#thank you for this ask i loved writing this so much!!!!

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[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. 

[monstersholygrail]

Can I request a very wholesome blurb/ headcanons of dragon bf/husband cuddling reader on a rainy day? It can be western or eastern dragon. Thank you!

🦊

Awww I love the wholesomeness. I honestly love getting SFW asks bc I love just writing fluff and deep intense love :)

Dragon Husband who wakes up before you to hear the soft patter of rain outside of their cave. His heart races with excitement, knowing you’re gonna wanna have another one of your cozy days with him.

Dragon Husband carefully unwraps his body from yours in order to get a fire started. Not wanting you to be cold at all when you wake up. And you do so love when the cave is all warm and toasty.

Dragon Husband brightens immediately when he picks up on your soft feet pattering into the main room of the cave. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and being your totally adorable self.

Dragon Husband can’t even wait a minute for you to fully wake up before he’s sliding over to you and wrapping his long tail around your curvy form. Molding you so perfectly to his body. It like you were made for him and he was made for you

Dragon Husband pampers you all day. Cooking you a warm delicious breakfast and keeping close as he feeds you each tasty bite. Wanting you to fully relax on such a soft day.

Dragon Husband low purrs echo off of him and vibrate right into your back in a way that almost lulls you back to sleep right in his arms (that was the plan. You’re just too clever not to fall for it)

Dragon Husband protests as you insist on looking out into the rain. You need to stay by the fire and in his arms. If you go out in the rain you could catch a cold.

Dragon Husband follows closely behind you with a small pout as you settle closer to the edge of the cave. He brings with you both a pile of blankets so he can make sure you’re comfortable on the hard ground. Not that you touch much of it as he wraps himself around you again.

Dragon Husband arches into your touch as your hands run along his smooth scales. His purrs returning softer this time. He nuzzles into your neck, shivering against you, though it has nothing to do with the rain. He basks in your affection, hoarding it all like the dragon he is.

Dragon Husband loves the soft moments between you two. The way you can spend hours without saying a word. All you needing is each other’s presence to feel completely at ease. And that’s the way you spend the rest of the day. Without a word and completely wrapped up in each other’s arms. He’ll never get enough of sweet lovely days like this with you, his beautiful precious mate.

[melanchoire]

hi! can i request a top student karina who helps y/n to get a good grades and became obsessed with her (friendly rivalry plot 🤩). y/n realized she couldn't survive school without her and starts doing what karina wants (to please her 💗), that eventually lead to her bedroom.. can you also add up that the y/n loves boobs like yk she would beg karina to let her suck her and please also add that karina is into face sitting mwehehe.

this seems a lot sorry... THANK YOU ANYWAY!!

i missed writing for rina so much 💔 anyway i still have a couple of aespa stuff in my drafts (aeri stans get ready 🎇🎉🎊)

cw: cunnilingus, face–sitting, thigh riding, titsucking.

karina being a senior at your school who becomes your tutor due to your less than ideal grades 💔 having to meet her every school day at the library starts to make you realize that slacking off in class and taking lazy and messy notes for the sake of joking around and talking with your friends was a very bad idea

you knew something about her, not too much, but you had seen her a couple of times in the school hallways or among the crowds of people at school events. you thought she would be a bit stuck up like some of the other girls in her class given the looks they tend to give younger students, but she wasn’t completely giving off that vibe, and you could tell when she looked up from her phone upon entering the library and dropped the straw of her milkshake from between her lips. “oh hey! you made it. i thought you weren’t coming.” and she approaches you smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and maintaining a charismatic and friendly attitude

“it’s good to see you here. your teacher told me about your low grades and asked me to help you study and prepare for the upcoming exams so you can pass her subject. i hope you’re okay with that." but you can’t pay much attention to her words because your eyes are on her because she is so much more beautiful up close 😵‍💫 this was definitely the motivation you needed to finally pay attention to your studies

her sharp and pronounced features, the way her silky hair waves gracefully when she walks and a small breeze hits her face, how her uniform accentuates her body, the slight movement of her hips and her confidence when she walks makes you stare at her like an idiot every time you see her. karina even greets you when she sees you in the hallways, no matter if you are with your friends or she is with her group, when she passes by you, she gives you a small nod and a smile, but if she sees you from afar, it’s a wink and a wave of her hand 🫠 you don’t know how she would react if she knew that sometimes you wander around the school on purpose just to find her or memorizing the route she takes to her classroom or during break time

but karina is just as obsessed as you are! of course she notices the look that your eyes have when you see her, but she always maintains a relaxed attitude, holding back a smirk as she sees how you think you’re being subtle with your gaze when it’s traveling all over her body…

and thanks to karina’s help you manage to go from being the lazy student who is always talking in class to the student who participates in class and does all their homework so they can use the extra class time to complete some other assignment in another subject or study for the exams they got

little by little, the study dates begin to become more… intimate. karina always used to sit next to you while she explained the exercises, placing the notebook between the two of you and looking at you every time she explained a new concept to make sure you were following her lead and understood what he was talking about. now, she was more… closer. continuing to sit next to you but much closer to you, her chest practically at your side and always remembering to make sure to press her breasts against your shoulder, enjoying when you turn your face to the side to look at her as she explains, getting nervous about having her face so close to yours and noticing how your gaze falls directly to her lips

a hand resting on your knee as she explains the formulas and different ways to solve an equation, climbing dangerously up your thigh until it reaches under your skirt. “now we will do a little practice. i’ve already written the results of the equations. you just have to do the math, and if you get the same result as me, it means it’s correct.” as if she wasn’t currently caressing your clit through your panties with her fingertips 🥰 “if you do this well, we can stop studying here and do something more… fun.” and you’ve never been so motivated to do a task before!

karina pushing your panties aside so her fingers could caress your folds… you were thankful that there was no one in the library at this hour, because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this! or that’s what you think, because if it were up to karina, she would fuck you on the table even with the library full of people 😊

and when you finally finish completing the exercises, you think that she will give you what you want so much, but no! she focuses on correcting the exercises you solved, taking all her time and taking extra time to provoke you ☹️

but a promise is a promise, so karina drags you to her bedroom!

although karina won’t give it to you easily 😣 making you kneel in front of her and beg her to touch you, but not before confessing how much you want to fuck her for a long time and tell her all the twisted ideas that are in that silly little head of yours :( karina enjoys being mean because it’s very easy to break you and make you act like a dumb

making you sit on her lap and ride her thigh while she lets you play with her tits 😵‍💫 pushing your face into her chest with a grip on your hair, grinning as you watch as the more you suck on her tits the more desperate your hips move against her thigh

“so that was it... do you always put effort into your studies when it comes to me because you want to fuck me, (y/n)? all you do is think about me playing with this body when you study?”

“riding my thigh like a dog humping a leg… you're pathetic, (y/n).”

letting karina ride your face because it’s your way of thanking her for helping you improve your grades and be a better student 🫶🏻 she loves to see your vulnerable expression and your eyes looking at her from between her thighs, enjoying it more when you whine against her pussy as she pushes her hips harder against your face just to tease you 🥴 and she is so sweet that she also allows you to touch yourself while you devour her, letting you sneak a hand under your skirt and play with your throbbing clit while she uses you for her own pleasure

[ipushhimback]

Hugs?

pairing: lando norris x reader words: ig around 500? warinings: periods?

summary: you wake up with cramps and your boyfriend comforts you <3

You woke up in the morning feeling like crap. Your whole body was aching and even just the thought about moving just a little made it hurt even more. 

Lando was still softly snoring next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried in your neck. You gently moved his arm from your waist as the pain was just intensifying with the pressure. Your boyfriend scrunched his face but didn’t wake up. Luckily.

You didn’t need him to wake up to you being on your period the first time he stayed over at yours. You knew how unbearable you could become when you were in pain and your hormones were all over the place. 

But only a few minutes later you could feel Lando stir next to you as he stretched himself and rubbed his eyes before opening them and looking at you with so much love in them you thought you would melt in a puddle right now.

“Hey, darling. How long have you been awake?”, he asked with a sleepy smile on his face.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes or so. You slept well?”, you asked as you pressed a kiss to Lando’s lips.

“Yeah. Your bed is comfy. Or maybe I just like having you next to me. You ok? You look a little pale”, Lando said while he furrowed his brow in worry. 

“All good, Lan. Just tired”, you tried to reassure him though you could see that your boyfriend didn’t believe you. 

The next moment you couldn’t pretend to be fine anymore as a sharp wave of pain rolled through you, making you swear under your breath. “Fuck.”

“You are absolutely not ok. Is it your period?”, Lando asked and you just stared at him perplexed. “I have sisters. No pretending here. I did it all. Doing hot water bottles. Going to the store to get chocolate or whatever cravings they had. Buying pads in the middle of the night. Seriously, just be honest. Is it bad?”

You couldn’t help but nod as you felt your eyes well up with tears by how sweet your boyfriend was.

“You want a heating pad? Hot chocolate? Painkillers? Hugs?”, Lando asked again and you nodded while the tears started falling. 

“Oh, baby. No crying, ok?”, Lando said as he wiped the tears from his your cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute”, he continued as he got up.

As promised, he returned only a little later, having a heating pad, painkillers, water, and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He placed it all in front of you and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you again. You leaned your head on his chest and let yourself just be held.

Lando leaned forward a little and grabbed the painkillers that he then held out to you. 

“Here. They’ll help.” He grabbed that water bottle as well and opened the lid. 

You took a sip and placed the bottle back on the table to swap it with the hot chocolate. 

“I hate seeing you in pain”, Lando said as he kissed the top of your head. 

“Well, I hate being in pain”, you said chuckling a little. “But thanks for being here. For taking care of me. I was scared you might be grossed out”, you admitted.

“Grossed out? Never. You are amazing and I won’t leave over something so small. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Lan.”

a/n: something short bc i am planning to write something else but don’t have any inspiration… also, i think all of us deserve a lando in our life who makes us hot chocolate

tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 

[slvttyplum]

“who’s the cute guy with the wide blue eyes and big bad mmm like…”

𐙚⋆.˚ cw : nervous and kinda loser gojo, thought it was cute.

satoru was handsome, funny, sweet, patient, and caring—all the things you could ask for in a man.

who knew the nerdy guy in your lecture who stared at you throughout it and drew pictures of you in his notebook would be your boyfriend?

“so, uh… w-what’s your major?”

that was the first thing he ever asked you, pushing up his glasses with a grin on his face, leaning against the table, trying to look cool.

it worked because you already thought he was cool; you adored him.

even your friends thought he was the perfect match for you, yet you always kept your crush on him private.

you never really spoke to him, not wanting to be a nervous wreck, so you kept to yourself, occasionally watching him from afar.

the crush went both ways for a pretty long time until satoru finally caved in and asked you out, with confidence, i might add; it was the cutest thing.

“i just really like you. i haven’t felt this way in a long time. no, no, wait, i’ve never felt this way.”

that was that; he took you on a date right after, and it’s been history ever since. of course satoru had his flaws, and so did you; who didn’t? but being with him was so refreshing.

satoru was understanding about everything, even when he was a little prick about it, just so you could see it from his perspective.

he loved you, and he couldn’t have you doubting yourself or beating yourself up about things.

“stop saying that; it’s annoying. you’re great, amazing, phenomenal, spectacular, perfect.”

he would go on and on reassuring you that what you were doing and going in life was good enough. satoru wasn’t going to have you talking bad about yourself or even hinting at it; it pissed him off.

“okay, okay, i get it, thank you.”

snuggling into his neck while he was at his desk just scribbling away on his paper, even when he was busy, he still made time for you to show that he loves and supports you through and through.

“there we go.”

sometimes days would go by, especially when satoru had an upcoming test where he was too into whatever he was doing to see you, so he would get you and bring you back to his dorm just to have you in his lap the entire time.

god, he loves you on his lap. it became an ongoing thing that whenever you weren’t on his lap, he found himself fidgeting or bouncing his leg.

sometimes that even led to… well, you know.

starting with you slowly kissing his cheeks, then going down to his jaw, then going down even slower to his neck that was on display like some freshly baked cookies.

once you started, satoru couldn’t focus on a damn thing, even writing gibberish on his paper while his arm tightened around you, taking off his glasses and smirking.

“don’t start something you can’t finish.”

leaning his head back so you could get to where you needed to be easier, a smile now on his face when he could feel you getting lower.

“control yourself, gojo,” mumbling into his neck as you kept going.

he got turned on so easily it was pathetic but also cute, telling you that he wanted to show you something in his bed just to flip you over like a pancake.

see? he could do both. that’s why you love him so damn much, a very versatile man.

one thing he learned while being with you is that while yes, school and classes and making sure his grades were where they needed to be was important, so were you.

you started being a priority for him along with his work and he had to balance them, and he did well with that.

did well with you; he loves you, but he'll never tell you; he would probably fall into a heart attack.

[modernquackfare]

How about Simon having a wife that is a toymaker and makes plushies. Wife!reader comes to the base and gives each of the tf 141 a plushie that looks like them. All of them gets one… except Ghost

Needles to say, he’s very upset, all day, that he didn’t get one.

Only when he gets home, he sees plushies of himself and the reader on the bed

A/N: okay omg i'm so so sorry this has taken forever but I've lost my draft three times 😭 luckily i wasn't TOO far along writing/had it copied but HERE U GO <33

Ghost x Fem!Reader - Toymaker Wife

For such a special day, you come prepared. It's the first time you're setting foot on Spec Gru's European base, thanks to your husband's insistence on security and containment—whatever that means. After much begging and many strategically missed video calls, Simon finally extends an invitation.

It's a cold, concrete world, Simon tells you. Nothing like you, love, or so he says. Does he think being a toymaker for work is synonymous with an inability to handle a few more military men than you already have? It's hard to believe that anyone on base could be more threatening or deadly than Simon himself.

Or Ghost, as they call him here. It's a little funny—reminiscent of middle schoolers that roleplay wolves named Luna or Rebel, but he'd have your head if you ever say such a thing, regardless of how true it might be. You've considered making him a wolf-ear headband just to prove a point and laugh at his furrowed expression. You're sure that his friends, those large men and women in the photo he let you keep, would find it equally funny.

"Sergeant Gaz, Captain Price, Sergeant Soap…” You count, knocking each handheld plush into your bag. It feels just a little childish, showing up to a military base with a pack full of toys-but in your defense, they're the product of your profession and adorable. Each is handmade to recreate the likeness of every member of Task Force 141. They'll probably like the gifts, if Simon's description of each's personality is accurate. Soap's boyish charm, Gaz's calm demeanor, and Price's warm, but dry sense of humor—that's something you can work with.

***

"It's—is this a mini me? This is braw, you've nailed it, lass." Soap lifts his plush into the air, as if holding a newborn babe to the sun. "Down to the scars. I'll be."

You can't help the ripple of a laugh when beside him, Gaz similarly examines his miniature self. "Not bad," he breathes, wiggling the doll's arms as if to make it dance. "Not bad at all. What a handsome fellow."

Soap lifts his doll, moving its head as if it were speaking for him in a poor attempt at ventriloquism "Finely crafted, maybe. Handsome? Well, that's up for—"

"Well, pass yours on over then, let's see that Yule log you call a mohawk," Gaz sneers back, matching Soap's doll's movements with his own.

It's a successful introduction, you think! Simon watches on in silence, loving warmth evident in his eyes as he does. He's not dragging you away and shipping you back home, so things must be going well—as silent and distant as he's being.

"Do you like them?” You ask, hands folded in your lap.

Price fidgets with his, admiring the tiny boonie hat that you've included, small strips of Velcro lining the bottom to adhere the hat to the head. "Never thought I'd ever be the owner of my own doll," he murmurs. "Got the hat just right, didn't you? Spot on."

"Aye, but don't leave it lying about," Soap grins, making his doll trot on over and speak in pitched up tones. “That hat of yours might just disappear. I've got hair too, Cap'."

"Yeah, hair that needs covering."

"Oh, bolt, ya dobber."

Amidst the light chatter of your newfound friends in Simon's comrades, you glance over at the man. There your husband stands, arms crossed tight against his chest. He's got that look—definitely pouting under that mask of his, as much as he protests, saying that it isn't pouting, it's brooding. The others seem to take notice of your wandering gaze, though, and suddenly all eyes are on Simon and his very obvious lack of a personalized doll.

"Don't look so solemn, Ghost," Gaz grins cheekily. "You've almost got me feeling bad for you. You're the one with the dollmaker for a wife, mate.

Simon doesn't respond. His dark gaze, gentle brown eyes hardened into rocks, finds Gaz. Shut it, he seems to say without even opening his mouth.

That grey cloud seems to follow him throughout the day. Convivial conversation with his other friends on base falls flat when the spotlight falls on him, his responses limited to a scant "Hmm," or "Uh-huh," or even a quiet look that verges on a glare. He'll pull away when you reach for his hand, casually enough to pass off as an accident or fault of imperceptibility. As if you didn't know him better—that his reflexes and peripheral vision weren't as sharp as blades.

"Stupid anyway," he mumbles to himself, catching your ears. "Stupid toys."

You frown. He knows better than to speak this way—you've discussed it before, about how much you treasured your work and hated having it dismissed by words like stupid and childish. “I don't think they're stupid," you interrupt, never too intimidated to speak up against him.

Simon immediately softens upon realizing that you've heard him. “It's not—that's not what I meant. You know I don't think they're stupid."

Right, but he's acting strange all day. Still, you can't find it within yourself to probe. "Something is, though. Right?"

"The way they play with them,” Simon immediately speaks, shoulders stiff. "Just…grown men, playing like children."

"Ah," you hum. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to believe it—but you don't ask. It's not as if it's even remotely big enough of an issue to need addressing, after all. You just hate to see Simon so withdrawn. At least, more so than usual.

***

Simon is absent from dinner in the mess hall later on, after giving you an extensive tour and dropping you off at one of the on-base cafes. That's how you know something's off. He would never normally give up an opportunity to share a meal with you, even in a noisy, crowded cafeteria like the one on base.

"Wasn't hungry," he only shrugs when you find him in his on-base unit, boots kicked up as he nurses a neat whiskey. Oh, he's pouting.

You can't help yourself. "Aww, baby," you coo, lingering closer. "Are you feeling alright? You've been gloomy all day…"

"Mmph," he shrugs, gaze flickering up to yours—and he can't help how he all but melts at the love in your eyes. "Just…tired. Go'n and get your shower done. Wanna snuggle."

And how could you say no to that? Your growing suspicion had been that Simon was feeling left out, or forgotten, not receiving a doll of his own. Little does he know, you giggle to yourself.

***

You're in the shower when Simon emerges from his brooding, lurching off the couch and trudging towards the room, where he'd made his bed with clean sheets and set up fluffy pillows for his wife's arrival. The bitterness of being left out of her sweet benevolence has largely faded. She is his wife, after all.

He nudges open his bedroom door, set on his dresser to shed the heavy layers of the day, the mask, and finally exist as Simon for the rest of the night. With you. No doll could ever distract him from you.

He's pulling a hoodie over his head when tiny figures catch in the corner of his vision. A hallucination? No. Dolls.

You and him, smiling and snuggled together. You in your favorite sundress, rosy cheeks and cute face. Him in his mask—which is removable, he discovers on closer inspection. Simon gently tugs off the cloth skull mask, curious to see his own likeness rendered in doll form.

"Handsome bugger," he mutters, thumb brushing over his doll's small face. Blond with stern brown eyes, but smiling. Soap was right about the scars—each placed with perfect accuracy. The one extending from the left corner of his lip up his cheek. The one across his eyebrow. You even got the one under his chin, tucked under the plushie's soft, round face.

On the right hands of both dolls, he realizes, there is a hidden circle of Velcro. So they can hold hands in any orientation. It's such a you thing to do that it hurts.

When you emerge from your shower, all three are gathered in the living room, watching TV. Simon with his legs up on the coffee table, and your miniatures holding hands in his lap. It's hard to help the beam that curls up on your lips—and why would you want to?

"Looks like someone's found the kids," you coo, swaying over and plopping down beside him. “I'm glad you like 'em. Did I do you justice?"

"More than," Simon rasps, scooting close, flush against your side. "They're better than that git, Soap's, that's for sure."

His words coax laughter out of you as you press your head to his chest and scoop up the two little toys into your arms. "Careful, Si. They might hear what you said and tell him.”

"They can go on and tell the whole base, for all I care. Your skill went as far as it could go, it's his face that's the problem." Simon snorts, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Better believe I'm showing this one off tomorrow. Might have to keep it in here, though. I'm not risking a theft."

"You say that every time," you laugh, snuggling close and shutting your eyes for the night as he wraps an arm around you—warm, solid, and safely his.

Request Archive

[ashwhowrites]

Hi beautiful! I’m so happy you are back! You are the best writer ever!!💜

I was wondering if I could request a prisoner Eddie Munson x nurse shy reader. ( in prison for whatever reason you want) He gets beat up in prison and he goes to the nurse and finds her so beautiful and they flirt and feelings start coming up. He try’s to see her anytime he can, and maybe they have a kiss that leads to more like smut??

I love your writing! Sorry if this is bad!

I hope this is what you wanted (it leads to smut but not much of a smut scene )and that you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting!❤️ And it's not a bad request at all!! Prisoner Eddie is fun. Thank you for the love. Prisoner Eddie deserves the criminal love photo

Heal me, nurse

"BREAK IT UP!" An officer screamed as a fight broke out in the small cafeteria. Eddie ignored the officer as he continued to land punches across the other prisoner's face. The officers raced over to the brawl but didn't arrive fast enough to protect Eddie from the bash against the back of his head.

Eddie groaned as he fell over, his head pounding as three guys began to beat his body black and blue. He felt relieved when several officers pulled all the guys off of him. Eddie wiped his nose and realized he was bleeding. He could feel his eyes, ribs, and the back of his head throbbing. He was barely aware of what was going on as he was dragged to a room.

"All yours," the officer spat as he let Eddie's body drop on a chair next to the door.

"Dick," Eddie muttered to himself as the officer walked off. He held his body in pain as he looked around to see where he had dropped off.

"Let me help you to the bed," a soft voice spoke. Eddie blinked through his throbbing eyes as he took in the other person in the room. He groaned as the stranger helped him stand, he took the time to take her in.

She was insanely attractive, and he wasn't saying that because he'd been stuck in cells with random men and hadn't seen a female in ages.

"Where am I?"

"The nurses' office," she smiled, helping him sit on the tiny bed.

Eddie hummed, he didn't even know prison cared to have a nurse. "And you are my nurse?" He swore he's only seen attractive nurses in porn, and he couldn't lie he was imagining how she would look in a tiny nurse outfit.

"Well, I'm everyone's nurse. Now, what happened?" she asked. She sat on a small stool in front of him, her eyes waiting.

"Fuckers jumped me, and now my head, ribs, nose, and eyes are throbbing," he shrugged. Eddie was rough, and he could handle taking care of himself. He had done it a thousand times before. But the idea of this pretty girl having to check him for wounds? Yeah, he liked that.

She stood up and grabbed a small light, flashing it in his eyes as she directed him to follow it. She tried to focus on her job and not that this prisoner was insanely hot. He had captivating eyes, so dark and warm. She felt a blush creep up her neck as he stared right back into her eyes.

She stepped back as she felt the room grow hotter. She walked over to the small sink and wet a cloth. She walked it over to him and softly wiped away the dry blood.

"I'm sorry this happened to you and that the officers treat you like shit," she whispered, gently cleaning his nose.

"Nothing I can't handle, I'm a big boy," he shrugged, chuckling.

She tried not to shiver at his deep chuckle. She silently yelled at herself as her mind went elsewhere with his big boy comment. She dabbed his nose, his eyes never leaving her face. She felt nervous under his stare, trying to avoid eye contact, but she kept feeling this pull to look back.

Once she cleaned off his nose, she tossed the towel to the side.

"Could you..uh..unbutton.. your-" she shyly stuttered, her hands waving to his orange jumpsuit. She hated how nervous she felt around this stranger.

"Unbutton what, gorgeous?" he teased. He enjoyed how shy she was, and it was clear he was making her nervous. "This?" he asked, two fingers slowly unbuttoning the first few buttons.

She blushed deeply as his skin became exposed. She could see some ink on his pale skin. She moved without thinking, stepping closer as she took in the spider and demon. She held her breath as his fingers teased more buttons, but then his fingers landed under her chin.

She squeaked in surprise at the touch. Her skin was raised with goosebumps as she tried to sneak a deep breath.

"I don't think I heard an answer, darling," Eddie whispered.

"Yes," she coughed, "unbutton the top so I can see your ribs, please."

Eddie chuckled at her shyness, teasingly unbuttoning the top half of his suit. Y/N tried to make it seem as if she wasn't interested in what else was under his clothes.

She reached forward to softly touch the ribs that were becoming a darker color compared to his white skin. For the first time since she met him, she was focused on her job. Eddie couldn't help but twitch as her fingers trailed across his ribs and stomach.

"I think it'll just bruise," she said gently, tracing the small marks. She stepped back, "You can button up. I'll give you some ice to take with you."

~

Eddie was sent on his way, holding an ice pack against his ribs. He craved a hot shower, but he wasn't sure if he could even have one. He took the ice to his cell and prepared to sleep the pain away.

But only two hours later, his body was screaming, and the ice was melted. Eddie didn't know the time, unsure if it was early or late. Eddie decided to get more ice to help him get more hours of sleep. And the hope he'd get to see her again.

He turned the corner and noticed a small light coming from the office. He walked in and was pleased to see her sitting at the desk. He gave the door a soft knock to alert his arrival.

"Thought I should return this."

Y/N was startled by the voice, jumping out of her skin as she turned to see him.

"Oh! Thank you. Usually, the officers bring those back in the morning...are you even allowed to be out right now?" She asked, looking over his shoulder.

"And give those dicks a reason to see you? Nah. And look where I am, baby. Does it look like I follow the rules?"

She had to give him that. She stood up and took the melted ice bag from his hands and threw it back in the freezer. Eddie shamelessly checked her out as she bent over.

"What's your name?" He asked

"Y/N, and yours?" She asked as she turned around. He was much closer than before. His body was almost right up against hers.

"Edward Munson, but you can call me Eddie," he said, a charming smile on his lips.

~~~

It only took one day for both of them to feel something. Eddie constantly found ways to visit her. Sometimes he picked fights, letting them beat him as badly as they could so he could limp his way to her. Other times he pretended to feel sick or that he was going mentally insane.

She always greeted him with the same smile and gentle touch. He was happy the other prisoners always went for his ribs and chest because he loved watching her get nervous when his upper body was exposed.

He could easily tell she was attracted to him and he felt the same for her. Life in prison was just as hell as people thought, but she added some life to the dull building. She gave Eddie a reason to smile.

Y/N was a little worried about how much Eddie found himself in her office. Some days he didn't even heal from his last fight, bruises adding on to other bruises. She had to admit that he pulled off a busted lip and bruised eye very well. Selfishly she enjoyed his trips to her office. She liked his company, and the more he came, the longer he stayed. Something was forming between them, and it definitely wasn't allowed.

~~~

Eddie walked down the hall, clenching his stomach as he faked a horrible stomach pain. The officer dropped him off and left without a word. The door was closed and Eddie was a little confused. He turned the knob and welcomed himself in.

His girl was there, perfect as always. But she wasn't alone. She stood in front of an officer using a stethoscope on his bare chest.

"Breath in for me,"

Eddie watched as the officer seemed to enjoy the moment too much.

"Kinda hard when you take my breath away," the officer chuckled. Eddie couldn't help but scoff at the flirty comment, making his presence known.

"Oh, Eddie, hi!" She smiled, joy on her face as she turned to him. "Just one second!"

She turned back to the officer, eager to get him to leave. "Well we are all set. Everything seems fine."

"You'll think about tonight right?" The officer asked

Eddie slit his eyes, sending a glare to the man.

"Uh.." she looked towards Eddie, then back, "Yeah, I'll think about it."

Once the officer left, Eddie strolled into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Oh that's supposed to stay open," she said, her voice growing quiet as she heard it lock.

"Oh? Then why was it closed with him?" She shivered at the venom in his voice. Her stomach filled with excitement as a jealous look covered his face.

"He asked," she gulped, his heavy steps reaching her feet as she stood still.

"Yeah, what else did he ask for?" Eddie questioned, beginning to unbutton his orange jumpsuit. "Something about tonight."

Y/N ignored the burn between her thighs as he continued to unbutton his suit past his stomach. She cast her eyes down for a quick glance then back up to his face. Her eyes yearned to look back to his happy trail and see where it disappeared.

"He asked me about having dinner together,"

Eddie moved fast, softly gripping her hair as he yanked her head up. She whined at the burn, her knees getting weak. He slowly leaned in, teasing his lips over hers. She felt the room grow warmer as his breath hit her lips, her eyes begging him to close the gap.

"Are you wanting to?" He whispered

"No," she said instantly, "please Eddie," she begged

"Please what?" He asked, "you want me to kiss you?"

She licked her lips as she tried to nod her head through his grip.

"My pleasure," he said against her lips before he kissed her. She moaned as his lips worked against hers, firm and passionate. His hands gripped her hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue softly moving into her mouth.

She wasn't sure if she was allowed to touch him, her hands burning to feel his skin as his tongue danced with hers. She nervously placed her hands on his shoulders as she tried to fight back in the kiss. It was no use, though; he had all the power.

He pulled back, smirking as she followed his lips. "Get on that bed, baby girl." He whispered, stepping back as he stripped out of his suit. She scrambled to the tiny bed.

She held her breath as he stood in his boxers, his hard-on caught her attention as she shamelessly stared. She felt herself drool when his hand landed over himself and softly rubbed himself. The sound that left his body made Y/N clench her thighs.

"I'm going to show you who's really in charge around here."

She felt locked in a trance as he walked over to her. His hands were on her in seconds, easily taking all the material off of her skin. She felt nervous about the idea of being naked in front of him but the way he looked at her made her feel like she had nothing to be shy about.

His hot mouth was on her skin as his hands trailed down her stomach. She shivered as she felt his hand growing closer to the wetness between her thighs.

Eddie sucked on her neck as his fingers slid in between her soaked folds. She moaned out as his fingers slid inside her, stretching her open.

"Think you can handle my cock, pretty girl?" He teased, his breath hot against her skin as she began to rock against his fingers. She whined in response, her thighs turning into jelly.

"Yes, please," she begged, throwing her head back his fingers sped up.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[whosashan]

Hiii! I’m sorry I couldn’t find if you were open for requests or not so if you don’t take any at this moment please ignore this.

I really love your style of writing and I was wondering about how lads boys would react if MC asked them if they are in love with her or who she was in the past life. I know with Caleb and Zayne it can be tricky but I was thinking that maybe Zayne remembered his past or like MC suddenly remembered everything? That’s just an idea I had in my mind.

Anyways like I said please ignore this request if you don’t take any at this moment or you don’t like that idea!

Have a nice day❤️

Who do you love?

A/N:Hi there! Thank you for your request. You didn't specify if you want it to be more angsty or strictly fluffy, so I did a bit of both ;p I tried to base it off of their myth's, but since I don't have Sylus' and Rafayel's memory cards, I eyeballed it. I hope you'll like it, any feedback is greatly appreciated :] Have a nice day!

For a while now, an insidious question has gnawed at the recesses of your mind. Perhaps it stems from deep-seated insecurities, a relentless curiosity, or something more profound and unsettling.

Since uncovering the intricate tapestry of your past with your lover, a disquieting thought has taken root: are you merely a stand-in for someone who no longer exists? The paradox is maddening—you find yourself envious of a former self. The notion pierces your heart with a sharp, unyielding pain, knowing that there was once another—ironically, another version of you—who preceded you. That person was, undeniably, their one true love.

You grapple with the tormenting thought: are you genuinely the one he loves now, or are you simply a surrogate, a shadow of the past?

Xavier

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows flickering against the walls, casting elongated shapes that danced with every shift of the flames. The air was warm, thick with the scent of wax and faint traces of Xavier’s smell - something so uniquely him.

He laid across the couch, head resting on your thighs, his platinum hair spilling like silk over your lap. Your fingers moved through the strands absentmindedly, tracing over his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions, just the way you knew he liked. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful. Intimate. Safe.

But your thoughts refused to be still.

You wondered—had he been like this with her too? Had she tangled her fingers in his hair just as you did now? Had she peppered his cheeks with soft kisses, stolen those rare, beautiful laughs that you cherished so much?

The thought shouldn’t sting. It was you, after all. The past version of you, the one whose fate had already been entwined with his long before you even remembered him. And yet, there was a weight in your chest, something heavy, something bitter—regret? Uncertainty? You should have been grateful. It was you. It had always been you. But still, the question gnawed at you.

How different was she?

Did her smile tilt the same way? Did she struggle to keep her hair neat, no matter how much effort she put into it? When she laughed, did her cheeks lift high enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes?

The flickering candlelight traced soft golden hues over Xavier’s face, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his cheekbones. His beauty was almost inhuman, sculpted and refined, made even softer by the haze of drowsiness settling over him. He was close to sleep, lulled by your touch. Maybe it was cruel to ask now, to shatter this moment of quiet serenity.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather the courage that had been slipping through your fingers. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"What was she like?"

The silence stretched.

You thought, for a moment, that he had already fallen asleep, that your question would go unanswered. Relief and disappointment tangled together in your chest, neither strong enough to win over the other.

Then, his voice, soft yet weighted.

"Who are you asking about?"

His head shifted slightly, his dark lashes fluttering open just enough for blue eyes to meet yours. There was exhaustion in them, slight confusion, as if you had pulled him from the edge of sleep. Your fingers stilled in his hair, and he let out a quiet, displeased groan at the loss of comfort.

"Her. I mean… me. The past me." The words felt clumsy, uncertain. How were you even supposed to ask something like this?

Xavier’s brows knit together for a second, a flicker of thought crossing his face before his expression settled back into something unreadable.

"You were the same person you are now." His reply was immediate, almost dismissive, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But that wasn’t enough.

"I want you to be more specific." Your voice was barely above a breath, but there was something desperate beneath it.

He exhaled, fingers idly drawing slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, as if the motion would somehow ease whatever storm was brewing inside you.

"She was… eccentric," he finally said, his voice quiet, thoughtful. A pause. A hesitation. "Always stubborn. Always insistent. Never knowing when to give up." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Not that much different from you now."

You scoffed, more out of reflex than humor. "Should I feel insulted?" you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

But then, as quickly as the moment of levity had come, it was gone again. The question that had been clawing at your ribs threatened to spill from your lips.

And then—

"Did you love her more?"

It barely came out, the words fragile, splintering even as they left you. Your entire body tensed.

Xavier’s hand stilled against your thigh. For the first time, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even hurt. Slowly, he lifted his head, pushing himself up until he was finally at eye level with you. His gaze studied you intently, tracing every furrow of your brow, every small tension in your lips.

And then, gently—so, so gently—he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent warmth curling through your chest. He was close now, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

"I would love every form of you the same." His voice was steady, unwavering. "For me, you will always be the one. Whether it’s the you from before, the you now, or the you in another lifetime. It doesn’t matter if you were human, a fairy, or even a worm."

A small, teasing smirk curled his lips at the end, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension, to coax a reaction from you. And it worked—heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks, and despite everything, you felt the ghost of a flustered pout forming on your lips.

Xavier leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze once more.

"Never doubt yourself again, hm?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, your face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. His embrace was warm, steady, grounding. The kind of touch that made all your doubts seem small, insignificant.

Because even if your question hadn’t been answered completely, even if some part of you still ached for something more—there was one thing you were certain of.

He never made you feel like she was better. He never made you feel like you had to compete with your own past.

For Xavier, it was always you.

Zayne

The only sound in the dimly lit room was the rhythmic clicking of keyboard keys, an almost hypnotic cadence breaking through the thick silence. The golden glow of Zayne’s desk lamp illuminated the contours of his sharp features, casting long shadows over his workspace. He sat with his usual meticulous posture, his frame effortlessly composed, exuding an air of quiet authority even in something as mundane as working. The reflection of his laptop screen glimmered faintly against his glasses, obscuring the rich hazel depths of his eyes.

Across the room, you lounged on the couch, your body half-sunk into the plush cushions, a book resting open in your lap. Despite the separate worlds you were both immersed in, there was a comfort in just existing beside him—his presence was grounding, a constant anchor in a sea of uncertainties.

Your gaze trailed over the words printed on the page. A romance novel—one that struck too close to home. It told the story of a man who spent lifetimes searching for his lover, chasing fragments of them across time, waiting for fate to intertwine them once more.

“Is it really me you love? Or the person—the people—I used to be?”

The line cut through you like glass, burrowing itself deep into the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers hesitated over the page as your eyes flickered toward Zayne. He remained at his desk, seemingly lost in his work, his expression unreadable. His dark hair fell slightly over his face, a few strands brushing against the thin frames of his glasses. Even when exhausted, he looked composed—controlled.

It was foolish, perhaps, to ask. You knew how he hated to be interrupted when he was deep in thought, yet you also knew yourself. If you didn’t speak now, the words would fester, gnawing at you like a wound left untreated.

"Zayne."

His name left your lips barely above a murmur, but he heard you. He always did.

His fingers stilled over the keyboard, his posture shifting as he leaned back into his chair slightly. He turned to you, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his jawline.

"Yes, love?" His voice was deep, slightly hoarse from disuse, carrying with it a subtle weight of exhaustion.

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Sensing it, Zayne pushed his laptop aside and stood, his movements slow, deliberate. Without a word, he made his way toward you, his presence a steady force as he settled beside you on the couch. Lifting your legs with ease, he draped them over his lap, his fingers resting absentmindedly against your ankle. His warmth bled into you, solid and grounding.

Encouraged by the gesture, you swallowed and forced yourself to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for far too long.

"What was my past self like?"

His brows lifted slightly, his fingers pausing their absentminded movements. "That’s a rather unexpected question," he murmured, adjusting his glasses—a telltale sign of nervousness, though he would never admit it. "What’s brought this on?"

You frowned. "Don’t change the subject."

A subtle exhale left him, barely audible, but you caught it. You knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to sidestep something.

"I don't remember everything." His voice was measured, but there was a slight tightness to it. "Fragments, maybe. Fleeting pieces that don’t quite form a complete picture. But from what I do recall…" He trailed off, adjusting his glasses again before continuing.

"She wasn’t so different from you now." His tone was contemplative, as if choosing his words carefully. "Determined. Unyielding. Always knew what she wanted and wouldn’t rest until she got it." A small pause. "Much like you."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. That answer—it wasn’t enough.

"Did you love her more?" The words came out before you could stop them.

This time, his reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his expression before it smoothed into something composed once more.

"As far as I’m concerned, she is you. Every version of you—past, present, future—exists within the same soul, deeply ingrained in me. To compare them would be a fruitless endeavor. There has never been a question of more or less—there is only you."

His voice was even, unwavering, but there was a weight to his words, something deeper lying beneath them. A certainty so absolute that you almost felt ridiculous for asking.

Still, a part of you felt… silly. Jealous over yourself. How insecure could you be?

But it wasn’t insecurity, was it? It was the cruel weight of uncertainty, the knowledge that there were pieces of yourself you might never truly remember. And that truth would always linger, like a ghost in the back of your mind.

Zayne, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the turmoil playing behind your eyes. He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing up your arm before settling against your own, giving it a light squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a grounding gesture.

A smirk—barely there, but unmistakable—tugged at the corner of your lips as you met his gaze. "Is that so? Then tell me more."

Zayne let out a soft, resigned sigh, shaking his head just slightly. But even as he feigned reluctance, there was the unmistakable ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

And somehow, even if your question wasn’t entirely answered, even if you knew the uncertainty would return again someday—right now, his presence was enough.

Rafayel

Laughter filled the dimly lit bedroom, loud and breathless, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed beneath Rafayel’s relentless assault. His fingers moved with precision, ghosting over your sides, tracing over sensitive spots he had long since memorized. Your body arched in protest, hands weakly attempting to shove him away, but he was stronger, faster—his lips curled in amusement as he watched you crumble beneath his touch.

"Alright, it's enough!" You gasped between helpless giggles, trying—failing—to inject authority into your voice. The demand might have carried weight if not for the way laughter cracked through it, rendering it powerless.

Still, Rafayel, ever the merciful tormentor, finally relented. With a low chuckle, he slowed his movements, his hands instead settling on your waist, fingers splayed lazily over your hips as if he had all the time in the world. Then, in a gesture as disarming as it was tender, he leaned in, pressing playful kisses across your cheeks, your nose, the corners of your lips—each one stealing the remnants of your breath.

Your smile only widened, cheeks flushed a warm pink.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was already watching you, his usual mischief softened by something more dangerous—something deeper. His dark hair framed his face in perfect disarray, stray strands falling over his forehead, and his striking blue-pink eyes shimmered with something unreadable.

"You're killing me, cutie." His voice was honeyed, teasing, yet laced with a quiet reverence. "From all that laughing, I figured you loved my fingers on you. Should I take that as a request?"

A flick to his forehead wiped the smirk off his lips.

He gasped dramatically, cradling the spot as if you had mortally wounded him. "Now, you need to kiss it better!" His pout was exaggerated, his dramatic flair in full effect, yet beneath the playful act was a calculated charm—one that had always made him so dangerously captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you indulged him, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. The faint imprint of your lipstick lingered, and you smirked to yourself, deciding to keep that detail to yourself. It suited him, after all.

Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, but then his expression shifted. "That’s slightlyyy better." A pause. "Now, how about we order some seafood?" His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, his tone lighthearted.

And yet—your stomach dropped.

Your expression faltered, barely perceptible, but Rafayel caught it instantly. His head tilted slightly, amusement fading into mild confusion. "What is it? Wasn't it your favorite?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I told you—multiple times—I hate seafood." Your voice was steady, but the weight behind it was anything but. It wasn’t the mistake itself that stung—it was the realization that followed.

It was her favorite.

The realization came like a blade, cutting through you mercilessly. The past you—the before you—the version of yourself that had lived and loved Rafayel long before your memories had been wiped away.

You weren’t her. You weren’t the one he had fallen for first.

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken words.

Rafayel’s face fell. His usual mask of arrogance slipped, replaced by something fleeting—regret, guilt, self-reproach. He cursed himself under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Ah—sorry… we'll get Chinese, yeah?" His voice, usually so smooth, so effortless, now carried an edge of uncertainty. He was scrambling. He knew he had messed up.

But the damage had already been done.

Because you finally saw it—the cracks in his reassurances. The way his stories about her had painted a picture you could never quite step into. She had been different. More confident. More cunning. More effortlessly herself.

More like the version of you that you always wished to be.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you turned away from him. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Not now.

"Cutie…" His voice dropped to a murmur, gentle, coaxing. You felt his fingers ghost toward your cheek, but you recoiled before he could touch you.

That reaction made something shift in him.

The softness vanished, replaced by something colder. His jaw tensed, his lips parting slightly in what could have been a plea—but he hesitated.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

"Did you love her more, Rafayel?"

The words cut through the silence like a blade. There was no teasing lilt in your voice, no room for him to twist the moment into something playful. No. This time, you weren’t giving him an escape.

His body went rigid, his lips parting slightly as if the sheer audacity of the question had momentarily stolen his breath. Then, panic flickered in his eyes—just for a second.

"What?—Of course not!" The words left him too quickly, too forcefully. "I mean, god, you're the same person." His voice was rough, desperate, but the way he said it—like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you—made your stomach churn.

"Liar."

A whisper. Sharp. Accusing.

You pushed yourself up, slipping from his grasp, but Rafayel moved fast, his fingers catching your wrist before you could step away. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to make you halt.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not. "I can't—I don't want to talk to you right now."

He tensed. "Y/N, don’t do this—"

"I need time." You exhaled, voice gentler now, but firm. "We’ll talk when I’m ready."

You didn’t wait for his reply.

The moment you slipped from his grasp, the warmth of his touch faded, replaced by the chilling weight of distance. And as you walked toward the door, you felt his gaze burning into your back.

But he didn’t chase you.

Not this time.

And as the door shut behind you, leaving Rafayel alone on his vast, king-sized bed, you both knew—

This wasn’t the end of the conversation.

Not even close.

Sylus

The silk sheets pooled beneath you as you sat on Sylus' bed, the fabric smooth against your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden hues, casting long shadows as you rummaged through the bags at your feet—your most recent indulgence. Or rather, his indulgence.

"You didn’t have to buy all this for me, you know," you murmured without looking up, fingers brushing over the expensive fabrics, the scent of luxury still clinging to them.

Across from you, Sylus leaned against the grand headboard, his arms lazily crossed, an amused smirk playing at his lips. His crimson eyes glimmered under the dim light, ever watchful, ever knowing.

"And yet, somehow, I still managed to," he mused, his voice a smooth melody laced with amusement. "Truly tragic, how I remain cursed with wealth and the urge to spoil you."

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Why don’t you give me a fashion show, sweetie?" he suggested, tilting his head slightly.

Your excitement sparked instantly. You barely spared him a glance before gathering the bags and rushing into the bathroom, the sound of his low chuckle following you as you disappeared behind the door.

As you sifted through the clothes, something caught your eye—a dress you didn’t remember picking out. The color was… odd. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely not something you would have chosen for yourself. It washed you out in a way that felt unnatural, like a version of you that wasn’t quite right.

Sylus.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. He had excellent taste; he’d picked out dresses for you before—ones that flattered your figure, ones that made you feel effortlessly beautiful. But this? This felt like it belonged to someone else.

Still, you slipped it on. It’s always nice to try something new, you reasoned. And besides, you could always return it.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you straightened your posture, putting on your best model walk as you sauntered toward him with a small, playful smile.

Sylus’ gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate.

"You look ravishing," he murmured, his deep voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He pushed off the headboard and closed the space between you in an instant, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm and intoxicating.

"You think?" you asked, though your gaze drifted downward again, fingers idly smoothing over the fabric.

"That’s a rather interesting choice, boss." The nickname was teasing, but there was a layer of curiosity beneath it. "I don’t think I like this color on me, but if you do… I suppose I’ll wear it anyway."

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"Nonsense," he dismissed easily. "You’ve always looked stunning in this color. Or any color, for that matter, kitten."

Something in your chest twisted.

Your brows knitted together slightly as you peered up at him. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he meant nothing by it. And yet—

"I’ve never worn this color before, though." You chuckled, keeping your tone light, masking the unease settling at the edges of your mind.

Sylus said nothing at first. A beat of silence stretched between you, but his grip didn’t falter. His expression remained unreadable, except for the slight glint of something in his crimson eyes—something calculated.

You knew this game. You knew how he played.

He was refined, meticulous with his words, carefully measured in everything he did. Sylus didn’t make mistakes.

And yet, you had caught one.

He loved you. That, you never doubted. His devotion was absolute, unwavering. But there was always this—this lingering ghost of someone else. A woman you had once been. A woman you no longer remembered. A woman you weren’t even sure you were.

And yet, she still lived here. In his mind. In his stories. In his memories of you.

"I can practically hear your mind working." His voice was smooth, but there was a quiet edge to it. "Speak."

You hesitated. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to pick at something that might unravel everything.

"You seem to like reminiscing about the past," you finally said, keeping your voice even, careful.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"Of course," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn’t I? The moments I’ve spent with the one I love should not be forgotten."

Your chest tightened.

He didn’t see it the way you did. To him, the past and the present were intertwined, threads of the same existence. But to you? The past felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Is that so?" Your lips curved into a wry smile, though the bitterness in your voice was barely concealed. "Then tell me, Sylus—who do you love more? Her or me?"

It was meant to sound like a joke. A playful jab. But the moment the words left your lips, the room shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, his body going still. His expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"What kind of question is that, kitten?" His voice remained steady, but there was something underneath it now—something more careful.

"It doesn’t matter if it’s the past or the present I’m thinking about—it’s always you on my mind."

But it didn’t feel like it.

Not in the way that mattered.

You swallowed, the months of quiet insecurities bubbling up, spilling over before you could stop them. "I don’t want you to think about her," you admitted, voice quieter now but no less firm. "It’s in the past—the past I don’t even remember."

A beat of silence.

For the first time that night, Sylus looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression wavered for the briefest moment before something else took its place—something softer.

"…I apologize." His voice, always so effortlessly poised, now carried an unfamiliar weight. "I never meant to make you feel that way, sweetheart. I won’t mention it again."

And yet—right now, it wasn’t enough.

"I need a moment for myself." The words left you before you could think them through.

You turned, ready to step away, but his fingers curled around your wrist—not tight, not forceful, just there.

"I won’t stop you," he murmured. "Take all the time you need." His hand lifted, brushing against your cheek, his touch warm, careful. You refused to meet his gaze, afraid of the emotions that might spill over if you did.

"But know that —when you’re ready, I’ll be right here."

A pause. Then, softer—so tender it nearly broke you—

"I love you."

And then, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

And just like that, you slipped away from him.

Out of the room, out of his reach, out into the night, letting the wind carry you as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions inside you.

You weren’t sure how long it would take. An hour, a day, a month.

But Sylus—he would wait.

He always did.

Caleb

A/N:For Caleb, I decided to twist it a little and instead make it about your future self. Hope that's alright!

It was always easy to be carefree with Caleb nearby.

He made the world feel manageable—as if no matter what went wrong, he would be there, steady as ever, grounding you with nothing more than a glance. You hated how much you depended on him, how much you needed him, but he made it feel so natural, so right.

And even now, as you perched on the kitchen counter, watching the way his muscled back flexed with each movement, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board filling the space between you, you thought—maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I need.

Your gaze lingered. It was the only sight you ever wanted to see.

Caleb, as if sensing your attention, let out a low chuckle. "I can feel you staring, pipsqueak." He turned his head slightly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Your heart stuttered. No matter how much he changed over the years, that grin—that teasing, infuriating grin—never did.

"You're a terrible chef," you huffed, crossing your arms. "I’ve been waiting for my dish for, what? An hour now?"

He snorted. "Fifteen minutes, actually."

"Felt longer."

"Impatient as ever." He shook his head, flipping something onto a plate with practiced ease.

You chuckled softly, but the warmth in your chest flickered, cooling as a shadow of uncertainty crept into your mind. You hated thinking about the future. The unpredictability of it, the way it loomed, stretching out like an abyss, no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto the present.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Caleb moving until his presence was right there. His hand shot out, pinching your cheek.

"Finally got your attention, pips." His voice was teasing, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

You groaned, swatting his hand away as he set your plate aside. His violet eyes—always so sharp, so unnervingly aware—locked onto yours.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hmm?" He leaned in slightly, voice still playful, but now edged with something serious.

You hesitated.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid to ask. But the words clawed at your throat, relentless.

"I was just thinking..." you mumbled, staring down at your dangling feet.

"Rare sight." He smirked.

You shot him a glare and shoved at his chest, earning a low chuckle.

"Shut up." You exhaled, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. Then, before you could lose your nerve— "Caleb, do you see me in your future?"

The teasing glint in his eyes faded instantly.

For the first time in the conversation, his smirk disappeared, replaced by something unreadable. He stared at you, brow furrowing slightly, as if trying to figure out why the hell you’d ask something so ridiculous.

Then—without hesitation— "You’re the only thing I’m certain about in my future."

Your breath hitched.

"It’s you, by my side, exploiting me as your personal slave." His lips quirked up, but you knew him too well. The humor was a shield, a flimsy attempt to soften the truth beneath it.

And the truth was—Caleb didn’t make promises easily. He was a liar, through and through. You knew that. Hell, he was probably the biggest liar you’d ever met.

But right now?

There was no lie in his voice. No hesitation in his certainty.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so terrifying.

But doubt was a cruel thing. It never let go easily.

"But what if I’m not the same?" you murmured, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your shirt.

Caleb scoffed, ruffling your hair with a tenderness that contradicted the smug grin on his face.

"Then I’ll adapt to whatever version of you I get." His voice was soft, but his grip—his presence—was solid.

Your throat tightened as warmth bloomed in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing him in.

"Even if I become the worst version of myself?" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Caleb hummed, amused. "If that’s the case, I’ll just make sure I become the best version of myself." He leaned in, voice dropping to something lower, something that sent a shiver down your spine. "And if your worst self turns out to be particularly sadistic, well..." His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ll make sure to satisfy your cravings, baby"

Heat coiled in your stomach. You barely had a second to react before he pulled back, pressing a finger to your lips just as you tried to close the distance.

"Ah-ah. Eat first, pips."

You groaned. "You’re impossible."

He chuckled, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive. Something that promised—no matter what version of yourself you became, he would always be there.

With Caleb, there was only one certainty in life—

You would always have someone who loved you unconditionally.

[kissylec]

TO THE PLACES WE'VE BEEN AND THE NIGHTS WE'VE HAD.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . the bonfire always has surprises, but you never thought that one of those surprises would be ending up in tannyhill with the kook prince warning .ᐟ . . . (18+) smut, alcohol consumption, curse words, enemies to lovers, tension, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, first time writing smut and english is not my first language, so please, bear with me w count . . . 1.5k (NO PROOFREAD) kissylec says . . . write this in 3 days and i dont really know if i like it or not. my frist time writing smut! im tweaking! thanks to @rafesheaven for the tips you gave me, i hope this is okay i love u. and thanks to @rafeysbabydoll for the idea of this first extra! i also love u. hope you guys like this 😭

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

YOU WERE DOING THIS FOR JJ, and you repeated that to yourself over and over again. the bonfire was the last thing on your mind after the day you'd had, having to put on makeup and get dressed made your head hurt and your feet felt tired just walking to the vanity. but everything went to shit in a short time, which you expected, but at least you had that slight glimmer of hope that it won't happen.

it all started when topper – because of course it was topper – started bothering sarah. your and your friends' irritation was instantly aired, creating a tense atmosphere that was not lost on anyone. and between john b complaining, jj trying to fight, and kiara trying to calm down everyone who came near, you couldn't take it anymore.

the overstimulation ate away at you to the point that you left without warning, a habit that was ingrained in you. the sound of voices grew farther away with each step you took, and the cold and salty breeze became more and more present. that's when you thought about the beach, and that maybe it would be a good idea to stop by there.

the sand on your feet felt colder than usual and the wind was a caress on your exposed skin. you took long, deep breaths, making circles in the palm of your left hand as you tried to maintain a calm that you were afraid would slip away. the sound of the sea was in the background, and a relaxation alien to you had found you. until.

you okay?

the thick, familiar voice startles you, causing you to bring a hand to your chest and open your eyes, your gaze traveling to the direction the voice came from.

rafe cameron.

"you scared the shit outta me," you say, your gaze traveling all over rafe's body. a bottle of alcohol in his hand, his brow furrowed. His curtain bangs were gone, replaced by a neat buzz cut, which made him look more... mature, older.

rafe continues to scowl, looking away from you. "yeah well, it's creepier when a girl stands next to you and closes her eyes and all that shit you were doing just now." his lips take a sip from what appears to be a bottle of whiskey, his eyes fixed on the water.

you just rolled your eyes, mimicking his action of looking away. you never gave rafe much importance, but your annoyance for him was no small thing. he was nothing sacred among pogues, as if his name were a curse. "i may be creepy but you're sad" you started saying. "drinking by yourself on the beach? not really a very fun activity."

rafe takes another long sip from the bottle, his muscles flexing as he raises his arm. “shouldn’t you be there?” he asks, still not looking at you.

rafe knew about you, not much, but he knew enough. he always insisted that you stood out from any friend sarah might have had, you were not overlooked, you always left a mark. you had that something that takes a person a while to figure out. you were different, and it sounds corny and repetitive, but you were, and rafe liked that.

for a split second you considered telling him why you left the bonfire, but you didn't. "i got bored," you said simply, feeling rafe turn his head and his eyes burn into your cheek. "what's your excuse?"

rafe swore his heart stopped for a second when you turned your head to make your first eye contact of the night, his lips felt dry but he didn't have the balls to lick them in front of you.

he just shrugged. "i don't want to be there" he says.

you slowly nod your head, your eyes locked on rafe's blue ones, who didn't seem to want to take his eyes off you. the sound of clothes rustling and him handing you the bottle of whiskey caught your attention, raising your eyebrows.

parting your lips you take the bottle, the contact with rafe’s fingers leaving a rough feeling on your skin. still looking into his eyes, you took an unexpectedly long sip, your throat burning instantly, making you grimace in disgust and drop the bottle. he couldn’t help but laugh.

“what was that?” he asks, following with his gaze as you spit the amber liquid into the sand.

“that shit is disgusting” you say, wiping your chin, which had dropped drops of the drink.

you shake your head, your eyes falling on his face. you allow yourself to analyze the small details, how his eyes close when he smiles, the occasional mark on his skin, his hand wrapped around most of the bottle as soon as you handed it back to him.

rafe parts his lips, you could see his eyes drop to his lap, as if he was hesitant. “i have more bottles in tannyhill, of… other things,” he says, hesitantly. "if you want."

your eyes widened, letting out a laugh you couldn’t control. “are you serious?” you said, your smile taken as mockery by rafe.

rafe frowns, his gaze going to you, making you erase your smile. a tension began to be felt between you two, that tension which anyone who was there could feel, that tension that makes your stomach hurt and your heart race.

"did you really just ask me what you just ask me?" you asked, your eyebrows raising as you looked at him.

“what’s wrong with what i said?” rafe asks, his tone of voice harsher than he intended.

you frown, careful not to fumble with your words. “no, absolutely not.”

“why not?"

“because it’s you,” you simply reply, looking at him. “and i would never do anything with you.”

your words seemed to trigger something in rafe, who raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, as if he were studying you. you felt your pulse quicken, his jaw suddenly looked attractive, and his challenging eyes made your lower stomach feel warm.

"never, huh?"

those were the last words you could remember coming out of his mouth, because all you were focused right now, was him. on his tongue expertly moving between your wet folds, on how he flicked it against your clit. his fingers gripped your thighs to keep you from moving, the pressure was so strong that you knew there would be marks, but you didn't care.

you had tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes, your o-shaped lips letting out moan after moan, babbling every now and then as you felt his tongue fucking you as if it were the only thing he was useful for.

"prettiest cunt" he grunts against your center, placing open-mouthed kisses over your clit.

"fuck–rafe" was the only thing that could come out of your mouth.

you start to rub your pussy against him when you feel close, that delicious pressure in your pelvis growing as does the burning in your clit, your moans turning into soft cries, desperate to cum, and rafe notices it, but that wasn't going to happen.

his mouth leaving you, automatically going to the level of your face. his lips, chin and nose glistening with your arousal, his pupils dilated with pleasure, his breathing accelerated, all so sexy that you could have cum just from him.

before you could even protest he crashed your lips against his, moaning as you tasted yourself. your tongues danced deliciously, making everything more disgusting.

"wan' you to cum on my cock" rafe manages to say between kisses, and you never wondered when he took off his pants, but he did. "you're capable of doing that? huh?"

he wrapped his hand around his heavy cock, pumping it slowly, guiding his tip to your puffy and achy clit, teasing it, coating his length with your slick. "fuck–could you be any more fucking wet?"

the tip traveled to your center, gasping as it entered inch by inch to the brim, forcing you to take him all. your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling his cock caress your insides. you could swear you felt him kiss your cervix.

"so tight, all f'me, isn't that right?" rafe purrs against your ear, his hips moving almost instantly after filling you.

your brain blanked out, letting him handle you as he pleased, your legs on his shoulders as his pace quickened. “rafe,” you stammered, your eyes squeezing shut.

"grippin' me so tight, you gonna cum?" rafe murmurs condescendingly. "this sweet pussy gonna cum? huh?"

it was ridiculous, almost pathetic, but his words and the way your sweet spot was hit over and over again had you cumming on his cock, your back arching and a small cry came out. rafe groans, his face hiding in your neck, his cock twitching and painting your insides with his cum.

you felt kisses on your neck, the thrusts fading in rhythm, his hands caressing your sides. your eyes slowly opened, your lips dry as the light from the nightstand made its presence felt beside you.

then, and just then, it clicked.

"we can't do this again" was the first thing that left your lips.

but rafe had already taken you over. and there was no escape from that.

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© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[themetalhiro]

WHAT THE!!

The debut of my first ever zine has frankly knocked my socks off. Thank you all SO much! I could not ask for a better crowd. The amount of tear jerking messages of support I’ve received has been ridiculous.. I will try my absolute best to get to all of them, but please know that I’ve read every single one and they mean the world to me. If there comes a day when I am feeling any doubt about my artistic journey, I will remember your words!

Many people have asked me about:

A physical copy of the zine: I would love to make one if there’s a demand for it! The price would depend on printing and shipping costs, but I imagine it would be somewhere around 15usd. More news on that when I get estimates from print shops, OR after I figure out the details on-

Other merch items, such as prints, stickers, t-shirts, etc: I plan on using the money received from this project to purchase the proper equipment for more physical goods! So if you’d like to see that soon, please consider purchasing a zine. If you haven’t bought a copy yet and you’d like to, it’s right here!

More comics: I’m for sure making more One Piece comics! I’m ALSO getting the bug to start showing you my original writings… I have a lot of little guys that I hope you will enjoy when the time is right :]

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!!! More to come, very soon!

[moonstruckme]

I love your work! I spent so long yesterday reading through just about all of them and you are an incredible writer! I have a request but regardless if you want to write it, I can’t wait to read what you write next!!

Request: I would love to have a fic with any of the marauders (+lily) (single or poly pairings) that are helping the reader on a bad chronic illness day. Due to their chronic illness, the reader’s body feels really weak so they need help from their partner(s).

Thanks so much angel! <3

cw: unspecified chronic illness, only explicit specificity is that reader has really low energy as a result of it

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 743 words

Sometimes, James can’t help but stop and think about how ridiculously lucky he is. He was worried about you all day at work—you weren’t feeling well when he left that morning, though you’d claimed you were going to take it easy—but there’s no sweeter sight to come home to than you and Lily curled up together on the bed, your head on her chest and her fingers in your hair. James’ heart slows to a lovesick thump-thump as he watches you. 

“Do you think you have the energy for a shower?” Lily murmurs. 

You make a small sound to the negative. 

“No? Okay.” Lily kisses your hairline, consoling. “How about a bath, love?” 

Her eyes flicker up to James, telling him she’s heard his entry whereas you seem not to have. The sad uptilt of her lips tells him you’ve had as hard a day as he worried you might. He takes off his shoes, moving toward you. 

“I could wash your hair for you,” Lily goes on, coaxing. “Add some of those oils you like.” 

James is just barely close enough to hear your mumbled reply. “I don’t know if there’s time.”

“There’s always time for a nice bath, isn’t there?” he asks lightly. Grins when you look up, noticing him. “Hi, angel.” 

“Hi.” You sit up for a kiss. James meets you halfway, folding an arm around your back to help support you. 

He gives Lily a kiss, too, sparing an extra for the worried line between her brows. 

“What are we worried about time for?” he asks. 

“She wants to go to dinner with her friend’s mum.” 

“I don’t want to,” you say, sinking back against Lily’s front the way Remus sinks into his chair after a long, long day, “I’m supposed to.” 

James feels his lips tug. “Well, there you have it, lovie. You don’t want to, so don’t.” 

“She’s visiting from out of town, and she asked to see me,” you mumble. You seem reluctant, like you’re fighting for a cause you don’t truly believe in yourself. “It’d be rude not to go.” 

“It’s not rude. You don’t have the energy for a shower,” Lily reminds you gently. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to go.” 

Your lips pull down, fretfulness lined with resignation. 

“Do you know where she’s staying?” James asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why don’t we give her a ring at her hotel, then, and let her know you’re not feeling well. I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip, but James recognizes the slow wash of relief over your features. “Okay. That could work.” 

“It’ll work great. And then, say, you could think on what might sound good to you for dinner here at home.” James begins tracing the planes of your face as he talks, down your cheekbone from the corner of your eye, up the bridge of your nose, and across your opposite eyebrow. “I’ll go to the store once you decide, and you two can have your bath while I whip dinner up for us. Okay?” 

Lily holds you to her so she can lean forward without jostling you, kissing James ardently on his cheek. 

“I think that’s a lovely plan,” she says while he grins. 

You’re smiling, too, looking at them with much the same expression James imagines he wore when he came home to find the two of you together. “You don’t have to go to the store,” you say. “We have food here, don’t we?” 

“Probably,” James agrees. “But you’ve had a long day, you deserve to have whatever you want for dinner. At the least.” 

You open your mouth, but James speaks again. 

“And if you say you want frozen lasagna or butter on toast or the leftovers from last night, I won’t believe you.” 

Your smile goes sheepish, caught. 

“Why don’t you think on that,” Lily suggests, “and James, could you bring me the phone book so I can look up the hotel?” 

“Be right back,” he says, kissing both you and Lily again before he hops up. Lily takes his jaw in her hand, kissing him hard and with gratitude. It’s the sort of kiss that leaves James trying to blink himself back into focus as he leaves the room. 

He must look it, too, because your laugh, arguably the loveliest sound on Earth, follows him out. “Thanks, Jamie,” you say. 

Yeah, James is definitely the luckiest guy in the world.

[revelboo]

Revel I cannot express enough how much your writing sparks a giddy feeling in my heart and stomach! You have such a way with words!

May I humbly ask for some mechs reacting to their little human crafting something as a gift for them? Your choice of bots/cons! I just think they would be fascinated at how our tiny fragile hands worked so hard to make something just for them :)

Thank you so much!

Making a Gift For Them Headcanons

Wheeljack

• Vocal indicators blinking when you triumphantly hold up the tray, he can’t help but smile behind his mask. You’ve got energon smudged on your cheek and staining your fingers. And sure, there wasn’t really a reason for you to take a cookie cutter as you’d called it to perfectly good semi-solid energon goodies, but he appreciates the effort. That you’d wanted to make him something special. Expression hopeful and uncertain, he takes the tray from you and sets it down, before pulling you into his arms. “Thank you,” he says, smiling at your puzzled ‘Don’t you want to try them first?’ Couldn’t care less about how they taste, all that matters is that you’d made them for him. Thought of him.

Starscream

• “You made this? For me?” Hooking an arm around your waist, he drags you into him. Doesn’t even care what it is, only that you’d thought of him and made a gift that’s only his. Not Soundwave’s. Not Megatron’s. His. “I knew you loved me best. Were loyal to me,” he growls, pressing his face against your neck.

• Face flushing as he wraps himself around you, there’s no point in bursting his bubble and explaining that you’d made new polishing cloths for all of them, painstakingly stitching their names on each one. He’s happy and that’s all that matters.

TFP Ratchet

• Venting tiredly as you bend over his hand, you’d insisted he mass shift and give you his hand. Has so many things he needs to get done, but hadn’t been able to say no to you. So his hand is in your lap, your back to him so he can’t tell what you’re doing, but he can feel you messing with his servo. “Okay, doc,” you say, grinning as you hold up your hand and he frowns at you. You wrote his name around one of your fingers? Lifting his own hand, he finds your name around his servo. “I figured your hands were too big for a wedding ring and if I did find one big enough, you’d just break it mass shifting.” Shrugging at him, it’s the wedding part he’s latched on to. Knows from talking to June that it’s a human bonding ceremony. And you’d laid your claim on him, marked him as yours, his spark warming. “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. It’ll wash off eventually,” you add when he’s silent, shoulders hunching. ‘If I wanted it to be permanent?’ He asks, voice a gruff rumble and your face heats.

Tarantulas

• Lowering himself to his peds and bending when you imperiously wave him down, his extra limbs cage you as you attach the thing you’ve made to his chassis. Flowers? Knows you’ve been ranging away from his lair hunting some and that you’d given him an absolutely scandalized look when he’d suggested that there were plenty of fake flowers right outside. Apparently, you’d considered taking those grave robbing. “It’s lovely?” Doesn’t know what to make of this, but you’d thought of him. Made something with those soft hands for him when not that long ago you were frightened of him. And you lean up and brush your mouth against his mandibles. Freezing aside from one extra leg that hooks and taps against your thigh.

Constructicons

• “Oh for Primus’s sake,” Scrapper growls as Bonecrusher shoves him aside, hands cupped. And you smile up at him, leaning to lay the tiny, paper swan you’d folded in his palm. You’d made the thing for him, but it’s not like he has any use for it. But it’s the principle of the thing. You made it for him, not Bonecrusher. That’s his and he’s going to have it or die trying to take it. Seizing his much bigger brother by the wrist, Bonecrusher head butts him when he tries to take the swan. “It’s mine!” Barely aware of you retreating into your tiny habsuite with a disgruntled ‘I made you all one.’

Earthspark Soundwave

• Growling as he vents, his servos flex when you lower your hands and your little offering. And for some reason your disappointment bothers him. Can’t even figure out why you’d make him something to begin with. Hasn’t he made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want you here? That you’re only an intruder and a nuisance? “Yeah. Nevermind,” you mumble, turning away and now his cassettes are staring at him. “It was silly anyway.” He might as well have kicked you with the way Frenzy is frowning at him. Even Ravage looks unhappy with him. Snarling, he leans and pinches the back of your shirt between two servos and tugs you back. ‘Give it here,’ he demands as you shoot him a surly look. Apparently not wanting him to have his gift anymore. ‘Now.’ What is he even going to do with this? And maybe it is sweet that you’d thought of him and wanted to make him something, but he’s not admitting that to anyone. Let alone you.

[landopoet]

somewhere in between.

pairing lando x reader, university au

synopsis in which lando falls victim to an irresistible and mysterious girl, who knows nothing about love or how to keep it around. not until it’s too late, anyway.

warnings angsty fic, no use of y/n

author’s note wrote this fic in three days, new record! hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you to @clovermoters for being my little cheerleader and bestie 5eva <3 love u millions!

₊ ⊹

You first met Lando in a cramped lecture hall during the first semester of university.

The professor was talking about something that you paid no mind to, mindlessly transcribing as much of the information as you heard. You knew you could find the full lecture online later, anyway, as this professor made it convenient for students to slack off by sending all his PowerPoints and Word documents to them.

As your fingers flickered over the keyboard, your attention became divided between what the professor was saying and the curious personality that just bursted in through the door.

He was something of a mess— damp curls stuck to his forehead as a wide grin spread across his face, below his lips were speckled hairs that looked like a sad version of a goatee. His breathless and grinning self found you in the third row from the front, and he took a seat without asking for permission.

“I hate the rain,” he whispered as he unzipped his damp jacket.

You glanced briefly at him, noticing how much more vibrant he seemed up close. He seemed like the type of person that exudes warmth just by being, like you didn’t have to go outside to get warmed up by the sun and merely sitting next to him would grow even the smallest spark into a flame.

It made you nervous.

Without saying a word, and instead choosing to hold an uncomfortable amount of eye contact, you turned back to your laptop and realised you missed about half the lecture by now.

The stranger pulled out a notepad and a pen, and scribbled down a few words before pushing the paper towards you.

What did I miss? It read, in surprisingly neat handwriting.

You had half a mind to ignore him again, to simply pay attention to the class and pretend he didn’t exist. He hadn’t existed in your orbit before and there was no reason for him to join now, so there was no reason for why you would pick that pen up and write a response.

Despite your hesitation, you picked up his pen and wrote back: Nothing important. He’ll send you the whole lecture in an e-mail later anyway.

The man watched as your fingers pushed the notebook back towards him, a small smile playing on his lips once he realised he had put a tiny crack in your shell.

There was something about you that made him curious, intrigued, despite spending barely ten minutes in your presence.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man grin at your reply, and something in your stomach tightened.

—

Amidst the noise of the campus cafeteria, at a table in the farthest corner you could find, you found yourself nestled between a pile of books and electronics. Sure, it’d be more convenient to go to the library and study there, but you actually found the cacophonous sound of mixed conversations quite soothing to your mind.

It reminded you that you were alone in your space but not lonely, whereas a library would only discourage you from doing any work because everyone there is always quiet, there’s no distant chatter about the guys from the university football team or the professor who grades work based on handwriting.

And at the cafeteria, you could be in your own orbit, surrounded by glimmering stars that made you feel less alone. It was just you, your books and your uninterrupted study.

You continued to write down the main notes of a lecture you skipped last week due to a sick day. The flu was going around and you managed to catch a weak case of it, and today was your first day back from bedrotting in your dorm.

The discordant feeling of your studying was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Hey,” you raised your head to look at who exactly it was.

A small look of surprise flashed across your face when you realised it’s the stranger from the lecture a few weeks ago. He looked a lot less messy now and, instead of a damp jacket and dripping curls, he was dressed in a knit sweater over a button-up shirt and black dress pants with his curls in a neat bunch on his head. It’s only now you noticed that they cascaded down his neck into a mullet. You never really liked the look of them, but he seemed to suit it well.

You realise you hadn’t answered him and he was just standing there awkwardly, two paper cups in hand. When he noticed you glancing over at the items he held, he cleared his throat. “I got an extra by accident, want it?”

After a moment of hesitation you curtly nodded your head and he took that as an invitation to sit across from you as he slid the cup to your side of the table. “It’s green tea with honey and lemon. Heard it’s good for brain power or something, and I noticed you weren’t in lectures the past week so,” he explained.

“Thanks,” you brought the cup up to your lips and took a small sip, the warmth and flavour of green tea caressing your tongue. It clicks in your brain that he noticed your absence and a warmth spreads across your chest. You’re not sure if it’s from the tea anymore.

It was also then that you realised you didn’t know his name and glanced over at the cup across from yours— the one his slender fingers were holding for warmth— in hopes of catching a glimpse of who the stranger was.

It wasn’t cold enough outside for coats and scarves, but chilly enough to seek out heat in any possible place. Many couples on campus found themselves holding hands in each other’s pockets or sharing those two person gloves, but you, and the stranger across from you, found yourselves caressing paper cups full of warm liquids. You wondered what his drink of choice was and glanced at the cup for far too long, he noticed.

“Peppermint tea, it’s my favourite.” He gives you a soft smile before nudging his chin towards your stack of books. “What’re you reading?”

“Just something for class,” you explain in your usual calm and quiet voice. He found it endearing— the way you didn’t stand out or try to be known. You were quiet, focused and driven, and that was something he never knew he was attracted to until he met you.

You didn’t remember him from before the lecture he was late for, but he always observed you from across campus. The way your hair fell over your face in gentle waves and you stuck your tongue out, focused on scribbling down whatever you had in your mind.

Maybe it was the intelligence he was attracted to, or maybe it was just you.

He taunted. “You always read for class. Don’t you read books just for fun sometimes?”

“I do,” you shrug. You didn’t feel like explaining every detail of your life to him, and it maybe even bothered you a little that he expected you to be an open book that he could flip through and learn whatever he wanted to.

“Alright,” a challenging tone outlines his voice as it hits your ears. “What’s the best book you’ve read recently? Not including whatever’s in your stack right now.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and thought about it for a second. “The Bell Jar.”

“Pssh,” he huffed. “Bleak.”

Your eyebrows drew in closer, face riddled with confusion as you tilted your head to the side. “Some people like bleak things.”

The stranger nodded, taking a moment to glance around your set up— the laptop your fingers had so hastily typed lecture notes on was covered in various stickers; your hair was put up in a flower claw clip; your hoodie had a graphic and some words that he could figure came from a song of some sorts. He noticed you added a little blue eyeshadow to the inner corner of your eye and your eyeliner wasn’t sharp, but it was noticeable and suited you well.

He doesn’t know you well enough to draw solid conclusions, but his voice hums in your ears when he says, “yeah, but you don’t seem like the type to.”

—

You kept running into each other— at the library, in lectures, in the campus cafe. It wasn’t intentional, you two just happened to be there, but Lando— you finally learnt his name— took it as fate. He kept trying to convince you that the universe gifted him to you as a way to crack open your shell. You began to believe him.

Over time, you two became friends and you weren’t really sure how it happened. It’s just that Lando never stopped talking to you, never let you fully retreat back into yourself. He made you feel like being quiet wasn’t the same as being invisible.

“You like me,” Lando said one night, as you sat on the steps outside a party neither of you wanted to be at.

You told him that you’d most likely end up leaving early, and he teased you for it. But you went anyway, for no other reason than to spend more time with him. Lando thought it was endearing how you came to the party, despite scowling the whole time.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re tolerable.”

He laughed, nudging his shoulder against yours as his eyes looked over at you trying to hide your smile. “Admit it, you like me.”

You exhale through your nose and let your lips curl up into a little smile. “Fine. You’re not awful.’

Lando smiled at you like you had handed him something precious. He looked out at the street and watched how the night slowly creeped its shadows over the peaceful scenery ahead. There was a feeling in the air that felt awkward, scary and comforting all at once. “Well, for the record, I like you, too.”

You tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat to hide how anxiety had crawled down your spine and nestled in the tremoring taps of your fingers. Lando watched as you stood up and insisted on walking you back to your dorm. As the cold of autumn air creeped down your neck, you found yourselves outside the campus dorms, on the stairs, neither of you making a move to go inside.

Lando’s hands were anxiously balling into fists by his side, and then his fingers stretched out. You noticed his hands a lot. How they were always so present when he’s speaking and trying to explain topics that you didn’t understand or how he would casually touch the arm or back of someone he was speaking to. You noticed it because you noticed everything. He never did that to you.

The question left your mouth before you could stop it. “Why don’t you touch me like you do to everyone else?”

Lando blinked, genuine surprise flashing across his face as he thought of the answer. “I didn’t think you’d like that.”

“I wouldn’t,” you admitted, chin resting on your knees as your arms wrapped around your bent legs. “But still.”

Lando hesitated. He gently observed you— your scarf hid most of your face and your hands were so softly pressed against your calves. Eventually, you felt the soft caress of his knuckles against yours. It was light, barely there, but you felt it in your chest.

“Better?” His green eyes locked on yours as you turned to look at him.

You nodded and he didn’t pull away.

—

You kissed for the first time in his apartment, after an argument.

In the small kitchen of his apartment, as he leaned back against the electric stove and you leaned back on the counter across from him, Lando pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you even like me?”

You looked up at him with a glint of uncertainty in your eye that pierced him right in the chest. It was all so quick— the feather-soft touches on your waist as he walked past you; late-night study sessions at each other’s apartment or dorm, that usually ended up with the other person staying over for the night; the ‘accidental’ scooting closer to you whenever you sat next to each other during bonding events with your coursemates.

Somewhere in all of that— in the longing gaze at you from across the lecture hall, in the casual inclusion of you in the conversations with his mates, in the words spoken while drowsy with sleep— you started feeling it, too. And your first instinct wasn’t to embrace the feelings and allow your friendship to evolve into something more.

The most logical thing you could’ve thought to do was deny and pull away.

There’s no way Lando actually likes you. You spoke to your best friends, who lived on opposite sides of town, but could tell that Lando genuinely did like you. For some odd reason, you wouldn’t let yourself believe it. You had a habit of pulling away when things got too real, and Lando was a victim of it.

It was unexpected, but the flurry of unexpressed feelings and you pulling away as soon as everything got too real made Lando insecure, scared and lost.

A few weeks ago, he noticed you ignoring his texts, avoiding his eyes when you caught a glimpse of him entering the lecture hall, excusing yourself from activities he’d usually bring you to.

When he finally caught you alone in the halls of your university, he grabbed you by the elbow— gently, of course, but harsh enough to pull you away from the group of people next to you– and forced you to look at him. “You’re avoiding me,” he stated, a slight hint of anger and worry in his voice. “Why?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Lando.” You shook his hands off of your elbows. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what? I know your daily routine like the back of my hand, and at some point, I was part of it.” He sounded hurt, like you pushing him away and distancing yourself actually meant something to him. You thought he wouldn’t notice and that he’d let you go, and things would go back to how they were— you’d be two strangers again.

“You are,” you bit your lip and tried to come up with something to say. “I’ve just been busy, Lando. I took up extra assignments from our professor, I need my grade up.”

“And that’s really it?” Lando crosses his arms over his chest.

You sighed and slumped your shoulders. “Can we please not do this here? People are watching.”

Lando scoffed and shook his head. “Fine. Come over for dinner and then we’ll talk.”

You watched him walk away, knowing you had hurt him more than anticipated. Obviously you pushing him away would’ve upset him, you just never thought that he’d actually care enough to try and pull you back in.

And, fortunately for him, it worked, because now you’re in his tiny kitchen that seems to get smaller every second you don’t speak.

You fiddled with your entwined fingers as you looked down, feeling Lando’s gaze burning into you. Finally, you look up at him. “I do.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” He begs, hands in the air as he steps closer to you. “Why don’t you show that you like me?”

Something inside you cracked, like a part of your soul has been revealed to him and you had no choice but to let him see it. “I… I don’t know how.”

Lando exhaled sharply before taking your face into his hands and pulling you in. His lips were gentle and softly moulded against yours, not moving until he was sure you wouldn’t pull away.

Meanwhile, you felt like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. You kissed him back as if you were making up for the time you spent distancing yourself and pushing him away, and Lando smiled against your teeth before pulling you in closer.

—

A week later you found yourself at another party, this time accompanied not only by Lando but also your friend, Blair, who was a good friend of Lando’s as well.

You sat on the kitchen counter with Blair right next to you in her neat, maroon dress and mary janes on her feet. Lando had left you two half an hour ago to go find some of his other friends and catch up, so you weren’t worried about having to leave alone at the end of the night.

Alcohol tasted bitter on your tongue, but even more so when you finally caught a glimpse of the curly head of hair you had begun to miss. He sat snugly on the couch with a girl in his lap, Lando’s lips moving hungrily against hers— completely opposite to all the times he’s kissed you.

You watch them for a minute, then three, then five, and when your ogling reached half an hour, Blair nudged your shoulder. “You could say something, y’know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”

It’s true. You weren’t together, not really. You two never defined it, never talked about what it was. Lando kissed other people. You pretended it didn’t bother you.

Blair gave you a look. It did bother you. “But it is.”

That night, you went home early. Lando didn’t follow you.

—

You found yourself at his apartment the very next evening. He had asked you to come over and help him study for an upcoming exam, and you weren’t one to turn down someone in need, especially not Lando.

The study session was as normal as usual— Lando’s touch lingered on your arm when he finally understood what he needed to write down; he nudged your shoulder when he noticed you were spacing out; he kept saying sweet things and stealing kisses.

And, as per usual, you two lost track of time and it was too late for you to take a train back to your campus. You were sure the security guards would give you a hard time about coming back to your dorm at one in the morning.

You ended up in Lando’s bed again. Although you two were never intimate. The most that’s ever happened between you two was Lando’s hands up your shirt, before you stopped him. It got too real, you got scared and Lando let it go.

Lando was sleeping soundly beside you as you stared at the ceiling. Except he wasn’t— he watched the silhouette of your face, barely illuminated by the moon behind the curtains.

“Are you in love with me?” He asked, half-asleep beside you. Lando’s not sure what prompted the question, but something in him needed to know that your jealousy last night wasn’t just because.

You just stared at the ceiling. “No.”

It was a while before he responded. Then, in a barely-there whisper, “liar.”

You turned to face away from him, pressing your face into the pillow.

The two of you kept doing this— circling each other, never quite holding on, never quite letting go.

You mustered up the courage to turn around and face him again. He was already looking at you as if he expected it. “Why do you put up with me?”

“What do you mean?”

You exhale deeply. “I’m a difficult person to be friends with, let alone be… whatever we are. Why don’t you just let that go?”

“Because I love you, obviously.” He said it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to.”

Under the dim moonlight, still shadowed by thin curtains, you could see Lando’s expression soften as his hand came up to caress your cheek. “I know. But I do.”

You fell asleep before saying it back. Lando didn’t need you to.

—

When it all became too real again— when Lando told you he loved you everyday and you felt the pressure of reciprocation weighing on your shoulders— you started to pull away again. This time, he let you.

Things ended slowly, like a candle burning out and you were the wax dripping into different squiggled shapes until neither of you merged together anymore.

You told yourself that it was for the best. That you were too difficult, too closed off for someone like him. That he deserved someone who could love him, without hesitation or fear.

It’s been a few weeks now, but some nights you lay awake thinking about him. The way he could make anyone feel like they belonged by simply talking to them. The way he had told you he loved you like it wasn’t the hardest thing for you to handle and like it was the simplest truth he could ever have told.

You continued to tell yourself that you did the right thing.

You told yourself this every time you sat in lectures and glanced over at the empty seat beside you, where Lando would slide in all breathless and charming. You told yourself this as you walked past the campus cafe, ignoring how the corner booth you two had claimed as your own was now taken by a couple— one much happier than you ever were.

You told yourself this as you lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that you felt free rather than lost.

And you were beginning to believe it. Until he called.

It was late—past midnight—and you were half asleep, blurry eyes watching as Lando’s contact lit up your screen.

Your finger hovered over the screen, hesitant, before pressing accept. For a moment, all you heard was shallow breathing. Then his voice, quiet, unsure. “Hey.”

You sat up, anxiously gripping your blanket. When your silence extended past his expectation, he let out a laugh. Breathy and sad. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Are you drunk?” Your eyebrows furrowed, a pang in your heart so strong that it made you nauseous.

After a while, he admitted. “Yeah, but that’s not why I called.”

You closed your eyes, rubbing your temple. “Lando-“

“No. Just… Just let me say this, okay?” His voice wavered, either with a cry or due to him being drunk. “I know you don’t want this. I know you don’t want me. But, fuck, I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

Lando heard your breath hitch.

“I keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt anymore,” Lando continued, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. “That I’ll wake up, get dressed, see you in class and it won’t sting anymore. But it does. It always does.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, eyes burning with unshed tears. “Lando.” Your plea goes unnoticed as he continues.

“I keep replaying it all.” He admitted, voice trembling, a little quieter. “All the times I could’ve said something different, something better. All the times we stayed up at my apartment talking, and you looked at me like I was something you couldn’t figure out.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as your back plopped down against your pillows, tears running down your cheeks and into the fabric beneath you.

“And I wonder if I had just held on a little tighter, would you have stayed? Because I would have stayed for you,” he whispered. “I would’ve chosen you every single time.”

A silence stretched out between the two of you— fragile, breaking, endless.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “That’s all from me.”

He expected you to say something. To ramble on and on about how he’s wrong, how you wouldn’t have stayed, or maybe how you would’ve but he just didn’t try hard enough.

Instead, you gripped your phone, knuckles white. There were so many things you could say— that you missed him, that you were sorry, that you had loved him, too— loved him so much that it terrified you.

And fear had always been the loudest in your mind. So you did what you always do, you stayed silent. Lando exhaled, a sound that broke something inside you. “Goodbye, then.”

You were left in the silence and dark of your room, only the ghost of his voice still ringing in your ear. You told yourself that this was the right thing.

—

The next time you saw him was completely unexpected. It was a week after the call.

You had avoided places where you might run into him. Your routine— the one that previously contained Lando— was now a careful and predictable thing. You had meticulously planned it out— arrive to class early, leave early, avoid people who reminded you of him. You thought that if you stayed out of his orbit— that if you were just a distant star— the space between you two could be filled with anything but regret. But that didn’t work.

It was a Tuesday, the sun starting to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the campus. You had just finished an afternoon seminar and were heading toward the library, your bag slung over your shoulder, mind focused on the reading you had to catch up on.

As you turned a corner, you almost collided with someone.

Lando.

His eyes widened as he stepped back, as if surprised to see you. There was an awkward beat, a brief second where you both just stood there, locked in a kind of frozen disbelief.

You didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t planned for this moment. You hadn’t expected to see him again—certainly not so soon, and certainly not with that look on his face, the kind of look that made you realize how much distance had formed between you.

“Hey,” Lando said, his voice flat, like he was unsure of what else to say.

“Hey,” you managed, heart racing.

There was a long silence. You tried to read his expression, but it was difficult—like he was hiding something. Or maybe it was just that he was different now.

“I…” Lando started, then stopped himself. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m not gonna be around much longer.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m leaving the university.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You’re what?”

“Leaving,” he repeated, quieter this time. He finally looked up at you, his eyes heavy with something—something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m transferring. Going somewhere else.”

Your stomach dropped. “When?”

“A few weeks.” He shrugged, like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t a big deal. But his voice wavered. He wasn’t as casual as he pretended to be.

You felt your chest tighten. “Why?”

Lando looked at you, then away again. “It’s just… not working here anymore. With everything. The classes, the people, the—” He exhaled, cutting himself off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need a change. I just… need something different.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You had so many questions, so many things you wanted to say. But the words felt stuck in your throat, like they couldn’t escape, like they’d been buried under the weight of too many unsaid things.

“I didn’t tell anyone yet,” Lando continued, glancing at you, then quickly looking away again. “But I thought you should know. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to process the weight of his words. “So… you’re just leaving?”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best.”

For the best. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. There was no anger in his voice, no bitterness—only resignation, like he had already made peace with something you couldn’t understand.

A lump formed in your throat. “I didn’t know you were unhappy here.”

“I wasn’t. Not at first,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was confessing something. “But… things changed. I changed.”

Your heart twisted. You had been too caught up in your own fears, your own decisions, to see how much he had been struggling. You had let him go without realizing how far he had already drifted.

“I just thought you should know,” Lando repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Before I go.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts spinning. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t. You didn’t know how to make him understand. How could you explain that you never meant to push him away? That it had been your own fear, your own inability to deal with what was happening between you two that had caused all this?

But you couldn’t say any of that.

Instead, you said something simpler, something that felt inadequate but necessary.

“I’m sorry.”

Lando shook his head quickly, as if brushing off your words. “Don’t apologize.”

A silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You felt like you were losing him all over again, but this time, it was different. This time, it wasn’t just about distance. It was about the reality of him choosing to leave.

After a long pause, Lando sighed, his voice breaking through the quiet. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not even…” He stopped, as if he couldn’t finish the sentence. Then, with a small, sad smile, he added, “I just wish things had been different.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You couldn’t find the strength to say anything more.

Lando looked at you one last time, his gaze lingering for a moment, like he was waiting for something. Then, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading as he disappeared into the crowd.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, as the world continued to move around you.

And for the first time in a long while, you understood what it meant to truly lose someone.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I saw you were having a bad time so here’s grandpa Abel and baby Koden 🥺🧡 hope things look up for you!

ALAJWBDKFHFCBKSWI

Smiles they’re SO CUTE

Look how squishy baby Koden’s cheeks are oh my gosh 😭

Abel’s faaaaace 😭😭😭

Gosh I wish I could scream more about this I’m just going to hold it and admire it thank you so much

[marauder-misprint]

Hiiii!!! I think that's what everyone wants from you, but you're so good at it, so I'm going to ask you for Fem!reader x Sirius.

If you're comfortable with writing, I'd like to read about Sirius and the reader having a pureblood wedding with an "arranged marriage". Sirius would be strongly opposed to this idea, and to be honest, even though it's Sirius, the reader wouldn't like a forced marriage either. I am ready to read all kinds of happy and unhappy endings. I just love your imagination, if you write something like this, I would love it.

Hi! Thank you so much for this request! I literally wrote this in one evening because I got the storyline and needed to run with it. It's more story than dialogue, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. I think the ending technically counts as happy. I hope you enjoy it

'Not a pawn'

Sirius Black x Fem!!reader

4.5k words

cw: angst, arranged marriage

You were thirteen when your parents told you about it. An arranged marriage with the eldest Black son. You knew him from school, and he wasn’t terrible. But it was the principle of the matter. You were directly told that there was no point to date while at Hogwarts, your husband was already chosen for you.

You frowned deeply. Your mother, with no concern for your displeasure, told you to stop it, frowning caused wrinkles. Of course, that was her only care. You had to be pristine to be a future matriarch of the house of Black. 

You often wondered how the arrangement came to be. Why had the Black family chosen you? Why had your family chosen them? Who reached out first? What did the other have to offer for it to come together? 

Obviously, your family had enough social status to even be considered. And it must be a hefty amount since Sirius started acting out the moment he tasted freedom at Hogwarts. You would’ve been daft to not know that the Black family needed someone to rein him in, redeem him even. Honestly, a portion of you felt honored that Walburga and Orion thought you had it in you. 

You had met them several times before the arrangement came to be. There had been socials and parties, the occasional ball and dinner. Pure blood families stuck together. You knew a large portion of those gatherings was for the adults to find pairs for their children. It was like the Black family motto, toujours pur: always pure. They believed that the wizarding bloodline couldn’t be tainted with muggle blood and so, marriages were made like deals. Your blood status reduced you to an item to be haggled over. 

From your limited interactions with Sirius, you knew he was no happier about the arrangement than you were. He was noticeably more upset. Furious even. You tried not to be insulted. You told yourself it wasn’t about you. Like it was you, it was about the principle. Except you thought that you should be able to marry for love and Sirius, well, he hated just about everything his parents stood for. He wanted nothing to do with his pure blood status, and therefore, nothing to do with you. So despite being betrothed to each other, you barely exchanged a word or glance while you were at school. 

His actions only supported how much he was against the idea of marrying you. While you focused on school and maintaining a perfect image, Sirius flirted with anyone deem tolerable and if someone managed to get into a relationship with him, it never lasted. He made it his mission to prove to everyone that he couldn’t be tied down, certainly not to you, someone picked by his parents. 

If you were honest with yourself, the arrangement didn’t feel real until your seventh year. Your parents started planning the wedding. It was to happen in early July after you graduated. Sirius running away before sixth year had raised concerns, but Walburga and Orion insisted that he was still to be your husband, no matter what his actions said. 

When classes started, you wrote to your parents to express your own concern about the arrangement. They brushed off your concerns and instructed you to let the adults handle it. Like you weren’t essentially an adult and to be married in a matter of months. It angered you. You hated that this large aspect of your life still felt like it was up in the air and no one would listen to your issues with it. You were one of the few within your friend group that was arranged to be married. Some of your friends were half blood or muggle born, so obviously, they wouldn’t be picked. Some of your pure blood friends’ families were more progressive and didn’t follow in that tradition. And your friends who had their lives planned out for them were paired with boys who didn’t put up a fight against it. 

You sought out the one person who would understand how you felt about it all: Sirius. 

You found him in the Astronomy Tower, enjoying the November evening. He didn’t hear you come up the stairs. He didn’t notice you until you were standing right next to him, leaning over the railing and looking wistfully at the ground. He raised his eyebrows in surprise before looking away, not bothering to say anything.

“We need to talk,” you said firmly after a few minutes of standing in silence.

“We do? That’s news to me,” he replied dryly.

You weren’t shocked that he had no intentions of talking with you. This was the closest you had been to each other physically since you were thirteen. Every social gathering that you happened to be at together, Sirius was on the other side of the room. He refused to be seen associating with you. He didn’t want it to appear like he was accepting his inevitable fate. 

“July. It’s coming whether we like it or not.” 

He barked out a cold laugh. “We. Like you aren’t pleased with the matching.” 

“Could’ve been with someone worse, you’re right,” you said. “It’s more the… being told who I have to marry that I have a problem with.”

Sirius didn’t respond. He continued staring out across the school grounds. You took it as a sign to keep talking, although you knew deep down that Sirius would’ve just liked you to leave him alone.

“It doesn’t seem like we have any way out of it. And I figure, if we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, we might as well get to know each other? It’d make the situation less unbearable.”

“We won’t be spending the rest of our lives together. Don’t bother getting your hopes up.”

You hummed a response. “Your parents seem to think it’s happening.”

“They’re wrong.” He spoke with such finality that you almost believed him. 

You let silence fall between you for a minute. The biting cold wind drove you to wrap your scarf tighter around your neck, and then your robe. Sirius, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind it. He wasn’t wearing a scarf or gloves and his robes were discarded somewhere behind him. 

“Did they ever talk to you about it?” you asked. Your voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren’t standing right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

“Walburga and Orion don’t talk.” He gave you a sharp look. “Just like I’m sure your parents didn’t talk to you about it.”

“We’ve… conversed,” you said slowly, as if it meant anything more than what it was.

He tutted. “Right. And did they listen to anything you had to say?”

“No.”

“Precisely.”

You clenched your fists. You wanted to talk to Sirius, to somehow make your life after Hogwarts have some semblance of happiness. But this man beside you was a stranger to you and he didn’t seem interested in talking. You kept trying for your own sake.

“Why do you seem so convinced that July isn’t happening?”

“The month will come. Time passes.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned your shoulders so you were facing him. 

“The wedding, Black. Our marriage.”

“Can’t marry a bloke who’s not there.”

“You’re just not going to show up?” 

He nodded, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cartridge of cigarettes. He pulled one out and offered the pack to you. You shook your head. He pocketed it and lit the one in his mouth with a snap of his fingers. You watched as he inhaled, held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, and then blew it out into the night. 

“Have you thought about how you not showing up would affect me?” 

“Don’t really care.” 

You scoffed. “Maybe you should. My entire future depends on you showing up.”

More frustrated with the world than when you first climbed the Astronomy Tower, you turned and left Sirius. Although, now you had something real to consider. What would happen if Sirius really did refuse to show up? How far would your families go into the planning and actual production of a ceremony before realizing that you would be walking up the aisle alone with no one waiting for you at the altar? You knew they couldn’t even fall back on Regulus as a back up; he had already been promised to someone else and they seemed like an agreeable match. 

You let yourself fall into a dream of what you would do if you weren’t the future Mrs. Black. You’d actually have to find a job. It wouldn't be too huge of a problem given your grades and dedication to your studies, but it was something you hadn’t put too much thought into. You’d have the opportunity to act on crushes you’ve harbored over the years. You’d have a freedom to do whatever you pleased, a feeling that you hadn’t had since your second year of schooling. 

All of this dreaming, of course, was also relying on your parents not scrambling to find you another suitor. Some last minute younger sibling of another pure blood family who they hadn’t bothered finding a partner for. That thought was worse than the idea of marrying Sirius for some reason, even though he clearly didn’t want to be your husband. 

You let Sirius be for a while. You didn’t try talking to him leading up to Christmas break. You went home to find your mother in full planning mode. Instead of a restful break or one filled with endless studying to ensure that you ace your N.E.W.T. exams, you assisted your mother in planning a wedding you weren’t sure was going to happen. The brief two weeks were filled with deciding flowers, testing cake flavors, making an invite list, and the most surreal of it all, trying on dresses. Your mother said she would keep you up to date as far as planning went. She assured you that once your exams were over and graduation passed, the month of June would fly by. She said that like it should be comforting. Exciting. Thrilling. A bunch of things except the dread and fear that burned inside of you. 

You found Sirius again. He was in the greenhouses. You didn’t want to assume that he was hiding from someone, but he had that look to him. If you didn’t think too hard on it, it was easy to believe that he was hiding from you, although you hadn’t publicly announced that you were looking for him again.

“I have a dress,” you said as you approached where he was sitting on the upper level of greenhouse #4. 

“Congrats, I guess,” he said with a tinge of confusion to his voice. Like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

You sat down next to him, your rehearsed neutral expression practically etched into your features.

“A white one. For July.”

“Who’s the lucky bastard?” 

“You.” 

The air between you was tense but both of you spoke with uninterested tones. 

“I don’t recall asking you to be mine.” Just like last time, he barely turned his head to glance at you. His eyes were trained on the tinted glass ceiling. 

“Everyone but you is certain that this union is happening. Everything is set in motion. Can you at least humor me? Pretend to care?” Your voice had a hint of desperation but you were quick to cover it. “You wouldn’t leave a girl at the altar, would you?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but you knew you got his attention. He sat up and faced you with a frown as deep as the one you had when your parents first told you that you were being forced to marry him.

“I won’t be leaving you at the altar. You won’t be walking down an aisle toward me. Got it, princess?” 

“And what makes you think that?”

“I know that because I am not a pawn for my parents to use for their personal gain. I have my own plans for after graduation. You should make your own.” He stood and took a step to walk away. Then he looked back at you. “Remus says you’re a bright girl. Don’t waste it on waiting around for a wedding that’s not happening.” 

Then he left. He disappeared down the stairs and you heard doors open and close as he passed through them. You lingered in the warmth of the greenhouse. You considered Sirius’ words, just like last time. You wished you possessed the ability to walk away from the situation like he did. 

Could you? Besides many of your physical belongings being at your parents’ house, what would happen if you didn’t return after graduation? Did you have the ability to get your own flat somewhere in London and find a job and leave your parents and family behind? Why did you feel a sense of duty to your parents and marrying a man they chose? 

You groaned and leaned back. Guilt washed over you. You hadn’t done anything but considered leaving your family behind for a world of freedom, yet it was enough to make your heart clench. 

Sirius began truly avoiding you. In the classes you had together, he made sure to always be on the other side of the room. He changed the routes he took to each class. If he happened to be in the library when you walked in, he left. He sat as far away from you during meal times as he could. 

He didn’t need to avoid you for the most part. You wanted to seek him out and try talking to him again so you could understand where he was coming from, how he thought. Something inside of you kept saying that if you talked to him again, you would feel the urge to abandon your family again, and that filled you with endless guilt. You had a duty to your family. That much was reminded to you every time your mother wrote to you. 

The spring term both dragged on and flew by at the same time. It was too short and too long. It was the end of your time at Hogwarts, and that meant you would no longer be seeing your friends every day. You’d be going out into what you called the real world soon. It felt like everything you did was for the last time. But the end of your time at school meant N.E.W.T.s and endless assignments. Professors assigned essay after essay. They required revisions and reviews. Each professor was determined that every single one of their students would pass. So your fleeting time within the castle was taken up surrounded by books and piles of parchment. You swore you went through more inkwells in those last few months than you did in the previous six years. 

Then the exams came and went. You were given a brief break from the bustle of everything. School was over. You had no more lessons to attend. No more assignments to return for a grade. No more endless studying and practicing spells, some of which you were certain you would never use outside of the castle walls. 

Graduation loomed ahead. 

Your respite was short lived. Too soon parents were descending on the grounds for the graduation ceremony. Before the ceremony, you spent time with your friends. This was it. The end of it all. It was an emotional time for everyone. Afterwards, you greeted your parents and Walburga and Orion. You didn’t know why you were surprised that they came. From what you knew, Sirius hadn’t actually talked to them since he ran away. You looked around for him as you stood next to the four older adults. Sirius was with the Potters, as you should have expected. He didn’t look your way once. The Blacks offered your their congratulations and told you that they were looking forward to someone of your intellectual caliber joining their family. 

So, they clearly thought the marriage was happening. Even with their son a short distance away and refusing to acknowledge them. 

After all of the festivities were finished, the parents went home and the graduates returned to their dorm for one last night in the castle. You yearned to find Sirius. You needed to know for certain that he wouldn’t be showing up in July. But, instead, you sat on your bed. Legs crossed and hands clasped, you sat. You stared at your mostly packed trunk. You stared at the empty walls that had once been adorned with various posters and photos. You stared out the window, a view you had grown so accustomed to. Your roommates were all in the common room having a final hurrah. You couldn’t be bothered to attend. You knew you might regret not having gone in later years, but right now, you needed to be with your thoughts.

You went home the next day. The train ride, despite taking all day, was too short. The ride back to your family’s home was filled with your mother summarizing the wedding plans, everything finished and finalized to the smaller details that still needed to be set in stone. You stared out the window, not bothering to entertain her. You listened, of course, but you offered no insight or opinions. 

And that was just a brief look into what the next month of your life was. Everything from that day onward orbited the wedding. Your thoughts, as they should have been, were on Sirius. In an alternate universe, these thoughts would have been filled with excitement about marrying a fine young man of excellent standing. In this other world, you would be thrilled for the start of the rest of your life. But it wasn’t another world. Your reality had your mind repeating the sentiments he voiced the two times he spoke to you. 

‘I am not a pawn.’

Were you a pawn? Was all of this for your parents’ personal gain and nothing for you? What was going to happen because you felt pretty sure that Sirius wouldn’t be there, no matter what the older adults thought? 

I am not a pawn.

This time, it was you thinking it. It was less than a week before your supposed wedding. In that other reality, it would be called getting cold feet, but you told yourself that you were coming to your senses. 

You packed a bag. You placed an undetectable extension charm on it so you could take as many of your belongings as you desired. You moved quietly throughout your room, but you kept moving. You knew if you stopped for a moment, you would change your mind. Your resolve would crumble if you hesitated. 

You listened for the conversation coming from the dining room. Your mother and father were going over the seating chart for the umpteenth time. As you stood outside the room, you heard your mother complaining about her sisters and how they got into a row two days ago and could not be seated anywhere near each other. Without seeing his face, you knew your father had his own rehearsed neutral expression. He was without a doubt tired of the conversation and all the wedding details. With you at school, he had had to endure the never ending lectures about flowers and colors and who had RSVP’d and what meal choices they requested.  

When your mother asked your father’s siblings, you took your chance. You slipped out the front door and started walking. You needed to put a little bit of distance between you and the house before you went where you weren’t certain you’d be welcome. 

You ducked into an alleyway in the nearby muggle village. You steadied yourself. You had to remind yourself that your parents were deep in discussion. It was after dinner. You usually remained in your room alone for the night. Your disappearance wouldn’t be noticed until morning when your mother would without a doubt go to chastise you about not rising early for breakfast. You took a deep breath and then apparated. 

You stood on the front step at the Potter Estate. You swallowed thickly. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you raised a shaky hand to knock on the door. You honestly felt like you were about to pass out from the nerve of doing this. 

No one answered the door for a minute. You shouldn’t have come. You knew you shouldn’t have. You should have stayed and been a dutiful daughter. You should have taken the shame of having a betrothed not show up to the wedding head on. 

Then it got worse. Sirius opened the door. 

He stood there, mouth gaping at the sight of you on the Potters’ step. 

“Did they send you to collect me?” he asked. He sounded so disinterested.

You didn’t know how to answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that no, you hadn’t been sent. You came of your own free will, seeking the freedom that he had. You just stood there with a bag over your shoulder. 

“Oi, Padfoot, who is it?” James’ voice rang from inside the house. 

“I’m not going to marry you,” Sirius said firmly, not answering his friend.

“I’m not asking you to. Can… can I come in?” You found your voice, but it was weak. You felt like you were going to cry. 

Sirius stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. You nodded. He closed the door behind you and then led you to the living room where James was lounging on a couch.

“Why’re you here?” James asked, sitting up slightly at the sight of you. 

“I…” you tried to speak, but this time your voice failed you. 

You stood there awkwardly. You hugged yourself as if that would render some courage so that you could explain why you appeared at the Potters’ house days before your wedding. A wedding that was doomed before it was even planned. 

“She asked to come in,” Sirius told James as he took a seat in an armchair next to James. 

A woman’s voice sounded from a different room. “James, Sirius, is someone here?”

“Just someone from school, Mum!” James yelled. 

There was no response from the woman and the two boys watched you carefully as you remained still. You didn’t know how to explain anything.

“Well?” James asked pointedly. “Why’re you here?” 

“I-I… I needed somewhere to go.” 

That was it. Tears started to fall down your face. You couldn’t stop them. You weren’t really sure why you were crying, but you were. You felt drained and confused and here you were, standing in a strange house that you really shouldn’t be in. You let yourself fall to the ground. You hugged your knees to your chest as you tried to collect yourself.

“Mum?” James called to his mother. “Can you come ‘ere?”

There was the scraping sound of a chair being shoved backwards. Then a woman who must’ve been James’ mother appeared in the doorway. She gasped and moved toward you, crouching when she got close enough to you. She ran a gentle hand over your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. She shushed you with a motherly warmness that you hadn’t felt from your mother since you were a small child. 

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Everything,” you sobbed.

Your vision was blurred from tears. You couldn’t see James and Sirius exchanging uncomfortable glances as Mrs. Potter concerned herself with you. Then she looked back at them.

“You said she’s from school?” 

Sirius cleared his throat. “She’s… erm, she’s the one I’m supposed to be marrying in a few days.”

“Oh.” It was vital information to Mrs. Potter. She turned back to you. “Would you like some tea?” 

You could barely bring yourself to nod. She helped you up and with a gentle grip, she led you into the kitchen where she had been before. James and Sirius, still very unsure about the whole situation, followed. While Mrs. Potter put a kettle on the stove and gathered four mugs, the three of you sat at the table. Your bag sat on the ground next to your chair. Tears no longer streamed down your face but your breathing was still ragged. 

When it was ready, Mrs. Potter served the tea and offered cream and sugar. Then the four of you sipped your teas quietly. After a minute when your breathing sounded more even, Mrs. Potter spoke.

“Are you here for Sirius?” 

You shook your head. 

“I… I’m here because of him.”

Mrs. Potter looked at you with a look of comforting encouragement. It was a silent urge to continue while the boys stared at you. As little as you talked to Sirius over the years, you had talked to James less. The oddity of you being inside the Potter Estate was immense.

“He got away,” you said slowly, putting space in between each word. “He left it all behind and… I want to do that too.” You swallowed and forced yourself to look Sirius and then at Mrs. Potter. “He came here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Mrs. Potter nodded. The boys’ stares persisted although they held something else in them. It was a different feeling that took over the table. You weren’t here to try to get Sirius to marry you. No. You were trying to escape the grasp of your parents. 

“I’ll set up a room for you.”

That was it. Mrs. Potter left you alone in the kitchen with the boys. You would have somewhere to spend the night and you could figure out what you were going to do tomorrow. There was a thickness to the silence that fell over the kitchen, but the boys didn’t leave you alone. They sat there, drinking their tea with you. They remained in the kitchen when Mrs. Potter came back to collect you to show you where you’d be spending the night. You thanked her. 

When she returned to the kitchen, she asked the boys what they knew about the situation and you in general. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had been able to say. It seemed to be understood that everything would need to be discussed more tomorrow. She bid the boys good night and reminded them not to stay up too late.

James and Sirius sat in silence in the kitchen. Neither knew what to say. Their evening of movie watching was disrupted and now they didn’t know what to do. When they finished their tea, they placed their mugs in the sink. James went to his room, but Sirius stopped by yours. He knocked and stepped just into the room when you responded.

“Leaving’s the first step, you know,” he said. He had a soft smile on his face like he was proud of you. “Congrats on getting out.” 

“We’re not pawns,” you said quietly. 

Sirius’ smile widened at that.

“That we are not. Get some sleep.”