephie back onto the ground. 

“I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you,” Azzi begins slowly, her voice trembling as she repeats the familiar words, “so you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too. Because I just- I just couldn’t find the right words- the right phrases to tell you everything that you mean to me. And then I realized that I- I don’t need to think that hard because you- you already found the perfect words and I-” she gulps emotionally, “I was an idiot for saying no to them.”

“No- no I was an idiot for not understanding why you did,” Paige says with a shake of her head as she falls to the ground to be level with Azzi. 

“We were both idiots,” Azzi concedes and next to them Stephie giggles a little at the repeated use of the “bad” word, “but that- that doesn’t matter anymore. And I- I don’t need a speech. I don’t need to say a hundred words. Because you already know them- you already know me. You know my heart and I hope you know that it beats for you- the two of you. Because I love you. I love you so bleeping much Paige Bueckers and I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you more,” Paige says, unable to wait to say it as she cups Azzi’s face, “ask me Azzi. Don’t make me wait anymore baby. Please.”

“Paige Madison Bueckers, the love of my life, the mother of my child,” Azzi’s voice breaks and Paige isn’t faring much better as the tears freefall down her cheeks, “will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes I will,” Paige nods through her sobs as she holds out her hand for Azzi to slide the ring -a simple cushion cut enshrined against a diamond encrusted infinity band- onto her fingers. 

And it’s unclear who moves first, but they surge towards each other, lips meeting a kiss that holds the weight of all the emotions they’re feeling right now. They’re a tangle of limbs as they lick into each other’s mouth, giggling as they fall back into the grass, still holding onto each other. This is a long time coming, the forever they’ve been searching for since they were just little girls who barely even understood what forever was. And it hasn’t been easy but every second spent apart has led them back to this, back to each other- and forever feels like it’s finally here. 

“MAMA AND MOMMY ARE GETTING MARRIED,” Stephie shrieks as she throws herself onto Paige and Azzi, the two adults laughing at her excitement as they open their arms for her to fit in perfectly in between them. 

In the sky, the sun is beginning to set as golden hour comes to an end. But it doesn’t matter. Because the love between Paige, Azzi and Stephie -as long as they get to be just like this, safe and content in each other’s arms- shines brighter than gold itself and that incandescence will glow forever. 

[deerspherestudios]

🔍 QNA MASTERLIST (PT.4) 🔎

This masterlist covers general lore and an AU featuring MindReader!Mychael.

📍 For part 1, it's [HERE] for abilities, romantic/yandere traits and his opinion on kids. 📍 For part 2, it's [HERE] for anatomy. 📍 For part 3, it's [HERE] for reactions to different MCs.

Random Mychael lore❕

He has a different name in his own language, but goes by Mychael.

He also chose Mychael as a name himself.

He doesn't have a last name.

When did he start knitting and why?

Where did the nickname 'firefly' come from?

What music would he like?

His favorite smells are old books, honey and gasoline.

He's super ticklish.

How did he carry MC to his home?

His favorite thing to knit are beanies.

He'd love bringing you outdoors.

He's a quiet sleeper.

He sleeps in a fetal position.

He sleeps with both sets of eyes closed.

He'd love cheek kisses.

(Minor) loredump!

His knowledge on marriage.

He's overworked himself when fixing up the cabin.

Would he like stargazing?

You're not the first human he's found unconscious.

He'd be okay wearing a dress.

What's his wardrobe like?

He has a fear/phobia of snowstorms, thunder/lightning, trains/train whistles and water wells.

We can't get sick from him.

Does he have a religion/beliefs?

He would love the Shrek series.

The chickens' name origins (they're all flowers).

He's never considered humans as 'food'.

How did Mychael get his hens?

His favorite candies would be marshmallows and cotton candy.

If he had internet, he'd mostly look up arts-and-crafts and recipes. He'd also love DIY candy kits. He would enjoy nonverbal ASMR.

He prefers being warm.

He kinda celebrates New Years' and loves fireworks. + Why he loves fireworks but are terrified of thunderstorms.

He doesn't need skincare but would enjoy face masks.

His first experience with bees.

He's never played UNO (but would love board and card games).

How does Mychael view the animals/people he meets in the forest?

More Mychael lore❕

He can't handle spicy food as it makes him physically ill.

He's ambidextrous.

His MBTI is INFJ-T.

His favorite desserts are pumpkin pie and cranberry muffins.

His favorite books are self-help skill books and picture books.

His favorite color is yellow. His favorite animal is a jellyfish.

He used to wear cloaks when it was socially acceptable to.

He doesn't believe in ghosts.

How did he learn to speak and pronounce words?

He would love origami.

He'd love to have a cow but think it'd be high maintenance.

He prefers tea over coffee.

His first time seeing the ocean.

He would enjoy K-pop, phonk and electropop music the most.

He would enjoy making fairy bread!

His favorite Ghibli movie would be The Secret World of Arrietty.

Kid!Mychael. + His personality.

Mychael playing Stardew Valley.

Mychael trying a laptop at the library for the first time.

Mychael's perspective in Ending 2 and Ending 3.

Mychael would lose against Atom (Astronought) and Alma (Lift Your Spirits).

Mychael wearing (terribly-shaped) glasses.

About MR!Mychael ❕

MR!Mychael origins and discussion.

MR!Mychael with MC thinking nice thoughts about him.

MR!Mychael wouldn't rescue MC in Day 1.

MR!Mychael analysis and the type of MC he'd fall for.

How MR!Mychael's power works.

How MC would meet MR!Mychael.

MR!Mychael would react the same regardless of MC's psyche.

MR!Mychael with an overthinking MC.

MR!Mychael can't see dreams.

MR!Mychael with an MC with an earworm.

MR!Mychael's personality + when comfortable with MC.

MR!Mychael would be more aggressive/forceful.

MR!Mychael responding to intrusive thoughts + analysis on how to win him over.

MR!Mychael would love hot chocolate. (and coffee!)

[onenicebugperday]

Pink crab spider, Thomisus onustus, Thomisidae

Despite the common name, this species exhibits a wide range of coloration including pink, white, yellow, green, brown, or a combination of any of those. Like other flower crab spiders, they are able to change their color over a matter of days to more closely match their environment. Found in Eurasia and northern Africa.

Photo 1 by paulf84, 2 by wildchroma, 3 by sonic7730, 4 by ffigon, 5 by marie-ruel, 6 by marketaz, 7 by dbenvenuti, 8 by mammal, 9 by alexis_orion, and 10 by talgar-t64

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Sacrifice

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Back in the light world, Asgore is still dealing with the heartache of the sacrifice, even months later. Mayor Holiday is still set on moving ahead, though!

Yay, it's nice to finally get back to some light world characters here! More with the Dreemurr family will be coming along soon!

Alt text for these pages under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: a landscape shot of the Holiday house and surrounding garden, with Rudy and Asgore outside the fence and hollybush hedge. The Delta Rune is emblazoned over the door and spiky snowflakes decorate the roof and fence.  Asgore is walking by with a wheelbarrow. Rudy: “Asgore, you old goat! Been way too long!” 

Panel 2: A closer shot of the two men- Rudy is slim and dressed in a crisp tunic, Asgore larger and wearing slouchy overalls. Asgore: “Howdy Rudy. You’re looking well!” Rudy, hand on his knee, bends over to hack and cough. Rudy: “Oh y’know… well enough, I guess! How’s business?” 

Panel 3: Asgore looks down,ruefully scratching the back of his head. His wheelbarrow is full of droopy plants, ready for planting. “Could be better… Those soldiers hassle me almost daily. But, I’ve gotten used to it, so it’s all right.” 

Panel 4: Rudy puts a comforting hand on Asgore’s shoulder. “Aww hey, you can complain to me any time…” he says. Asgore doesn’t avoid the touch but he doesn’t seem comforted. 

Page 2 Panel 1: close up on Rudy, who jerks his head to look as far behind him the door of the Holiday house opens to show the silhouette of a woman in a long dress. 

Panel 2: Rudy: “But uhh, I’ll let Carol here say her piece first. See you, Asgore!” He waves and pushes the gate open to go back to the house. Asgore looks taken aback. 

Panel 3: A textless landscape shot of the front of the yard. Rudy, halfway back to the house, turns to look behind him as Carol comes out of the large Holiday gate to meet Asgore, who is hunched in a half-bow with his hand over his heart. 

Panel 4: Asgore: “Howdy, Mayor Holiday.” He doesn’t look up at her, and we see only the back of her head, not her face. Carol: “Good day, Asgore. I appreciate you stopping by, as I wanted to inform you personally.” 

Panel 5: Carol leans into Asgore’s space, and he leans away, cowed. Neither of their eyes are visible, but we see their mouths: hers stern, his distressed. Carol: “We will be conducting the Ritual again in three month’s time, at the harvest moon. You and Toriel’s presence is required.”

Panel 6: Bust shot of Asgore, dismayed. “A…Again? You’ve… found another one?” His hand is still protectively over his heart. 

Page 3:  Panel 1: We see Carol’s face for the first time: she is severe looking, with medium length hair, a stiff dress, and a choker necklace and ornate belt. Her hand is also over her heart, though more like a formal salute. “I have tasked QC with obtaining the child.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s speech bubble continues as narration. “She’s been quite diligent in her duties, and believes we now have one open to the concept of self sacrifice.” The scene shown is QC- a friendly, soft woman with wildly curly hair- appearing to be at a street market. She is speaking to a child with a bandana neck scarf (Clover, from UT Yellow), but there’s no dialogue. 

Panel 3: Another shot of Carol in profile, gaze fixed intensely ahead. “With the Ritual rites already perfected, this time we will be successful.” 

Panel 4: A wide shot of Asgore, hunched over his wheelbarrow of wilty plant starts and flowers. There’s no dialogue. His expression is despondent. 

Panel 5: Carol: “Is there something you’re withholding, Asgore?” Asgore: “No. We’ll be there.” We don’t see his expression. Her hands are folded sternly in front of her. 

Panel 6: She moves once again into his space, pushing past the wheelbarrow to lean in. “I know that you two have been avoiding us in public since the last Ritual.”  Asgore cringes away like a dog that’s been scolded. 

Page 4: Panel 1: Carol continues. “Toriel has hardly spoken a word to me since then. I trust there is an explanation?” 

Panel 2: Asgore wrings his hands in front of him. His speech bubble covers up his eyes, but his mouth is downturned. “Carol… Toriel avoids you so much because she respects you. She does not want a confrontation.”

Panel 3: Carol, her expression still severe, almost angry. “A confrontation?” 

Panel 4: Asgore, still cringing and looking down: “I don’t know.. if I can explain just how badly losing Kris hurt.” 

Panel 5: His narration continues from the previous panel. “She’d be so cross if I knew I said this, but…” We see the past, Toriel kneeling and clutching the blankets of an empty bed, crying hard. Asgore kneels beside her, holding her shoulders. He’s crying too, unable to comfort her. “The night of the sacrifice, when we got home… Toriel collapsed and wept so long and hard I was afraid her heart would simply stop.” 

Panel 6: Sill the past with present Asgore’s narration over the top. “And then, once Asriel left too… Both of our children were gone.” Left to right, in the interior of the Dreemur’s house, Asgore stands dismayed as an unhappy Toriel rushes after Asriel, who is walking out the door with a bag on his shoulder. He’s looking back but is clearly set on leaving. 

Page 5 Panel 1: Back in the present, Asgore is even more hunched in on himself, hugging his fists to his chest with his expression drawn tight and sad. “I know Toriel acts as though she is fine, but that’s simply because she is stronger than I am. The tension between us is so terrible that I’m afraid she’d leave me if she had somewhere to go!” 

Panel 2: Close on his distressed, panicky face, looking away from the confrontation. “And part of me can’t help wondering… w-what if we were…”

Panel 3: Carol jabs a finger in Asgore’s face. “We. WILL. Be rewarded for our sacrifices. Of this I am CERTAIN.” She’s stern, but her fists aren’t clenched- she’s controlled. Asgore shrinks under her words, looking up at her as he stammers “I-I know, but…”

Panel 4: Carol’s speech: “You talk of heartache. Kris was not even your child by blood.” Asgore looks down, ashamed. 

Panel 5: Carol continues, hand splayed over her chest. For the first time her expression is something other than stern, perhaps angry- still that, but pained. “Do you think your pain is greater than the one I feel, for December? Whom I gave away first?” 

Panel 6: Asgore plucks at his sleeve, looking away guiltily. “No, of course not-” 

Page 6 Panel 1: Carol’s brief moment of any other emotion is gone. She sweeps her arm to the side. “And yet I have put aside my grief for years, all for the sake of you, and everyone else, in this town. I will do whatever it takes to drive this invader from our doors, and restore this town to the peace it once had.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s face is almost a snarl. “All I require is that you, my oldest friends, trust me.” Asgore looks abashed. 

Panel 3: Close on Asgore’s downturned mouth, so none of the rest of his expression is visible. “Of course. Of course we do.” 

Panel 4: Carol draws away, her face returned to calm sternness. “That’s good to hear. Our children don’t need our tears.” 

Panel 5: Carol turns to go back into her gate, dismissing Asgore with a wave. “But our town does need our efforts.”  Asgore watches her go, putting his hands back to his wheelbarrow. 

Page 7 Panel 1: Another wide shot of the Holiday house and gardens, with Carol walking back to the house and Asgore outside the gate. Carol: “So I’ll see you both at the next gathering.” 

Panel 2: Asgore looks down at his wheelbarrow, despondently. His plants are all notably wilted. “Good day, Mayor.” The sky behind him darkens. 

[piecesintoplaces]

As a thank you for so many new followers, here's a brand new edition of my editing resources masterposts ✨ (you can find the previous editions here). Make sure you like or reblog the posts below if they’re from other blogs to support their creators! A friendly reminder that some of these are free for personal use only, so be sure to read the information attached to each resource to verify how they can be used.

Textures & Things:

Collage Kits from @cruellesummer that I find myself using basically every single day

Taylor Swift Wax Seals from @breakbleheavens that I also use literally every day

Rookie Magazine Collage Kits (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10)

Scribble Textures & Cross-Outs (1, 2, 3)

GIF Overlays (1, 2, 3)

Film Grain & Noise Textures (1, 2, 3)

Paper Textures (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)

PNG Overlays (Paper, Flowers, Clouds, Stickers, Lips, Vintage Paper, Misc. Symbols)

Halftone, Scan Line, & VHS Noise Textures (1, 2, 3, 4)

VHS Tape Textures by @cellphonehippie

Misc. Texture Packs (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)

Photoshop Effects (Halftone Text Effect, Chrome Effect, Glitch Effect, Ink Edge Effect, Photo Morph Effect)

Fonts:

Badass Fonts (free fonts designed by womxn 🤍)

Open Foundry Fonts

Free Faces

Uncut Free Typefaces

Some Google Fonts I Like: Instrument Serif, DM Sans, EB Garamond, Forum, Pirata One, Imbue, Amarante

Some Adobe Fonts I Like: New Spirit, Ambroise, Filmotype Yukon, Typeka, Big Caslon CC (TTPD Font!)

Some Pangram Pangram Fonts I Like: Editorial Old, Neue World Collection, Eiko, PP Playground

Fonts In The Wild (font-finding resource)

Tutorials & Resources:

Comprehensive Rotoscoping Tutorial (Photoshop + After Effects, great for beginners!) by @antoniosvivaldi

Rotoscoping & Masking Tutorial (After Effects) by @usergif

Texture Tutorial for GIFs by @antoniosvivaldi

Color Control PSD by @evansyhelp (to enhance, isolate, or lighten specific colors)

Cardigan Music Video PSD by @felicitysmoak

Picspam Tutorial by @kvtnisseverdeen

Moving GIF Overlay Tutorial by @rhaenyratargaryns

GIF Overlay Tutorial (+ downloadable overlays!) by @idsb

Icon & Header Tutorial by @breakbleheavens

GIF Blending Tutorial by @jakeperalta

Split GIF Tutorial by @mithrandirl

Guide to Coloring Yellow-Tinted Shots by @ajusnice

Slow Motion After Effects Tutorial (useful for GIFs!)

Gradient Map Tutorial by me!

Misc:

How to Make Your Own Textures by @sweettasteofbitter

How to Report Tumblr Reposts of Your Work by @fatenumberfor

Tips for Accessible Typography

[junabuggy]

𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖨𝖢ᝪ𝖭𝖲 , STAMPS, BLINKIES, DIVIDERS & MᝪRE !!

Favicons = ☀︎ Blinkies = 𖤐 Stamps = ☾ Dividers = ❋

-- What's a favicon? Well I'm glad you asked !! Favicons are small images that represent a company or website. Although some people just collect them for fun (like me!!!!!!1!!!)

-- What's a stamp? Stamps were made popular on Deviantart in the early 2010's. They are traditionally 99x56 pixels, and can be used to decorate any blog or website :3

-- What's a blinkie? Blinkies are a type of graphic that was popular 15+ years ago on personal blogs

-- What's a divider? Well a good example is right in front of you, BUT!! Dividers are any graphic that is used to divide two things, usually bodies of text. They are useful for breaking up blog posts and signalling the end of a topic.

(Hey hey!! I yoinked all this info from @cheezitofthevalley , go check out the two posts they have on this topic!!)

A little disclaimer!!!!! ⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎ none of the dividers, favicons, stamps, etc, unless explicitly stated by me, are mine ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^)

I do try my best to find the original owners // their rules for reposts and credit stuffz, but sometimes I come up short

The stuff that IS made by me however, is usually reblog + credit to use (once again, unless stated otherwise) ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Also see...

Red:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Red .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Red (Emo Undertones) .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Red (Emo Undertones)² .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾❋

Orange:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Orange .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

Yellow:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Yellow .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Pompompurin .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Pompompurin .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋ + others

Green:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Green .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Botanical .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Pastel Green + Pink .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Weird Girl Spring .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Green .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: 4/20 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Military .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

Blue:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Winter .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Blue Webcore .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Frutiger Aero .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎☾❋

Purple:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Kuromi .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Thistle Flowers .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Purple Gothic .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

Pink:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Pink .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Coquette .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Valentine's Day .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Pastel Pink + Green .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

Multi:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Oddcore (???) .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Frutiger Metro .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Evil Autism™ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Webcore .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Weirdcore .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Clowns .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Clowns² .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Eyes .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Flowers .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Kidcore .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Twee .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Saniro .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Stickers .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Me Core .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Spring .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Mail .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Grandma's House .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Specific Breed Of 2000s .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Funky Favicons .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Random .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Scene .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Gimmick Stamps .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☾

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Personality Quiz !! .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Emoji Pins .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Sushi .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Weirdcore .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Didn't make the cut .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

Fandoms:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: MLP .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Undertale .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: House MD .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Fnaf (Assorted) .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Fnaf (Assorted)² .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: LBP .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Chappell Roan .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Power Pop Girlies .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Minecraft (movie) .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Minecraft² (movie) .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: South Park .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Green Day .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☾❋

Exclusively Pride:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: TDOV .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: TDOV² .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐

Fruits:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Spring Fruits .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐❋

Animals:

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Jellyfish .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Cute Lil Evil Deer .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Service Dog .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Fish .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 𖤐☀︎❋

𐔌 . ⋮ Theme: Cookie Cats .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ❋

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Epilogue

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Dropping this a bit early since tomorrow's a holiday!~ But here we're finally getting to the unplanned epilogue for ATW! The claim bond in this is not unlike the soulmate AU I just wrote for Beau. Guess I have a type on this stuff. 😂 Get ready for some family feels! 🥰

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Posted on Patreon: 4/13/2025

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff, smidge of angst, hint of jealous alpha Dean, tinge of spice~

🧡 Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Shelter

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair..."

You’ve given him a new reason to love Zeppelin IV, Dean thinks. He sneaks another glance at you. The two of you haven’t said anything for almost an hour on this two-day road trip, now almost at an end. But when you notice his gaze on you, the smile you give him is golden.

It makes him feel a little boyish and dumb, like he’s a teenager getting caught staring at his crush. His face starts to get warm, his lips curving upward, so he clears his throat and focuses back on the stretch of road ahead.

The scenery has turned rural, with stretches of wheat-yellow grass and patches of forest on either side of the gray, gravel strip. Out here in Northern California, it’s not so bad as its southern menace—cities like L.A., San Francisco, and Sacramento. Dean can roll the windows down out here and not be assaulted by the mingling scents of exhaust, vegan Tex Mex, overpriced cologne, and broken fucking dreams. 

“Almost there,” Dean says, lowering the radio a bit. He points to a big curve in the road up ahead. “If I remember right, we’ve just got this stretch to go.”

You suck in a subtle, but noticeable breath.

“Great.”

Your voice is a little high. Dean raises a brow at you. He concentrates for a moment to suss you out, and he feels a thread of your anxiety through the bond. It’s been just over two weeks since he claimed you, but in that time living such close quarters, practically breathing each other’s air day in and day out, he hasn’t just been getting to know you a hell of a lot more. He’s also starting to understand this private WIFI connection you guys have going on.

Sam tried to explain it to him once, what it feels like after the claim.

“It’s like the world just…shifts on its axis a bit,” he said. “Your awareness expands. You’re connected, in a way that’s kind of…well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Okay, Obi Wan,” Dean chortled. He eyed his brother with amusement, but also with a slight shake of his head. The guy looked fucking twitterpated.

Sam shot him a wry look. “All right, Dean. Just wait. If you ever take that step with an omega, you’ll see. It changes everything.”

Dean held in another snort of laughter. If? Fat fucking chance.

He had no illusions about his life. Not at this point. They both knew he was probably going to die in this bunker, or more likely, on one of these solo hunts he’d started pulling. Sam was busy packing, ready to move out and settle down with Eileen, his mate, his omega—ready to leave his old life behind, and his brother along with it.

Dean was happy for him though. Of fucking course, he was.

He raised the glass of cheap whiskey to his lips. 

Dean considers you with half a smile, reaching over smooth a hand along your thigh.

“You okay, ‘Mega?” he asks.

Your lower lip gets pulled between your teeth. You nibble on it, even as you slip your hand over his. You turn to him with a question in your eyes. He already knows the answer, even before you ask.

“I know this was my idea, but you still think this is… It’s not too soon?” you ask.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He’s gonna like you, sweetheart. They all will.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

He tosses you a grin. “Because I like you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

He punctuates his point with a kiss pressed to the back of your hand. Your lips tug at a smile.

Mission accomplished.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” you tease.

He shrugs, but his crinkly-eyed grin says it all. You settle back in your seat and relax a little better for the rest of the ride. 

You can’t help it. Your anxiety swells back to life as the Impala pulls up the slight hill into a U-shaped driveway, rolling to a stop at a modest ranch-style house. It’s mostly made of rust-colored brick, a white roof with pale gray tiles. Even the walk-up to the porch is lined with brick and white stones. You also notice a little green toddler bike lying on its side in the front yard, where it seems to have dented a sprinkler.

You tread carefully up the pavement on your crutches.

Yeah, your ankle is unfortunately still busted; fractured, to be exact. You’ll be wearing this big ol’ boot on your right foot for two more months at least, but Dean has a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, a support you appreciate. He gives you one last knowing smile, his thumb brushing your spine.

Then he knocks on the door. His brother and his wife know you and Dean are coming, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking, now knowing what you know about your mate and his family. You know about monsters and terrible, evil things mostly put to rest. You know that Sam and Dean Winchester have quite literally saved the world, more than once.

But it’s not just that. You’re about to meet the only family Dean has left in this world. What if they take one look at you and know you’re not like them? What if they think you’re not enough for someone like Dean?

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice washing over you.

You glance up at your mate, biting the inside of your cheek. Can he feel your nervousness through the bond? You try to bottle it all back up where it belongs, but you’re not really sure how to do that yet. You don’t know if that will change the longer you get used to the soul bond thrumming in your chest, but right now, it feels impossible to hide anything from this green-eyed mountain of an alpha.

Dean shoots you a wink.

The door opens. An even taller lumberjack takes up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, a light beard down to his neck, and longer, darker hair almost brushing his shoulders. He brightens with a smile when he takes in you and Dean, especially his brother.

He chuckles and pulls Dean into a grappling hug. Dean’s smile is ear-to-ear as he wraps his arms tight around his little brother’s frame, thumping his back with a widespread hand.

“There he is,” Dean says. “But what’d I tell you about that shag carpet on your face? You look like a fucking hippie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Just as he’s about to answer, no doubt with a dry retort, the patter of little feet come sprinting over, and something knocks heavy into Dean’s bowlegged knees. He looks down and breaks into a new smile, even warmer than the last.

“Hey, little man,” Dean says, bending low to scoop the two-year-old into his arms. The toddler giggles at being raised as high up as his dad carries him.

“Unc!” Dean Jr. exclaims, raising small hands to Dean Sr.’s prickly cheeks. Dean grins and settles the boy on his side.

“You remember me?” he asks.

“‘Course he does,” Sam says, rubbing his son’s back. “He’s always hearing stories of his Uncle Dean. I show him the old pictures too.”

The brothers share a look, one that communicates without speaking. Dean’s is bittersweet and sorry. Sorry it took so long for him to get back here. Sorry for what he’s probably missed. But Sam’s smile isn’t judging, just happy to see him. He turns to you though, apologetically.

“I’m sorry, getting carried away here. Hi, how are you?” he asks.

Dean finally notices you keeping to the side, watching them with a soft smile of your own. You step forward to shake Sam’s hand, carefully taking yours off your right crutch. Dean clears his throat and moves to slip his arm back around your waist, not just for the physical support, but for solidarity.

After you introduce yourselves, Dean finally chimes in.

“Sammy, this is my mate,” he says. The pride and warmth in his eyes are evident as he squeezes your shoulder. Your face heats in a blush, but when you look over at Sam, all you see is a sincere welcome.

“Yeah, I was glad to hear someone finally tied him down,” he says. But then, his good humor sobers, becoming more earnest. “I also heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

You shutter up at that one. You’re both surprised and unsurprised, knowing Dean must’ve told him the full story of how you two met, but the mention of your father still makes your lungs tighten. You manage to smile a little.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dean squeezes your shoulder again, his thumb brushing your neck. You lean into him a little, bringing you face to face with Sam’s mini-me, who still hangs on Dean’s shoulder while he stares at you. “Mini Dean” has those big brown eyes that you saw in all the pictures on Dean’s phone, now with shaggier hair and a sweet-as-pie grin.

“Hi,” Mini Dean says shyly.

“Hey, buddy! You’ve almost got your whole fist in your mouth, huh?” you tease, stroking the toddler’s wrist. He looks a little unsure of you, but he reaches out and grabs at a piece of your hair. You let him do it.

“Ooh, you caught me, huh?”

He giggles, especially when you playfully poke your tongue out at him.

Dean’s smirking hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. His gaze lifts from watching you with his nephew and lands on Sam’s softer smile.

Sam welcomes you all into the house, where Eileen finally comes to meet you all. She looks a little frazzled, but still beautiful. Her dark brown eyes take you in before she greets you kindly. She and Sam look just as casual as you and Dean, jeans and flannels or comfortable sweaters.

Lots of flannel, you notice, with your mate and his brother.

“Sorry, was working on dinner,” she says, with an embarrassed smile. “Hope you guys like burnt chili.”

“Honestly I don’t think you can burn chili,” you say, as she leads you all further into the house. “It just enhances the smokiness.”

“Smells good to me,” Dean says. “And right on time, too.” The mention of food is already making his stomach rumble to life. You toss him a look over your shoulder, smiling in amusement. You reach back at pat your man’s stomach.

“You’re always ready to go,” you tease. He grabs onto your hand. It makes you stop for a moment, since you kind of need that hand for your crutch.

“Got that right, baby. Locked and loaded,” he whispers suggestively near your ear. Your eyes widen. You shush him with a laugh, covering his nephew’s ears. He’s incorrigible.

“Already corrupting my son, huh?” Sam says. His tone is censuring, but still amused when he takes Dean Jr. off his brother’s hands.

“Aw, who else is gonna educate the kid?” Dean jokes.

“He’s two,” Sam says dryly. “Maybe wait until he’s in preschool, at least.”

Eileen had nothing to worry about, and not only because your mate always inhales his food (and seconds and thirds) like it’s his last meal. She even made cornbread to go along with the chili.

“From a box,” she’d said demurely.

Regardless, there’s nothing quite like a good hearty bowl of the stuff with a beer and nice, warm, buttery cornbread. Sam even bought a Dutch apple pie for dessert, sending his brother a knowing look when he brings it out.

You all talk and laugh and share stories throughout dinner, even after the conversation moves from the dining table to the living room, where Dean Jr. takes turns getting doted on. He starts out in Eileen’s lap with one of his toys, but then he goes to his name’s sake, even giving Dean an action figure to engage him in battle.

After a while though, the boy starts to get sleepy. He tuckers out on the couch between you and Dean, half splayed in your lap with his head resting in the crook of your arm, while Dean has his sock-covered feet.

“Okay, we should probably get that one officially to bed,” Sam says, jutting a chin over at his son in amusement.

You feel special that the toddler already felt comfortable enough with you to literally fall asleep in your arms, but you glance down at his head with a smile.

“Aw, I’m okay being his body pillow. I’ll just sleep sitting up,” you say, laughing.

Eileen smiles and shakes her head. She signs as she says, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“One hundred percent,” you giggle. You grab at his little feet, gently so he doesn’t wake up. “I mean, look at these! I just wanna eat ‘em.”

You look up and happen to meet Dean’s gaze. He hides a grin behind his right hand from where he’s reclined in his corner of the couch. His left hand holds a beer perched on his jean-clad thigh. His eyes, however, roam over you and his nephew with a certain gleam. A blush warms your cheeks.

Eileen eventually takes the little one off your hands. You playfully pout as he leaves you, but it gives you the chance to get up and stretch—and find the bathroom. Sam and Dean are left to sit in a comfortable silence that lingers, just until Dean inhales a deep breath.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sammy. You ain’t done half bad,” he says.

Sam quirks a brow, beginning to smile. “I could say the same to you.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he stares down at his beer. Something uncertain passes through his eyes.

“How much have you told her?” Sam asks.

“Enough,” Dean replies, after a pause. “More than I fucking wanted to, really. It all just kind of…happened.”

Sam’s mouth quirks at the corners. “Stuck in a cabin for two weeks. Hell of a way to get through the get to know you, phase.”

At that, Dean smirks. “Yeah well, after the heavy shit, we weren’t doing all that much talking.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. But he’s happy for his brother—happy and relieved. Dean’s wellbeing has been a weight on Sam’s mind ever since he left the bunker. No matter how many phone calls and texts, some going unanswered for longer stretches than Sam would like, part of him has felt the familiar guilt of starting over, even though he logically knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just underestimated, again, how hard it would be for Dean.  

Hell, he felt he had to hike up to a cabin in the damn mountains just for something different, a change of pace from drinking alone in the bunker. Sam wonders if Dean was embracing the solitude at that point, or if he was even planning to come back down the mountain.

And despite Jack’s promise to be “hands off,” Sam also wonders if their friend Upstairs had a hand in how you fell while hiking that day. Injuring your ankle. The blizzard. Had it all literally been the perfect storm?

Sam will never voice the thought out loud though. He’s just grateful…even if it is strange as hell to see Dean this way. All night, the man had never strayed very far from your side. He’s been there to reach out a helping hand to you whenever you needed to get up from your seat, raising yourself on your crutches.

And the way you two look at each other. Sometimes it’s just a check-in, a brief touch, and a confirmation. Sometimes it looks like an inside joke, with Dean’s suggestively waggling brows and signature smirk. (You usually look away first, as if fighting a blush.) But sometimes, it’s like a whole conversation passes between you and Dean in just that one moment.

Is that what Sam’s own bond looks like with his mate?

Probably, he thinks with a smile.

“It changed everything, right?” Sam asks.

Finding her. Claiming her. Dean understands what his brother’s getting at with those unspoken words. His gaze rises from his beer. He stares back at Sam and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, however reluctantly.

It’s a heavy fucking weight of responsibility, with the lives they’ve led and the enemies they’ve made along the way, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret it. There’s too much of you in his heart already, filling those jagged, frayed, broken parts with smooth muscle and sinew, and new red life blood pumping again.

What he said to you that night still rings true.

It’s too damn late to let go.

That night, Dean falls asleep before you. His light snorts fill the guest room, and after almost a whole day on the road, you’d love nothing more than to join him in dreamland. You’re not sure what’s stopping you. It could be that it usually takes you a while to fall asleep in a new place and an unfamiliar bed, but it could also be your overactive mind still racing with today, and possibilities of tomorrow.

Sam and Eileen had offered for you and Dean to stay for a few days before you continued on your way, or even a week if you wanted. After that, Dean had agreed to take you home and meet your mom. After that though, what? Your job hadn’t been so understanding when you called and told them you’d gotten snowed in a cabin in Montana of all places, with no access to cell service or internet for almost a month.

So yeah, they let you go. It wasn’t a job you were in love with, and of course, meeting Dean is worth more to you than any job…but it had been paying your bills, even while living at your mother's house to help her after your dad's death.

I’ll figure it out…we’ll figure it out, you remind yourself. You’re eventually planning to go back with Dean to that bunker he’s been talking about. At least it’s in Kansas, somewhat close to your sister. From there, you’ll both have figure out the job thing, and potentially the house thing. You’re not totally sure about living in a bunker. 

These thoughts keep you up long enough that you heave a sigh and slip out of bed. A drink of water (and a few minutes of mindless pacing) might settle you a little. Somehow, the last thing you expected upon entering the kitchen was to run into Sam boiling water on the stove. He looks over his shoulder at you in surprise.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Heyyy,” you give an awkward wave. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet,” he admits. “Dean woke up about an hour after we set him down. He’s been finnicky, but finally got him to lay back down.”

At first you’re confused, until it hits you.

“Ah, you mean Mini Dean,” you say, smiling. “Aw, poor baby. He’s at that stage, huh?”

He chuckles wryly. “It’s called Terrible Twos for a reason. Want some tea?” He gestures at the mug he has waiting on the counter.

You agree, thanking him before you sit down at the two-seater breakfast nook in the kitchen. He pours you a mug as well and sits across from you. Silence threatens to reign between you, but you eventually break it.

“Thank you, by the way. For having me here too,” you say. “I know you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

Sam breaks into a smile. “Honestly, I’m the one who should probably be thanking you.”

You blink in surprise.

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Your lips pull at a smile though, your fingertip tracing the rim of your mug. “Dean’s the one who took care of me. Still is, really. He’s the one who saved me, more than once.”

Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But, uh, something tells me you saved him a little too.”

You look up at that, mostly in disbelief. You gave Dean a headache from the beginning. You’d needed his help all the time with your damn ankle. You poked your nose into his business, invaded his privacy, almost got him killed hunting that monster. What was it? Ah, right. A fucking Wendigo.

After all of it, he came back to you. He brought you closure for your father’s death, and held you when you fell apart. And when you kissed him, asked him with your whole heart to let you in, he broke through his own reservations to do it.

“Even if I did, it probably doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe him,” you say after a moment. Tears sting in your eyes, though you try to blink them away, taking in a subtle breath to try and steady yourself.

Sam’s eyes soften. He reaches across the small table and lays a hand on your arm.

“Trust me. I think he’d say you don’t owe him a damn thing,” he says.

You utter a laugh, though you try to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

You’re about to thank him for real when a low, gravel-filled growl echoes through the kitchen. You and Sam raise your heads to the doorway, where Dean stands in a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is mussed in sleep, but his face is firm with a tired frown. His gaze is homed in on Sam’s hand resting on your arm.

Sam slowly takes his hand back, quirking a brow at his brother.

“Alpha?” you carefully ask your mate.

Dean blinks a few times once your voice registers in his mind. He seems to come back to himself, shaking his head a bit. He clears his throat and pads over to you guys on bare feet. He drops a hand across your shoulder and down your back. You’re not sure if it’s meant to be possessive or not, but it almost makes you laugh. You manage to hold it in though.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. You understand why. Was Dean really just going to try and pretend nothing just happened?

“Did you just growl at me?” Sam says.

Dean’s lips purse, but he doesn’t answer right away.

Yeah, he was totally going to try and pretend nothing just happened. You bite your lip against a smile.

“Sorry,” Dean says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh…so what’s up? You guys having some sort of insomnia party out here?”

Sam snorts. “No. I’m heading to bed actually. Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Sam,” you say. The two of you share an amused look before he leaves. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make Dean roll his eyes as he fights his embarrassment.

You begin to stand up from the table, reaching for your crutch. Dean helps you instead and settles both hands on your waist. You slip your hands up his forearms and curl them around his biceps.

“We were just talking,” you say knowingly. Then, a teasing smile plays on your lips. “About you actually.”

Dean raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “All good things. So you can relax.”

His green eyes are a shade or two darker, his inner alpha having risen to the surface. Half-asleep as he’d been when he walked into the kitchen, his instincts were more dominant than his brain in that moment, especially at seeing you and his brother looking a little too chummy.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist and gathers you to his chest.

You can’t help purring in response. He grins, his eyes half-lidded as his gaze roams over you.

“What if I don’t wanna relax?” he says. The depths in his voice make you shiver, and even smile, but you give him a warning look.

“You’re shameless, you know that? We’re in your brother’s house.”

“Aw, he won’t mind.”

You scoff in disbelief. Dean tilts his head with half a smile. He knew you wouldn’t buy that one.

“Eh, it’s all right. He knows how I am,” he says, right before he bows his head for a nipping kiss along your neck. A breathless squeal escapes you, even though you try to contain it. You swat his shoulder.

“Alpha,” you warn. Once again, you try to temper your smile. Dean is only encouraged. His lips and warm breath tease along the edge of your mating gland on purpose, buckling your knees a little. A short whine escapes your lips, and a tremble of arousal pools slick between your legs. You don’t want to let him win on this one, but damn him, he’s playing dirty.

You grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pull him to your lips for a proper kiss. There he licks into your mouth and pulls a soft moan from deep inside you.

“Okay,” you give up. “But we have to be—”

Dean hooks his arms around your shoulders and under your knees and swiftly carries you up, forgetting your crutches behind. You have to smother your giggles with both hands while he takes you back to bed.

AN: lol Dean's insatiable, but we all knew that. 😆 I know it's been a while, but I hope you guys enjoy this little epilogue for ATW! In my head, she and Dean go on to have little adventures together after he meets her family. Like little dates and road trips to all the places Dean has enjoyed the most on his cross-country travels.

(And then maybe a couple of kids once they get settled in their own little cabin.) 🧡

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[ninyard]

okay so. subtle aftg tv show promo posters.

s1 promo posters that are like glossy magazine covers from the early 2000s of all the main characters. riko included. none of them looks like villains or bad people and they’re all smiling at the camera and posing, with positive captions and tags on them like, “Exy’s rising star!” or “2006 MVP?”. very glitzy very glamorous very bright and unsuspecting.

s2 promo posters that are items with price tags on them. maybe they’re hanging up in stores or on the shelves of a thrift store or catalogued in a magazine. a raven statuette with its price marked down. an exy racquet with stained pink strings and a “used” sticker on it. an out of date pumpkin pie. an open box of hair dye. “damaged” sticker on a cracked glass that has a fox on it. a knife block that’s missing one knife. an old phone.

s3 promo posters that are the backs of everyone’s jerseys with varying amounts of mess and details on them. JOSTEN 10 stained pink from fake blood with a peek of a black and red jersey in the bottom corner. WALKER 9 with a smushed bloody print on the shoulder and side like she’d been carrying somebody wearing it. HEMMICK 8, worn and old, stressed and peeling paint. REYNOLDS 7 with a tear around the neckline and a pink stitch fixing a hole. GORDON 6, perfect and crisp, with a small white flower over the number. MINYARD 5, with a more vivid blood splatter, and a small lipstick mark around the top. BOYD 4, with a stressed neckline, a couple tears through the fabric. MINYARD 3, in the goalkeepers colour, a faint line down the side like it’d been cut off him with a scissors and carefully lined back up again. DAY 2, with a black ink spill over the number, or his fox details cut out and placed over the ravens’ black and red jersey. WILDS 1, with a captain pin, a yellow card in the corner, white colour faded from use.

[ataliagold]

Flowers In Your Hair

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompt 'flowers'. Title from Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1249

Tags: Post Series 4 Volume 2, Everyone Lives, Established Steddie, Fluff, Soft Steve Harrington, Steve Loves Yellow Flowers, Eddie Loves Steve, El and Max are best friends, summer, this is just softness

Summary: Eddie enlists some help to find the perfect flowers for Steve. Despite his own insecurities, Eddie is learning that his boyfriend loves soft things.

___

“Robin, what kind of flowers does Steve like?”

Eddie was draped over the Family Video counter, having stolen the barely-working desk fan air flow for himself.

Robin paused where she was rifling through the box of returned tapes to give him a confused look. “Flowers? Really?”

Eddie threw up a hand, then regretted it, because that had taken far too much effort in the stifling heat. “What? You think a man can’t buy flowers for another man? You judging me, Buckley?”

Robin scoffed. “No. Just…why flowers?”

“It’s romantic!” Eddie whined. “We have a date tonight and Steve loves that stuff. He might not say it, but he does. On Valentine’s Day I got him chocolates and roses and you should’ve seen his face, honestly if we hadn’t been in public I probably would’ve got on my knees there and then -”

Robin leaned over and slapped a hand across his mouth. “Jesus, enough.”

Eddie grinned behind her hand, and poked his tongue out to touch Robin’s palm.

She snatched it away with a shout, fake gagging behind the counter. “Munson, that was disgusting.”

Eddie shrugged. “You love me, though.”

“Steve loves you,” Robin corrected. “And so, by extension, I’m unfortunately forced to too.” She smiled a little, taking any sting out of her words. “Seriously though, the kids are over there, watch your mouth.” She dipped her head towards the sci-fi section, where Dustin and Mike were loudly arguing over which tape to rent for their next movie night. Max and El were hanging back, Max eagerly trying to explain a movie synopsis to El. Whatever it was, it sounded violent, and El looked confused.

Eddie leaned further over the counter, letting the weak breeze from the fan flick his hair around. “Help me?” he asked, batting his eyes at Robin.

She screwed up her nose a little before responding. “Honestly, I don’t know. You said you got him roses before, right? Did he like those?”

“Well, yeah, but I think he liked the gesture more than anything else.”

Robin shrugged. “Just get him anything, then. It’s from you, so he’ll love it.”

“But I want to get his favourite,” Eddie lamented. “He deserves the best.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Eddie?”

A small voice sounded behind him, and Eddie summoned the energy to turn his head. El was standing behind him, looking a little shy.

“Yeah, supergirl?”

“You wanted to know Steve’s favourite flowers?”

Eddie slid off the counter a bit, straightening up. “Yeah, I do.”

El glanced between him and Robin for a moment. “Steve used to help me and Max with our hair. When mine was longer, we would make daisy chains and Steve braided them into my hair, he even let us put them in his sometimes. We tried to use other flowers sometimes but they did not stay together very well. But Steve’s favourites are yellow ones.”

And that…made sense, Eddie supposed. Yellow was Steve’s favourite colour, after all, but Eddie wasn’t sure where to find yellow flowers. He couldn’t afford much at the florist, and what flowers were yellow, anyway? Sunflowers? Where the hell would he get those?

Robin tugged his sleeve, pulled Eddie back to the counter so she could lean over and whisper, “The Klines have yellow roses growing by their fence.”

“The old Mayor?” Eddie asked with a frown.

“Yup.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“There are marigolds by the school field,” El added. “And yellow violas and tulips by the cabin. I can show you.”

And that was how, a short time later, Eddie was snapping off fragrant yellow roses at the stalk where they were poking out between the stark white pickets of Larry Kline’s fence. Max and El were standing further down the footpath, acting as lookouts while Eddie huddled by the fence and took his quarry as quickly as he could.

At the first surprised shout from inside the fence, he darted away, collecting the girls with a grin as he ran past them.

He threw back his head and laughed, roses clutched in his warm hand, Max beaming beside him.

“That guy’s an asshole,” she told Eddie as they jogged away from the house. “Serves him right.”

They couldn’t move too quickly – Max’s bones had healed, but she wasn’t exactly up to a sprint across town just yet. But they made it to Eddie’s van parked around the corner, and moved on to their next stop.

Just like that, Eddie spent the afternoon traipsing along with the two girls. El showed him where to find all sorts of different flowers, and Max went along because where El went, she went. It was hot, the sun baking them from above in a cloudless sky, but Eddie didn’t care – this was for Steve.

By the time they were finished, Eddie had gathered a large handful of flowers in all different shades of yellow and orange, and the girls had wrapped them in some plastic procured from Hopper’s cabin and poured some water into the bottom to keep them fresh in the summer heat.

“There,” El told him proudly, handing over the bouquet while Max tried to find some ribbon in a drawer to tie around it. “They’re pretty. Like Steve.”

Eddie spluttered a little at El’s directness. “Oh…yeah. Yeah, they are. He is.”

El nodded. “Max often says so, too.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Max yelled from El’s room.

Eddie smirked, because the girl’s little crush on his boyfriend was no secret. “It’s ok Max, I agree with you.”

Max stomped back towards them, slapped a length of gold ribbon into Eddie’s hands, and then took El’s arm and pulled her back towards the room.

Effectively dismissed, Eddie returned to his trailer to rush through a shower and getting changed, barely with enough time left to get to Steve’s before their dinner plans.

Waiting in front of his boyfriend’s door, Eddie passed the bouquet from hand to hand, a little nervous.

This is stupid.

Steve Harrington, former jock supreme, once-captain of the basketball team, nail-bat wielding badass wasn’t going to appreciate some yellow flowers.

Eddie almost turned tail. Almost tossed the flowers into the back of his van to be dealt with later, almost gave in to the nerves in his stomach.

Almost.

Because there was a softness to Steve that Eddie was learning to know and love. It was in the way he treated the kids, the way he gently held Eddie’s hand, the way he baked cookies when his friends were coming over and apparently braided flowers into the girls’ hair.

Eddie took a deep breath, clutched his yellow flowers, and knocked on the door.

It opened after a moment.

“Eds, hey, sorry I just gotta get my shoes on -” Steve trailed off as he took in the sight of Eddie standing there, flowers gripped in shaky hands.

Eddie cleared his throat, held out the bouquet. “For you. If, um…if you want them. Sorry if it’s stupid, I wanted to get you something but I couldn’t afford much and El told me you liked yellow flowers so I spent the afternoon going around town and finding them, and the roses actually involved some petty theft but -”

Steve took the flowers with one hand, and pulled Eddie through the door with the other, lips seeking his mouth and swallowing the rest of his sentence.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie smiled shyly. “You like them, then?”

“I love them, Eds.”

___

[balkanradfem]

So I was swimming the other day, and I noticed a male in a yellow shirt on the riverbank. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, hoping he wouldn't notice me, the treacherous freak. But, he didn't even look towards the river; he hanged around a tree, and collected something from it. Then he went away. I blinked, and then looked twice at the tree and realized – it was the tree I planted. It was the peach tree I planted there 4 years ago. He was collecting peaches!

Somehow in all of my stress with medical issues and laptop and everything else I have going on, I had forgotten to check my peach tree to see if the peaches are ripe. But there it was, a proof that the peaches were not only ripe, but good, because someone came to the riverbank only to collect peaches, and only from that one tree. My peaches had to be good. I had planted a peach tree and now the local community has free peaches!

Incredibly happy, I went to check on the tree after I was done swimming; it's not a grafted peach, it grew from a wild seed, so peaches are small. Some ugnrafted peaches would grow bitter fruit, and I didn't know the flavour of this one. I found the tree covered in fruit, with a bunch of peaches on the ground; I opted to collect the ones on the ground, because they looked healthy and ripe. And then I tried one. It was perfect. Incredibly sweet and not a hint of bitterness.

I am so proud of my little peach tree, back when I planted her, she was my height, she was growing in my spot in the community garden, and I had to dig it out because we're not allowed to grow trees in the community garden. So I planted it in a public space, tied it to a big stick to protect it from the city maintenance crew which commonly cut down small trees, and made sure to water it for the first few months. Year after year I would pull out all of the flowers from the tree, because the branches were so weak, they would have broken if peaches grew on them! I've seen fruit trees break and fall because of this issue. This year was the first one I decided the tree was strong enough to hold fruit, and I let it all grow. None of the branches broke, and now we all can have peaches. People living in the area don't have to go to the store to get them! They can just walk on the riverbank and peaches are right there.

The riverbank has sour cherries, plums, walnuts, willows, lindens, and now peaches! What a wonderful way to live, planting fruit trees in public so people would have all kinds of fruit in the summer for free. I managed to help out! I was harvesting all the other stuff growing there and hoped I could contribute to the tradition. Yay peaches!

[angelesca]

over and over, you read the sign outside a small agency, rolling the name in your head and flipping it up and down: teyvat's sleuth operatives, sleuth operatives... sounds tacky and lame...

it is only when a brown-haired someone approaches you, that your doubts are erased. their uniform neat, mastering the archetype of a professional private investigator, amber eyes unexpecting your early arrival. “you must be the new recruit, why don’t you come inside?”

edit: i think my tumblr is finally working again, hopefully this post works(-ω-、) w.c. ~3.5k / content: modern au! private investigators (PI) au! [not canon, slight ooc?] bulletpoints and scenarios, writing out of my arse again, lil' crack, another gang of idiots, total braincells: 8.88 (a high score!!), surprisingly they co-exist pretty well, zhongli doesn't know what a waffle maker is, you and childe watch a traumatic talent show, alhaitham's love lang is bickering with you, and wrio has a depressing backstory👍, tldr; working with 4 very fun guys / boss!zhongli / rival!childe / childhood friend!alhaitham / colleague!wriothesley / x gnreader

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 as your boss!

✦ oldest member, worked in the profession for many years. however, when you ask about that, he is suspiciously evasive. zhongli seems to have lived a long life, though his appearance does not tell it

✦ out of touch with the new generation and technology. asks alhaitham to fix his computer and the kettle (bro just needed to plug it in) or asks you what the newest trendy slang means. it is a wonder how he manages the workplace

✦ tea buddies with wriothesley. hosts tea parties in the local retirement home to discuss and rate tea (power scaling tea real). there's enough boxes to last a lifetime in the breakroom. oh, zhongli is pointing at the clock. it’s… tea time… again

✦ talks your ear off about philosophical questions such as what happens after death, or whether a hotdog is a sandwich

✦ you and childe share a joint role as zhongli’s personal wallet. as to what your boss spends his paycheck on… maybe the countless snacks he leaves at your desk. and tea. more tea. poosssiibly those trinkets he has gifted you too

✦ glasses wearer. appears when zhongli is in deep concentration, due to an unexpected influx of cases so he's staring at the computer often, or during an intense reading session

ᯓ★

you flick through the papers detailing the information you recorded from your client. you and zhongli are out on a scouting mission to obtain clues that could point the case in the right direction. “are you listening?”

“mhm,” zhongli claims, but you can see your words are flowing in one ear and out the other with the way he is plucking free food samples as if they were flowers, bunched together in his hand like a bouquet, offered to him by the fawning ladies at the market stalls. the foreboding premonition of another unproductive day is brimming to the surface.

“where should we start?” you clear your throat, keeping the task on track.

“we should entertain any threads and trace it back, even if it proves to be a dead end. there is no such thing as a bad clue,” zhongli pauses in front of a shop. “for starters, what’s this?”

you raise an eyebrow. “a waffle maker.”

“interesting. what about this?”

“a robot vacuum cleaner. would be good for the office.”

“indeed,” zhongli’s eyes shift. “and this? such a profound colour, this corrosive yellow that erodes my vision is quite unpleasant. could it be…? is this a weapon of mass destruction?”

“zhongli, sir, that’s a banana.“ you shake your head. “is this important?”

zhongli nods. “could be. is it really a banana? a true investigator must question even the simplest of theories.” he points a finger at your pocket. “and this?”

“... that’s my wallet.” 

zhongli has a penchant for being attracted to your money, if he can trace the imprint of your wallet against your pocket. 

zhongli nods, closing his eyes. “a sacred item indeed,” he opens one eye which looks at you expectantly. “i suspect you have quite a formidable sum of mora on your person. and mora is an imperative factor that may save the day, or destroy the world. after all, we still do not know if the banana is deceiving us in its testimony, hm?” 

you give up, handing the money over to the shopkeeper.

his philosophy remains a cryptic language to you. perhaps it’s the gap in experience that makes it hard to connect a bridge to whatever planet zhongli lives on, a divide in universes between you, a disciple, and a master. sometimes, you do believe that there’s a rip in time and space with how zhongli’s senses lag behind as if stuck in the past.

you hand one over to your side. “here—huh?” where did he go?

one look behind you and you find zhongli by a lamp post. a young girl, scratching the ground with a sharp branch with a pout, gazes at zhongli. “who are you?”

zhongli slowly crouches down. “someone who listens to everyone’s troubles. would you mind telling me yours?”

no response. then, a small stomach growls.

zhongli motions at you. immediately, you walk over. “may i take one of the bananas?” you hand him one. “why don’t you take this?”

despite her embarrassed expression, the girl grabs it. she hesitates. “... mama, gone.”

your lips part in realisation.

“come now, we’ll help find your parents.” zhongli offers a hand but the girl extends his invitation, taking his whole arm instead, hugging it. he chuckles, picking her up, her arms naturally cradling his neck as if he is family.

you observe the warm scene, smiling. “you’d make a pretty good parent.” 

zhongli watches you, quiet for a moment. “why don't we raise one together?”

“oh, i’m not—”

“alhaitham can be the teacher; wriothesley will do the cleaning. i can do the cooking, and childe can do all the shopping. you can play the toys with the child.”

“ah. of course,” teyvat’s sleuth operatives is one big family, after all. you have to ask, “also, that banana, how did you know to buy it?”

“well, who knows?” zhongli pats the girl’s back, helping her fall asleep. there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks at you, asking you to work out the mystery. to chase after the clues he left.

another cryptic answer. the master really does live in another world—one that you want to keep learning about.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 as your rival!

✦ works for the rival agency which, unfortunately, is much more popular. when watching cat videos, their adverts often pop up with childe’s annoying face plastered on it, winking at you

✦ tags along when you are on a case. doesn’t he have anything else to do? at least he buys your fav drink from the vending machines. although he trails around you like baggage, you hate to say that he is good at what he does.

✦ … a bit too good at his job. you’ve spotted him slinking into dark alleys occasionally. what’s he doing there? one day you will know.

✦ trained under zhongli before. therefore, he is lowkey in competition with you. any task is met with the following question: who’s the better apprentice? so far, the score is even, but you’ll get him next time

✦ never enters your agency through the front door. opts to crawl in through the window (no idea why, maybe it's the challenge). comes bearing gifts such as expensive fruit baskets, bouquets, and medicinal roots like ginseng. you’d think he’s meeting his in-laws or something. rare, but may bring his younger brother teucer as well. on these days, teyvat’s sleuth operatives becomes half private agency and half daycare. 

✦ for uniform, the red shirt from his birthday art is nice. maybe a leather jacket that hangs on the shoulder. wears accessories: earrings, rings, bracelets, watches, gloves. bro is something of a fashion icon, tbf he’s rich so might as well

ᯓ★

desolation unwraps itself before you, beckoning its finger at you to sink into the drab swamps. you saw a tuft of ginger hair disappear into this alley, submerged by its fog. it is inevitable; you need to know the truth behind the mystery to quell the ‘investigator’ in you. 

as soon as you think that, your face hits against, according to your common sense, a wall—if the wall defined was actually an amalgamation of flesh and muscle. 

“need our help?” 

a voice irritates your ears. you frown, looking up at the culprit. “you can’t steal our catchphrase like that, childe.” 

childe—your rival, your nemesis, the guy who childishly filled a ketchup bottle with strawberry jam so that he could chug it in front of you, without flinching, solely to disgust you, and counted it as a victory—that childe, shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“boss, who’s dat?” a voice calls from the darkness.

your ears perk up. boss? childe? a responsible leader? no way. you push childe aside. “... who are you guys?”

a whole lot of people are uncomfortably staring at you. “us?” one man stands out from the crowd. “the fatui, duh. have ya not heard of us, newbie?” the man proudly puffs his chest out.

childe rubs his forehead. “you doofus.”

bells were ringing in your head, red alarms were sounding. “the fatui? aren’t you guys wanted?”

before you can reach for your phone, childe catches your hand. “don’t,” his tone is rigid. it takes you by surprise. “look,” childe sighs. “they’re not bad people, promise.” he lets go.

a fatui agent is dancing. “yup, we have many talents, like stealing lunch money.” that is literally illegal. “say, why don’t we host a talent show?”

“oooooh!!” a chorus of easily amused delight.

“me! me!” a burly man wearing a tank top and shorts, holds up a jar of hotdogs. he twists open the lid.

you and childe exchange glances. the next sequence of events you witness are really unfortunate. “oh– please don’t shove that up your– well, okay then.” the sky looks especially wonderful today.

these guys should be in prison after all. 

“ahaha, okay, okay,” childe gestures with his hands, asking everyone to quiet down. “alas, this should be enough–”

“but i can break into people’s houses without triggering the alarm system!”

“i can use my anemo vision to amplify my fart!”

“aha…” the light in childe’s face falters. suddenly, he grabs your hand. “run!”

“—!” in an instant, your legs suddenly burst into strides, finding the right pace to keep up with childe. “where are we going?!”

“anywhere! anywhere is good!” under the sky, the breeze carries his airy laughter. in his eyes, the blue sea parts, a brightness coruscating on its horizon. it is refreshing, brilliant, childish. and vulnerable. 

you can’t help getting carried along by the waves.

.

“i should report you… for almost getting me killed by an anemo-amplified fart,” hands on your knees, the words struggle out of your mouth.

“sorry about that, they’re just really friendly.” he laughs. you notice, the way childe expresses himself towards the fatui, it is a delicate artistry woven with heartfelt tenderness. it’s the same fragileness as when he talks about his family and home. “how about i buy you a drink?” 

you contemplate his offer. after taking a few more breaths, you stand up. “even though i know you meddle with the fatui? how does a vending machine drink suffice?” childe tilts his head, encouraging you to speak. “for a week straight at least. there’s a new cafe opening, but the prices are too steep for my wallet.”

“okay, okay,” his gentle, tender voice extends to you, lifted by a smile. the blue sea parts, and behind it is childe, offering you a place in his home. “you win this time.”

𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 as your childhood friend!

✦ more like estranged childhood friend. you left teyvat at a young age, leaving your childhood friend, alhaitham, behind. you only returned recently, surprised to find that little alhaitham grew up well 

✦ does not concern himself with anything that doesn't yield results, keeps conversations succinct, conveying what needs to be said for the job with as little words as possible. only interjects if something intrigues him, or when anyone makes a clueless comment that needs correcting

✦ favours are not regarded well. one time, you asked him to grab you some coffee if he was going out for lunch break. alhaitham sighed, listing the side effects of overconsumption on caffeine and how a sufficient amount of sleep will do you better. although, when you came back to the office after an outing, you found a mysterious cup of coffee on your desk. must be the wind

✦ dislikes outputting energy where it’s not needed. when finished with his tasks, he will head to the breakroom or the corner with the bookshelf to relax until zhongli’s next order. rarely seen at his desk

✦ went to uni for a comp sci degree but it wasn't challenging enough. dropped out, but zhongli, a guest lecturer, managed to recruit him after witnessing his talent. has rejected prestigious titles and positions in favour of a peaceful life. but with you in the picture, he wonders how long this peace would last

✦ wears strapped pouches and harnesses… around the chest... and biceps... straps around the thighs... (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) for utility ofc. equipped with useful items for the job, like a gps tracker, voice recorders, spy cameras, and his music player. 

ᯓ★

“can you afford to be slacking off right now?” the silence breaks, and you are forced to speak.

“i’m not.” you quickly glance at the time on your screen. “besides, i should start heading home before the last train runs—”

“the last train has already gone.”

“... great.” you sigh. “how come you didn’t tell me earlier?”

“the sharp possibility that you’d insist on finishing your work is comparable to chasing after a dead end, and ultimately, a waste of time.”

a trained oracle, predicting every branching future based on your rooted disposition. it is difficult to debate against that which has inputted all your details, computing every possible output.

you rest your chin on your palm. “what are you even doing here? shouldn’t you be getting your healthy eight hours of sleep?” 

“and in the time that has spanned since you’ve sat at your desk, shouldn’t you be done already?”

you object, “you can’t deflect me with a question.”

“which principle asserts otherwise? i can.”

“you can’t.”

“can.”

“can’t.”

“can–”

you sigh frustratedly, knowing that you’re talking to a wall. throw your words at it and it bounces right back, a ball hitting at you squarely. 

with purpose, you blurt out, “little haitham was so much cuter, you used to follow me everywhere.”

and finally, alhaitham looks at you for the first time today. and for the first time today, you get a good look at him too. his posture manages to be effortlessly upright, not a lick of exhaustion burdened on his face.

“why are you bringing that up?” alhaitham returns to his monitor.

the buzzing of the ceiling light fills the silence. you blink. once. “we promised to the stars that we’d be the best detective duo in teyvat.” the mechanical clicking of keyboards clogs your ears. blink. you tug at the cuffs of your sleeve. “to solve all the mysteries, crimes, and beat up the bad people hiding in the world.” 

sounds of the mouse clicking. a pause builds. alhaitham glances at you. “and? we’re doing that pretty well, aren’t we?” you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.

“i thought you’ve forgotten about that,” you admit.

“it was you who forgot.”

you sit up. “come again?” your eyes twinkle, watching alhaitham, your childhood friend. the hope that swells on your face, and alhaitham notices it; the stars in your eyes, he’s tracing the constellations in them. 

"why do you think i'm here in the first place?" his voice dips, as if hoping you didn't hear that.

a promise embedded in the stars, and one of them was waiting for the fated reunion. then, in a split second, you see a younger haitham tugging at your sleeve, following your footsteps. you hide the smile behind your hand. “you’ve been waiting for me all this time?”

“don’t flatter yourself.” alhaitham quickly extinguishes. ouch. another pause washes over before he speaks up, “come over.”

your eyes widen. “over? where?”

“to mine.”

“mine? yours?”

“my apartment. it’s close by.”

“your place?”

“yes,” alhaitham glares at you. “do i happen to be speaking in another language?”

“i mean, how come?” 

“i do not want to be investigating a missing person’s case anytime soon,” alhaitham stands up, packing his belongings, leaving you no choice but to swiftly follow suit. “and our photo albums,” he stops moving. “i've kept them.” 

your heart skips, touched by the rare sincerity. you tease, “so you do care about me.”

alhaitham scoffs. “it's only a sensible suggestion. i don’t.”

“you do.”

“don’t.”

“oh, come on.”

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 as your colleague!

✦ was classmates with you at a police academy. by the academy was an arcade where you two played too many games. after graduation, you two silently seperated. wriothesley worked in enforcement for some years before gaining his investigators licence, moved to teyvat, and eventually settled at teyvat’s sleuth operatives

✦ your current hangout place with wriothesley is still an arcade, the one by the agency - it reminds you two of the past. favourite games include money-grubbing claw machines, boxing machines, and “dancing dance rev rev” (i dont wanna get sued–). that, or you end up chatting the day away about whatever new complaints you received from alhaitham, not realising the sun has set and the owner ends up shooing you two out

✦ owns a red motorbike. will take you on rides for fun, watching sunsets on the highway feeling the breeze. will take you home whenever you need—just give him a call. he insists that the best place to hold onto is around his waist

✦ the tea connoisseur of all time. drinks a minimum of 5 cups a day, and you worry he might drop dead one day. you’ve tried to get him onto different drinks, like the popular boba tea, but plain old tea always triumphs in the end. tea is life and zhongli agrees

✦ good at subduing any targets. prefers not to shed blood, but will deescalate confrontations, usually by submission rather than violence

✦ messy uniform. shirt not buttoned all the way up, rolled sleeves, fingerless gloves, dark colours. often seen with bandages along his arm. wears a choker. like a werewolf, rugged

ᯓ★

years back, before you returned to teyvat, you attended a police academy to aid in the preparation and experience needed for your investigators licence.

you always frequented the desolate arcade by the academy. there was no door, the arcade was impartial to any of its visitors, like an open hug.

time and time again, you blew your stress off after a long day. the boxing machine was particularly satisfying in that regard. you and that machine watched the early evening resign, and the night shift taking over everyday. 

the tedium was so easily penetrated by soaking crimson, the liquid leaked vividly dripping down from the forehead. a moment was needed for you to process it. 

a dark-haired person sat languidly against an arcade machine, in a uniform you recognise. half bent-over, head tilting. the sanctity of life departing through hurried breaths. 

“h-hey,” you crouched next to him, hands outstretched but were waiting for a coherent command. “shit.” the lectures slipped by you, running past but never handing the baton. it felt useless.

suddenly, your hand was flicked away by the person. behind his fringe, it was frozen, crystallised, icicles shot past his dark strands piercing you. “don’t bother. it’s nothing.”

eyebrows furrowed. “you’re insane,” you brushed the hair out of his face, finding splotches of bruising. his lip, busted red. injuries walked all over his skin, trampling the delicate layer. his complexion ghastly pale, you weren't sure if it was his skull peeking through his skin. “i need to call you an ambulan–”

“i’m serious,” he reiterated, “i… i just need a moment, some quiet. please. i don’t want them to find…” his sentence trailed off. 

you gulped, hands trembling. “you’re sure you don’t need me to call?”

he nodded.

he reassured you, but you can’t help but feel weighed by the fact that an injured person was right next to you. you made a mental note to ensure he visits a doctor by the end of this. sighing, you slowly sat next to him.

“... i’m just stressed. tired.” his words hung heavy in the blank air.

a familiar word. a sentiment that resonated. all too familiar. 

if there was a way to cheer him up... there was only one thing you knew about feeling burdened. you point a thumb at the boxing machine. “wanna blow off some of that stress?” 

.

“do you think that the arcade by the academy is still open?”

“i hope so. i wanna know if we’re still first on all those machines. and if my bloodstain still frightens people when they walk in,” a snicker. “remember when we played ’dancing dance rev rev’ for six hours straight? those were good days.”

you and wriothesley watch the boxing machine, your joint high scores blinking on the leaderboard in excited colours. 

“do you still have those old plushies i gave you from the claw machine?” you ask.

“of course,” wriothesley searches his pockets and pulls out his keys. a miniature wolf plush keychain hangs, bobbing up and down. “like this one. named it after you, how adorable they are.” he playfully pokes "mini you", cracking a grin.

you smile at the gesture. after all these years, you never forgot each other. “hey, no bullying.” you pause. “... weren’t we supposed to be tracking a suspect? i think they have already left this arcade.”

“oh, yeah. oops.”

a pair of fraternal twins stand outside outside a small agency, reading the sign over and over: teyvat's sleuth operatives… sounds tacky and lame... they think in unison. 

it is only when you approach them, that they stop hesitating. your uniform tidy, almost mastering the archetype of a professional private investigator, smiling at your newfound clients. you are no longer the new recruit. “need our help?”

a/n: i havent played genshin seriously since inazuma so i missed out on many events ( ; ω ; ) sorry alhaitham and wrio i tried my best⭐ lemme know if my reserach sucks bc my references were ace attorney and google (ﾉД`) also i wanted to draw their uniforms but got lazy, so i drew the banner instead (･ω<)☆ anw im off to read more manhwa (great start to the year), ill be back when the motivation finally whacks me hard again. if anyone wants to request ideas, feel free! my inbox is open 24/7! happy new year!!!! 🎆🎆🎆2025 will also be the year of the snake, so shoutout to all my snakes😎

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸

daughter of demeter! reader x luke castellan 🌿

IN WHICH.. the “best friends” of camp half-blood maybe wanna become a little more..

warning! this fic contains: fem!reader // use of y/n

🎧- lovesick by laufey

1.7k

Camp Half-blood was illuminated by gold streaks casted from the early morning sun. Light seeped into Cabin 4 through the window, painting the room with warm hues of yellow and orange. The bright rays were a natural alarm, gently waking you from your warm sleep. 

As the covers slipped off your skin with ease, you carefully tiptoed out of the twin bed to close the blinds. Young campers softly snored, and you couldn’t help but smile at their blissful state. Grabbing the rough fabric, you quietly pulled the two pieces together, blocking any more sunlight from startling your siblings.

Sleep still threatened to drag you under, so you slipped on sandals and trudged towards the kitchen, eager to get a warm cup of coffee, or really anything to help you wake up. 

Outside was fairly silent, contrary to the rowdy and noisy afternoons that typically filled the camp. The only ones awake were boisterous birds, who sung an enchanting song, and a few other counselors who were busy setting up  for the day. 

Your steady steps carried you to the small camp kitchen, where snacks littered the room as a reward for the effort of the counselors. A small jet black coffee maker stood on the counter, with Luke Castellan lingering next to it, facing away from you. Your presence went unnoticed by him, and you watched as he swiftly picked up two steaming mugs.

He slightly jumped at the sight of you, surprised by your hushed entrance. 

“H-Hey. Made you your coffee.” He said, reaching out to awkwardly hand you one of the energizing brown liquids. You delicately giggled at him for his initial fright, and accepted the sweet gesture.

“Thank you. Excited for today’s activities?” You asked, taking a sip of your toasty drink. Today, Hermes and Demeter Cabin were partnering up for a lazy day doing arts and crafts and indoor activities. The kids spent the past week relentlessly training, working hard from dusk till dawn, so an easy day was needed.

“Any time I get to spend with you is exciting.” Luke replied, smirking, before realizing how that sounded and backtracking. “I- Uh, I didn’t mean it-“ 

You laughed again, quickly cutting him off.

“I know what you meant. See you at eight.” You turned away, teasingly bumping his shoulder. 

“See ya.” He whispered out, pursing his lips and doing a slight nod as he witnessed you sauntering away. 

You and Luke had been close friends since the beginning. He arrived with Annabeth and Grover, confused and broken by the world. Luke never wanted to be a demigod, to lose Thalia. It was all too much for him.

But then you passed by in the infirmary, practically radiating a positive energy. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes nearly closing, before going to chat with some Apollo kid.

You were selected to give him and Annabeth a tour later that afternoon, presumably for your friendly and charming personality that seemed to lure people in. Luke got to observe your perfection firsthand as you helped the his sister adapt to the new surroundings, sweetly showing her everything to love about camp.

Luke followed you around like a lost puppy, mesmerized by your every move. With every step you took, luscious flowers blossomed, creating a beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the kids looked up to you so dearly, with the way you patched their nearly invisible cuts and grew them tulips on their worst days. 

The sad reality was you were more of a mother to them than their biological parents, even if you were only fourteen at the time. You did your best to make them feel “normal,” to let them live a glorious childhood that you were never granted. 

In those five years after his arrival, you became close as ever. Whether it was spending time basking in the strawberry fields or splashing around in the lake, you spent every minute together, your bond stronger than any weapon forged in Olympus. You laid by him on those restless nights before he got claimed, and after, too. And when you had a small cold, he went full Apollo-mode and spent hours glued to your side until you felt better. 

However, there was one teensy issue. Luke was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. Every one saw the way he gazed at you a little too long and with a little too much love in his eyes for just a friend.

Well, all noticed except you. The poor boy thought you weren’t interested, but the reality was your concept of love was so twisted and blurry that you had no clue what “love” even looked like. 

So, both you and him stayed silent, hoping one would realize eventually, and end this torture of a situationship.

Which brings us back to now, a cool and humid lazy morning with the campers, lounging on the few picnic tables decorated outside Hermes Cabin. Luke watched as you sat with your (and his) siblings, carefully threading pearly pink beads on a flimsy string. You laughed as you talked to the young children, making sure they were all included. The sun brightened your features, making you appeal heavenly. And your eyes twinkled with curiosity as a little unclaimed kid ranted on about some silly story.

“Dude, you’re staring again.” Chris chimed in, raising his eyebrows as he continued to paint navy shades of blue onto a rock.

“Shut up. Aren’t you whipped for Clarisse?” Luke sarcastically asked.

“If anyones whipped here, it’s you. How long have you liked her now? Can’t you just tell her already?” He was quick to return the sassy attitude, remaining unbothered by his friend’s remark.

“It’s not that simple, you know that. What if she doesn’t like me back and-“ He tried to ramble on, negative thoughts swallowing him whole. Luckily, Chris was there to pull him out of his own mind with yet another dumb comment.

“Damn. I knew you weren’t Athena’s son, but I didn’t know you were that clueless.”

“What?” Luke questioned, slightly offended.

“How many guys has she dated since she met you?”

“None. But I don’t see how this really relates-“

“And how many have asked her out?”

Luke paused for a second. There was Ethan from Ares, who tried asking her on a date a week ago, but she declined. Or Jack from Aphrodite, who, let’s be real, was the most attractive boy in camp, but she rejected him, too.

Chris took his silence as a victory. “Exactly.” He retorted.

“Whatever.” Luke shrugged, hopping up to sit by you. You scooted to your left, making room for him instantly. Cheers erupted from the campers as they saw their (second favorite) counselor.

“Luke! Y/N told us that you still snore when you sleep!” One of them pipped out, sending the rest of the minions into a giggle fit. Luke took a dramatic gasp in, placing a hand on his heart to pretend he was hurt.

“I do not!” He yelped, making the younger laugh even harder. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kids joke around.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” He said to you, trying to fake upset, but the huge grin on his face said otherwise.

“I mean, am I wrong? You are the loudest sleeper I’ve ever met!” You reply, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks the other way, and before you can say anything, a voice cut you off.

“Hey! Luke, Y/N!” A blond Apollo child shouted from afar, gently jogging while approaching them. They shifted their attention, prepared to fulfill whatever task presented.

“Chiron needs you in the office. New kid arrived. They said his name was Percy or something?” He finished, jogging away, most likely to get back to the infirmary.

The leaders looked back at their older friend, wondering if he could cover while they helped this newcomer out. 

Chris gave a thumbs up, signaling he could watch them for a few minutes. 

You and Luke playfully danced around one another on the short stroll, talking about anything and everything while you walk through the woods.

Soon, you reached the open building, the stain glass windows casting a colorful glow. You peer inside to see a blond teen, looking around twelve years old, arguing with Dionysius.

“Peter Johnson is here!” The drunk croaked out, and the two counselors made sure to swoop in. 

“Percy, Right?” You said, slightly a little too enthusiastic for 8am on a Tuesday morning.

“Yeah. At least someone around here can get my name right.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry about that. He can be a little.. chaotic. I’m Y/N, counselor of Demeter Cabin, and this is Luke, counselor of Hermes Cabin. We can give you a tour, if you want.” You explained, gesturing towards Luke who gave a friendly smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The blond boy replied.

-

“And this is Hermes Cabin, where you’ll be staying.” Luke exclaimed, pointing to the rough looking room.

“Uh, no offense, but why am I staying here?” Percy asked, disgust lingering in his words as he stared down the messy bunks.

“Uh, Offense taken. First of all, we’re definitely the best cabin of all time. And all unclaimed campers stay here, along with children of minor Gods.” The brunette said.

“Hate to break it to you Luke, but Demeter absolutely solos your Cabin.” You cut in, mouth letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Slow your roll there. Your cabin may be neat, but the amount of plants in there is slightly concerning.” Luke joked, you and him now unknowingly engaged in your own little conversation.

“It’s better than your pig pen!” You shouted, your sweet laugh echoing throughout the area.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied, and Percy took a step back, running into an older teen, staring at the “friends” who were flirting right before everyone.

“Do they always act like this?” He asked, referring to their nonstop conversations, and their slight physical touch. Your fleshy fingers were somehow always grazing his calloused skin. 

“Always. It’s sickening.” Chris replied.

“Agreed.” Percy sighed out, as Luke looked back at the two. They both gave an encouraging look, telling him to shoot his shot. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go out to the lake tonight? Just us?” He asked you, throat going dry and knees threatening to buckle as he fidgeted with his thumbs.

“I’d love too, Luke.” You replied, blushing as you swayed nervously.

“Great! It’s a date! Unless you don’t want it to be-“ He was quick to start, but you briefly interrupted.

“I’d like that.” 

୨୧

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