#it's been 4 years and i still cannot believe i made this

[jdragsky]

"Immediately captivating and effortlessly charming, Wanderhome is the perfect blend of whimsy, heart and the spirit of adventure. Who knew a game about being on the road could feel so much like home?" — Brennan Lee Mulligan, Dimension 20

[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. 

[girlgenius1111]

hallmarks of sisterhood

putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.

-------

Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you. 

It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked. 

As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily. 

All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could. 

-------

“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister. 

“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.

“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.” 

Alba flushed red with anger. 

“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind. 

“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”

“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?” 

“You are such a-”

“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room. 

“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed. 

“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending. 

“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted. 

“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter. 

When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried. 

Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.” 

“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”

“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.  

“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl. 

“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit. 

“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.

“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-” 

It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped. 

“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly. 

“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you. 

You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously. 

They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument. 

You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong. 

------

You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often. 

Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock. 

Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.

“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.” 

“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer. 

“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos. 

“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go. 

“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile. 

“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room. 

“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics. 

“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it. 

As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up. 

If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so. 

This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you. 

------

The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument. 

You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this. 

If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it. 

You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope. 

Alexia had responded first. 

It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.

Alba responded after that. 

You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.

You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.

-------

You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today. 

You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later. 

You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later. 

“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder. 

You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible. 

“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed. 

You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.” 

“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look. 

“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.” 

Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.” 

You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus  on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.

-------

You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included. 

That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall. 

The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image. 

You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life. 

You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous. 

You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically. 

You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful. 

You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song. 

More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters. 

Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly. 

You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her. 

They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.

 You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation. 

“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face. 

“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?” 

You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters. 

Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck! 

Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.

You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come. 

A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt. 

“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly. 

“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head. 

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.” 

You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others. 

-------

Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right. 

She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face. 

“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly. 

Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?” 

Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.” 

Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset. 

“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.” 

Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.” 

Eli chuckled. “I will.” 

She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that. 

-------

You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you. 

“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed. 

“I know, mija, I am so sorry.” 

“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.” 

Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t. 

-------

It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life. 

Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.

“Mami, I-”

“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.” 

“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach. 

“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”

“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.” 

“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were. 

“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life. 

Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it. 

Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you. 

--------

Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch. 

Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?” 

Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba. 

It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said. 

“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister. 

“We really did.” Alba replied. 

“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared. 

“We really do.” Alba agreed. 

“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?” 

“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face. 

Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.” 

“New car?” 

“New house?”

“Can we buy her a country?”

They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior. 

-------

The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset. 

You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face. 

“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently. 

“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged. 

“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you. 

Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands. 

“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them. 

“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?” 

“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this. 

“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly. 

“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?” 

Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her. 

“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped. 

Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that. 

“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.” 

Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?” 

“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse. 

“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety. 

“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’” 

“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head. 

“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.” 

At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot. 

“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer. 

With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.” 

Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore. 

“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments. 

Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work. 

-------

Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in. 

Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself. 

“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?” 

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face. 

Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you think that is enough?” You asked. 

Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.” 

Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway. 

“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight. 

It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you. 

“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you. 

You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting. 

You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears. 

Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters. 

Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot. 

Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed. 

Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you. 

It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special. 

You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself. 

You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught. 

“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other. 

They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction. 

“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered. 

“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”  

And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be. 

When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands. 

It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get. 

-------

Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands. 

And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted. 

“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands. 

“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.” 

Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded. 

“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly. 

“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it. 

“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.” 

“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-” 

Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit. 

“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.” 

Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed. 

Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be. 

-------

it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.

everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.

hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.

[drarryspecificrecs]

2025.02 ~ Top 9 longest fics posted on AO3

1. UltraViolet by @spinsomnia [E, 300k]

It's sixth year and Draco Malfoy has a secret. No one believes Harry when he insists that he is up to something and a Dragon is stalking Hogwarts. When Malfoy goes missing, Harry makes a startling discovery that changes everything he thought he knew about his rival. Draco must fix the Vanishing Cabinet, but he must also protect his darkest secret at all costs - he just never thought that Potter would be the one to help him do it.

2. Room For Two by LaughterLoveAndLarry [E, 209k]

Seven years post- war, Draco Malfoy is a single parent struggling to find balance as he begins his Healer training. Stuck between a very demanding work schedule and his lonely son, Draco barely has a moment to breathe. After a near nervous breakdown, his ex-wife has decided that what Draco needs is a Nanny. What Draco does NOT need, however, is the shock of opening his door one morning to find Harry Potter standing on his doorstep, grinning and ready to work. Or maybe it will turn out to be exactly what he needed after all. What both of them needed. [...]

3. Just a Ring by BeigeSocks [T, 200k]

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4. When We Were Angels by @soliblomst [M, 116k]

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5. Erised by grumbleonimbus [M, 71k]

Draco Malfoy is trying to make amends by doing fundraisers and events for a war orphan charity. He hasn't seen Harry Potter - or thought about him... really! - in about five years. Until he sees him a lot, everywhere, dammit. While vehemently trying to deny his school crush has reignited, Draco cannot help but be charmed by a more mature, serene, confident Harry. And, well, the new looks, plural, are ever so appealing.

6. The Houses We Build for Ourselves by Reckless_Rain [E, 65k]

Harry finds himself trapped inside Grimmauld Place - could a quick marriage to the Black heir be the answer? Draco is still four months away from being released from house arrest and champing at the bit for freedom - could a quick marriage to a desperate Potter be the answer? But it turns out being trapped together in Grimmauld Place might mean they have to work together…or risk everything.

7. Home is where you are by soft_exo [T, 56k]

Harry Potter has never had a home before, but maybe that's about to change.

8. The Tale of the Dragon by HedgehogWrites [E, 43k]

Draco has been cursed by a powerful wizard. He has to guard the Island in his dragon form. The Island, where the Kingdom sends their convicts to. It's a death sentence, because he has to eat them. Only an act out of true love can set Draco free. Harry is a proud prostitute, good at what he does. He also is a fierce protector of dragons, saving them wherever he can. Unfortunately, this puts him right on Wizard Supreme Riddle's radar. The wizard will leave no stone unturned to sentence him to the Island.

9. sea change by @eleadore [M, 40k]

The only thing more surprising than finding Draco Malfoy here, on a forgotten stretch of coast northwest of nowhere, in a Muggle establishment that was barely an establishment at all, was that he didn't seem at all surprised to find Harry.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

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—

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[smellslikechahnspirit]

hi, sweet!

I feel really bad about the airport situation that happened with Channie and the boys 😓. It made me think that not having Chan communicating with the stays just makes my days sad (I miss him!!!!!). With that in mind, can you make a fake message with Chan being angry and upset and y/n being the only one who can comfort him? Or if you feel comfortable doing so, you can make a fake message where Chan is bitter and upset with y/n for something she/he did but he is so exhausted with the relationship that he doesn't want to keep in touch with her/him.

(I know it may sound disrespectful to Cris, if you don't think it's appropriate you can discard this last suggestion)

I love everything you write ❤️

[FAKE TEXT BELOW]

Hii~ thanks for this request! I've been thinking about doing something like this for a few days. Just wanna comment on it real quick. I know it may hurt or that you feel sad that he's MIA at the moment...it's just, simply because channie is an idol doesn't make him "the close friend" that we always feel he is. Trust me I'VE BEEN THERE. I used to watch channies room every. Single. Sunday. For 4 years straight. And when it stopped I didn't get mad at him but at the fans who caused the whole thing. Also because he normally LOVES interacting with his fans. But you see just like right now with the whole airport thing...I completely understand his frustration and I believe a lot of people do, so don't get me wrong. I just wanna say...don't let his absence make you feel too sad...cause it's simply not his responsibility anymore. As a beginner idol it kinda was, cuz it's their job to be there for fans. He's just been through so much already, and maybe even more things that we don't know about, since he does have a private life. Point being. Let him do him, and not get attached to his well-being, since you simply, cannot influence it. (I understand how powerless this feels, like I said, I've been there).He may be famous. But he's also just a 27(8) year old man, trying to figure out life 🥺🥺🩷 psa: I'm not trying to lecture anyone, I just needed to get this off my chest

Christopher 🕸🤍

Fake text scenario: He's mad at STAY

🤍 : fluff, soft, still might contain swearing

🕸 : MIGHT CONTAIN SOME adult themes, emotional, maybe trigger warning

...Masterlist...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[doctorbeth]

Rabbit -- one of your cherished stuffed companions

Rabbit belongs to one of you dear people, and she gave me permission to share his story with you.:-) He was in the hospital about a year ago.

She initially wrote:

I live in South Florida and I am a big fan of your hospital! I have a stuffed rabbit plush animal, I believe he may have once been a Bugs Bunny plush, but to me he has always been "Rabbit" and I cannot find any leads online as to his "origins". Rabbit has been with me since I was 6 months old-- he's almost 24 years old! He's been my constant companion, and I still sleep with him and love him to this day. As you might imagine, this has led to many surgeries... 

Lately, Rabbit has had very thin fabric fur, and you can see through to the stuffing (mostly on his tummy). He's also in need of some new stuffing, as his current has gotten pretty clumpy over the years. My mom and I have talked about possibly giving him a  complete fur transplant on his tummy as we have applied patches before, but we aren't experts and don't want to cause him harm! He gets holes in his fabric very easily as he has become very delicate from love over the years... We are almost afraid to touch him with anything other than a hug! 

Now there were many photos attached to this note, and just fyi, for diagnosis the more photos the better, but you all don't need quite so many close ups... here are three critical photos from his diagnosis:

You can really see in the last two photos how thin his fabric was getting.... but he has such a cute face, and it's mostly embroidered, and I thought they may want to keep that, so.... there were many (actually 7!) options for his care. Keep in mind, he's over 2 feet long, too. Here were the treatment options (a spa could be added to any):

1) Given his style of fabric, and his artistic belly patches, and the fact that he has embroidered facial features, we could line his body with new fabric.  This reinforces his body and limbs while keeping his current appearance.  He would get all new body stuffing as part of this treatment, as the stuffing would need to come out for lining and it can't go back in.  But, a small amount of original stuffing would be preserved in a heart in his chest.  With this treatment, he could still wear, but you would see lining before stuffing.  Also, for future repairs, the lining could take the pressure of stitches away from his skin.  I would also minimize the older scarring on his side. 

2) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head. 

3) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head and ears. 

4) Instead of lining, we could recover just his belly and lower sides of limbs. His original skin (and old patches) would remain underneath, reinforcing the new fabric.  I would get as close as possible to his current fabric color and texture.  Perfect fabric matches are rarely possible, but if that is the case, I will send photos of him with transplant options so you can choose what you like best. I would also minimize his scars. 

5) I can recover his entire torso and limbs (leaving his head and ears as is). I would also minimize his scars.

6) I can recover his belly and lower side of limbs around his patches (keeping his artistic appearance). I would also minimize his scars.

7) I can recover his belly around his patches and recover the rest of his body and limbs. I would also minimize his scars.

His person thought about it, discussed it with her family, and ultimately decided on option 5: recover his entire torso and limbs but leave his head and ears as is. They also added a spa for Rabbit, which would treat the lumpiness of his stuffing as well as clean him.

So Rabbit flew to the hospital and began treatment with his bubble bath:

He got restuffed before recovering, so here is his heart being made and installed with a bit of his original stuffing:

I started by recovering his gray areas, leaving the white of his pawpads and tail original. At this point, I sent chubbiness approval photos and let his person decide whether she still wanted to recover the white (which was in better shape than the gray):

His person wrote: "Wow, he looks amazing!! His chubbiness looks perfect, I can't wait to hold him! I would like to recover his white patches of fur"

So Rabbit got closed up, and the white got recovered, and then he was ready to fly home!

Approved, Rabbit flew home to Florida. When he arrived back cross country, his person wrote:

Rabbit is home!! Thank you so, so much!! He looks amazing, he's soooo soft and cuddly, I can't wait to spend many many more years with my darling angel rabbit! I cannot thank you enough Doctor, you're truly an angel!! I'm so blessed to have found you and your lovely hospital!! My mom and I can't stop gushing over how soft and cuddly Rabbit is, he's like brand new! I'll continue to treasure him for the rest of my life with your help!

[watkinsglen]

Review: “My Investing Journey and Learning” by Carmen Mundt

Qualifications: I’m a journalist reporting on business, economics, and defense who’s been in the industry for 7 years — the last 3 have been at, debatably, the #1 business publication in the world.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Thoughts: I cannot believe I spent 39 euros on this.

This 39 page ebook provides incredibly basic information that can all be found in this article.

First: while the ebook is about 40 pages, it probably has about 10 pages of actual information in it, interspersed with inspirational quotes from Sheryl Sandberg and Warren Buffet, with some pictures of Carmen in Monaco.

There’s about 1 page of “introduction” from Carmen that talks about her upbringing and journey to university in London. I won’t comment too much on her personal story, but an important thing to note is that she says she came from a “traditional Spanish household” where her father was the breadwinner and her mother had no access to family finances. After the 2008 crash, her family couldn’t afford to send her to college. She moved to London, applied for a student loan, and began studying finance at a university while working part time.

Carmen very, very briefly mentioned her regrets as to her mother’s inability to access higher education, work, and family financial planning; she says she’d never want to be in that position. While literally only one sentence, I think it makes it clear who the audience for this ebook is: someone who has absolutely, positively, no idea about money.

(She also very, very briefly mentions “big changes in her personal life” that made a full-time job in finance “not sustainable,” leading to her move to Monaco. This is her only reference to George.)

The rest of the book very simply explains how to make a budget, set financial goals, invest in the stock market, and mitigate risk. The information was kinda factually correct, and was written in a coherent manner. I think that’s the highest praise I can give it.

Here’s the thing: like other reviewers have called out, I am pretty certain that Carmen didn’t write anything besides the introduction. Whole sections (and indeed the entire format of the ebook) were clearly ripped from the Female Invest introductory courses. (I spent 3 hours clicking through each course so I could find direct wording comparisons to make this claim. I really wouldn’t recommend it.) I do think she edited these sections, and she interjected a few personal sentences; but I believe that’s where her involvement ended.

From an expert perspective, a lot of the information is so simplistic as to be almost incorrect. This isn’t a “first day of Econ 101” ebook — this is a “freshman year of high school home ec class” ebook. (Did anyone else’s home ec classes teach budgeting, or just me?)

Here’s an example. In a section on stocks, Carmen/Female Invest writes: “Investing in stocks allows you to support companies and causes you care about while still making a profit.”

On a basic level, this is correct. Purchasing a stock technically means you’re buying a little bit of a company, and I guess therefore supporting it. But unless a company is IPOing, you’re buying those stocks from another investor — which means your purchase has no effect on the company. So it’s a little disingenuous to claim you’re somehow helping the company. The ebook is rife with this kind of thing.

Carmen pushed in her advertising posts that the Female Invest courses were a key supplement to her book. So obviously, I had to do those too. And holy shit, they were so much worse than the ebook. Some parts were blatantly incorrect on basic information (they claim markets are open 24/7, when most are only open 9am-4:30pm on weekdays) and have some of the most patronizing metaphors I have ever read. (One of the most egregious was comparing your investment portfolio to a pizza because “stocks, bonds, and ETFs” make up different “sizes of slices to make a whole pie”. This isn’t even an accurate equivalent — maybe a calzone, pasta, and pizza make up a whole meal? I don’t even know.)

I would not recommend buying this ebook unless you, too, were barred from even thinking about a stock by your traditional father. Even then, consider free sources.

A Disclaimer on disclosures: So, after @ohblimeygeorge sent me a reddit post also reviewing Carmen’s book that mentioned ad disclosures, I decided to dive into the regulations. In the U.S., influential advertising is regulated by the FTC — in the EU, it’s regulated by the EU Commission, which I believe Carmen would qualify under since she is a Spanish citizen who lives in Monaco. First, I looked at this legal brief on content monetization business models, and concluded that that the ebook likely falls under “affiliate marketing” as Carmen likely receives a percentage of each ebook sold through her link.

(An additional disclaimer: obviously, I don’t know the details of the deal Carmen has with Female Invest, but I’d think it unlikely that she isn’t getting paid for their collaboration. She mentioned in an Instagram story under her Female Invest highlight that she “tried purchasing equity but they were already too big for what I could afford” but “did buy a bit of their crowdfunding.” Since she doesn’t have equity, i.e. doesn’t own a piece of the company, it’d be weird if she was doing this for free.)

Back on topic. I next looked at this legal brief on advertising disclosures. It states that affiliate marketing must be disclosed: “you need to make sure your audiences understand that it’s advertising.” Disclosures can include hashtags and “mentioning” advertising in the caption. Carmen has not disclosed advertising in any of her Female Invest posts, and appears to be violating this regulation. (Interestingly, her only posts that follow disclosure requirements are her Tommy posts.)

It’s apparently not uncommon. An EU Commission study showed 80% of influencers in the EU do not properly disclose ads.

So, there’s that too.

[walidfamily]

Help Secure a Future for a Whole Family - Me, Shatha, my husband Khaled, and our children Toleen, Walid, and Layan 👶💙

✅️ Vetting info

#1000 in the Butterfly Project 🦋 spreadsheet [here]

#246 in the @gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

#259 in the Pali.Pals spreadsheets [here]

#Vetted by @turtletoria

My name is Shatha, a mother of three children from Gaza, living through extremely harsh conditions. We have been displaced over 15 times, searching for safety, but to no avail. I have two daughters, Toleen (7 years) and Layan (2 years), and my young son Walid (4 years), who was born with a disability and is unable to walk. Walid used to receive regular physical therapy before the war, but now his condition has worsened due to the current crisis.

This is now the state of my three children in the war; they suffer from illness and malnutrition and are in need of safety and healthcare 💔🥺

Today, we are enduring severe humanitarian conditions, lacking access to food, clean water, and medicine. My children need basic essentials like milk, diapers, and clean clothes

Toleen, 7 years old, suffered during the war and couldn't finish her studies in first grade. She became sad because she lost her playroom. She loves drawing and the sea

🚨🚨 Walid, 4 years old, is the reason I started this campaign. He was born with a disability and cannot stand or walk. He used to receive regular physical therapy sessions, but due to the war, everything stopped, and his condition worsened. We need to take him out of Gaza to continue his treatment. He also requires special treatments, medical supplies, and a daily diaper

Little beautiful Layan, 2 years old, knows nothing about her childhood and has never had her own toys. She frequently falls ill due to malnutrition and the lack of healthy food, clean water, and medicine.

This Campaign is a Call for Hope, to Guide Our Children Toward a Better Tomorrow ✨

This call is for all who believe that every child deserves a life of dignity and safety. Your contribution is not just a donation; it’s an act of shaping a new life for Walid and her siblings, ensuring they grow up in a world filled with hope, away from the horrors of war.

Thanks to Your Support, We Have Made Progress, but We Still Need Your Help 💖🕊️

Thanks to your generosity, we’ve raised €3,297 of our €20,000 goal. Your support has shown us that humanity is still alive and strong. Your help is a light of hope that we’re building our children's future on.

We kindly ask for you to continue supporting us by donating or sharing our story. Together, we can ensure that our children have the safe, bright future they deserve, filled with peace and opportunities.

✅️ Vetting info

#1000 in the Butterfly Project 🦋 spreadsheet [here]

#246 in the @gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

#259 in the Pali.Pals spreadsheets [here]

Vetted by @turtletoria

@timetravellingkitty @tiredguyswag @brokenbackmountain @imjustheretotrytohelp @turtletoria @sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka-blog-blog @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @schoolhatergirl @frottingfemme @determinate-negation @death2germany @killyourhistory @heritageposts @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @anneemay-blog @tamamita @taffybuns @taylorswift @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pcktknife @schooloutfitideas @officialspec @t-800terminator-blog @4ft10tvlandfangirl

[81folklore]

heaven - PIASTRI - part 4

pairings: oscar piastri x private!fem!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: oscars winter break as seen through social media

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: THEYRE BACK BABYYY!! ive missed these two so much so here 🤲 i spent a while trying to decide what i wanted to happen with these two (already have some plans) but i needed to post and my current wip is so frustrating 😕

authors note 2: its official theyre my favorites, i had sooooo much fun writing this, just two babies in love!!!! requests are always open and feel free to come chat!! (also i wrote this at 6am so sorry if there are any typos🫶)

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 9,289 others

always dressing up 🖤

📸 oscarpiastri

view comments

yourfriend3 actually insane

yourfriend7 you are so lovely

oscarpiastri how are you even real

yourusername babyyyy☹️

oscarpiastri 😍😍

yourusername 🤩🤩

user5 ur outfits are always unreal

landonorris is thought u were staying in tonight??

yourusername we are..i dressed up for fun😁

user7 THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

user18 SKWKZIWJJS

user93 my jaw DROPPED

yourfriend2 my favorite outfit of yours!!

user54 biggest question is if we’ll get winter break content😕

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourfriend1 and 13,279 others

my favorite time of year💫

view comments

oscarpiastri weenie waits for no one

yourusername heyy he likes sleeping in the warm☹️☹️

oscarpiastri still steals my seat😕

user54 oh my god

user3 DID OSCAR TAKE THOSE?!

yourusername yesss🫠

yourfriend6 see you soon!!

user68 the outfits NEVER disappoint

user2 im so ok

user26 THE FOURTH PHOTO??

user63 THE LAST PHOTO??

user5 you are so so pretty

yourusername thank uuuu🫶

oscarpiastri

liked by aussiegrit, yourusername and 436,742 others

life without racecars☀️

view comments

user54 OH MY GOD

user77 i may never recover

yourusername weenie and back photos oh i won *liked by creator*

landonorris ?!?!!?!

user2 LMAOOOO

user4 i feel ill i cant cope

user32 i need someone to love me the way they love each other

yourusername ☀️☀️

user9 the third photo..the THIRD PHOTO

user44 don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 14,281 others

oscar oscar oscar

i hold so much love for you i often feel like its about to spill out of me, unable to be contained, and when im with you i let it. i let it fill the room and cover you until you really feel how much i love you

every day i wake up thinking about how lucky i am that i get to love you, that i get to live with you. its a blessing and im the luckiest girl in the world

ill never be able to fully explain just what you mean to me, just how much youve impacted and improved my life. everyday i find myself thinking of you and finding bits of you in places i least expect and then i get filled with this happiness that i only experience with you

you are the light of my life oscar piastri and i will love you in every universe, i promise

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri i love you more than words can describe, you have made me the happiest man alive

oscarpiastri i am in awe of you every single day and i cannot believe i get to spend them with you

yourusername 🩷🩷

op81priv

liked by yourusername, ln4priv and 37 others

the love i feel for you is infinite and is strong enough to keep me alive forever

you keep my heart filled with a love that ive never felt before and i will only ever feel for you

you’re my forever person, my bestfriend and i will love you until i cant love any more

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername oh oscar i love you so much

yourusername forever sounds perfect to me

twitter

yourusername added to their story

[tc-doherty]

TC's Practical Writing Tips for 2025

I am back again! I've said it before and I will say it again now, I'm not coming here to pretend that I can tell you how to use the English language to write a book. That's not my jam.

However I've been writing for over 25 years, and I've written nearly 3.5 million words since 2009 (alas, I did not keep track before then). Whether people like my style or not, my output is undeniable, and I'm sharing the tips that I live by when it comes to the act of writing.

#1 - The Number One Most Important Rule is: write it now, fix it later

The job of any piece of writing, up until the point you decide it's done, is not to be good. It's only job is to exist. You can always fix it later.

#2 - The Second Most Important Rule is: don't let yourself get hung up in the ~mythology~ of being a writer

Writing is art, undeniable. Writing is cool, undeniable. Writing is also just A Thing That You Can Do. It's a physical act. Sometimes you need to pay attention to the part of writing that is just A Thing You Can Do. Being able to disentangle yourself from the IDEA of writing when you need to is a very useful skill.

#3 - It is always permissible – and usually enjoyable – to write the stupidest possible version (see rule #1)

Free yourself from the mindset that the writing must be good. Sometimes you just need to get the words out. Label a draft 'the stupid version' and go ham.

#4 - "Inspiration" is great for poets, but only a bonus for people who write prose (See rules #1 and #2)

If you want to write often, you need to write often. You will find that you don't need to be "inspired" because you've made a habit of it, and it will come naturally. Even one sentence a day is still one sentence a day. One sentence a week is still one sentence a week. It doesn't matter how slowly you go as long as you don't stop Believing in the concept that you need to be inspired to write will trap you into believing in the concept of writer's block If you are having difficulty getting words out that satisfy you, lower your standards and keep writing (see rule #1)

#5 - A few months down the line you will not remember which words came easily and which words did not (see rules #1 and #3)

#6 - Read widely and often, both in your favorite genres and outside of them

You cannot become a good author if you don't read. Pay special attention to things that you love and things that you hate, it will make your writing stronger.

#7 - At a certain point, you MUST write, not just think about writing

You won't get better if you don't practice.

#8 - Never write for the lowest common denominator

Via wise words I once heard: "if you open the window and make love to the world, your story will get pneumonia". Write your work the way you want to write it, and the people who will appreciate it will find it.

#9 - Never write for the bad-faith critic

There will always be people who engage in bad faith, and those people do not matter to you. You will need to learn how to deal with critique, and bad-faith critique, but you cannot live in fear of people like that.

#10- Find the joy in the ACT of writing

It is totally fine and normal to want engagement and praise! However you need to find a way to make the praise the cherry on top, not the entire sundae. Writing is hard work, and it's a lot of work, and it's a lot of work that goes unnoticed. If you lose the ability to enjoy the journey and are proceeding only for external rewards from others, you will gradually write less and less if the ratio of work to rewards is unsatisfying.

#11 - New draft? New document.

For anything other than final copy editing, it's almost always helpful to start in a new document. Any change you make will invariably snowball, and if you're trying to edit within the frame of words you've already written, it will trap you from being able to make large sweeping changes that those snowballs might suggest (or demand)

#12 - Listen when people tell you that something doesn't work for them

Sometimes an outsider can see things that you would miss by being too close, it can be a helpful perspective.

#13 - You are not obligated to listen when people try to tell you HOW to fix it

You are the author, not them. It may not even need to be fixed.

#14 - It is always morally correct to look at critique that you received, even if you asked for it, and decide that it's bullshit and doesn't apply to you (see rule #13)

#15 - "Write what you know" means "write what you're interested in"

You'll learn a lot of new things while you're researching what you're interested in! You will also have a lot of fun putting the things that you love into your work just because you love them.

#16 - "Show don't tell" applies to screenwriting, not novels.

The phrase show don't tell applies to showing the audience in a visual media. Novels are not visual media. They do require a lot of telling. Not all telling, but a lot of it. Both showing and telling are important to novels, but the things that you show are more relevant. The tightrope to walk as an author is "this meeting could have been an email". What does the audience actually have to know (be present at the scene for) versus what can be summarized or relayed through dialogue? Your mileage may vary on which percentage of each works best for you.

#17 - It is always, ALWAYS acceptable to use "said"

Said is invisible. Said is the nail upon which the picture is hung. People will not notice said. People will not get tired of the word said. Using the word said most of the time allows you to really emphasize the times when you don't use the word said. (Also applies to "asked")

#18 - Become comfortable with who you are

Your work is always going to be yours and it's always going to sound like you wrote it, and that is a good thing! That's the best thing! No one else is ever going to write exactly like you, and you should be proud of what you bring to the table as yourself. Of course keep striving to reach new heights and keep improving, but you're never going to outrun your own voice and experiences. Embrace them!

#19- Keep track of your word count in a way that makes sense to you

Some days will be easy. Some days will be hard. On the days when it's hard, it's very helpful to be able to look back and see how far you've come. It helps you remember again that some days will be easy. (see rule #5)

The best thing that you can do is to find the things that you need in order to write at the level of productivity you want to achieve, and find easy ways to wrap them into your own life. Spend some time soul-searching if you need to. You will gradually acquire your own list of tips to live by!

I hope everyone who reads this has a wonderful 2025 and that you all accomplish what you would like to accomplish. I'll be rooting for you!

[lyzsaphrodite]

༊*·˚ Home is Where the Heart is ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Dior Goodjohn x fem!reader

synopsis: You and Dior are long distanced and she decides to surprise you by coming to visit you for your birthday.

warnings: fluff, fluff, and fluff

a/n: this is not my best writing ever i just wanted to get this out while i work on the Summer fic

You and Dior have been in a long-distance relationship for about a year and a half now. You met on the set of Percy Jackson and instantly clicked; she ended up asking you out two months into filming. After season one wrapped, she went back home to LA, and you returned to your hometown. You haven't seen each other in person since filming wrapped six months ago, because you're still in school. You guys text multiple times a day and FaceTime at least once a day, but it's still hard for both of you. Especially for you since your love language is physical touch, and you just like to have physical connections with people. Your birthday was coming up, so Dior thought it would be an amazing idea if she came and surprised you. She planned it all out with your family; she would fly in on your actual birthday and stay for a month.

Today was finally your birthday. You woke up to look at your phone and found a bunch of birthday wishes from friends, family, and even fans. But none from the person that mattered most to you. You didn't think she would ever forget your birthday. Maybe she just wasn't awake yet, even though it was currently noon, which means it was 9 in LA, and she's always up before 9. But you just decided not to worry about it. You still had the whole day. You were really bummed that she wouldn't be able to come for your birthday, but you understand that she's busy with her music and everything. You got out of bed, took a shower, and got ready for the day. You and your best friend decided to go shopping for your birthday. You visited all your favorite stores, getting all of your birthday freebies. By the time you and your best friend headed home, it was around 4 o’clock, and you've yet to get a message from Dior, which made you visibly disappointed. Your best friend kept seeing you checking your messages every few minutes and finally decided to say something.

“I’m sure she didn't forget; you know her, she's always busy with something.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone but her has wished me a happy birthday though. Like even at the mall, those fans who came up to us to say happy birthday, I didn't even know them. And I thought she would be one of the first to say it.”

You finally arrived home and went straight upstairs to put your bags down and take off your shoes. You were home for around 30 minutes when you finally heard the doorbell ring.

“Y/N, someone's here for you,” your mom yelled. You had no clue who it could be; you weren't expecting anyone.

“Coming!” you yelled back to your mom. You hurried down the stairs to the front door, and standing there was Dior with her bags and a gift. She looks just as beautiful as she always does.

“Hey, baby,” she said, smiling.

You had absolutely no idea how to react; you were definitely not expecting this at all. You ran to her and jumped to hug her. As she held and hugged you, you started to tear up.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't able to come.”

“I wanted to surprise you, sweet girl.”

“How long are you staying?”

“For a month.”

“Oh my gosh, no way!”

“Way!”

“OMG, and Mom, you knew about this?”

Your mom just smiled and nodded.

“Yep, and so did your best friend.”

“OMG!! I cannot believe this; I thought you forgot my birthday!”

“I could never forget your birthday, mamas.”

You and Dior share a passionate kiss, the weight of her surprise visit lifting a heavy burden off your shoulders. In that moment, all the worries and doubts melted away, replaced by the warmth of her presence. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The month that followed was a whirlwind of joy and reconnection. Every day felt like a treasure, filled with laughter, adventures, and stolen moments of affection. Whether it was exploring your hometown together, cooking meals side by side, or simply cuddling on the couch watching movies, every second was cherished. On the day of her departure, you stood at the airport, hand in hand, hearts heavy with the weight of impending separation.

"I wish we lived closer," you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly as you fought back tears, the airport's din muffling your words.

Dior's eyes softened, mirroring the sorrow in your own as she squeezed your hand gently. "I know, darling. It's hard saying goodbye every time," she murmured, her voice tinged with empathy.

You leaned into her embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence amidst the impersonal hustle of the airport. "I hate it when you leave," you stated simply, your voice carrying a mix of longing and frustration, the airport's commotion providing a stark backdrop to your heartfelt confession.

Dior's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of separation. "I feel it too, love. It never gets any easier," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in her shoulder, the weight of longing settling heavily in your chest. "I just wish we could be together more often," you confessed, your voice barely audible above the noise of the crowd.

Dior's fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, her touch a silent reassurance. "Me too, sweetheart. But no matter the distance, you'll always have my heart," she vowed, her words a promise of enduring love.

And as you stood together in the midst of the bustling airport terminal, surrounded by the chaos of departure, you found solace in the simple act of being together, knowing that no matter where life may take you, your love would always be a constant, guiding light in the darkness.

this is unusually short because I didn't know how to end it

taglist: @asvterias

[veronimouse]

here’s my thoughts about shifting, that might be helpful for every shifters out there. i geniunely believe that every choice u make leads u to another reality/makes ur reality. like u just cannot be in a single reality for longer than a second. the moment u wake up, ure already shifting. it might not be something very noticeable, but u still did. u woke up and chose to brush your teeth first? yeah, u shifted. because there are other realites where u chose to do other things instead. this kind of mindset kind of stuck with me since 4 years ago, and i could definitely say that it made my shifting journey more easier. i’ve been seeing other shifter struggle with the fact that shifting is really that simple. i feel like the moment u let go of the concept of original reality, the easier it would be for u to shift. instead of viewing this reality as you’re original reality, and as your current one rather, everything will fall in place. just by writing this, i already shifted. every word i typed in, i already shifted. and just by reading this, u did too. u shifted. because there are other realities where u chose to scroll past this post instead. or did some other things. take it easy, love. u are more than capable of shifting, trust me.

while these are just my own beliefs, do keep in mind that everyone has their own perceptions. your beliefs and opinions might be different from mine, and that’s okay. no need to dwell about things like that. just do what works best for you. happy shifting 🤍

[halaboyz]

spice and everything nice, seonghwa

ceo! ateez seonghwa x gn, employee! reader fluff wc: 11.4k warnings: rather detailed description of food and eating, ALL OVER THE PLACE ! not my best work but my best efforts though a/n: rrAAAAHHH i think this is my first time trying this trope?? lmao anw its inspired by a lot of scenes in kdrama 'dreaming of a freaking fairytale'! giving lots of my gratitude to my one and only ducky 4 deciding with me (which... ended up with spin the wheel) @ricsang !! ilysm <3

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move out as soon as... tomorrow morning." Your landlord drops the bomb, and leaves you without a second glance, leaving you with a piece of dismissal paper and a list of your unpaid dues.

You gawk, closing the door behind you helplessly as your eyes wander around your flat, eye twitching at the sudden— is it really sudden— news with your head still hazy from the sunlight.

Sighing, your fingers quickly call your friend, your one and only, already placing a default smile on your face, although he won't see it. "My lovely, most gorgeous, kindest, prettie—,"

"What the fuck do you want so early in the morning?" Wooyoung growls through the line, and you hear his bed sheets as he probably twists and turns from his bed.

"Clear your lawn." Your default smile drops, "I'm moving in your lawn for a few days. I'll be there by lunch,"

You don't even wait for his answer before you drop the call, finally washing up to start and clean up the flat you've been living in for years, and been leeching off for months already.

"I cannot, for the life of me, absolutely believe you." Wooyoung stares at you in bewilderment, movers working behind you as they drop your boxed things in his lawn.

"I cannot absolutely believe how broke I am too, thank you very much. Do you have food? I'm starving. I spent my last on the moving company," You comfortably made your way through his house, immediately going to the kitchen and found his mom's kimchi lying in the counter.

"Don't touch anything, I'll just make you lunch," Wooyoung sighs, while you hop into the high chair, watching Wooyoung move around his territory. "Come on, y/n, just ask your family for some money. They're your family, of course they'll need to help with your masters fees. You've been LOA for what, almost a year now!"

"Look, Mr. Right," You take a gulp of water, "My family is not like yours, all mighty and well that you even have a house of your own while you take your masters, no dues, no bills." You state as a matter of fact, but take no offense of his opinions, picking on the nuts he provided you snack on while he cooks. "My family's already struggling as they are."

"So why take masters? Why not just go and work already?"

"Because they wanted it, too. I helped start my masters with some fees with my part time job, which unfortunately fired me because I ate one of their expired food, and then lived far away so they wouldn't worry much about me." You explained, and he sighs. He's sad he can't do anything to help you lighten your burden, which is why he lets you stay in his house with him.

Of course you had conscience. You insisted to stay in his lawn because you had a tent and a sleeping bag, but Wooyoung was a loyal friend after all. After a little more insisting from Wooyoung and his mom which he called for help, you and Wooyoung had finally agreed until you've found yourself some decent job.

"Don't your company have some free space?" You pout, looking through your laptop's screen for a whole hour now trying to find a job.

"Even if there was, I can't get you in there," Wooyoung sing sung, scrolling through his phone on your bed, lying in his tummy.

"Why? They're that strict?" You squint, facing him.

"The CEO himself handles who goes in and out of his company. Directly. Don't know what goes in that cold head of his," He shrugs, and faces you. "But it doesn't hurt to try. Your degree lines up with mine so they could consider you without a doubt. You also have a high GWA so,"

You nod, knowing there's nothing going to hurt when you try. You've been handing over a hundred resumes for hundreds of companies, what's one more, right?

"Oh my god," You barge into Wooyoung's room one evening, and thankfully he was only lying in his bed, "I got scheduled for an interview at your company tomorrow!"

"For real?" Wooyoung shoots up as he looks at the email on your phone, "It's real..." Wooyoung whispers, and stifles a chuckle. "Be at your fucking best tomorrow, you're getting head on with a fucking bull."

Well, Wooyoung mentioned a bull. But he didn't say that bull was the CEO himself, Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa, consistently chosen as number one for consecutive years already as continuously rising businessman in the fashion industry by different newsletters and publications such as Vogue, GQ, Esquire, Arena Homme, of the many.

He sits in front of you all elegant and mighty, while you sit there almost wanting out with how he gazes at you. You feel so small in front of him, and feel like Wooyoung just dumped you into a hell hole.

But thinking of your situation, this wasn't a time where you feed your ego away to the birds. It was a desperate time, not only for you but also for your family. So you set your embarrassment aside, heading face on with the bull, as Wooyoung adviced.

"You're applying for?" It was like elegance and superiority was oozing out of his lips when he talked. Having a one on one interview with one of the living legends of the fashion industry was making you shake to your toes, goosebumps all over your body.

"Either marketing strategy or marketing secretary, if I may, sir." You confidently reply, straightening your back. Right. It was a time to be arrogant of your skills.

"Without experience, at that," Seonghwa scoffs, and tosses your file to the table. You almost swoon at how he sounds, but quickly shake your head to reality. "You may leave."

"I am quite the ambitious person, sir. And I have my experience. As an intern, you'll see it by the third page," You ignore his last order, sitting still in your chair.

"Which has been five years, and if I may add, at an already closed, blacklisted company," You didn't get to think about that. which almost crumbles your confidence down. but you stand your guard. "Leave."

"Let me prove my skills for a week. Just a week. Whatever tasks you give me, let me prove it." From all the companies that has accepted your almost empty resume that only consisted of academic achievements but zero experiences, you were quite— desperate by a lot.

Seonghwa scoffs again, crosses his legs and leans back to his chair.

"A day." Seonghwa offers, smirking. "Attract ten investors tomorrow, within the day and I'll even accept you to be my direct secretary." Seeing your dumbfounded face was something he found funny, because it was a funny offer, after all. "It's a take it or leave it offer. That's so much time I can offer to a candidate only,"

"We have a deal, then." When he hears your determined voice, he internally scoffs. You keep throwing him out of his zone, being the first one to do that. He raises an eyebrow in interest, letting him know for the last time that you had agreed to his offer for tomorrow.

"Was that a bad idea?" You almost cry to Wooyoung, thinking you're only walking right into the trap of embarrassing yourself.

"I don't want to pop your bubble but... absolutely." Wooyoung gives you a wry smile, patting your shoulder. "The company's been having a hard time getting new investors for a few months now, I think it's due to less and less creatives coming out. That's also why his secretary suddenly quit and signed with a rival company. Thinks it's the start of the downfall of Park Enchante."

You dramatically fall on your knees, losing all hope for yourself.

"I can't believe I just said those to the Park Seonghwa..." You almost whisper, "...who you didn't tell me is your CEO!" You point out when you suddenly remember, jumping to strangle him.

"I didn't get to?" He slyly tries to get out of your room in a hurry, but you immediately grab his jacket.

"You don't understand! He's a living legend! Did you know he's the youngest CEO who has established his own brand? Do you have any idea how much he's earned just a month after he established his company? How lovely his first works were? My god! I could go on and on!"

"It's not my fault that you didn't know his company name!" He struggles out of your reach, trying to calm you down. "And I'm not down bad for fashion like you are! I'm just someone who works at the company! Also, why apply for marketing, you literally have a god-given talent at styling and creating!" Wooyoung blurts out, and it makes you pout.

"I don't draw and sew shit anymore, Woo." You roll your eyes, plopping to the couch. "It's been years, come on now, let it go! I'm majoring in marketing now so goodbye creatives,"

"y/n, you were so good at that, you were even thinking of starting of making your own brand! Why didn't you push through with it anyway,"

"I didn't think I would earn from it anyway. And starting it would cost so much. Don't worry about it, hands were rusty anyway. I wasn't confident with my own works, too." The atmosphere glooms and you take responsibility for it, clapping and taking a sharp breath. "Anyway! Better be ready for tomorrow. You should go rest, I'll be readying files for tomorrow."

"You got the files?"

"Easily. With permission from your great CEO, the temp secretary gave all out to me at once." You sigh, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have 10 clients to meet tomorrow,"

"Holy shit, I can't get used to these big ass revolving doors," You whisper, and determinedly let out a huff as you admire the big Park Enchante blaring on top of the doors. "I'm getting you in my resume." You nod in commitment, patting your chest to cheer yourself up. But before you even take a step in, three consecutive cars rush in the front of the company, and you stop to see in curiosity.

People rush out of the two cars behind, one opening the car door of the first car.

There he was, so elegant and flashy, coming out of the car with his sunglasses on. Another held an umbrella up for him but he immediately takes it with him, shooting the butler a small smile.

It was the first time you see him smile. You never see him smile. In person (from yesterday's experience), online, whatever paper you see him on, he never smiles. Always that poker face, sleek, straightened-back, poised and just pure... elegance.

"Wow. He's so handsome," You curse through gritted teeth, unconsciously holding your breath as you watch him make his way inside. "He couldn't have seen me, right?" That was a surge of shame running down your veins.

It was rich coming from you that you even had the guts to apply to a company like this.

He wouldn't mind if you wouldn't show up for your deal, right?

"Right." You nod, heels turning around as you make up your mind not to show, gripping your coat and stepping away from the big doors.

Before you're stopped by closed, long, black umbrella.

"May I ask where you're going?" Seonghwa, the almighty himself, now without his sunglasses presents by your side, holding the umbrella up to your waist to stop you.

"Hi." You awkwardly chuckle, "I uh, umm," You think of an excuse, sighing. "Going for coffee. Before going in," You smile in default.

"Ah. Five minutes before supposed time in," He checks his watch, and then at you. "I do not condone late comers. And, coffee's provided in the lobby. Why go for a mile walk if you can get it here,"

"Ha. I didn't know that."

"You're pulling back from the deal." He stated as a matter of fact, taking the umbrella down.

"Why would I for a once in a lifetime offer," You chuckle, shaking your hand in front of him. "I need money to save my life, why would I," Being sarcastic doesn't even go through him.

"Get ready in ten. I'm coming with,"

"What?" You blurted out, face contorted into something... desperate. When Seonghwa turns around to look you in the eye once again. He raises his brow at your reaction, and you immediately fall into a default smile once again. "I mean, you're the CEO. Why would you need to come with,"

"I don't think you've heard," He sighs, confidently stepping towards you. "I'm in a quite desperate situation right now. And I can't quite trust an unskilled candidate employee to go alone with my files."

You inhale sharply as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, stepping towards him as well.

"I'll prove my skills, then." You confidently crane your neck, facing him head on with another challenge. "I'll get employed, get my skillful ass paid, and get out of your company. I'll bet you'll beg on your knees to not let me resign?" You shrug, waiting for his rebut.

He chuckles incredulously, tucking his hands in his pockets. And then he nods, taking your statement seriously.

"I'll be waiting for that day,"

And it wasn't even half the meeting for the first client to see how skillful you were. The way you communicated, the way how you had managed to study all about his company through the files he had provided, and how easily you gave your beautiful smile.

Oh that beautiful smile is what scammed him in this deal in the first place. Although he knew it was sarcastic and far from the real one, he liked it. How you showed confidence, how you were ambitious, how honest you were, how you showed no fear of the high figure in front of you.

It was fresh to see in the industry.

Before he even shoots back to reality, you were done with your first client in thirty minutes. Hopping back to the seat two tables away to observe you after the client has gone, Seonghwa swiftly turns his gaze toward you.

"How was it? Did you fail already?" Seonghwa blinks, but you just open the file folder to present to him, falling flat at the table, signed.

"Promptly, the successful second client meeting will be in another ten minutes, at the hotel next door. Let's get moving, my dear CEO." You smiled, closing the folder and waving it at him.

It wasn't even long before you had finished eight more clients. Seonghwa had stayed silent, only tailing on you and continuously giving you additional information you asked for.

While talking with your last client, your eyes moved to him as he rest his elbow on the armrest of the couch he was sitting on. His eyelids were falling with his chin in his palm, legs crossed. It looked very uncomfortable, making you quicken the pace of the last meeting.

"Thank you very much. We'll contact you once again for future meetings and appointments. I appreciate you coming in person." You bid your farewell, watching him thank and smile at you, shaking hands before going his own way.

When he's out of sight, you made your way quietly two tables away where Seonghwa sat solemnly, sitting in front of him. When he feels it was too... quiet, his eyes finally open to see you sitting in front of him, reading more files he had handed out.

"Ten over ten clients signed. What do you think about that?" You arrogantly shook non-existent dust on your shoulders, leaning back on the chair.

Seonghwa chuckles, scooting to a more proper posture. "You're hired from the first client itself. Saw how you do, saw your potential. Nine more clients were a bonus. Quite impressive, I have to give you that."

"You're beautiful when you smile. Why don't you do it more often?" You scoff, making him squint his eyes at you. "Thank you, sir." You smile, that always default smile. Seonghwa still likes it, though. "I'll treat dinner, follow me. You must be tired." You offer to your huge CEO, gaining ego and confidence now.

"Follow where? We're already at a hotel, we can just eat here." Seonghwa looks around, confused. "And I think you've come to grow a little comfortable with me too much, secretary."

"One, you think my wallet can handle a five-star hotel restaurant?"

"Then you can let me pay for dinner." You shush him sharply, glaring.

"Two, its beyond working hours. You wanted to go with me so I'm giving you the chance of being treated by a broke person. You wanted to go with me so it is not my fault that I can't keep being polite and straight up sucking up all day with you." You ramble, reasoning your hunger for it. When he raises his brow, you press your lips to a thin line. "...Sir."

He scoffs, until he lets you lead the way on where to eat. You lead him to a small grilling house near your neighborhood, coming in like it's already your home.

"Oh, you're with someone new today? Where's Wooyoung?" The owner welcomed you, leading you to a free table.

"Please don't tell him I dined here tonight," You scrunch your nose, patting Seonghwa to let him sit. "We'll take Set B, with a plus of two beers," You smile, and watch the owner hop away after winking at you.

He hesitates, seeing how molds were forming at the corner of the walls.

"Humble setting." Seonghwa mumbles, still looking around in awe. His face scrunches when he sees cobwebs in his side of wall, flinching.

"What, you want to switch?" You chuckle, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes, please." Seonghwa immediately stands up and almost pushes you out of your seat, making you scoff in disbelief.

"This is the best grilling house in town. Haven't you at least heard of it? This ambience makes the food even better and here you are scrunching your beautiful face."

"I've never been to such... humble place," Seonghwa doesn't even look at you. He keeps looking around, as if he was there to scan the place for more cobwebs or worse. "Can't we eat at a more proper place?"

Just at the right timing, the tray was set rather angrily in the table, which made the both of you two jump. The owner scowls at Seonghwa, taking what he said as an insult.

"I think i might just prefer the loud one than a classy one," The owner rolls her eyes before leaving, eyes still glaring at Seonghwa as she does.

You chuckle as you notice Seonghwa stunned in his seat, looking like a kid who just got scolded.

"I'm betting my everything you'll love the food here." You ready your chopsticks, and with your other hand, start grilling the pork and beef. You expertly moved both hands simultaneously, the other mixing the sizzling stir-fried squid while Seonghwa watched you in awe, for the nth time today.

He just finds you interesting.

When finished, you put a mouthful on top of his rice and urged him to take a bite, giddy on your toes to see how he would react.

"Go ahead," You nod, waiting for him. He looks at you and the food suspiciously, and then around. God just please let it be edible. Seonghwa thinks, before finally picking up his spoon and letting the weird thing in his mouth.

You watch him as his suspicious eyes turned into wide ones, urgently taking another sweep of food. You chuckle, smiling proudly and taking your own portion. You began to eat quietly, only observing how the both of you finished in thirty minutes when you and Wooyoung usually finish the set in an hour and a half.

"Looks like you were hungry." You smile, looking at him finish his last bite.

"I mean, wow," He wipes his mouth elegantly with the tissue, tapping his tummy. "That was the most I've eaten for months," He was unlike the CEO who has been uptight and poised the whole time, but rather a kid who had just discovered his now new favorite food and restaurant.

He looks around and finds the owner still glaring at him but did he care? No. He raises two thumbs up and mouths a wow, pointing at a squeaky clean tray and grill. The owner only lets out a scoff, shaking her head.

"It looks like it's your first time eating like this, what life were you living?" You embarrassingly whisper, pushing his hands down.

"It is." Seonghwa mumbles, gulping down the glass of beer. "You see, I've always gone to fine hotels and restaurants and I didn't have the leisure to go around small towns so,"

You coo in disappointment, "You're just in the tip of the iceberg, then," You chuckle. "Let me pour you a glass. To thank you for employing me," You offer the can of beer, waiting for him to offer his own glass. When he does, he gets the can and waits for you to offer yours.

"To my new secretary," He raises his glass, and you smile.

"To my new CEO,"

"God..." You mumble, getting the hair out of your face as sunlight hits you. "My head fucking hurts..."

You grumble, throwing the comfortable sheets over your head and cuddling the warm pillow beside you.

Wait, sunlight?

And a warm pillow beside you? For all you know, your bed in Wooyoung's house only fitted your own body. And there was only a little window that sunlight doesn't even touch your bed.

This wasn't Wooyoung's house. You open one eye to inspect, your eyebrows meeting the first thing in the morning.

"Oh my god." You whisper, hand flying to your mouth to shut the fuck up.

It wasn't a warm pillow. It was a body.

Scratch that, your new boss' body.

You did not just sleep in one bed with your boss. You were still in denial when you slowly took the sheets off of you, sneaking out of bed.

You take a glance to make make sure if it was indeed your boss, taking the sheets that covered his face too.

You gasp, confirming it when his face becomes clear, sleeping sweetly and tightly. You mock cry, hitting your head as you get your purse and your shoes, tippy toeing out of the pension he owned. At least you were both still fully clothed.

You just pray to the gods no one saw you.

You remember getting hellbent drunk with beers last night, calling a designated driver to drive the both of you home with Seonghwa's car. Apparently, you had asked the driver to wait for you while you walked an almost sleepwalking, drunk Seonghwa to his flat and to his room, but he only had a waiting time of thirty minutes so when you didn't show up, he parked the car and left.

When you got to his flat, you threw him to his bed as he cradled his own blanket. His bed looked so comfortable and you swore that you were just going to try lying on it for five minutes.

That five minutes turned into the whole night.

"Where the hell did you stay?!" Wooyoung welcomes you, hitting your shoulder. "What happened? Did you get the job? Why do you have a bedhair? Where did you sleep?"

"I got the job! I have ten minutes to get ready so I'll answer all your questions later. Wait for me!"

It was one whole hell of a story to tell when Wooyoung's the recipient. He keeps on talking backin the middle, talk shit about his boss and how proud he is of you for finally landing a job- the direct secretary of the CEO at that.

"Good morning, sir." You shamelessly greet, handing him a cup of coffee while you tailed him to his huge office.

"Well aren't you very polite now," Seonghwa takes a seat in his office chair, leaning his head back and eyebrows met in between due to the aching head he had after waking up with an alarm.

"I have to keep my job now, don't I?" You smile, the default one you always held. "Would you prefer a hot coffee? I can make you one right now," You offer, heading to the side of the coffee maker in his office to make one for him.

"I drank too much last night I don't remember a thing. Did you get home safe?" Seonghwa's voice was laced with worry, watching your back.

You chuckle nervously, slightly trembling as you make your way to him with his cup of coffee. Careful not to spill it, you put it on his desk.

"Of course I did! Haha!" You reply, clapping even. "I had so much fun, I didn't even get drunk so I was able to go home," When you see Seonghwa nod, you internally sigh in relief. Clasping your hands, you smile again. "Please give me something to do now, dear CEO. This is the day I've been waiting for,"

"Oh yeah?" Seonghwa held a devious smile, standing up from his seat and walking up to a tall shelf of files and files and files. He picks, one, two, three, four, five thick documents and hands them to you all at once, making you stumble on your feet. "I need reports of these documents by tonight. And if ever I need you, I'm ringing this bell. Have you introduced yourself to everybody? Make sure you're getting along with everyone. With your attitude, I think you're going to need it." Seonghwa taps the top document in your hands, making his way to his seat back again.

He feigns ignorance by raising his brows, as if asking you what had you stunned on your place.

"I think I'll do just fine, Mr. Park. Shouldn't take advice from yours truly now, should I?" You smile, difficulty making your way out of his office.

After settling on your large table, you sat comfortably on your seat.

"Wow. Okay, this is really happening." You whisper, in awe of your own table, own nameplate, and the pile of work you're about to do. "I'm doing it. I'm working," You whisper in disbelief, internally screaming and punching the air continuously for about a minute before slapping yourself back to reality, starting your work.

In the other side of the window, Seonghwa watched you in amazement, chuckling. Such a peculiar attitude you had, it kept him in his toes.

"Done!" Not even three hours in, you had barged in his office, putting his files back to his table.

"That's a day's worth of work of a secretary. What do you mean you're done?" Seonghwa had his CEO mode on, making you politely smile. He began to run through the files, analyzing your work.

Peculiar, and good at work.

"That's a day's worth? What secretaries have you been having?" You furrow your brows, skeptic. "I'm just naturally good at work. I told you, you won't regret hiring me. Is there something more I should do?" You smile, waiting for him to finish scanning your work.

"Incredible. You may now go home," Seonghwa nods in acknowledgement, and you crane your neck. "What?"

"...That's it?"

"Well, I don't have any more meetings schedules today, don't I?" Seonghwa confirms, setting the files in the side with a sigh. When you nod, he nods as well. "There's your answer. You can now go home."

"It's not even twelve noon, though?" You question, taking a double look at your watch. "Give me work worth of my pay, I'll feel guilty if you let me do that alone," You demand, even offered your hand to him.

He chuckles, "That's what good workers get. Early leaves." Seonghwa just looks at you with a smile, but you only pout, looking at your offered hands. You still wait for him, and he finally looks around. "I really don't have anything else for you to do though..."

"Then we can't do anything about that," You disappointingly lower your hands, finally bidding goodbye and thanking him for today. "You can call my phone number if you need anything. Please make sure I have a lot to do tomorrow," You chuckle, heading to the door. You hear him chuckle before you closed the doors behind you, heading to the marketing department. "Woo!"

"Oh, you're here," Wooyoung exclaims, side-hugging you and leading you to his table. He was about to leave for lunch break. "What do you mean you're done?"

"He said he gave me a day's worth of work. And he really didn't ring the bell so no one disturbed me so," You explained, bored. "I really don't have anything to do now."

"You can help me with mine," Wooyoung slyly offers, making you squint your eyes.

"No thanks. This is a blessing, I guess," You take a bite of your lunch, while Wooyoung delves into his. He looked more in a rush than you, since he still had work to do. "Can I ask you something?"

"Aren't you already asking?" Wooyoung's childish remark makes you roll your eyes.

"What time does Seonghwa usually leave work?"

"For what, you're going to tail him?"

"Wooyoung," You grunt, slapping his arm.

"I don't know. You should ask the security. We all leave before him. I've never seen him leave work before us unless he's been out since noon for meetings and events and such,"

You nod, finally letting Wooyoung eat in peace. After you're both done, you let Wooyoung get back by himself to his department as you head to the entrance security, asking around. Only to find out that he usually leaves late at night, from nine to even midnight.

You pout, checking your phone. He hasn't really texted you anything he needed or called you for something, and it's just two in the afternoon.

"Maybe he's just cutting me some slack since it's my first day. I should just take it," You breathe out, heading out of the office with your things.

You were wrong. It's been two whole weeks and you've constantly been getting early leaves because you finish early. And Seonghwa has not been giving you more work unless needed- but still, you were able to complete and finish it earlier than expected.

"I can't keep doing this," You pout. "Another early leave? Aren't there more works to do? Reports? Client appointments to make? You're just going to make me leave again? Can't you just make me clean your whole office? Make you coffee? Anything?" You ramble, feeling guilty.

"That's not a secretary's work," He snorts, standing up. He stretches his upper body and you can't seem to tear your eyes off of him while he does so, reminiscing how warm he felt that one morning. You shake your head to reality when you realize he's working towards you, holding your shoulders.

"Come on, I have four more hours before my shift ends!" You protest, but he only twists your body to face the door, and leave you out of it.

"Your work's done, y/n. Thank you for today, I'll see you tomorrow." He softly smiles, and you're out of the door. You face him, almost pleading. He softly shoos you away, and the door is closed.

You throw a simple tantrum outside his door, feeling bored two minutes after your work was done. And just like clockwork, whenever you're done for work, you come to the marketing department to cause chaos in Wooyoung's table while he worked.

You even fell asleep beside him.

Meanwhile Seonghwa, an hour after shooing you, peeked outside to see if you've gone home, and seeing you gone, he chuckles to himself. If you were going to go home anyway, why were you even giving him an earful?

"God, you're so adaptive. You sleep anywhere," Wooyoung shakes you awake, and he's standing up with his things. "Should we go home? It's nearing dinner,"

"Oh..." You stretch, checking your watch. "You go ahead, I'll check on my boss first and see if he needs anything," You pat his arms, "I'll text you," When Wooyoung nods, you give yourself another stretch before heading to the elevators, bumping into hundreds of workers about to go home. At the highest level, there were three or four workers left that were already fixing their things.

"Excuse me, hi." You stop one of them, "Has Mr. Park eaten?"

"I don't think he has," They ponder, "I don't think I saw him gone out of his office after the last meeting before you left. That's it."

After thanking them and letting them go their way, you peek at the big windows to see Seonghwa still working, the brightness of the computer screen blaring at his face.

"He's so handsome," You admire for a minute, before going your way.

Seonghwa scratches his eyes as he heaves a deep breath, standing up from his seat after a while. He walks around, stretching here and there, and then standing up before the glass windows to see the view outside. The city was now in its rush hour, lights living up. Seonghwa almost jumps when he hears a knock, head whipping towards the door.

"y/n?" He squints, confirms it was you when you smile and make your way in. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left?"

"I didn't. I was too guilty to do so," You chuckle, getting the rolling tray table to the side. "I was waiting for you to call or text but I get nothing. What a work," You shake your head, and you reveal a plastic of lunchbox. "I was told you never left your office. So I'm guessing breakfast was what you last ate. Apart from that, hundreds of coffee and your unbelievably expensive chocolate candies you have in your refrigerator,"

Seonghwa almost hops at the sight of food, getting his chair and ready to dig in. It was a scrumptious meal, making Seonghwa exclaim in happiness.

"This is from that restaurant, isn't it?" Seonghwa says in between bites, gulping down the food. You chuckle, nodding. "I missed it. Thank you for bringing it for me," Seeing Seonghwa eat so deliciously makes you smile, admiring him once more. "How about you, have you eaten?"

"I did, before getting here. With Wooyoung," You reply, roaming around his table. You see countless of drawings of clothing styles paired together, one catching your eye. You crane your neck, thinking about something about the clothes. "I think it would be better with nets topped with it..." You whisper, and Seonghwa whips his head to you.

"What was that?" Seonghwa asks, and only did you realize what you were doing.

"Nothing." You smile, showing him the papers. "Beautiful, Seonghwa. I think you're doing great," You place the papers down neatly, careful not to ruin it in any way.

Seonghwa takes your compliment to heart, making him stop munching. He smiles, genuinely. To hear a compliment when he's struggling the most and is not very confident in his own work makes him choke up, but he endures it.

He doesn't know whether it felt more genuine because you were more genuine than you sounded before, always sarcastic and work-driven. Or if it was how you used his name so freely and comfortably that it seemed more genuine to him.

Nevertheless, he liked it.

"You're done? You must've been very hungry," You question, peeking at the almost clean lunchbox. "Stop overworking and digesting too much coffee. Neither is good for your body," You help Seonghwa clean the table up, earning silence.

"Wait for me, I'll drive you home." Seonghwa quickly picks his things up, shutting the computer down.

"What? Your driver?"

"It's beyond working hours," He chuckles, "And I always go home late. I can drive myself home,"

"So the rumors were true," You gasp, feeling a bit sad about his situation. "But don't worry taking me home, it's just one bus away,"

"No, let me. You've been waiting for me and even brought me dinner, I owe you." He insists, taking his bag. "Let's go"

You quietly follow him to the parking, thinking about how hardworking this man was already. He deserved his spot, he deserved everything with all the work he's been doing. What he doesn't deserve was this inevitable situation, wherein all creatives were in a slump.

"Please," You realize Seonghwa had been holding the passenger's seat for you, and you look at him in question. "What, you're planning to sit at the back? Make me your driver? Your boss?"

"No- I mean, I can just-"

"Just sit," Seonghwa urges, pulling you closer and pushing you inside. You grow uncomfortable at the situation, uneasy at your seat. "Want me to buckle your seatbelt as well?"

"No, I can do it myself," You quickly buckle your own seatbelt, watching Seonghwa close your door and jog to his seat. "You know, I can drive you rather,"

"You can?"

"...If I had a driver's license, that is." You shyly giggle, looking outside.

Seonghwa almost pulls you in to pinch your cheeks, but he stops himself. He finds you so cute when you giggled, finding it hard to hold himself. He busies himself with the GPS, getting your attention.

"Input your address now, it's getting late,"

"Ah, right," You scoot closer to the GPS, putting in Wooyoung's address and smiling. "Thank you," You say, before he starts the car and whispers a shy 'weicome.'

You quickly send Wooyoung a short message informing him of your whereabouts.

"You live close by," Seonghwa starts a small talk. "I live just down the street,"

You look at Seonghwa to react, but god the way his sleeves are pulled up and how his vest hugged his figure so perfectly made him look so ethereal.

"...here," You hear Seonghwa's voice zoom back in to reality, making you jump in your seat. "We're here."

"Sorry, I was zoning out," You apologize, looking around and indeed was outside Wooyoung's house.

"I figured," Seonghwa laughs, "I was just babbling around," He looks around as well, seeing how all the lights inside are blaring. "You must be living with someone? Or you just really leave all lights on?"

"Ah. Yes, I live with Wooyoung," Seonghwa's eyebrows furrow, looking at you rummaging your phone to send a text. "Thank you very much for driving me home, please do go home safely. I can't ask you to send me a text when you're home, that'll be too... much for a secretary, wouldn't it?" You chuckle, hopping out of the car.

After thanking him again, Seonghwa urges you to go inside before he speeds off, watching you go inside safely. He peeks inside, using his height as a plus to see up the gates. Wooyoung welcomes you outside and you jump right in his arms, and he sighs.

Right. Living together in one roof, dinners and breaks together. he might have just gotten his heart broken a bit with the information.

Seonghwa gets home safely and loosens his tie, plopping on his couch with a thud.

He looks at his high ceiling, stares. It still brings him to a smile thinking about your effort a while ago, stretching his arms and resting it in his forehead.

He likes you. Of course, as a secretary. Nothing more. Should be nothing more.

But when he sleeps tightly while thinking of you, the sleep he's been wanting for a few years now, so peaceful and deep, he rethinks again. Maybe, just maybe, a little more than just a secretary.

"Good morning!" You welcome, handing him his usual morning coffee. "You slept in today? That's a first," You chuckle, tailing him to head to his office.

"That's a first for me too," He mumbles, steps quick as he's late for about an hour already.

"Why are you in such a rush? You're the president here, no one's going to scold you," You try to keep up, almost tripping on your own feet. He doesn't even give you a glance since he step foot inside, making you pout.

"I've got tons of work to do, you're my secretary. I think you should know that," He sighs defeatedly, which makes you shut your mouth. He makes his way elegantly through his office, immediately opening his computer and getting to work.

After seeing him in his office, you quietly do your own work in your table, stealing glances only here and there inside the office. When you hear a beep from your machine, you jolt up and run to his office.

"Hi, sorry. I need you to do more reports, here are the files." He stretches out more documents, and you quickly hug it to your chest. You wait for a minute or two for him to even glance at you, but to no avail. You awkwardly make your way out of the office, getting to work.

When it's lunch time, you finally stand up to stretch your body and leave for lunch, intentionally dragging work to be able to stay longer. You peek inside to see Seonghwa still in his place, drawing different designs and looking at his computer.

"Woo," You say, taking a bite of your food, "Your boss is so complicated, do you know that?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

"One day he acts close, the second day he's so distant. Or is it just because he's late today? Catching up with lots of work?" You crane your neck, clicking your tongue.

He scoffs, putting his spoon down.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know that you've been spending more time with him than me these past weeks?" He puts on a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey! That's because it's literally my work?" You protest, taking the last bite. "Also, all this time I've been getting off work early, I go home and rest!"

"That doesn't count, I'm not home." Wooyoung shakes his head. "If you weren't home though, you're waiting for him to finish work. You don't think I know that? You sneak out after having dinner with me, saying you need some air and then come back almost midnight,"

"That's... because!"

"Don't try explaining, I understand. Our president's very likeable. Handsome and successful. He just has his bad days," Wooyoung states as a matter-of-fact, nodding.

"What, like being late in his own company?" You roll your eyes, pushing your tray.

"He's never late. Maybe that's why,"

"What's wrong with being late? There was a time I was never late too!"

"Why are you getting mad at me, I'm literally just stating facts here and trying to console you!" Wooyoung and you have been unconsciously raising your voices, making you apologize around immediately.

You meet Seonghwa's eyes in the entrance, making you jump as if a deer caught in headlights. You don't even know but you feel guilty, looking right at him with apologetic eyes.

He just ignores and turns his back on you, going his own way. You quickly grab your things and drink Wooyoung's water, glaring at him as you try and catch up with Seonghwa.

"Weren't you going to go grab lunch?" You ask, feet busy.

"I was. I didn't like the menu," Seonghwa replies, rushing back to his office.

"Should I get you lunch outside?"

"There's no need."

"I insist. I still have ten minutes for my break. I can get you something you want. There's a lot of restaurant near anyway,"

"y/n, there's no need. I'll just continue my work,"

"Still, you should eat."

"I said there's no need, y/n." His voice wasn't loud, but stern and strong. Just like you viewed him before you worked for him. His look was cold, as if you had just touched a sensitive button for him.

You felt small at that moment, shuffling your hands in awkwardness and shame. You may have felt too comfortable with your boss in such a little time.

"Alright, sorry." You mumble, eyes falling down in an instant and politely apologizing. You step back to reach for the door handle and invite yourself out.

Seonghwa beats himself up right when the door closes but wakes himself up immediately. He's got no time for anything else but his work. He has to work.

So when he glances outside the windows to look at you, he brainwashes himself that he did nothing to be apologetic to you and proceeds to work.

"Here are the last reports, is there anything more I can do?" You confirm, and only with a shake of a head he shoos you off. You politely, once again, bid your farewell and immediately take your leave, heading straight to Wooyoung.

It was the first time you had finished work right before designated off work time, Wooyoung already preparing to go home.

"Why do you look so down?"

"Nothing," You smile, tailing him home. Wooyoung doesn't press on it, changing to a different topic. You stop when you realize you're in front of the restaurant you always eaten dinner.

"I think I'm gonna pass, Woo. I can accompany you eat though,"

Wooyoung ended up only ordering a take out, feeling sorry with the thought of eating alone in front of you if you weren't going to eat. He doesn't ask any more, you were probably going to tell him if you can't handle it yourself.

"I'll take a walk around first, Woo. Clear my head," Your feet ends up in front of your company, hand holding a plastic of food. "What the hell am I even doing here,"

You sigh, heading inside and to his office sneakily. You hesitate whether to bother him again and make him eat dinner, because he may skip both lunch and dinner at this point.

When you peek inside the windows, he was focused on his work, holding a paper up to see if any new ideas will pop up if he stretched it out through the light. Again, you sigh, leaving the company all at once when you realize that you might step beyond the boundary once again.

Seonghwa groans in frustration as he sets the paper down, no new ideas popping up. He decides to call it a night and starts packing up, turning the computer off.

When he turns the knob and felt it heavy, he turns to look at the plastic left hanging on it.

You skipped lunch so please eat dinner. I'm saying this with the sense of responsibility as your secretary. Don't overwork and sleep tight. y/n.

He read the note and left him with a smile, taking the plastic with him as he goes home and eats it deliciously. To be honest, he was quite expecting you to be waiting for him once again like how you did last night. But after his burst out, he realizes that maybe it was too much that he was even expecting that from you.

The food was great, it would've been better if you were there, though.

This continues on for the rest of the week. Leaving food in his door, Seonghwa expecting to see food once he leaves work, Seonghwa and you only talking when you need it for work. That's it.

You don't cross the boundary once more, doing your best with your work until your first paycheck.

"A million?!" You blink rapidly to see if you were only dreaming, looking at your bank account with previously only a dollar and sixty-seven centavos.

"A million?!" Wooyoung exclaims when he hears you, rushing to your phone. "What the fuck?! You're a millionaire within a month?!"

"What the fuck! Must've been an honest mistake, I got to text Seonghwa,"

"Keep it! God-given blessing, duh!" You roll your eyes at Wooyoung, immediately asking Seonghwa to call you once his schedule is free. "You and your reasons, you just want to talk to him!"

"Well, who doesn't?!" Clearly, yes, you're only making up reasons to gain just a minute of extra attention from Seonghwa, and you don't put effort into denying that. "Shush!" You shut Wooyoung off when you read Seonghwa's message that he's free now, immediately dialing his number.

"Hi. You know what, could you please go to the office now? I'll be waiting. Sorry if this is sudden," Seonghwa initiates, and you hear a sigh. "I just have one more document to do and then I'm free,"

"If you have something to do, it's fine. I'll be there tomorrow anyway. It's nothing to rush."

"It's okay, I have something to confirm too and I need it tonight. Only if it's not a hassle though,"

"I'll be there in twenty."

You know softly and peek inside, seeing Seonghwa solemnly napping in his desk, head over arms. Papers were scattered around his table, two empty cups of coffee at the side, monitor still blaring. You walk quietly, making your way to admire his face a little longer.

You smile, wanting to trace his sharp features, craning your neck to get a better view. Your eyes follow his eyes, nose, lips, and then the table.

What the fuck.

Your eyes widen at the realization, stunned in place. At the same time, your nervous, heavy breathing wakes Seonghwa up, opening his eyes and blushing when he realizes how close you were.

"Why are these here?!" You exclaim, snatching three, four, five papers from the table. Seonghwa sighs when you finally got space between the both of you, taking a minute or two to calm himself down before he answered you.

"I was finding the invitation for tomorrow night's event, saw those on your drawer." Seonghwa explains, while you gawk at your drawings. When you were bored, you tried mix and matching different styles of clothes, designing them, and drawing them to life. "Did you make these?" He leans back in his chair, swiveling to your side.

"Ye- No? I don't know? I mean," You ramble, shaking your head. You take a deep breath, thinking how to excuse yourself out of the situation.

There was no way out.

"Look, I just made those when I was bored. It's shit." You wave your hand off, hiding the papers behind your back. "Let me go get the invitation and I'll be off," Before you take a step away, Seonghwa stands up in his place and walks toward you.

When he's a step away in front of you, he stops, tucking his hands in his pockets and stares down at you.

"Were you initially planning on applying for designs?"

"No." Your quick reply makes him squint his eyes, waiting for you to continue. "Where would I get the confidence for that?" You scoff, "I told you, I needed money to continue my masters, I have a degree in business marketing. Why would I apply for something not in my field?"

"Because you don't need a degree for that. All I need is creativity and originality."

"Just let me off, sir. I told you, these were made during breaks, you don't need to put much thought on it,"

"Now I'm a sir?" Seonghwa scoffs, taking a step closer and leaning to meet you eye level. "If those were made during breaks, what more could you do if you're paid to do it? Something you really love doing, getting paid, seeing your works being brought to life, and getting credited for it,"

You gulp, realizing that Ha, Seonghwa isn't dumb to connect the dots. With the way you denied your works, bragged your unrelated degree and how you avoided the topic, for sure it was something you'd keep in the dungeon because you didn't realize you'd be much closer step to one of your unrealistic dreams.

You were just a broke college student taking a LOA because of a crisis in financial status two months ago, who knew you'd be working in one of the biggest fashion brands in the world? When you thought you've had let go of your useless talent and dream long ago already?

"I'll get these," Seonghwa reaches for the papers you hid behind your back with a smirk while you had your guard down, showing it to you. "Let's get you home."

You stayed quiet the whole ride, thinking of what Seonghwa had said. Were your works really just acknowledged by the one and only? Works that, for you, even made half-heartedly? Should you have applied for creatives than marketing? Should you have never even hidden your talent and skills?

If you hadn't, then where would you be now? What would you be now?

"We're here." Seonghwa turns on the hazard, removing his seatbelt to take a good look at you.

"Ah," You mumble, removing your own. "Thank you." You were about to open the door when he stops you, tugging your sleeve.

"I mean what I said with your works." He starts, "I have a spot open in the creatives in case you want to, but no pressure." You nod quietly, mumbling another thank you. You open the door and leave, standing safely beside and waiting for him to drive off.

Before he does, he rolls the windows down and smiles at you softly.

"Meet me tomorrow at the entrance of Lotte Mall at eight in the morning if you have the slightest interest in it," You nod once again, pushing through a smile before he asks you to leave first.

You open the gates to the house, seeing the lights still on, Wooyoung must still be waiting for you.

"Hey," You call softly, landing in the couch. Wooyoung was preparing hot tea for you, asking you to wait for a second. When he skedaddles to the living room with the tea, he immediately notices your expression.

"How did the salary talk go?"

"Oh, went south," You chuckle, taking a sip of the tea that warmed your insides. "I didn't even get to bring it up,"

"What happened?! Are you fired?!" He exaggerates, slamming the table. You chuckle, calming him down.

"No, but he found my drawings I did during break and long story short, said he has a spot open in the creatives." Wooyoung's shoulders drop when he realizes that you, Seonghwa, and him had messed with a sensitive spot of yours, making you think of countless possibilities.

But at the end of the rainbow, he thinks that this might be a good shot at rekindling your dreams.

"y/n... Don't you think it's worth the try?" He takes your hand and caresses it, "Park Enchante is literally offering you a spot because the president liked your work! It's a great steppingstone, a large one at that!" Wooyoung tries to be optimistic, at the same time realistic. "You've always been the talented one, y/n. Don't you think you didn't have to dig up that dream you once buried because Seonghwa already did it for you?"

You stayed quiet all this time, but tears were already forming in your eyes and in no time, flowing.

Seonghwa dug up your dream for you, Wooyoung rekindled it, and it was now up to you to keep the dream going.

"Are we waiting for someone, sir? The tailor for your suit should be inside," His driver holds the umbrella up for him, already been standing outside the entrance of the mall for a good five minutes or so.

"Just one more minute," He looks at his watch, which read 8:13, and around. You hadn't given him any text, but he waits in case. He sighs when the clock ticks another minute, ready to go in when he hears quick heavy steps, revealing a fresh-from-a-run you.

"I'm here! I'm here..." You catch your breath, holding your arm up high while your other assisted your body to your knees.

Seonghwa's smile grows big, and his driver takes a double look because he hadn't seen his boss smile like that the past 5 years he's been working under him.

"You can leave now, y/n will stay with me," He smiles brightly at the driver, patting his shoulder as he walks closer to you.

"Lotte mall is such a long ride from home, why would you pick this one amongst all the other?!" You're still catching your breath, holding yourself from hitting him.

"Let's head inside, it's much warmer there and we could get you a drink." Seonghwa lends you a helping hand, stretching his arm out for you to hold on to. "My favorite tailor is here, that's why I picked this one," He leads you to a shop after resting for a while, proudly pointing at it.

As you head inside, you see various of designs of suits and blouses and shirts and different kinds of clothing for men that god, you just want to try and match different things and style it your own way and everything.

He watches you be in awe as your eyes roam around, seeing your eyes sparkle just like how his did when he first step foot in this shop.

"Your suit's ready sir, this way please."

"Wait for me here, I'll get out once I'm done," You only nod at him and roam around the shop while waiting for him, styles catching your eye.

"Seonghwa definitely fits this shop," You mumble, a smile on your lips.

"I'm ready," You hear Seonghwa from behind, and you turn to look at him.

God. He's so beautiful.

He presented with a simple suit, but with a turtleneck inside, necktie loosely worn, vest tightly hugging his figure and coat only hanging on his broad shoulders. He had loose, leather trousers that fit just perfectly the style of the top, making you gawk. (for reference: that one golden hour concept photo outfit)

It was such a simple outfit for someone like him, but Seonghwa radiated so much charisma, elegance and of course, superiority.

When you realize you were staring too much, which made Seonghwa almost twirl in his place in shyness, you smile smugly.

"Nice. Screams so much like you," You bluntly compliment, but Seonghwa knew better that you meant so much more. He knows that eyes will never lie, speaking as someone who speaks with various fashionistas every single chance he gets.

"Thank you," He mumbles, fighting his own demons to smile so wide. "Now, it's your turn."

"My turn? My turn for what?" You question, but he only pushes you out of the shop after loudly thanking the tailors once again. "For what, pres?"

"Your outfit." You both stand outside a humungous branch of Park Enchante, lights shining brightly to welcome you.

"For what?! Look, my bank account can't handle a single thread in your store, what the hell am I even here for? I know you just paid me a million, which I have a question for another time, but here?! And for what?!"

"Don't worry about that," Seonghwa shakes his hand in front of you, urging you to come in with him. You had no choice but to tail him, a habit you built for the past two months.

"This, this this..." Seonghwa was literally picking everything his eyes land on, making you try this and that and playing dress up with you. "No, no, no. Skip that," And of course, a lot getting rejected.

"Seonghwa, may this be the last one or I swear to the heavens I am passing out inside this fitting room right then and now," When you open the door, it takes Seonghwa a minute or two before he claps slowly, and loudly.

"That!" He points, "That's your outfit," He proudly stands up to walk closer and take a good look at you, swirling you around. He smiles proudly and sighs, pushing your shoulders to a well-lit full body mirror. "You look amazing," He sweetly smiles, making you feel all giddy inside. "I'll be at the counter. You don't need to change back to your clothes," He pats your shoulder and leaves, making you take a good look at yourself.

He was right. You looked amazing. The outfit was literally made for you. You smile as your hands roam around it, admiring it.

"Right." You mumble, patting at yourself. "Amazing."

"Let's go?" Seonghwa asks, carrying the paper bags which consisted of both his and your clothes from a while ago.

"Shouldn't I go change? What's this for anyway?"

"For tonight." He explains, shaking his head when you try to get the paper bags from him.

"And why do I get one as well?"

"Because you're coming with?" He rhetorically answers, as if you should've known.

"For your information, my dear CEO, the event for tonight will be private, consisting of directives of Park Enchante only. No outsiders allowed," You explain, "Now I'm going to change back to my clothes because there is no way I'm getting this just because you're the owner,"

"I'm the owner, I could do what I want." He stretches his arm up high, making it impossible for you to reach the paper bags. "And I'm the CEO. I could invite who I want. Now let's get going because one, I'm hungry, two, we'll be running late for the event if we don't eat now and go for the event."

"Oh my god, what am I even doing here," You quietly stand in one corner, seeing Seonghwa mingle with other directives in the small hall.

The event was meant for a small, formal gathering for a supposedly, announcement that will be made by the CEO himself. But an hour in, Seonghwa still hasn't made any move to pronounce anything.

"Hey," Seonghwa pulls you to a table, handing you a drink. "You look stunned." He chuckles.

"Of course I will be," You say through gritted teeth, smiling sarcastically. "What the hell am I even supposed to do here?"

"You're the star of the event, actually."

"The what?" You dramatically sigh, having enough of his bullshit. Fine he looked gorgeous, with his hair done immaculately and his outfit god made for him, but you were done with his surprises.

He pulls out a paper and a pen, softly smiling at you. You realize that he wasn't joking, making you furrow your brows.

"What's this?" Before you focus on the paper, he takes your shoulder and makes you look at him. He notices a stray hair and tucks it behind your ear, smiling once again.

"There is absolutely no pressure in this, y/n. If you don't agree, this gathering will just be a gathering. We'll act like nothing happened and you'll continue to be my secretary for as long as you want, get paid as much as you want."

You see where this is going, making you sigh.

"But if you agree, I will stand up for you among these people to announce that I have seen one of the best works I have seen my entire life, coming to collaborate with Park Enchante to produce the best works in the industry. How does that sound?"

You stare right at him, as if he just said the most ridiculous ment in the whole of your existence. You had not seen this part coming. You thought it would only be a you and Seonghwa talk, but he had other plans.

At the same time, although you have already decided only this morning, being questioned like this wasn't part of your plan. You still had your doubts, your insecurities, your overthinking to even come up with a final answer.

And as if Seonghwa read your mind, "I'll be here to help you. We can help each other grow, and I can offer you the free of contract. You can stop whenever you like, and I will support whatever decision you make."

You stayed quiet, tears forming once again. Before it even falls, Seonghwa had already wiped them off your eyes, and pulled you in for a hug.

"You can leave if you want. We will forget this ever happened." Seonghwa's words made you shake your head, pulling back to face him. When you smile, the heaviness on your chest leaves.

"Are you sure this is without pressure? You just told me I'm the star of the event," You squint your eyes at him, making him chuckle.

"Okay, maybe with a bit of pressure. With your talent, I don't want it to either go to waste or to be of another brand's hands," The thought made him shiver, as you let out a hearty laugh.

With a breath, you pick the pen up and sign both copies of paper, making Seonghwa exclaim exaggeratedly and punch the air, earning a lot of weird stares.

"Yes! Finally, everyone!" He shouts, holding the paper in his hand and leaving the other copy in the table. He gives you a tight hug before leaving to the stage, tapping the mic to finally announce you as an official creative and still secretary.

While everyone is still in doubt, Seonghwa goes on a rave about how amazing your works he discovered are, emphasizing that you only did it on your breaks.

Embarrassed, you hang your head low and apologized for the commotion he's causing, glaring at him and mouthing for him to come down.

Making his way to you, he was stopped by a few directives for a small talk about the announcement and honestly, you couldn't care less about what others say. Seonghwa believes in you, the Park himself in Park Enchante. What could others hold against you?

You sigh in relief as the other copy of paper you signed caught your attention, scanning through the pages of paper until you're in the last.

This contract is only for the purposes of having an agreement, but the client is of free-employment role.

The client's status will be (1) Direct Secretary of the President of Park Enchante; (2) Creative Fashion Designer and Stylist of Park Enchante.

And optionally, (3) To be Park Enchante's President's personal company for as long as the client wants.

The client's assistance over the last two months has been much appreciated by Park Enchante's president. The president owes the client tremendous gratitude since the president recognized and valued even the modest efforts the client made over the previous two months.

By signing this page additionally, the client grants Park Enchante's president into their personal life in return for their services.

You scoff at the amount of ridicule the 'contract' was oozing of, but at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat.

"Ridiculously childish," You mumble, yet the smile can't be wiped off your face.

"Oh, you read it," Seonghwa's smile falters a bit, seeing how you reacted to it. "You don't have to mind that, you know,"

"Isn't this abuse of power?" You shake your head, waving the paper in front of him.

"Hey, it says there optionally," Seonghwa pouts, "As long as you signed the first page as our creatives, everything's good," Yet he can't help feel his heart break a bit at the thought that slipped his mind- Wooyoung. "It's my company, my contract, I can alter it as much as I want," Seonghwa mumbles like a little kid talking back.

You scoff at his words, "Ah, so you don't want it signed?" You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "I was more than willing to let you in my personal life though," You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "What do I do with this copy, then? It's already signed,"

You see the process of Seonghwa getting bewildered, to his eyes shining bright as it beamed at you, realizing what you had just said as his smile grows wider than it already was a while ago.

"Really?" Despite the excitement and the shock, his voice was sweet and soft. Delicate, as he steps closer to you and cups your cheeks.

"Really, Seonghwa." You mumble, smiling at him. You stretch your hand out to ask for the other copy, but he only pulls it and engulfs you in a warm, tight hug.

"I've been holding my feelings off for so long," He whispers, breath hitting your neck, "Now we're even bonded through paper,"

"I will stay to company you to my deathbed, Seonghwa." You chuckle, still finding it ridiculous at how you find the contract still ridiculously sweet at the same time. "But please, do not ever do that again. If you're going to ask me out, ask me out like how a normal person will,"

"What's a Seonghwa if it wasn't for my self-made ideas?"

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

[tyttamarzh]

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter.

This will probably be very long, so if you want to read it, go grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

I have to talk about this because it's eating me up inside. I think I shouldn't give so much importance to comments coming from sewers like Twitter and much less Tiktok, but it makes me so sick (and I'm such a masochist that I even spend time looking for the shit they say to make me angrier and debate them xD).

I am very happy that it was finally made official, with papers certified by the federation, that Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa, I think that was not entirely necessary for them, because they had assumed it for a long time (let's assume that Tallulah needed the pappers to end her W arc), although I suppose that more than anything it was done for those people who still cannot accept it or who deny the paternity of Phil and Missa (With Missa, although it bothers me, I can even understand it, he He hasn't been as present and many people don't know him, but god, it would be a crime to deny Tallulah's paternity to Phil, the man who has kept her alive and given everything for her throughout her life).

I'm glad that, although I have seen negative comments, the majority have been positive (even if it hurts them, it doesn't matter, it's official, screw them). Mainly, the negative comments have been from defenders of W and their arguments are so poor and weak that they are easily refuted. It is obvious that these people do not know Tallulah and have never met her, many do not even know how things turned out and say nonsense like that the current Llulah is an imposter, that it is not fair that they "rewrote" history and erased W (which It is false, Llulah's words make it clear that history was never changed, she simply moved on and that person remained in the past).

I refuted all those arguments on Twitter but screw Twitter, I hate the fucking character limit. So I'm going to expand (I have a lot of poison to get out of my skin). I have some points:

1- "That's not Tallulah" Of course it is her, those who witnessed her life and her growth during the year that passed, can realize that this was her natural evolution. She is the same girl who grew up overcoming her limitations, who suffered, who felt alone, who had abandonment problems, who everyone saw as a poor abandoned girl and who found comfort next to someone who has always loved her like a father and a brother who gave everything for her.

2- "They erased all her lore" No. Tallulah's lore is the one she built with Philza and Chayanne over the course of the year they lived together. Her relationship with W and her longing for him was only part of her story (although people made a lot of emphasis on that), but it was not the only thing that defined her, it never was and only people who never got to met her think that. They see her like an extension of that other person, as the only thing that kept him on the server, but did not see her as an individual character and definitely did not watch Phil's Vods and they never really knew her lore.

3-"How do they explain this in the lore?" Simple, there was someone in her life, someone who was her first father, but who spent very little time with her, who left a long time ago and who is currently no longer part of her life. She learned to let go of the past and focused in the family she has in the present, the family that loves her, that watched her grow up, that makes her happy and gives her security to believe in herself and that is the Death Family, Chayanne, Philza and Missa. Time passes, not all people stay, treasure those who are by your side and let go of what never brought you anything but pain.

4- "They should have created another egg and replaced her" Why replaceher? It has no sense or reason. She is a character who built her own story with her family, a story that never really involved that other person other than with one or another sporadic mention, why eliminate a character that evolved by itself? Little by little she separated herself from what she was at the beginning and that bond that she had with that first father was practically non-existent. What would be the point of eliminating it or replace her with another new character?

5- "No matter what other parents and appearance give her, she will always belong to W because she still carries the name he gave her" No. She never belonged to him. She lived with that man for 2 days and apart from leaving him the promise of a reunion, she did not contribute anything else to her life. She formed her own path, her passion for music was not because of him, it was something she already had before, her love for nature, for animals, everything was built in the days she lived with Philza (even with uncle Bad). She suffered for her first father but she moved on, she matured, she discovered her link with death and her powers as a medium, she acquired her own personality and little by little she built the Tallulah she is now.

She never belonged to anyone but herself and she always fought to prove that, but people insisted on dumping trauma on her and reminding her that she was an abandoned child waiting for someone who at a certain point was nothing more than an idealized dream, because There was never a real relationship between them, they never lived together long enough. She little by little made her decisions and chose the people she wanted to be her parents (and it's not that she had few options, Quackity, Bad and even F wanted to adopt her at the time and asked them to, but she was not a girl who was looking for parents). She could choose and she chose Philza, the person who had always been there for her and later she chose Missa, someone who despite not knowing her very well gave her his love unconditionally and gave her security when she needed it. Then she was able to feel the warmth of being part of a complete family.

6- "They should change her name because W gave her that name! That impostor is not Tallulah!" Why? Her name is not anyone's intellectual property, at the time it was given to her, it belonged to her for better or worse and yes, in some way it will always be a tie to her past, but a past she has already left behind and managed to overcome by creating new memories and dreams.

To a certain extent I understand those who became attached to her because she reminded them of that other person, but if they couldn't see her as her own character, it means that they never cared enough to make the effort to get to know her.

It would shock us all if a character we liked suddenly changed drastically and left behind what like us in the first place. But if they had really watched her, they would have realized that the change was not sudden, it was gradual.

She found in Phil a protective and understanding father who always put her and her brother before anything else, who suffered with her her pain and outbursts of frustration due to the depression caused by the absence of her first father. She found in Missa a cute and loving father who always showers her with love and helps her to have confidence in herself. She doesn't lack anything with them. She has closed a cycle of pain in her life and now she can heal.

She chose the look that makes her feel finally free to be herself, whatever the external reasons that led to that, she finally has a future ahead of her unbound by the past and prefers to be more like the people she considers her family now. If you can't see what all of this really meant to Tallulah and her evolution, it's because you never cared to see even 20% of her story. Well, since the middle of last year she began her journey to break away from a name and be herself, fighting to be seen for who she was.

If those people decide to continue supporting someone despite his shit, that is their right, but the server and the admin were also within their right to decide to kick him out and want to distance themselves from a person they consider unpleasant.

7-There were comments of another type, mainly from people who are really very lost with the lore, people who consider her the daughter of Quackity, even confusing her with Tilín (saying that Q didn't know if she was the daughter of W or Luzu and that she should get a DNA test), when we all know that from the beginning she was W's daughter as a single father and that the only reason Quackity could have become Tallulah's father was if to marry W, but that never happened, W didn't come back and Quackity was never able to develop that relationship with Llulah, she considered him a possible father because she knew W loved him, but Q always being kidnapped or something, they never really related much. There are people who, even with a certificate, continue to insist that Tallulah should have been given to Quackity to raise with Luzu (she had a tender interaction with Luzu and people were already asking him to adopt her, saying that she was alone and had no parents, I seriously hate them!) I shouldn't take seriously people who obviously haven't seen Philza even once and I know that many of those people are hispanic and are limited by the language barrier but if they don't have the slightest idea They shouldn't give their opinion… Tallulah is not an object to be passed from hand to hand, she chose and in order to do so she had to go through a very long and painful arc.

8- I firmly believe that it is a great win to now have a certificate that endorses who the people she considers her parents are, but I insist, it was not necessary, because that has been known for a long time and I am sure that if it was created it was to close the mouth mouth to all those people who are not capable of accepting that.

Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa (and no one else), she is part of the Death Family, that is her story, it is not a whim, a whim is continuing to link her to something she is no longer a part of or wanting to make her a part of a lore that never happened or wanting to give her other parents different from the ones she grew up with (Quackity already had Tilín, Richas and now Pepito, I don't think she needs more children and Tallulah doesn't need any more shitty drama in her life).

Tallulah is a beautiful being, both with her old look and with the new and as Missa says "She deserves only the beautiful things in the world"

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! And I can shout it a thousand times because it's true and she always was, but now it's certified by the government and no amount of complaining or tantrums can change that fact.

Sorry for my bad english. See you!! jajaja ando re agresiva, pero es que nadie se mete con mi familia xD

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (8/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Sylus takes you to witness a dragon celebration and things take a rather fiery turn.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Thigh riding.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

Life in the mountain was different.

You hadn’t noticed it at first but things were different. Ever since you and Sylus actively started getting to know one another the mountain felt more homey. You weren’t just a servant wandering these halls, both mystified and turned on by the dragon you served. He had become a friend.

Things had never gotten as personal as they did the day he told you about what life was like for him growing up. It had been a lot for him to admit, even under the initial guise of a draconic folktale. He never mentioned it again and you didn’t pry. But you were glad.

Your dragon was someone you knew. Questions you had no longer had to be filled with your imaginings. When wanted to know something about him, he just told you.

You were happy and you felt trusted.

You had noticed a shift in Sylus too. It was more subtle but he was around more. He went out of his way to seek you out and talk to you throughout the day. He was gentler, not as aloof. He still teased you but it felt more like a joke between the two of you instead of him trying to antagonize you.

You also just had fun together now. When you were bored you’d go to the hoard room and make towers out of the gold coins and jewels for fun. You taught him human card games and even tried to teach him human dances too. You quickly realized that dragons were not the most graceful of creatures when not flying.

“It’s really not that hard. Try again.” you held him at arm’s length as you tried to get him to copy your moves. “Out and in and your arm goes up and I duck under. One and two and three and four.”

You tried to do the move but again Sylus twisted the wrong way when you ducked under. “Are you purposefully getting this wrong to spite me?”

“I would never.” he settled his hands on his hips. “I just don’t understand how I am supposed to angle my body so that it doesn’t end up twisted.”

“I keep telling you, just arc backwards, follow the movement the way it flows. You’re the one that’s supposed to be leading, I follow you, you don’t follow me.”

“Why are we learning this again?” he asked.

“For something to do.” you shrugged. “I grew up doing this dance every year at the village festivals. My father would always take me out onto the dance floor when I was little and then when I got older and I could have other partners, I always made sure to save a dance with him. Dancing was always my favorite part of the festivals.”

“Your festivals sound like they are more fun than dragon celebrations.”

“Really? I would have guessed that a dragon party would be far more interesting than a human festival. I mean, what do a bunch of dragons do at a dragon celebration? Food? Games? Dancing?”

“Food definitely. Games, maybe. Dancing, never.”

“So what do you do?”

“Depends on what the celebration is about.” Sylus thought for a moment. “Actually, there is one that should be starting soon.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We cannot exactly attend but we may still watch the events from a distance.”

“That doesn’t sound like so much fun.”

“It might not be. But I thought perhaps you’d like to witness a little about dragon culture.”

“I would. You’ve piqued my curiosity. When is this celebration?”

“Three days I believe, during the half moon. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours by flight.”

“What do you mean flight?”

~~~

“This is the best thing ever!” you shrieked with glee as Sylus and you soared through the warm summer air. Sylus had you wrapped tight in his arms as he flew. The wind stung your face but you couldn’t stop beaming.

“That was right in my ear, little bird.” Sylus said. “I know you’re excited but I’d still like to be able to hear.”

“Sorry.” you knew that it was easiest for him to fly when you were still but you were just so excited all you wanted to do was bounce around. “I cannot believe that I’m really flying!”

“It’s very freeing, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing!” you clung tighter onto his neck. “I wish I could fly myself. It must be annoying that you have to carry me.”

“I don’t mind. Just try to keep still, we have a long flight ahead of us until we get to the shore.” He reminded you. It took a couple of hours of straight flying but eventually you saw the blue of the ocean in the distance. The only time you had been to the ocean before was when you were very small and you didn’t remember much of anything. It was still impossibly big, even from a distance.

Sylus touched down on a high cliff about a mile from the beach. “Why don’t we go down?” you asked. “I’d love to get my feet in the sand.”

“Not today. This is dragon land and this is a very important tradition that is happening today and I’m afraid if they smell a human has been tromping around down there, we may get in some trouble.”

“And being on the cliff is better?”

“We’re downwind, also, what is most important is the sand. They should not care that we’re up here so long as we don’t touch the sand.”

“The sand? What’s so special about the sand?”

“You’ll see. Now, how about we have some of the food you packed.”

You slung the pack off your shoulder and opened it up. Inside was a blanket, a large skin of water, and a lot of food you had wrapped tightly in paper to avoid leaking all over the pack. You knew Sylus needed a lot of food and after such a long flight he was bound to be ravenous. You laid out the blanket over the grass and sat down to eat.

Even if you couldn’t go on the beach it was nice to be by the ocean. The salty sea air blew across your skin and the sun warmed your face. You watched as the waves rolled and crashed down below. It was so peaceful.

The peace was abruptly broken when a deafening roar echoed across the air. You had immediately scrambled next to Sylus, searching the sky for what had made such a noise. Sylus chuckled and pointed out in the distance where a swarm of dots in the distance were growing larger and larger. “Are those all dragons?”

“Yes. Now is when we have to be quiet and keep our heads low. They shouldn’t know that we are up here but I’d rather not risk it.” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “Stay close to me, it’ll help mask your scent.”

You huddled close and watched as dragons landed on the beach. They were beautiful and frightening. They came in many shapes and sizes and colors. Some as green as glittering emeralds, others had opalescent scales that reflected the sun like a mirror, and then there was the largest of them all, a hulking red and black dragon, with eyes of molten fire and two long silver whiskers.

Sylus pointed to the largest dragon, “That’s the elder of this tribe, Tengya. It’s said that he’s lived for over five thousand years.”

“Is that why he’s so big?” you whispered, afraid to talk any louder.

“Yes. Unlike humans who stop growing at a certain point, dragons only get larger the longer they are alive. His size is testament to how long he has been on the planet. Many battles he has faced and he remains.”

“Do dragons die naturally or are they immortal?”

“They can die of old age, most don’t make it to that point. Most dragons end up dead battling other dragons or being felled by humans. Not Tengya though, no one that has challenged him has survived.”

“I can see why. He’s terrifying.”

“Yes he is. Imagine living with him.”

“Live with him? Did you live in his tribe?”

“I did, for a bit.” he gruffed. “He’s about as approachable as he looks.”

You didn’t ask any further questions and instead watched the dragons on the beach. The sound of their roars only got louder now that they were all gathered together. As the sun began to set the elder, Tengya, stepped forward and the beach fell silent. He sat back and nodded to one of the smaller dragons to step forward. It was a sky blue dragon that stepped forward and bowed their head.

There was an expectant silence as the blue dragon dug its claws into the sand, arched its back, and then blew a hot wave of fire out of its mouth into the sand. It was then you realized what it was doing. It was the same as what your father did in his shop but on a much larger and less precise scale. The dragon had turned the sand into twisting tower of glass.

The dragons on the beach thumped their tails against the ground, almost like applause.

“What is this?” you whispered to Sylus.

“It’s a rite of adulthood.” he explained just as quietly, “Adolescent dragons have to demonstrate their power by blowing a fire into the sand to create large craters and statues. The bigger the formation, the more powerful they are seen.”

“Amazing.” you watched as the next dragon stepped forward to a new patch of glass. This one used its wings to pick up more sand as they blew their fire and made an even taller sculpture than the last. “What do they do with the glass afterwards?”

“It is considered treasure and taken back as the first piece of their proper hoard and usually given a place of honor.”

You thought back to the hoard room back at your mountain. You had explored it quite a few times now and you could not recall seeing a giant glass sculpture anywhere in there.

One by one you watched as the young dragons stepped forward and made their creations. It was amazing to witness but the sun had long since set and you were starting to get cold up on the cliff. A shiver ran through your body and Sylus pulled you onto his lap, his wings extended from his back and folded in around you to shield you from the wind. You leaned against him, sapping whatever warmth you could get from his body.

“You know,” you said, “I’m glad you were the dragon that moved into the mountain. Before meeting you I would not have thought I’d feel so safe in a dragon’s arms. ”

“Nor did I think I’d embrace a human like this.” he said, nuzzling his nose against your hair. “I’m glad it was you that hiked up the mountain. Anyone else would not have been nearly as interesting.”

Your heart was beating terribly loud again. You picked your head off his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Sylus,” your cold hands rested on his broad warm chest. “I’m scared I’m going to do something foolish.”

“And what foolish thing is that, little bird?” he asked. He stared back at you through half lidded eyes, once again letting nothing show on his face.

“This.” you leaned closer, your eyes falling shut as you pressed your lips to his.

He had gone rigid in your arms, his lips unmoving against yours. Immediately you worried that you had done something wrong. You pulled back slightly, embarrassed beyond words. “I’m sorry. I told you it was foolish--”

Sylus grabbed the back of your neck and pushed your mouth back against his. You gasped and his tongue swept into your mouth. You wound your hands into his silvery hair, trying to pull him even more into you. He tasted like heat and spice, as if you had taken a drop of the summer sun and let it coat your tongue.

“You continue to surprise me.” he murmured against your lips.

“And you worried me. I thought I had ruined everything for a moment there.” you chuckled.

“Took me a moment to realize you had actually done that.” his hands landed on your hips, adjusting you so sat more comfortably on his lap. “You taste even sweeter than I thought you would.”

He pulled you back in, pushing your entire body flush to him so not a part of you wasn’t on him. His teeth gently worried your lower lip and you could feel the sharp point of his canines graze your skin. You felt something slide across your ankle and squeaked, worried for a moment it was a snake before realizing it was Sylus’s tail.

“Don’t mind it.” he said, “I feel it sometimes has a mind of its own. But this, is all me.”

His tail had slithered under the fabric of your skirt and wrapped around your thigh, pulling your leg over him so you were straddled on one of his legs. “What are you--ah!” you got your answer when he jostled the leg you were straddled across.

“Ride it.” his voice had dropped to that low growl you had heard him use when you were both in the hot spring.

Oh gods, were you really doing this? You lowered yourself so your cunt was pressed right to his thigh and ground your hips down. The bit of friction sent pleasurable ripples through your body and you could feel heat pooling between your legs. His hands roamed up and down your body, touching you in a way you had only allowed in your fantasies.

“You’re still so cold,” he said, the pad of his thumb teasing your nipple through the material of your dress. “Just look at how you shiver.”

“Sylus,” you ground against his leg a little harder. “Please Sylus.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” his mouth latched to your neck, biting and bruising the sensitive skin.

You moaned aloud, pressing yourself more into his touch. You knew that you had to have soaked through the material of your undergarments. You normally went without since it meant more laundry to do but considering that you had to fly here you wanted the extra cover. Right now it was very inconvenient. You wanted to feel the leather of his pants rubbing against your clit. Wanted to stain his leg with your arousal.

“Sylus,” you panted, “I want to feel you more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I can do that.” he said. You thought he was going to let you shuffle about so you could get the undergarments off but instead his hand slid under your dress. “Lift your hips up.”

You weren’t sure what he was doing but you lifted yourself off his leg. You felt the pressure of his claws, cold and hard press against the soaked material and a grin spread on his face. Then the sound of cloth ripping as he cut a slit at the crotch. “There, keep going.”

You lowered yourself again, this time feeling the leather of his pants directly against your soaked and sensitive cunt. You moaned again and he plastered his mouth to yours, swallowing the sound.

“Keep going. Don’t stop until you come.” he commanded. “I want you looking in my eyes as you come undone.”

You threw your arms around his neck, your forehead pressed to his as you rode his thigh. Your cunt spasmed and clenched around nothing longing to be filled. It was all getting to be too much. You were dizzy from pleasure, so close to an orgasm but it was right out fo reach.

Sylus kept his hands on your breasts, rubbing and pinching your nipples through the cotton. His tail was still wrapped around your one thigh, squeezing it tighter and pulling your leg back down when you tried to wiggle off his leg. He switched from biting and bruising your neck to kissing you fiercely. Every little sound you made he wanted it poured down his throat instead. And at this point there were many sounds for him to feast upon.

You were panting and moaning his name against his lips. “Come for me.” he said. “I need you to come for me, my wildfire.”

“Sylus!” your voice cracked as you came.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” he grabbed your chin and forced you to look in his eyes. Your cunt twitched again, flooding with arousal but nothing to cling onto. All of your juices spilled out onto his thigh, making the leather supple and soft underneath you.

You collapsed forward, your face buried in his neck. His hands gentled up and down your back, easing you back from the high. “Breathe, you did so good. You were so good, little bird.”

“I…I’m feeling much warmer now.” you muttered into his neck.

He chuckled. “Yes. Me too.” For a minute you sat there catching your breath before Sylus moved you off of his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s probably best we head back now while you’re still warm.” he said.

“But--”

“Trust me, I want nothing more than to tear this dress to pieces and fuck you till you’re screaming. But we also don’t want to garner too much attention up here.”

“Attention?”

“Remember what I said about dragons having an excellent sense of smell?” he nodded towards the beach. “I would really rather not have everyone down on the beach realize that there is a very horny human and dragon nearby.”

“Oh right…” you had forgotten where you were for a moment.

“Come along. Quickly.” he stuffed everything back in the pack and handed it to you.

You gave one final look to the dragons down on the beach surrounded by their giant glass sculptures that glittered in the half-moon light. Sylus scooped you into his arms and you were back to the skies. You held tight to him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck as you began the long flight back home.

[smoketransformer]

The MAN Experiment

This report details the process and results of the Marlboro Addiction Neuroscience (MAN) experiment performed by the Fumo Transfigurator Institute (FTI).

Observation

Can addiction be formed if the subject believes they cannot become addicted?

Hypothesis

If the subject thinks they cannot become addicted to nicotine, they will not become addicted to nicotine.

Experiment

The subject will take a placebo drug each day over a hundred days. They will be placed on a strict smoking schedule over the hundred days, as follows:

Evaluation will be done to determine whether the subject is addicted. Subject is required to log with video evidence that they have smoked the required daily limit. The subject can smoke anytime during the day, but must smoke right after waking up and right before going to bed.

Log

Day 0

We met with the subject (male, 27yo). We went over the expectations of the experiment and made sure he was aware of the risks. Communication is as follows:

FTI: “Have you ever smoked before?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do your parents smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have siblings that smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have friends that smoke?”

Subject: “Just one.”

FTI: “What is their name?”

Subject: “His name is -redacted-.” (Friend will be talked about further in the report. From this point forward, friend’s name will be referred to as Alpha.)

FTI: “How long have you known Alpha?”

Subject: “We were friends in high school, so about 12 years. We have stayed in touch.”

FTI: “How often do you see Alpha?”

Subject: “Not often. Maybe once a month. Since he smokes and I don’t, I don’t invite him over a lot. I don’t really care for the smell. He also drinks a bit and I’m not much of a drinker.”

FTI: “You are aware of the expectations of the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “Our drug helps prevent addiction. Do you want to be a smoker?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you believe you will become an addicted smoker?”

Subject: “No. Not with your drug and my willpower.”

The subject began the experiment the following day. Next check in

Note: Subject was paid $1,000 per week for their willingness to participate in our experiment.

Day 11

We met with the subject after the first 10 days. We went over the daily log videos. We noted that the first three days included a lot of coughing and resistance. The subject did not want to smoke them. The remaining days appeared to be easier for the subject, but the subject said he still did not want to smoke.

We noted the subject had grown a beard. We asked the subject if it was related to the smoking. Subject stated: “Smoking first thing in the morning has interrupted my morning routine.”

Prior to our meeting, the subject had smoked just one cigarette. We reminded them that he had to now smoke four a day. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject rated a 1. He didn’t feel like he wanted to or needed to smoke.

Day 21

We met with the subject after another 10 days of smoking 4 cigarettes a day. We went over the daily video logs and verified the subject complied with the requirements. We noted the subject rarely coughed. The subject schedule was smoking two before work and the remaining two in the evening. We noted that the subject had gained 5.6 pounds since the start of the experiment. His comment in regards to the weight gain: “I found it is easier to smoke if I’m having a beer in the evening. Also, I guess I have been splurging a little more with junk food. Guess I justify a bad habit with another. Like, what’s the point?”

The subject had already smoked two prior to the meeting and was aware he had to smoke four more today to meet the expectations. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject still rated a 1.

Day 31

We met with the subject after 10 days of smoking 6 cigarettes a day. We went over the video logs. We identified that the subject appeared to enjoy his smoke breaks at work and provided a sense of relief. The subject stated when we pointed this out “I guess I like to be able to step outside and the rest of the world kind of stops.”

We noted that the subject had cut his hair shorter. He stated that he was receiving comments at work about him smelling like smoke. He didn’t want them to know that he is participating in this experiment, so he thought shorter hair would prevent this as there would be less hair for the smoke to stick to.

The subject has also gained a total of 10.1 pounds since the start of the experiment. He has increased his beer and junk food intake.

The subject had already smoked 4 cigarettes prior to our meeting. He said he knows that he is expected to smoke another 4 today. The subject rated a 2 out of 10 in regards to addiction. We asked if the subject would like to quit the experiment and he said he still wants to “stick through it”.

Day 41

We met with the subject after smoking 8 cigarettes a day over the last 10 days. We observed the video logs and noticed the subject was smoking a few with someone else. This individual was his friend Alpha. The subject was spending more time with Alpha. Conversation regarding this change is as follows:

FTI: “Why have you been spending more time with Alpha?”

Subject: “One reason I didn’t hang out with Alpha was to our different lifestyles. Now that I am smoking, spending time is more enjoyable as we both outside for smoking.”

FTI: “Do you enjoy smoking with Alpha?”

Subject: “If I’m being honest, yes. It is like an added connection with our friendship.”

FTI: “Did you tell him about the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “What were his thoughts? Did he think the drug was working?”

Subject: “He didn’t think it was, but I believe that it is.”

The subject had only smoke 2 prior to our meeting but knew he had to smoke 10. He stated: “Alpha is coming over for a few beers later this evening and wanted to save majority of my daily limit today so I can smoke when he smokes.”

We identified that he refers to his daily smoke expectations as “limits” now. When asked if he would smoke more than his set scheduled expectations if allowed, he said maybe. We ensured him to stick to the schedule.

Subject’s beard has grown larger.

Out of a scale of 10, he stated he was still at a 2. We are not sure if he is being honest or is in denial.

Day 51

We met with the subject. He smelled like cigarette smoke. He said he didn’t notice the smell anymore on him. He even said he was starting to not care anymore if he smelled like a smoker. The subject even said he started smoking inside his house for convenience. The subject said he quit his job as he didn’t like having to wait for smoke breaks at work. His friend Alpha is getting him a job at his road construction company. The subject has been spending most evening drinking and smoking with Alpha. We asked the subject the following questions:

FTI: “Do you see yourself as a smoker?”

Subject: “I guess. I am planning on quitting once this experiment is over.”

FTI: “Have you enjoyed smoking?”

Subject: “Honestly, yes. I see the appeal.”

FTI: “Do you think the drug is working?”

Subject: “Yes. I can quit anytime.”

FTI: “Do you want to quit now?”

Subject: “No. I want to finish the experiment.”

We asked the subject if we could call his friend Alpha. He agreed. Our conversation went as follows:

FTI: “Good afternoon, Alpha. This is FTI - we are the ones conducting the experiment on your friend.”

Alpha: “Hi there.”

FTI: “Do you think your friend is addicted to smoking?”

Alpha: “Yeah, most definitely.”

FTI: “What makes you say that?”

Alpha: “He always suggests we take a smoke break. He lights up whenever he wants or needs to.”

FTI: “Our drug prevents addiction though.”

Alpha: “Well, your drug don’t work.”

FTI: “When the experiment is over, will you support your friend on quitting?”

Alpha: “Probably not. The man’s a smoker. I don’t see him quitting anytime soon.”

We asked the subject what he thought about his friend’s answers. He had no comment.

The subject is starting 14 cigarettes a day. When reminded of this, the subject said “Sounds good. I’m already halfway through for the day.”

The subject had gained additional weight and has shaven his head. He said his friend Alpha suggested it.

Day 61

The subject appeared hungover. He said he had a late night with the co-workers, including Alpha. He admitted that he smoked more than his “limit”. We told him he had to stick to the set schedule and he was displeased, but said he would try his best.

The subject had gained more weight from his drinking. He said he enjoys the “taste of a cold beer and a Red.”

The meeting was short. He acted like he was in a rush. As soon as we dismissed him, we watched him light up a cigarette when exiting our facility.

Day 71

The subject initially did not appear for the meeting. When called, he said he didn’t see the point anymore. He knew he wasn’t addicted, but didn’t need to prove it. He reminded us he could quit anytime. We reminded him of the payment, but only agreed to come in if we supplied him with the cigarettes he would need for the next 10 days.

The subject came in and grabbed his 8 packs of Marlboro Reds.

The subject smelled of smoke and his voice was starting to sound raspy. He coughed occasionally. We asked him why he continued to grow out the beard. He said he can sometimes smell the smoke on it and that he likes it.

Day 81

The subject told us that he thought the drug was still working, but wondered if FTI would be interested in a longer study to really prove the effectiveness of the drug. We said that the 100 days will be more than enough data. The subject appeared disappointed and said, “Oh - guess it is just 20 more days of this then.”

We asked him how addicted did he think he was. He thought about it for a while until he said “5 out of 10, but I think I can still quit.”

The scientists conducting the experiment discussed after the subject left whether it was moral and ethical to continue on. We discussed whether the subject should be given the option to quit before he became even more addicted. Our lead scientist stated, “To be honest, it is probably already too late. At the end of the experiment, we will give him resources to quit.”

Day 91

We showed the subject a photo of himself at the start of the experiment. We asked him what advice he would give himself at the start of the experiment.

Subject: “Do it man - the drug works and you get to try smoking for 100 days.”

We asked the subject if he truly believe the drug worked. He said, “Sure. I’ll quit eventually.”

We asked him if he was ready to quit after the next 10 days. His reply was “I will quit, eventually.”

Day 101

The subject came in. He still smelled like he was smoking. We asked him if he had smoked today and he said, “Yeah - but I kind of forgot the experiment ended.”

We told the subject the truth and that the drug was a placebo. We expected him to get angry, but he wasn’t. After delivering the news, we asked him to honestly rate how addicted he was. He said “10 out of 10”.

We provided him resources to call and offered him nicotine patches to help him quit. He refused both. He said he will probably quit eventually, he he just wasn’t ready. He enjoyed his new life and that he had never felt more free or manly. We asked him how many he had smoked so far today. He stated he had already smoked a whole pack and that he was looking forward to not having a limit anymore. He said he only was friends with Alpha and that his friends disapproved of his new smoking habit.

He said he needed a smoke and left the meeting. We followed him to the parking lot and said we needed one final photo. He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and smiled.

Conclusion

We conclude that a man will become addicted even when he thought he couldn’t. We stand by our research ethically because the subject did not regret starting. He even thanked us for the pleasure.