#deep space estimation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesservillain · 3 months ago

Text

masterlist

summary: a new face enters your life and you're blissfully unaware of the impact it will have on you.

cw: sunshine!eddie x grumpy!reader, like really grumpy, some angst

wc: 6.2k

Muffled voices penetrate through your bedroom door. Standing on the other side, you have your ear pressed to the wood to try and make out the cutting words coming from the other side. It was a fruitless effort, but you tried all the same.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Tony.” Your mother’s voice sounds closer and you dare to crack the door open a bit. Just enough that you can see her walking from the kitchen to the front door from the second floor, a suitcase in her hand. Opening the door further, you peer out into the hallway, taking a few steps until you reach the top of the stairs.

“Please, Rebecca, just talk to me!” Your dad’s voice sounds hoarse, cracking with the weight of his sorrow. “Just tell me what I can do to fix this!”

“There’s nothing to fix. I have to move on, and I can’t do that trapped here.”

“Mom?”

Their heads snap in your direction. You didn’t know what was going on, your 8 year old mind too young to understand what was transpiring in front of you. All you knew was your dad was fully crying, something you’d never seen him do before.

Your mother looks at you, taking in a deep breath before shaking her head. She takes the bag in her hands and suddenly opens the front door. Light floods the house from a car that you don’t recognize parked in your driveway. Everything is still for a moment. Your mom turns to look at you one last time before wordlessly pushing open the storm door and exiting into the night.

“Rebecca!” Your dad yells out, rushing out the door behind her. You make a run down the stairs and stop at the door, watching through the glass as your dad follows your mom around the car. She lifts open the trunk and puts the suitcase inside, your dad frantically pleading with her as she does. But her face is unmoving, solid as stone as she rounds the car again and enters the passenger seat of the unknown vehicle.

Your dad bangs on the door, last ditch effort to make your mom change her mind. Hot tears rolled down your own cheeks as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Your mom was leaving.

And she wasn’t coming back.

Soft sounds of the radio from the office behind you filled your work space with a slight irritation. You wished that your dad would at least change the station to something other than country, even if it was just to break up the monotony. The thought of closing his office door crossed your mind, but you knew he would just protest and open it back up again.

Huffing out a sigh, your eyes scan your list of things to do today. You still needed to call about some parts that were going to be delivered to try and get an estimate on time, but the guy that answered the phone for the company was always a dick to you so you were putting that off. The break room needed to be cleaned, but that was something that you would save for the end of the shift. Going down the list you noticed where it was written that an interview was supposed to have come in at 11. You tilt your head looking at the clock to see that it’s a quarter til 1 and no one has shown up, so decide to scratch that off your list. A real shame too, since you guys were in need of the help.

The ring of the door bell catches your attention. Looking up from your paper, your eyes land on a young man, probably around your age, walking into the lobby. He’s dressed in a black button down shirt and nice slacks that sharply contrasted with the leather and denim jacket combo he was sporting. From what you can tell he has long locks that are currently pulled back into a low ponytail behind his head. His dress shoes clacked against the linoleum floor as he approached you at the desk.

“Welcome to Hawkins Auto Body, how can I help you?” You ask in your best customer service voice.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Eddie. I have an interview at 1 with Tony.” The smell of his cheap cologne permeates your senses and elicits the start of a migraine behind your eye. Looking back down at your list you don’t see another interview for 1 o’clock, just the one that was for 11 that you had crossed out.

“I don’t have an interview for that time. We were supposed to have one at 11 am. Could that have been when you were supposed to show?”

Eddie shifts in his spot as he straightens up. His brows furrow, eyes darting around as if he was looking for the answer to your question. His hands start to pat the pockets of his jacket, reaching inside and pulling out a small ripped piece of paper. “I had 1 written down on the paper.” There’s a slight panic in his voice. “Maybe I made a mistake, I know I’m at the right place.”

“Well, unfortunately the boss is very busy today, so he won’t be able to see you.” You were lying, knowing your dad he was probably reading a muscle car magazine as his desk. But the lack of showing up on time wasn’t something you were going to look past. If he couldn’t even show up for his interview on time how could you expect him to show up to work.

“Really? Are you sure? Maybe I could reschedule at a later time--”

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” You dad’s chipper voice called from behind you, making you cringe.

“Hey, Tony,” you say, preferring to refer to your dad by his name while at work, “I think this guy was your 11 o’clock. He wrote down the time wrong and--”

“Oh, hey! Eddie, right?” Your dad asks, stepping out of his office with a hand out and ready. Eddie takes your dad’s hand in his and shakes it enthusiastically.

“Yes, listen, I’m so sorry I got the times mixed up. If you need to I would totally be able to reschedule for another day.”

“No, you’re fine,” your dad says, irking you. “Come on back and we can talk. Do you have your resume?”

“Oh, I left if out in my car. Let me go grab it.” Eddie says, taking a step back before running out the door. Can’t even bring in his resume? There’s no way this guy would get the job if it was you in charge.

But you knew your dad was a different story. He has a soft spot in him that you gave up a long time ago. But you had to develop a tough exterior at such a young age that you didn’t know anything else.

“You should have turned him away,” you said as you watched Eddie through the glass doors. Your dad huffed a laugh and leaned against the office door frame.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” he says shaking his head.

“Tony, he’s a total chump. Couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. Isn’t even ready for the interview. I bet those aren’t even his clothes that he’s wearing.”

“Yeah, but he’s young and willing to work. Gareth told me that he’s been working on cars since he was 12, and he has reliable transportation.”

You look at the hunk of metal that was this guys van and scoffed. “That hardly looks reliable.”

“But it works,” you dad said, nodding to the ancient van, “And that shows he knows what he’s doing.”

“You’ve already decided to hire him, haven’t you?”

“Well, lets see how this interview goes and I’ll let you know.” You roll your eyes. Knowing how your dad is he probably made the decision when he had the phone interview with him. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you watch as Eddie bounds back through the door with a papers in his hand.

“Sorry it’s not much,” he says as he hands the papers to your dad. “This will be my first real job, so I don’t have much experience.”

Great, another tick off your list as to why you would turn this guy down. Even if he had some experience with cars, it surely wasn’t enough that your dad wouldn’t still have to train him. At least the shop did well enough that your dad wouldn’t be hurting if he had to pay this guy while he’s being trained.

“Not to worry, let’s go talk in my office,” your dad says, patting Eddie on the arm and leading the way inside. He closes the door behind you, and you can hear the sound of the radio start to lower until it can’t be heard anymore. At least you’d get a little reprieve from that.

The clock ticked by during the interview. Only the sound of the shop could be heard through the glass paneling that separated you from the bay. After about 30 minutes of nothing from your dad, you start to wonder what the hell they could be talking about that’s taking so long. If you had to guess, it was probably car talk.

Or if you were to make a guess based on the details Eddie’s jacket maybe he got your dad on the topic of music, which he could go on about forever. He’s seen just about every band he’s ever wanted to see and then some. You’d been to a fair share of your own concerts because of him, whether it was due to a lack of babysitter or because he wanted to genuinely share the experience with you didn’t matter. It was still some of the best times of your life getting to share those sweaty moments that left your voice fried the next day with him.

A loud, boisterous laugh came from the office and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your dad must have told one of his infamous jokes that always left him on the brink of pissing himself. You wondered if Eddie was genuinely laughing or was doing it out of pity for your dad and the sake of getting the job. Either way, you shuffled a stack of part invoices and stood up from your desk.

Approaching the door, you didn’t even bother to knock as you turned the nob, pushing the door open on the little laughing fit the two of them were having. “Having fun in here?” you say dryly, unamused by them. Eddie turns to look at you, wiping at his eyes as he lets of the last bit of chuckles left in him. Your dad straightens up in his chair to catch his breath before turning more towards you.

“What’s up, sweetie?” He says through giggles. Calling you by that name in front of a stranger must mean your dad was really in a relaxed mood. He wasn’t always the most professional, but you made it very clear with him from day one that you wanted to be treated just like any other employee at the shop while working together. It kind of irked you that he would say it in front of anyone, but especially this guy, who was looking at you like he already owned the joint.

“Sir, you have some invoices here that need to be approved by the end of the day. Assuming this interview is almost over,” you said looking at Eddie, “I figured I’d drop these off to you so you could get started on them. I’d like to file them by 5.”

Your dad leaned over the desk, his hand outstretched to take them from you. You sighed, stepping more into the small office and leaning around Eddie to hand them over to him. You felt his shoulder against your side and you let out a half-hearted sorry for the intrusion into his space.

“‘S’all good,” he said softly, a small smile on his face that annoyed you.

“I’ll get to these right away,” your dad said, motioning the papers towards you. You nodded and turned to leave the room.

“Should I close the door?” You ask, hand on the knob.

“No, no, I think Eddie and I are just about done here. I’ve kept him with me for far too long,” your father says as he goes to stand. Eddie rises from his seat as well, extending his hand out for your dad to take.

“Nonsense,” Eddie says as your dad shakes his hand, “Was a pleasure talking to ya. Hopefully we can shoot the shit again some time?”

“Maybe we can get a few words in on Monday if that works for you?”

“Wait, really?” Eddie all but jumps for joy at your dad’s offer. Of course.

“If everything we talked about today sounded good for you, I’d love to see ya first thing Monday morning.”

“Oh my god, yes, sir. Thank you so much. Seriously, I’ll be the best worker you’ve ever had.”

You huffed a laugh at that, deciding this was the best time to make your exit, lest you get sick on the floor from all the sugary excitement. Turning on your heel, you made your way back to your desk and plopped down in your rolly chair. Your dad and Eddie followed behind you not long after, still chatting about something you had no interest in tuning into.

Eddie rounds the front of your desk and taps his hand lightly on the marble counter top just above you. You look up at him with a blank stare, almost blinding you with the pure sunshine rays of excitement that were beaming off of him.

“See ya on Monday, coworker,” he said with a snap that turned into a finger gun. You didn’t respond, simply staring at him hoping he would get the hint to leave. He pounds his fist against the countertop a couple times for good measure before turning to face the door. Watching him as he left, you noticed for the first time that the patch on the back of his jacket was one from Dio’s Last in Line album. You gave a small hmpf. At least he had good taste in music.

SPACE

“Still sleepy there, kiddo?” Your dad says as he pulls into the shop. It was barely dawn as the two of you rolled into the parking lot, the coffee in your hand barely doing much to keep you alert at these early hours. You wished you could call yourself a morning person with how often you woke up at 5:30 am to get ready for the day. But Monday’s were always hard on you after getting to sleep in on the weekend.

“What else is new?” You say, punctuated by another yawn that hit you hard enough it gave you shivers down your body. Your dad let out a laugh as he shifted the car into park, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lighting one up. You followed suit, grabbing one from your own pack and stealing his lighter to spark it up. The smooth menthol wasn’t enough to wake you, but it kept your mouth busy enough that you wouldn’t fall asleep in the passenger seat.

The two of you sat in a sweet silence for the duration of your smoke, watching the sun rise from the rear view mirror. The only sounds to be heard was the low hum of the local morning talk show that played on the car’s radio.

That was until a loud booming sound could be heard in the distance. A boom that started to grow louder with each passing second. The two of you looked at each other as if asking the same question to one another before turning around and looking out the back window. You couldn’t see where it was coming from at first, until a small set of headlights started to show from down the road, approaching at a speed way faster than you knew this streets limit was. As it came into view, you whispered a barely audible “no” as the loud vehicle turned into the parking lot, now illuminated by the morning sun.

It was Eddie and his shitty van.

You thought surely the music would turn down once he made his way into the parking lot, but the loud sounds of what you could now make out as Metallica due to the sheer volume of the music coming from his van were persistent.

“What the fuck?” You say, looking over to your dad, who had a glint in his eye that you didn’t like. “Dad, no, he’s going to wake up the whole neighborhood.” You say sternly. But your dad doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he undoes his seat belt and hops out of the car, leaving it on for you to sit in so you don’t have to endure the harsh December cold.

You watch as he walks over to the van and knocks on the window and instantly hear the volume of the van drop in decibels as the window comes down. A plume of smoke comes barreling out and you watch as Eddie’s hand reaches out to swat the smoke away from your dad’s face. You take another hit of your cigarette as your dad talks to Eddie from his window.

After a few moments, you watch as your dad rounds the van, it rocking slightly once he gets to the other side. Did your dad just get in this guys van? Surely not.

Or surely yes, because as the familiar cars of your other workers began to pull into the lot, you didn’t see your dad come from the other side of the van. Irritation that shouldn’t be had on such an early Monday morning started to bubble in you, and if it weren’t so cold you would have gotten out and asked your dad what the hell he was doing a long time ago.

Checking the dash, you see it’s already opening time, so you cut the engine and lock the car, braving the cold as you walk past the van and to the door. The guys are already waiting for you as you approach the door, huddled around each other as they watch you unlock the door.

“Morning, ma’am,” Bob, your most senior member, says as he pushes past you to get inside. The others greet you as well as they make make their way in. As they file inside, the sound of car doors closing gets your attention. You look to see your dad and Eddie walking towards you, hands in their pockets to keep them warm from the cold.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” you say as they approach. Not waiting for them as you walk inside, letting the door close behind you, you make your way to the light switches and begin flicking them on. The ones in the bay’s are already on as the guys get set up for the day, a couple cars already loaded up to be worked on first thing this morning.

Eddie and your dad eventually came in through the door, both of them laughing and having a grand old time.

“Hey, do you mind showing Eddie where the time clock is?” Your dad asks as he fishes his keys from his jacket pocket to unlock his office.

“Can’t you show him? He’s already your best friend, apparently?”

“I have a call I need to get on with an important client. Just go ahead and show him around the shop for me, please?” He gives you those big, puppy dog eyes of his that honestly don’t get to you at this point anymore. But for the sake of him begging, you sigh and put your hands on your hips.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. You motion for Eddie to follow you. “Come on, back this way.”

Leaving your desk, you walk around the hallway corner and to the break room. Pushing the door open, you prop it open with the metal wedge and walk inside. Flipping the lights on, you instantly walk to the coffee pot and push the button to get it warmed up. You turn to see Eddie waiting patiently for you by the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

“Over here is the time clock,” you say, walking over to where the time punches for the week are sitting on the wall. “They’re in alphabetical order, so make sure you grab yours and not somebody else’s.” You scan the tickets and find the new name card you added on Friday, pulling it from the slot. “Just stick it in here and it’ll mark when you clocked in. If you ever have an issue with it, make sure you come to me right away so that we can get it fixed.”

Eddie walks over and plucks the card from your fingers, placing it into the slot and waiting for the click. Once it does, he pulls it out and places the card back into the slot you pulled it from. “Seems easy enough,” he says, looking at you with that smile still plastered on his face. It irked you to no end.

“Great, make sure to do that when you get here every day. It’s hard to pay you without it.”

Eddie starts to laugh, but you’re really not sure what about. Was it something you said? Was he making fun of you?

“What?” You say in a serious tone. But Eddie just waves his hands, his bangs flying as he shakes his head.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says. You blink at him, deciding it wasn’t worth your time to pry for answers you didn’t really care to know. Gesturing your hands around you, you let him know that you are in fact in the break room. Eddie nods, looking around, his eyes landing on the coffee pot.

“The coffee is free, just make sure if you take the last of it to turn it off.”

“Awesome, I’ll definitely be needing that.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Not really. My uncle made me coffee this morning. I don’t really drink it much.”

“I’ll show you,” you say, walking over to the machine. Grabbing all the things you need, you walk him through the process of filling up the back with water, how to put the grounds in the filter, and which button to press to start it.

“This seems more complicated than the time clock,” he says with a laugh.

You scoff, “Once you do it a few times you’ll get it. Or you can wait until someone else starts it. There’s usually a pot back here ready within the first half hour that we’re here.” Eddie’s head bounces with a nod. Still smiling. “Well, lets move on to the rest of the building,” you say as you walk past him.

As you exit the break room, you look both ways trying to decide where to go next. You suppose you can work from the back to the front, that way you can drop him off with Bob or Terry when you’re done. You break to the right, Eddie hot on your heels as you walk. “Those are the restrooms,” you say as you pass the two sets of doors with a water fountain in between them. “Make sure you clean up after yourself if you shit, because I sure as hell am not doing it.”

That gets a laugh out of Eddie. “Aye, aye, captain,” he says with a salute.

“Back here is the stock room.” You turn the knob and open the door to the large storage room that resided in the back of the building. It was stocked to the brim with supplies like oil, parts, and other necessities that the shop kept on hand. Eddie looked around with wide eyes as he took everything in. “You’ll learn where everything is as time goes by. If you notice something is low in stock, come tell me as soon as possible so I can order more.”

“Okay, can do,” Eddie nods.

“Back out this way,” you say, walking over to another door that enters into the bay, “is the main work area. Make sure this door is locked at the end of the day.” As you walk out to the bay, you stop at a side door to the right. “This is a door to go outside. You can smoke out there, eat lunch, whatever really. Just keep it propped open when you’re out there so you don’t lock yourself out and have to come around the front. The boss tries to keep as much grease out of the lobby as possible.” You look down at his shoes and notice he’s wearing a pair of white reeboks. “Did you bring other shoes?”

“No, are these not allowed?” Eddie asks, his smile finally turning into a frown.

“It’s not that they’re not allowed, but they’re going to go from white to black real quick if you’re not careful.”

“Shit, I didn’t think about that,” Eddie said, looking down at his shoes.

“Ask around, I’m sure the guys could give you a recommendation where to get some good boots.”

Eddie looks up at you and, once again, smiles. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

“Whatever,” you say, pressing forward. You show him around the bay, where the tools are, and where everyone’s lockers are to keep their things while they work. Eddie follows you wordlessly, just a step behind you the whole time. When he almost bumps into you as you stop, you have to turn to face him, putting hands on his arms and extending yours.

“See this? Distance. Keep yours.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking at your hands on his arms. You drop them quickly and turn back around, scanning the bay for Bob, who was bent over a cars engine.

“Bob!” You call, getting the older man’s attention. He straightens up and looks your way, giving a slight wave.

“Bob, this is Eddie, our new guy.”

“Nice to meetcha, kiddo.” The corners of Bobs eyes wrinkle when he smiles, extending a greasy hand out to Eddie, one that he takes and shakes enthusiastically.

“Likewise, sir,” Eddie says, nodding to the man.

“Do you care to babysit for a while? Dad says he knows a lot about cars but might need some help for a few weeks.”

“Sure thing,” Bob says like you knew he would. Bob was a talker, enjoyed the company of others. You’d been caught up in his stories on more than one occasion, but you’d always tried to be polite with him since he was such a hard worker. “Let’s see what you can tell me about this gal right here.” Bob wraps an arm around Eddie and ushers him towards the car he’s working on.

Letting out a sigh of relief, free from your responsibility to the new guy, you make your way out of the bay and back into the front lobby to your desk. You scold yourself for not turning your computer on before giving Eddie the grand tour so that it could’ve booted up. Giving it time to start, you go through the days checklist that you left yourself over the weekend and get to work.

Lunch time couldn’t roll around fast enough. You’d barely made it half way through your list for the day, not expecting it to take you so long to get everything done. Too many phone calls with dick head old men and wives of clients who couldn’t tell you what a fender was if it hit them in the head. The main website you use to order parts was down for half the morning, meaning there would be at least a half days delay on everything that was needed to work on the cars already in the shop.

And then there was the young mother who broke down with her baby that talked your ear off for the last hour while you tried desperately to get a hold of her husband for her. At least the baby was cute; babies being your bad mood kryptonite. She even let you hold her, which would have been fine if you hadn’t caught a particular curly headed nuisance staring at you from the bay as you held them. But you just brushed it off, not giving that loser an ounce of your attention.

Plopping back down in your chair, you felt like all your energy had been zapped and it was barely past 11 am. Not a moment later your father pokes his head around the corner of his office.

“Hey, let’s order pizza,” he says with a wide grin. Something must have gone well with a contractor given his good mood.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask, pulling out the paper for Surfer Boy’s Pizza from your desk drawer.

“I figured we’d treat the new guy,” he says, taking the paper from your grasp to look it over.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I guess I’m asking everyone what they want?”

“You’re my girl,” he says, handing the paper back to you. You take it, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen before heading to the bay. The smell of fresh oil hits your nose, but it’s not something that bothers you anymore after working here for a few years now. You make your way around to the guys and get everyone’s orders. Thankfully everyone was being easy, just wanting cheese or pepperoni.

You made your way over to where Bob and Eddie were working on the same car that bob was looking at earlier, but Eddie was no where to be seen. Bob was hunched over by the front, looking down at the ground where you saw a pair of white shoes sticking out from under the car.

“Hey, Bob,” you say, grabbing the man’s attention.

“Oh, hey, darlin’. What’s up?”

“We’re getting pizza. You good with cheese and pepperoni?”

“Oh boy, that sounds good to me,” he says with a nod. He taps his foot against the white pair of sneakers and Eddie’s body comes rolling out from under the car, now clad in an oversized workers uniform.

“Where’d you find that?” You ask, pointing at Eddie.

“This is one of my spares from before I lost all that weight. I figured he could use it until his comes in.”

“Oh, yeah, that should be sometime this week. Make sure you wash that one and give it back to Bob when you’re done with it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie says with a nod.

“Now, we’re getting pizza. Are you okay with cheese and pepperoni?”

“Wow, really? Yeah that would be great. I…forgot my lunch, so I could definitely use it.”

“Cool, well you guys were my last stop so I’ll go ahead and order it. Should be here in an hour or so.”

“Perfect,” Eddie says, giving you a thumbs up. You don’t respond, turning on your heel and walking back through the bay to the lobby.

“Okay, I got everybody’s orders,” you say as you walk into your father’s office. He looks up from his paperwork and smiles, reaching out to you. “You don’t want me to call?” You ask, handing the papers to him.

“No, I’m gonna pay for it myself, so I’ll order it.” He looks over the paper then speaks, “Do you know what Eddie asked for?”

“He didn’t say anything specific. Just said he was grateful to have it.” Your father nods, setting the papers down on his desk and picking up the phone. It struck you as odd that he was so interested in this new guy, but not enough to care to ask him about it. Maybe Eddie said something to him in their interview that struck something in your dad. He was already under a car on day one, so maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit.

SPACE

Lunch arrived and you paged on the overhead for everyone to come and eat. You set the pizza’s on the break room counter with the plates and two liters of pop. Your dad really splurged today, ordering way more food and drinks than what would be needed for the small shop. A few minutes later the guys began to roll into the break room, conversation flowing between them as they made their way to the pizza boxes.

You waited for everyone to get their food before grabbing some for yourself. Taking a few slices, you headed towards the door to go back to your desk before someone called your name.

“You’re not eating with us?” Eddie said, standing behind you with a plate full.

“I have work to do,” you said simply.

“She doesn’t take breaks,” Tom calls from across the break room.

“Yeah her dad has her slaving over that fancy computer all day,” Jerry adds, making the room erupt in laughter.

“Your dad?” Eddie asks looking at your curiously.

You sigh, not really wanting to tell the new guy that the boss is your dad on day one. “Yeah, Tony is my dad,” you say, flatly. Eddie’s head bobs, a smile spreading on his face.

“That makes sense. I thought it was weird you guys came together today. I thought maybe you were dating or something.”

The guys start laughing again and you cringe at Eddie’s words.

“What’s so funny?” You snap, and the laughter starts to die down.

“You dating is what’s funny,” Bob says taking a bite of his pizza.

“Why’s that funny?” Eddie asks.

“This girl hates love,” Bob says, gesturing towards you and you roll your eyes. It wasn’t that you hated love, you just didn’t believe in it. There was a time in your life that you might have thought it was real, but after the things you’ve been through, you’d been convinced that love was all just a big scam. Something made up to sell jewelry and heart shaped boxed of chocolates.

“What? Really?”

“I’m just not into it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually have important things to do.” And with that, you turn on your heel, leaving Eddie in the dust as you make your way back to your desk.

The end of the day wrapped up when the clock struck 6 pm. The garage doors to the bay closed for the night and you were cleaning up your desk, leaving a note to remember to call a potential client back first thing in the morning. Your dad stepped out of his office, closing the door behind him with the turn of a key as he locked it shut for the night.

“Should I grab the rest of the pizza’s or are we leaving them for tomorrow?” You ask, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on.

“Leave them,” your dad says, tossing you his keys. You looked at him confused. “Go ahead and start the car, I’ll lock up.”

“Okaaaay,” you say shoving the keys in your pocket and rounding the front desk. You pushed the door open and felt the cold December breeze hitting the skin of your cheeks once again. You beelined it for the car and started it up, cranking the heat up in a futile attempt to make the warm air come out faster. Rolling the window down, you lit up a smoke and watched as the guys made their way to their cars.

You noticed your dad didn’t come out with everyone else and that made you curious. Normally if he wanted to stay over he wouldn’t have you go and start the car. But you also noticed Eddie’s car was still in the lot as well.

A few minutes later, the front door finally opened and your dad and Eddie walked out of the shop. You squinted your eyes, trying to make sure what you were seeing was correct. Eddie was standing with two boxes of pizza in his hands as your dad locked the door. What the hell? You thought he was leaving the pizzas for tomorrow. You waited to see if your dad took the pizza boxes back, but as Eddie diverged from your dad’s side to get in his van, you noticed he still had the pizza boxes in his hands.

“Alright, let’s go,” you dad says as he slides in his seat, bringing his hands to the air vents to warm them up.

“What was that?” You ask, looking at him incredulously.

“What was what?” He says with a laugh, giving you a look back.

“You gave him those pizzas.”

“It’s his first day! I wanted him to feel welcomed with us. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to take him to a steak dinner next?” You say as you buckle yourself in.

“It’s not like that,” you dad assures you before buckling himself in.

“Whatever.”

thank you for reading!

tags:

@meetmeatyourworst @hazydespair @gloomweed @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @prestinalove @rowynbriarsalix

@daveythorntonslocker @losingmygrasponreality @princesssunderworld @eddiesguitarskills @clown420cunt

@barnesandsteven @yujyujj @person-005 @definitionwanderlust @hsdcmmjune @micheledawn1975 @emxxblog @l3xi3luv

@browneyes-8288 @djodirt @munsonsfairy @coolkidzen @appl3ogr @sammybrrr @awkward00noodle @callhermyname @american-idiot-jpg

if you'd like to be added or removed please let me know!

#lesservillain #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #sunshine!eddie munson #sunshine!eddie munson x grumpy!reader #sunshine!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson st #eddie munson fic #eddie munson st4

658 notes · View notes

postcrashcurly · 5 months ago

Text

A Deep Dive into Curly's Injuries

CW: Medical discussion and graphic themes.

I see a lot of people discussing Curly's injuries in the fandom and I thought that I would take some time to absolutely word vomit information for consideration as someone training in the medical field.

Burns and Calculating Total Body Surface

Starting off simple, we’ll discuss the following burns:

First degree burns only affect the outer layer of the skin (epidermis). Second degree burns, or partial thickness burns, affect both the epidermis and part of the layer underneath (dermis). Third degree burns, or full thickness burns, affect all layers of the skin, fat, and muscle. Third degree burns DO NOT HURT as they destroy the nerves.

Typically you will not see significant 4th degree burns premortem- they are often postmortem and resemble more of a char. The body is basically cremated/incinerated. I'll touch more on this further down.

The rule of nines is the method for estimating the percentage of affected body surface (size of the burn). I used this to roughly estimate that Curly is burned anywhere from 82-91% of his total body surface. We don't see his backside, but assuming he walked into the cockpit before the crash it is POSSIBLE that his backside isn't as burnt.

Note the R-Baux score and prediction of burn-related mortality (TBSA – Age + [17 x R] TBSA: total body surface area R: 1 (Inhalation injury) or 0 (No inhalation injury)

Amputation Possibility and Weight of Risk

While there are a lot of factors to keep in mind when it comes to Curly’s condition and subsequent survival, in order to connect reality and canon the following needs to be considered.

We'll go over two of the most popular interpretations post-crash:

1. Anya performing amputation as a preventative measure.

We have to think about the veins and arteries in the human body when discussing rudimentary amputation.

Note: Arteries carry blood away from the heart to the body, while veins carry oxygen-poor blood back to the heart. Arteries and veins are connected by capillaries. Direction as follows:

Risk to major arteries and veins would potentially result in excessive blood loss (we will focus on arteries since they are larger in diameter and their ability to withstand high pressure from pumping blood). Repairing arteries typically requires surgical intervention.

Curly's right arm ends at the wrist, while his left ends midway up the forearm. This would sever the radial and ulnar arteries.

Curly's right leg ends just below the knee. The popliteal (back of the knee) artery is the continuation of the femoral artery- one of the largest arteries in the body.

Curly's left leg ends about midway down his calf. We can assume that severs the posterior and anterior tibial arteries.

The image below is a quick edit and isn't an accurate representation of location, only a rough diagram.

Note: The legs network of small arteries are available to SOMEWHAT compensate for blood flow if one of the major arteries is damaged, but it likely wouldn't be enough to prevent excessive blood loss.

We CAN consider cauterization in emergency situations; however it would require some ingenuity and a significant heat source. Small tools that could be repurposed to cauterize Curly’s wounds would do more harm than good, and it is likely that Pony Express has banned large, heat producing objects. They ARE on a space freighter with artificial gravity and set oxygen levels, after all.

Lack of proper equipment and medical knowledge would make amputation unsurvivable.

2. Curly's limbs were eviscerated by the crash.

This is where we talk more about the possibility of fourth degree burns and what that means.

Fourth degree burns are the most severe type of burn that affects muscles, tendons, and bone.

Where to position Curly in the cockpit during the crash is… tricky.

It’s difficult to imagine the angle he would need to be in order to sustain full body burns and loss of limbs. This is the part I pondered the most, and I think a good explanation would be electrical burns from the control panel on impact.

Electrical burns are carried by nerves because it is the path of least resistance. Extremities are more susceptible to damage when a current passes through them. (Yes, this means his genitals are gone too. Sorry, folks!) *See article on electric extremity injury under Read More

Facial Injury and Eye Trauma

Moving towards Curly’s face we come back to our discussion of third degree burns, which I’ve explained a bit above. I do want to note that the survival of his left eye interested me the most while compiling this post.

Your eyes don’t melt in extreme heat (goofy ahh Indiana Jones shit).

Your eyes are mostly composed of water, which makes them resistant to combustion. Since we never directly see the eye socket beneath the bandaging it’s reasonable to assume that his right eye is not entirely destroyed but instead severely damaged (flattened, scarred, cloudy). Without eyelids or even eye drops his remaining eye would dry, potentially blinding him if the heat on impact didn't.

Another point of interest is Jimmy manually manipulating Curly’s mouth several times throughout the game.

This rounds back to third degree burns and the damage to the superficial masseter muscle (moves the lower jaw upward – mastication, or ‘protrusion of the mandible’), the deep masseter muscle (retraction of the mandible – mastication, or ‘closing the jaw with force’), the temporalis muscle (mastication, enabling jaw movement for chewing, biting, and grinding), and surrounding tendons.

Knowing this, a ‘slack jaw’ position would cause visible oral damage like dry mouth and halted saliva production. I’ll touch more on this below.

Loss of Skin and Infection

The skin is the largest organ in the human body with a variety of life sustaining functions like protection and excretory function.

In Curly’s condition, the loss of his skin leaves him open to systematic infection. Skin protects against infection by producing antibacterial substances (defensins and cathelicidins), which greatly increase when injury or inflammation are present. Without skin your body's natural defenses no longer protect against bacteria.

Pathological vulnerability is the key factor in this section. A severe and sometimes fatal response to infection (sepsis) would likely occur under these conditions without proper medical care and antibiotics.

Administering Water, Food, and Medication

This section is where some interpretation comes into play.

The average healthy person can survive approximately three weeks without food and 3 days without water (both vary greatly). According to the games timeline he was kept alive in this state for four months, which means that somehow, in some way, they were able to get him enough nutrients for basic human survival.

This was likely in the form of paranutrition bags and IV fluids since Curly does not seem to have the ability to move his mouth or swallow on his own. When your mouth is kept open for extended periods of time you stop salivating as frequently because the act of swallowing, triggered by the build-up of saliva, is no longer happening.

When having medication administered, Jimmy can be seen (or more so heard) shoving the pills down Curly’s throat with his fingers.

I can’t help but speculate that additional damage was done to his esophagus and vocal cords since there isn’t a way to push the pills far enough down to avoid the steady breakdown of the medication in his throat.

Without properly swallowing pills Curly most likely developed pill esophagitis (irritation of the esophageal lining), which causes painful acid reflux.

Speculation of Internal Injury

This is more presumptive than other sections.

Due to previous notes regarding the source and nature of Curly’s wounds, it is reasonable to assume that not only is smoke inhalation a contributing factor, but ash, technological equipment, and shrapnel also run the possibility of entering his lungs on impact.

However, when I was looking into photos of the cockpit post-crash it brought another potential inhalation/consumption risk to mind; the expanding foam.

It is known that it expands to cover potential weak spots in the ship, so the strength of the substance needs to withstand the pressure of space and maintain the artificial gravity. The cockpit is covered in it, so it is possible that in some way Curly was physically in contact with it when the crash occurred.

Whether he ingested or inhaled it something to consider, but externally there must have been some effort removing the foam from his already burnt skin.

So, what does this mean, Leo? What’s your point?

Well, there is no real point to be made. Everyone is going to interpret things differently! I just thought it would be cool to put forth some real world medical knowledge and compare it to canon! I AM STILL IN TRAINING and I have a lot to learn, but I wanted to put something together for you guys! You can take something from it, or nothing at all!

Final Notes:

Realistic Prognosis (prediction of outcome):

Without medical treatment total body third degree burns are NOT SURVIVABLE.

Extended periods of festering and infection would make skin grafting impossible (There is some wiggle room with this depending on how you perceive medical care to have changed- but I do think it's important to consider the limits of the human body).

🖤 If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! 🖤

Thank you so dearly to my love, my life, @13nn0x for the help compiling information and just generally being the sexiest person alive.

Some extra articles to refer to:

Note: Some articles include images but I put a warning on the ones that do.

(CW: Includes Photos) Clinical spectrum of electrical burns - A prospective study from the developing world by Ashok Kumar Sokhal, Krishna Lodha, and Rajkumar Paliwal. LINK

(CW: Includes Photos) Electro-Amputation of Lower Limbs Due to a High-Voltage Shock: Report of an Unusual Case by Suraj Sundaragiri, Senthil Kumaran M, Venkatesh Janarthanan, Chaitanya Mittal, Gerard Pradeep Devnath S. LINK

Ocular Burns by Gregory C. Patek, Amanda Bates, and Allison Zanaboni. LINK

Drug-Induced Esophagitis by Fatima Saleem and Ashish Sharma. LINK

Better among the two for Burn Mortality Prediction in Developing Nations: Revised Baux or Modified Abbreviated Burn Severity Index? by Sheerin Shah, Renu Verma, Rajinder K Mittal, Ramneesh Garg. LINK

#PLEASE take this as my current skill set I AM STILL IN TRAINING #mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing headcanons #mouthwashing theories

540 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 6 months ago

Text

Part 13: If You Stay

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 14 - Part 15

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest.

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time.

They’d stayed.

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people in her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether bananas or chocolate chips go better with pancakes.

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate.

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it.

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as she shifts herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a needle, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck. So close to reaching them but unable to finally get there.

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as she fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours.

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl.

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should be -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart.

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother.

“Please can we go home now Mama?”

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream, that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face.

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place.

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentence was going.

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself.

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag.

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. And she he can feel Drew looking at her, can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own.

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended.

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly.

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different.

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes.

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them. They turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile.

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face.

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing.

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself.

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable.

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time.

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige.

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

***

August 2031

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it. But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home.

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas.

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer.

Divorce.

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them.

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there.

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over.

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid.

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not.

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head.

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails.

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders.

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor.

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her.

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her.

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world.

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman.

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose.

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name. Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her.

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition.

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow.

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits.

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride.

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her.

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport.

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words.

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills.

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?”

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand.

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it.

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that.

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice.

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found.

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object.

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it.

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi.

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears.

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman.

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck.

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults.

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?”

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh.

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder.

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does.

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own.

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie.

***

June 2033

Dream 64 Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream.

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team.

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much.

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence.

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first.

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans.

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

***

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing.

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp. And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever.

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything.

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out.

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants.

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her.

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence.

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue.

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door.

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue.

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears.

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body.

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks.

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again.

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly.

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after.

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh.

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies.

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly.

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door.

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.”

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead.

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now.

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries.

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own.

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie.

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing.

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room.

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance.

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby.

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi.

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone.

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?”

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to.

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself.

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite.

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony.

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost.

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out.

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner.

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter.

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around.

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie.

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call.

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there.

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants.

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room.

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night.

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight.

“Az-” Paige calls out.

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts.

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be.

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her.

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance.

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d fallen back against the balcony railing.

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but.

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face.

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan.

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige.

Paige looks at Azzi.

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right.

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet.

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates.

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed.

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike.

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd.

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere.

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back.

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that that means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen.

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence.

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses.

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley.

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley.

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand.

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words.

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said.

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow.

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly.

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own.

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears.

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds.

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks.

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly.

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame.

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door.

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words.

And Paige thinks that probably, why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself.

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what.

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #wcbb

448 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 1 month ago

Note

POMEGRANTE TEA FOR DOTER?? - 🐓

pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

Dottore knew he loved you once he realized he was happy to return to you.

Despite being a student of the Akademiya, what awaited Zandik when he returned to his dorm wasn’t the noise of a roommate, the running of water from the bathroom, or the scent of a cheap meal from the kitchen. What greeted him was the way he left it, empty and devoid of any life.

Such was the life of an outcast. The scholar was not destined for warm welcomes or any sort of companionship. Even as a child, he returned to a house that filled his younger self with dread.

Oh, but he didn’t necessarily dislike the current circumstances. Really, it was a better option than having to deal with someone who would get in his way. The silence was something he didn’t mind as well. After all, it would be irritating to have to deal with someone else's bustling.

And so, returning to his room was naturally a part of his routine, one Zandik did almost every day. The same thing over and over… it couldn’t be said to be something that really brought him joy. He’d much rather be out in the rainforests or deserts of Sumeru. He supposed the happiest part of it was having a private space to do his own thing, but really, it was a drag to come back. If only attendance weren’t a portion of his grade…

But his feelings on this simple routine began to change once he met you.

Of course, in the beginning, annoyance quickly set in (as anyone would expect) as his peace was rudely disturbed by your presence. You had literally been thrown into his routine against his will, but oddly enough, his glares and scowls didn’t deter you, much unlike any of his (very few) previous roommates. You were an enigma. The scholar was sure there was something wrong with you, but seeing how persistent you were, he had no choice but to settle into this new routine with you.

Zandik didn’t even realize it, but at that point, the process of returning to his dorm had already been injected with some life, thanks to you. And to put a very, very, very long, slow-burn story short, the student became not just accustomed to you, but rather deeply attached to you.

However, despite noticing the change in his behavior, he always put it aside instead of tackling it. It was certainly odd - one would think that someone as analytic as himself would quickly pinpoint the cause and effect. But perhaps somewhere deep inside, he knew that if he confronted it, something unsettling would happen. Perhaps he just wanted to bask in his new life a little while longer.

Regardless, in this particular moment, Zandik found himself working on a freshly defeated Ruin Guard in a lesser-known corner of the forest. Courtesy of you, of course, always perfectly disarming the machines with minimal damage, so it could be his new plaything. Speaking of you, Zandik was disappointed you weren’t here with him. Much to his dismay, you had other plans already. Despite the excitement he had from tinkering with the Automaton, it was oh so silent now. Usually, he had you yapping or at least doing something next to him.

But he soon noticed that the sun was going to set soon, which meant that his work would soon halt. With a sigh, Zandik estimated the amount of time he had left. Truthfully, he could get some more work done before the light disappeared, but…

Zandik wanted to return to his dorm already.

Before he could be tempted otherwise, he had already begun packing his stuff up. As of late, although Zandik continued to be enthralled by his outdoor expeditions, he also found that he didn’t mind going back to his room as much anymore. In fact, it could be said that he even looked forward to it - but he let the discoveries of today float around his mind instead anything nonsensical.

When the scholar unlocked the door, he was greeted to your surprised expression, along with your body comfy on his bed, with his blankets and pillows, all with your own bed unwrinkled and unoccupied.

“Huh. You’re back early, Zandik,” you observed while glancing at the time. “I thought you’d be back later, so I didn’t start making anything yet.” You hopped off the bed with a stretch as you approached him.

“So, how productive were you? You got to tell me everything!” You flashed him a pretty smile as you helped slip off his bags. “Oh, but now that you’re here, you should tell me what you wanna eat. You know, I was thinking of getting some food from that place from last time…” You pressed your fingers to your face in thought. “But if not, just tell me. You’re probably too tired to eat anything heavy, right? Just tell me and I’ll whip something up for ya!” You just went on while positively beaming. You literally were, seeing as Sumeru’s golden sunlight spilled into the room and decorated your glowing smile.

Zandik opened his mouth but paused in face of your beauty and a sudden realization.

It wasn’t his room he wanted to return to. No, the dorm wasn’t what gave him a sense of comfort, of security.

It was you who did all of that. You were why he wanted to return so quickly. He subconsciously craved your presence, your everything - despite his thirst for knowledge, he found himself coming back to you anyway.

Zandik wanted to return to you. You pleased him. You made him feel good. You made him… happy.

It was a childish, simple word. A professor would probably tell him to use a stronger synonym. But it was the truth. You made him happy. You made him… love you, both a painful and sweet sentiment.

The realization made him lose his quick witted tongue for a few moments and now you were looking at him in concern.

“Don’t tell me you knocked your head out there or something,” you half-joked as you playfully poked him, but your touch coupled with his feelings made Zandik feel like he’d been shocked. He quickly devised a way out of the situation.

“Fine, let’s go then,” he said the words so fast that you weren’t sure what he meant before he was already out the door again and walking down the hallway.

“Wh- Hey! Wait up, I need to get the Mora ready!” He could hear the fumbling of drawers and coins but the burning of his face didn’t stop until you finally caught up with him and scolded him for leaving you behind.

After he realized, Zandik began to contemplate how to get you to be the one who was stuck by his side instead of him pathetically clinging to you. For you to be the one looking for him and longing to be by his side instead. Unfortunately, his tongue could not weave convincing tricks like his older self now could. But it didn’t matter, because you saw through his poorly designed scheme and granted him what he wanted anyway - being glued by his side even if he grumbled about it.

Still, despite your actions, the almighty Harbinger has his habits and finds himself returning to you anyway.

At the end of the day, Dottore returns to you with stained hands. Those hands have committed grave sins against other people and even the Gods. When he embraces you, he holds you so that you’ll never leave him.

You always have to be here. Do you understand how he feels, knowing that if things go wrong, he can always return to you? Between the jumble of his segments’ arguing, the constant letters from co-workers on his desk, and the stagnation of progress of his work, you’re always the constant. It’s almost pitiful, someone like him having a lifeline, but he doesn’t let go of it.

Despite Dottore’s unwavering trust in you, sometimes he wonders if you’ll stop being the sole person he can return to. He knows you’ll never do that, but on certain days, his mind wanders to the possibility.

But you’re always there, patiently waiting for him.

So, even during the times Zandik’s self-hatred seems to swallow him, when he returns to you and lays his head on the crook of your neck, he can’t help but feel content.

#genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #dottore love notes <3 #btw anon i split ur ask into two bc i want to write two separate fics #BUT I HOPE. U LIKE THIS!! i think i made this cute. i had fun writing it #divider by cafekitsune #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff

222 notes · View notes

tanadrin · 1 month ago

Text

i think one of the most interesting things about generative ai is not just that it was a pretty unexpected thing--seems like very few people were sitting around ten years ago imagining we would have this technology in 2025--but that i think it is also pretty difficult for people who aren't well versed in the technical background to trace how we got here from there, you know? like when the internet became a big thing, i think if you were familiar with the concept of the telephone or even just one computer networked to another somewhere else you could grok the fundamental concept: it's just a bunch of electronic machines connected to a bunch of other electronic machines; it's an extremely cool piece of engineering, but packet-switching is not (at least at the nontechnical level) that conceptually different from a telephone exchange.

and you could extend this backward pretty far. electronic computers from mechanical ones; the telephone from the telegraph. likewise future developments that emerged from the internet: smart phones are not to conceptually different from computers and radios, they just ("just") are very sophisticated devices that use new versions of those older technologies. and a lot of technology is like that. if you understand a cannon you can understand the basic principle of the space shuttle.

gen ai seems... not like that? that kind of, i guess, statistical approach to problems in computer science wasn't invented in the 2010s, i gather it's a lot older, but it was mostly a niche research topic, i think? and there were some nifty demos of still pretty crude versions of stuff like deep dream, but it's not like we'd had twenty years of this kind of stuff being part of the wider milieu of technology in everyday use before gen ai started getting good. it's weird! it wasn't an accident, people had been working on this stuff for a while. but in some ways it feels like the discovery of antibiotics, one of those medical breakthroughs that happens just as kind of an a priori discovery of something useful out in the world.

and because computers are already omnipresent in our lives, unlike a medical breakthrough, it's suddenly everywhere. and yeah often it's used or promoted in ways that are pretty obnoxious, but even still, no wonder it provokes feelings of dislocation and anxiety. technologies which emerged much more gradually into society have provoked just as much unease. and the idea that it might keep getting more useful, as much more useful as computers have gotten over the last, say, 25 years--that's just hard to fathom from any angle. i think it's as hard to estimate what kind of social impact that would have as it would have been to anticipate all the social impacts of the internet back in the 1980s.

and it kind of seems a pity to me that the three camps in the discourse right now generally seem to be "ai is useless and stupid and a fad and a scam", "ai will destroy the human race", and "ai will usher in a post-scarcity utopia," because the possibility that ai is neither a complete mirage nor the end of human civilization as we currently understand it is much more interesting. and much harder to speculate about.

#i can see ways in which ai could become a massive productivity boost in many fields #and change society massively #without any kind of singularity or hard takeoff happening #and that still kinda provokes anxiety in me!#just because uncertainty is always a little anxiety-inducing #but i wish we weren't stuck with the current trilemma in discourse #the extremes of which to me just feel like an excuse to not have to try to reason about the inherently difficult topic #of what the future will be like

164 notes · View notes

scarsnfevers · 2 months ago

Text

Wildflowers. Lilac. Storm.

Chapter I of Wolfgang

summary: meeting another wolf in the middle of nowhere hasn't really been on your to-do list since you moved into your new home. But everything changed the moment the pizza delivery guy showed up at your door. genre: werewolf!stray kids x werewolf!reader x werewolf!hyunjin chapter word count: 2,7k chapter warnings: none

It had been a week since you arrived at the cabin. Seven full days since the gravel had crunched beneath your tires for the first time, and your fingers had closed around the cold iron of the old key John had handed you.

Now, the cabin no longer felt like a stranger’s house. The scent of aged wood and dried herbs had gradually mixed with your own — your shampoo, your morning coffee, the lavender candle that flickered on the windowsill in the evenings. Your presence had softened the sharp corners of the space. The dust had been banished. Blankets and books now lived in arm’s reach, and your favorite mug sat faithfully on the kitchen counter. There was peace here. A kind you hadn’t known in years. Out in the forest, everything moved slower. The trees weren’t in a hurry to be anything other than what they were. The birds sang softly during the day, and in the evenings, the world grew so quiet that you could hear the rustle of leaves a mile away — or maybe just the creak of the old wood shifting with the wind. But what you hadn’t heard since that first night — not once — was the cry of a wolf.

That first evening, as you unpacked the essentials by the flickering fireplace, a distant howl had pierced the stillness. It had been mournful, long, and low, like a memory coming back to haunt you. But since then… nothing. Not a whisper. Not a growl. Not the soft rhythm of paws through the underbrush. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed that silence. The city had been too loud — not just in sound, but in energy. With so many of your kind walking the concrete veins of Seattle, your senses had been stretched too thin. Every heartbeat, every territorial flare of dominance in the air, every subtle pull of pack hierarchy — it had made you feel like a radio with all the frequencies turned up at once. There was no breathing space. No control. And you, an Alpha, were expected to bear it all with strength.

Here, there were no other wolves. At least, not near enough to matter. And for the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe. Like the beast beneath your skin was dozing — not locked away, not suppressed, just… resting.

You spent the days tending to small things. Fixing a creaky cabinet hinge. Reorganizing the old bookshelf in the living room. You’d hung sheer white curtains to catch the soft golden light of late afternoon, and each evening, you sat with a warm drink, watching the sky bleed from orange to violet through the trees. Sometimes, you wrote. Not for work, not out of obligation — just scribbles in your journal, half-formed thoughts, little flashes of clarity. Sometimes, you walked through the forest. Not far. Not deep. Just enough to feel the world beneath your feet again. It was the kind of solitude that wrapped around you gently, like a wool blanket. Soothing. Safe.

Tonight, the sky had turned cloudy. Rain hadn’t come yet, but it was in the air — you could smell it. The wind was restless, tugging at the trees with more insistence than usual. You were curled up on the couch, a novel open in your lap, but your stomach growled loud enough to pull your attention from the page. You sighed and reached for your phone, flicking through the limited delivery options the nearest town offered. You’d already tried the greasy diner down the road and the questionable tacos from a gas station kitchen. Tonight called for something easy. Familiar. A small comfort.

You chose a place called Sammy’s Pizza, tapped your way through a simple order — extra cheese, mushrooms, thin crust — and let your phone slip onto the armrest. Estimated delivery time: forty-five minutes to an hour.

Long enough.

You stretched lazily and got up, your feet padding across the worn wooden floor. The bathroom was already warm from the heater you’d turned on earlier. You tugged your sweater over your head, let your leggings follow, and stepped into the tiny shower, where the old pipes groaned in protest before spilling water over your skin. It wasn’t a fancy shower. Nothing like the apartment you’d left behind, with its chrome fixtures and endless hot water. But this one had a skylight, and the rain had finally started to fall, tapping softly above your head like fingers drumming a lullaby. The water smelled faintly of pine and minerals. The kind of clean that only existed in places like this. You tilted your head back, letting it run through your hair, over your shoulders, down the curve of your spine. Muscles that had been clenched for years loosened without permission. By the time you stepped out, your skin was flushed pink from the heat. You wrapped yourself in a soft towel, steam curling around your ankles. Outside, the sky had darkened even more — the rain now steady, whispering against the windows and roof. You pulled on a pair of soft joggers and an oversized hoodie, the kind with sleeves long enough to hide your hands. Your damp hair hung in loose waves down your back, cool against your skin.

Downstairs, the fireplace crackled to life with a few flicks of the lighter. You sank into the couch again, legs tucked beneath you, and let yourself enjoy the quiet. There was a kind of magic in this stillness — not the kind you read about in books, but the quiet, ordinary kind. The kind that came with being exactly where you were supposed to be. A knock at the door jolted you from the edge of sleep. Three soft raps. Not too hurried. Not too slow.

You blinked, sitting upright, your gaze flickering toward the window. Rain streaked the glass, and the porch light bathed the entrance in a warm glow. You hadn’t expected the pizza so soon. You stood, brushing a hand through your damp hair, and padded barefoot to the door. The porch light cast a pale circle over the steps outside, the rain falling in soft curtains beyond. The knock hadn’t come again. Whoever it was waited — patient, unmoving. You unlatched the door and pulled it open.

The scent hit you before the sound, before the sight — not the expected warmth of tomato sauce or the yeasty comfort of melted cheese. No, this was something else entirely. Jasmine. Subtle but unmistakable. Not the powdered kind, but the living bloom — rich, delicate, and wild. Intertwined with it was the grounding depth of cedarwood — fresh bark after rainfall, the scent of forest shadows. The combination struck like a chord, ancient and instinctive. You knew it instantly.

Wolf. And not just any wolf.

Your gaze landed on the figure before you, and everything else — the rain, the dark, the world — faded to a dull hush. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a red and black delivery jacket, unzipped just enough to reveal the collar of a plain black shirt underneath. His name tag read “Hyunjin,” though your eyes barely registered the letters. What you noticed was him. His hair was black, long enough to brush his jaw, slicked slightly by the drizzle, the ends curling where they met his neck. His face was all sharp lines and striking contrast — pale skin, full mouth, dark eyes that watched you with the same startled recognition you knew was flickering in your own.

Beta.

You felt it like a vibration in the air. Not threatening. Not submissive either. Just there. Balanced. Solid. Familiar in a way that had nothing to do with memory and everything to do with instinct. His eyes widened a fraction. His nostrils flared, and you knew — he smelled you too. For a beat, neither of you said a word. It wasn’t a long pause, but it was heavy — dense with something unspoken, a silent acknowledgment that something had just shifted. You hadn’t seen another of your kind in over a week, and now here he stood, rain misting his shoulders, looking at you like he hadn’t expected this either. He blinked first. Cleared his throat. “Uh. Large mushroom and cheese?”

His voice was low and smooth, a little unsure now — like he wasn’t used to being caught off guard. He held out the pizza box with both hands, not quite meeting your gaze, as if that might set something in motion he wasn’t ready for. You took it carefully, fingers grazing his just for a second — skin warm, electric. You stepped back slightly into the doorway, the scent of cedar and jasmine curling around you like a memory you didn’t have. “Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. It was all you could manage. Something about him — the sudden presence of another wolf after such silence — had your nerves singing. He nodded, clearing his throat again. “You, uh… just move out here?” You nodded once. “Yeah. From the city.” He gave a knowing sort of half-smile. “Bet that’s a change.” “You have no idea,” you said, then caught yourself. You looked down, flipping open the wallet you'd left on the side table by the door earlier. You pulled out the cash — exact change, plus a generous tip. You handed it to him, letting your fingers stay clear this time. “Thanks,” he said, glancing down at the bills. “Appreciate it.” Another beat passed.

He hesitated — like he wanted to say something else. Ask something. But instead, he gave a small nod, stepped back off the porch, and disappeared down the short steps toward the gravel drive, where his car idled in the rain. You closed the door slowly behind him, heart thudding a little too loud in your chest.

Cedarwood. Jasmine. And the unmistakable certainty: You weren’t alone here after all.

The scent lingered.

Long after Hyunjin had turned the corner and the cabin disappeared from his rearview mirror, it clung to him like morning mist—soft, haunting, impossible to ignore. Wildflowers in full bloom, the delicate touch of lilac, and the charged sharpness of a summer storm. It filled his lungs, settled into his skin, and stirred something low and ancient inside him. He didn’t have a name for it, but it left his fingers clenched around the steering wheel tighter than usual, his heart pacing slightly ahead of the soft hum of the rain outside.

She had smelled like freedom. Like something he hadn’t known he was missing.

He hadn’t needed her to speak, hadn’t needed to look twice. The moment she’d opened that door, the balance of the world had shifted just slightly—barely enough to notice, but enough for every cell in his body to recognize her nature. Alphas had a gravity to them. Most carried it like a threat. But hers felt different. Quiet. Steady. Like a storm brewing not to destroy, but to cleanse.

And now, that storm raged softly in his memory.

By the time he pulled into the pizzeria’s backlot, his shift was almost over. The other delivery cars were parked crooked and half-abandoned, a sign that the rain had slowed business and the others had already clocked out early. Hyunjin didn’t bother with the umbrella this time. The rain had softened into a drizzle, a gentle hush that whispered through the trees bordering the lot. He stepped out into the cool evening and let the rain wash over him. The scent didn’t leave.

It had imprinted itself on his clothes, his hair, and deeper still, in that untouchable place within wolves where instinct lived and never slept.

The drive home was quiet, winding. The kind of road you could only find this deep in the woods, where lanterns and moonlight shared the work of illumination. The tires hummed against the wet gravel, and the trees blurred past in deep greens and blacks. Home was a large cabin, old and sturdy, nestled just far enough from town to feel hidden. The lights glowed like a promise through the trees, warm and inviting. Smoke curled from the chimney in lazy spirals, carrying the unmistakable scent of Maria’s, John's wife, cooking through the rain-soaked air. Even before Hyunjin stepped out of the car, his mouth watered. He rushed inside, brushing water from his jacket and shaking out his damp hair as he crossed the threshold. The warmth hit him instantly. So did the smells: pinewood, stew, freshly baked bread, and the familiar notes of his pack.

The dining room was a cathedral of timber—high ceilings crisscrossed with exposed beams, walls lined with old bookshelves and faded photographs, a massive table carved from dark wood stretching through the center. A hearth crackled at the far end, painting the room in flickering amber.

Everyone was already seated. Maria gave him a small smile from her place beside John, who was ladling stew into mismatched bowls. Minho sat near the window, his eyes unreadable as always. Jisung was leaned back in his chair, one leg hooked over the other, talking with Changbin and Felix, until he stopped mid-sentence.

Hyunjin hadn’t even reached his seat when Jisung’s head turned sharply. The air shifted. "You smell different," Jisung said, nose twitching slightly.

The room fell quiet. All eyes turned.

Hyunjin froze, his hand still on the back of his chair. He exhaled slowly, the scent still clinging to him like ivy. He met their eyes without flinching. "I was at the old forest cabin. The one John sold last week. Delivered a pizza there." John blinked. "You mean the place by the southern ridge? I sold that to a young woman. Didn’t know she was –" Hyunjin nodded once. "She’s an Alpha." Another ripple moved through the room. Not fear—just tension, a subtle string drawn taut between old instincts and new information. Minho exchanged a glance with Changbin. Felix frowned thoughtfully. And then, as if on cue, all their gazes drifted to the head of the table.

To Chan.

John leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "I spoke with her only briefly. She said she needed a quiet place. Needed to get away from the city. Didn’t mention what she was. I wouldn’t have known either." "She didn’t feel threatening," Hyunjin said quickly. "She just… felt tired." Maria placed her hand gently over John’s. "Then she came to the right place."

Minho finally spoke, his voice low. "We should keep an eye on her. Just in case." Jisung shrugged. "She smelled good." That earned a snort from Felix. But Chan didn’t laugh. He set his spoon down and looked at Hyunjin, eyes sharp despite their calm.

"We leave her alone." No one questioned it. Because Chan rarely gave orders. But when he did, they weren’t suggestions. "She came here to disappear," he added, leaning back in his chair. "We don’t drag her into anything unless we have to. That’s the deal we make with anyone who comes to this place for peace. We respect their silence." And the silence that followed was thicker than before—but not uncomfortable. Just full of understanding. Hyunjin nodded and finally sat down. The bowl of stew in front of him had gone lukewarm, but he didn’t care. The scent still hadn’t faded from his mind.

Wildflowers. Lilac. Storm.

A feeling, not a memory.

Something unnamed, curled just beneath the surface of things. And in the flicker of the firelight, while the others returned to conversation, Hyunjin sat back in his chair and let the thought settle like dust: She was here. And the forest had already begun to shift around her.

taglist; @shoganaiiii, @h0rnyp0t, @maddy24207

masterlist | prologue

189 notes · View notes

lonely-ey3s · 2 months ago

Text

Heartlines | Chapter Three

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : After you take lunch to his work, Harry asks you to be his date to his work masquerade party. However, he takes you shopping for the event beforehand, showing you how important you are and how serious he is about being with you.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn, angst, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), switched POV's, drinking, thoughts of smut (18+ MDNI), flirting, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 10.6k

a/n: i am super proud of this chapter. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i loved writing it. something about watching episode 2 just made me want to write anything but what i was feeling and it just poured into this chapter for harry and the reader.

also just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !! enjoy 💗

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

You were called into the office early the next morning, another hiccup.

After everything calmed down and everyone from the wedding party had left for the airport or checked out, you had the rest of the day to yourself.

After talking with Lila last night, and how well the conversation went with Harry, you wanted to return the favor to him.

You ran to a classic sandwich shop down the street from the hotel, then took a cab to the address Lila provided you for where Harry worked.

You got out of the taxi, and a tall building stood in front of you.

You'd lived in New York most of your life and the skyscrapers in the city weren't anything new, but they still overwhelmed you when you got this close.

You looked up and estimated it had over 100 floors, easily.

You took a deep breath as a wave of anxiety washed over you. Your heart started to pound — you felt like you were going to be sick. Something inside of you was trying to pull you back and away– put the walls back up.

You shook your head and swallowed it all down, you weren't going to let it control you anymore. Not when you had a chance at being happy.

With that you put one foot in front of the other and made your way inside.

Lila told you to go to the elevators and go to the 64th floor, so that’s what you did.

The bellboy smiled at you as you entered. “I’ve not seen you here before…” he said, looking down at the bag you were holding. “Bringing someone lunch?”

You nodded and looked down at the bag, smiling softly.

“64th floor is all those investors… your friend rich?” he asked, trying to make small talk.

You chuckled as you tilted your head upward, watching the numbers slowly rise. “He does well for himself…”

He scoffed and turned to look at the doors, back to assuming his position, “That’s just a nice way of saying he’s loaded,” he teased.

You shrugged, letting out a small chuckle, then looked at the doors as you approached the 64th floor. “I guess it is...”

The bell dinged, and the doors opened.

You looked over at him and nodded politely, “Thank you.” Then you stepped out and began walking down the hallway toward the large glass doors with the company logo on it.

The moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

It was colder than you expected — not in temperature, but in tone. Sleek, polished, professional. The kind of place where every inch had been carefully curated to project power without ever needing to say it aloud.

You swallowed at the scale; the complete change of environment from where you worked was overwhelming.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, letting in the hard, clear light of the city. Every desk gleamed like it had been buffed ten minutes ago. Dark wood, glass, leather chairs—everything was uniform, clean cut.

The soft hum of voices and muted clicks of keyboards filled the air — no shouting, no chaos — just the efficient, almost clinical buzz of money moving from one place to another.

Men and women in sharp suits moved through the space with purpose, their watches catching the light, their gazes focused and far too busy to notice you lingering near the front.

Behind a massive desk, a receptionist with a headset gave you a tight, polite smile. Her nails tapped against the keyboard like she was marking time until the next meeting.

You noticed the voice coming from the other side of the desk and immediately felt relieved at the first sign of someone interacting with you instead of ignoring you. "Delivery?"

You came over and shook your head shyly, “I’m uh, not delivering, I'm actually here to have lunch with a uhm, someone who works here? Harry Castillo?” you looked at her with an eyebrow raised, hoping you were in the right place.

She smiled brightly, “Oh, Mr. Castillo! Let me page his assistant!” She touched a button on the desk phone.

“No!” you shouted, making her jump. “Sorry, no… I uh, I’m surprising him,” you chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” she softly giggled, nodding. “Let me take you to where his office is. You can wait for him in there,” she smiled softly and stood to walk around the reception desk, “He’s just in a meeting for maybe another 15 minutes or so…”

You nodded and smiled politely as you trailed closely behind her.

She started to walk through the office, smiling and nodding at a few people here and there. You looked around and got a sense of what Harry might do for work, picking up on small details.

You heard your name being called from across the office floor and turned to follow where the call was coming from.

Ben smiled and waved to you. “What the heck are you doing here?” he said as he started to come over to you.

You smiled and chuckled lightly, holding up the bag you had in your hand, “I was going to surprise Harry with lunch…” You nodded towards the receptionist, who stopped walking as you did.

Ben waved her off, “I’ll take her the rest of the way, Lucy, thank you for helping,” he smiled.

She nodded and walked back to her desk, leaving you and Ben alone.

“So... you and Harry?” he grinned and offered his arm for you to hold while you two continued to walk.

You chuckled as you took it, “Nothin’ is… we uhm, we aren’t exclusive.” You shyly scrambled over your response.

Ben huffed out a small chuckle, “Not exclusive? He’s head over heels for you! And I think, based on how Lila came home last night, gossiping about your little phone call– you are feeling the same way,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully.

There was a small pause before you spoke again, “I’m not sure how to feel. We haven’t gone out on an official date yet. Just flirting, you know... getting to know each other…” You glanced up at him.

“Ah, I see…” he nodded, softly tutting. He then opened a door that had Harry’s name on a placard by it. “Can I offer some advice then?”

You stepped in and let go of his arm. “Advice for me or him?” you joked.

He chuckled at your jab but then sighed softly and smiled somewhat sadly, “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He’s been hurt just as much as you have.” He looked down for a moment and then back up at you. “He’s someone who puts everything into someone…” he nodded towards his desk, “If you can… find a way to reciprocate it? Give each other a chance. Let him take care of you, but also... take care of him…”

Your eyes scanned over his desk. Of all the other desks you saw, Harry's had a warmth to it. There were framed photos and even a small Lego Batman figure you assumed was from one of his nephews or nieces. A flashback from the wedding make you chuckle as you thought about the joke you two had walking down the aisle.

You then looked back at Ben, understanding what he meant. “I’ll do my best,” you smiled softly.

He nodded and gently patted the door frame. “I know you will,”

You both heard his name being called from another part of the office. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m being summoned,” he said, chuckling.

You nodded and came over, gently kissing his cheek, “It’s good to see you. I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”

He nodded and returned the gentle kiss on your cheek, “You better…”

You chuckled softly and nodded, then walked back to sit in a chair that sat in front of Harry’s desk before he closed the door and left.

Harry’s POV

He had been in this meeting for almost an hour now, and Kent’s monotone voice was almost lulling him to sleep.

Slide 28 of 35.

‘God help us all.’ he thought as he looked at his watch to see the time, eager to get on with his day.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting back to the slideshow in front of him and the rest of the executives as they attentively watched.

Another chart. Another bullet point. Another pointless deep dive into data he’d already skimmed three days ago, processed, and moved on from.

He glanced at his phone, barely visible in his lap under the glass table. He’d been itching to give you a call back since this morning. Especially after last night's phone call was cut short by his own fatigue.

He sat there and wondered what you were doing right now. God, how he wanted nothing more than to spend 20 minutes in your presence.

Ever since the wedding, it seemed like the two of you couldn’t catch a break. You both are constantly being pulled away from each other. The mere thought of having a whole evening with you, dinner or something, where the two of you can just be… it was all he could think about.

“…and now we’ll open it up for thoughts on how we might approach portfolio diversification in Q3,” Kent’s voice at the end of the table cut through his thoughts. “Harry, any thoughts?”

He looked up sharply, blinking once as the room’s attention shifted toward him.

He softly cleared his throat, put his phone into his pocket, and straightened his tie. He leaned forward just enough to appear engaged, not like he had mentally disconnected from the meeting 10 slides ago.

“Well,” he began smoothly, “given the volatility we’ve seen in international equities and the Fed’s latest posture, I’d say it’s less about diversification and more abou–” he stopped.

For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing a sick joke on him as he saw you, smiling, walking through the office. His office.

He blinked to refocus his vision, but you were still there. Arm in arm with Ben, both of you heading towards his office.

His heart stuttered, then picked up speed like it was trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. A warmth flooded his chest—not the soft kind, but the kind that made him feel a little dizzy. It made him feel alive.

The only thing he could focus on was you— how the light caught your eyes, how your smile lit up the room.

A small smile cracked through onto his lips.

Another executive cleared his throat, which snapped his attention back to the group.

He cleared his throat and turned a soft shade of red. “Excuse me. As I was saying, uh…” He chuckled softly, feeling a bit nervous from his sudden distraction.

He looked at you once more before turning his attention to the table, “It’s less about diversification and more about precision. Risk-adjusted returns only mean something if you’re holding the right risk.”

He watched as a few heads nodded in agreement. One guy scribbled something down on his pad as if it were gospel. No one questioned it. They rarely did with Harry.

He leaned back in his seat and anxiously tapped his thumb against the file folder in front of him, creating a soft thumping.

He wasn’t eager for this meeting to end due to its boredom now; he was keen for it to end so he could go to you.

He watched your location from the corner of his vision. After a few minutes, Ben left and closed his door, meaning only one thing: you were in his office alone, and he could have you all to himself.

About 10 minutes later, Mr. Clarkson, the CEO, stood up and started gathering his belongings. “Thanks so much for your time today, everyone. As a reminder, Ruby will send you all the formal invitations for our dinner party this Friday, involving Tets Investments closing with us.”

His ears perked to the announcement. He'd completely forgotten about it. 'That's it. I'll ask her to be my date...'

Everyone else stood and collected their bearings, nodding in acknowledgment.

A young man opened the glass door and headed towards Harry.

It was his assistant Peter. He had a tablet and a few folders in his arm along with a wireless headset in his ear. “Ok, so you’ve got a meeting with Angela and Bryan from accounting in about 30 minutes. This is the paperwork you need to look over,” he handed Harry the file folder, exchanging it for the one he had from the meeting.

Harry started walking out of the conference room, buttoning his suit jacket up as he strolled, “I need to reschedule that.” He held the folder for Peter to take back.

Peter scoffed, letting out a bewildered chuckle, “What, why?” He took the folder back and began scrolling through Harry’s calendar on the tablet, trying to see what openings were in their schedules to rebook.

“Something came up. Just make it happen please...” he smiled as he straightened his tie and huffed his breath into his palm to check if it smelled decent.

Peter turned his head to observe everything he was doing, confused for a moment but continued. “Uhm, do you need me to reschedule your 3 pm meeting with Elsie from marketing then?”

“Let’s keep that, but I’ll let you know if that needs to be changed.” He went to reach for the handle, but Peter beat him to it out of habit and opened it.

“Of course. Just let me kn—” he stopped, seeing you in the middle of Harry’s office. “Oh…”

You quickly stood and smiled, putting your hands in front of you shyly, “Surprise…” you beamed.

Harry’s head quickly snapped from looking at Peter to you and smiled brightly, playing along with your surprise, “You’re here…” he chuckled and squeezed through the door that Peter was standing gobsmacked in front of.

He came over and gently touched your hand, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

You held up the bag of food in between you, “I uhm, I brought lunch… do you have some time?” your cheeks turned rosy red as he looked down at you.

Peter cleared his throat softly and grinned sinfully, "I’ll see if Elsie can reschedule for tomorrow. I'll tell her something came up...” he teased.

Harry looked back at him and shook his head, smiled softly at the jab, “This is my assistant, Peter.” he looked back at you.

You smiled and held out your hand as you walked over to him, “Peter, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

He took your hand and grinned wider, “Wait... Y/N as in Y/N from the wedding?” he looked at Harry, jaw slacked dramatically.

You chuckled and looked back at him, “Have you been talkin’ about me around the office now?” you teased.

Peter smirked, “Oh, he’s not shut up since… he won’t—”

Harry interjected quickly, turning red, “Is that the phone I hear?” he nodded towards Peter’s desk.

There was no phone ringing.

You bit your lip, trying to hide a giggle, and looked down shyly.

Peter cleared his throat softly, getting the memo Harry was trying to send. “It’s lovely to meet you again,” he said, touching your arm gently. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You smiled softly and thanked him before he closed the door softly.

After a moment of silence, Harry softly cleared his throat and looked over at you, “I uhm… I’ve been meanin’ to call you since last night…” He took off his jacket, placing it on the back of the chair where he stood, and started to roll up his sleeves.

You turned around and tucked some loose hairs behind your ears. “I’ve been meaning to do the same.” You walked over slowly, the tension suddenly felt high.

Another small moment of silence.

“I had things end a little earlier than we planned at the hotel, so I thought I’d… you know… return the favor and come surprise you.” You softly smiled at him.

The act of you matching the level of interest he'd been displaying since the wedding was heartwarming to him. He was getting what he put in, put out towards him. It was something he hadn't had in a partner in a very long time. It was all he wanted, someone to match his love language, or at least appreciate it.

He had a sweet and warm smile across his lips as he watched you, “I’ve missed you…”

You looked down into the bag shyly, “I’ve missed you too…” You started pulling the food out and setting it on the table.

Harry watched for a moment from where he was standing and then moved to stand behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. “Can I help?”

It was just a touch—barely anything. His hand was barely on your back, light as a whisper.

But it hit like a lightning strike.

A wave of warmth flooded your chest, spreading out like someone had turned on a light from the inside.

Your cheeks burned instantly, that unmistakable flush that crept up your neck no matter how hard you had tried to will it away. Your heart skipped a beat, the one that made your mind short-circuit.

Butterflies? More like a full-blown riot in your stomach.

You turned your head to look at him and nodded but then got lost in his gaze momentarily.

He said your name softly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

You inhaled a shaky, nervous breath before blurting out. “N-Napkins…”

His gaze flickered up to your eyes, grinning like he knew what he was doing to you.

“Do you have any napkins?” you grinned sheepishly.

He nodded. “Yeah, they're in my desk…” He walked around to the other side to retrieve them.

You looked down at the food you’d laid out and tried to settle yourself– taking in a small deep breath.

Harry tutted, “So– I may have figured out a first date for us if you’re up for it?” He looked up from his drawer.

You glanced at him and softly chuckled, “Oh? What would that be?”

He came back around his desk with a small pile of napkins, smiling warmly. He sat down on his desk before taking his sandwich, then patting the area beside him for you to sit. “I have a work dinner party on Friday. It’s a masquerade-type thing…” he kept his gaze on the sandwich as he spoke.

You sat down and looked at him as he spoke, unwrapping your sandwich, “Are you asking me to be your date, Mr. Castillo?” you teased, lightly nudging his side with your elbow.

He let out a light chuckle and looked at you, a twinkle in his big brown eyes had become clearer now that you were closer. “I’m askin’ you to be my date, sweetheart…”

You hummed, and your eyes danced across his features, then you looked down at your sandwich. “In that case, I need to go shopping for a mask…” You smiled as you bit your bottom lip.

“Is that a yes?” he kept his gaze on you, his smile slowly grew.

You looked back up at him and your smile became softer, “That’s a yes…”

He looked back at his sandwich and took a bite, saying with his mouth somewhat full, making you giggle, “Good. Then that means I get to take you dress shopping…”

You also took a bite and then paused, covering your mouth with your hand. “Wait, what?” You thought you misheard him.

He chewed and swallowed, turning to look at you. “I’m taking you dress shopping,” he shrugged, smiling to himself as if it were no big deal.

You chortled, now thinking he was joking.

“What’s so funny?” he smiled innocently.

You tilted your head to the side to gauge him out and scooted away from him to see him better, “Harry, you’re kidding, right?”

His smile didn’t waver as he shook his head, “Why would I joke about that?” he snickered softly.

You stuttered, “I just… like you want to go with me when I shop? Help me pick out something?” You set your sandwich down. This now needing your full, undivided attention.

He set his sandwich down as well and turned slightly, finding you amusing, “I want to buy you a dress, accessories, shoes… the mask… anything you might want for the event.” He reached forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to take care of you.”

You looked down shyly at your hand sitting flat on the desk. You didn’t know what to say. You felt like words weren’t computing inside your brain. It was like you were short-circuiting again.

“Will you let me do that?” he asked.

Ben’s words echoed in your head, ‘Let him take care of you.’

You looked up and did the only thing you could. You nodded while a shy smile slipped onto your lips.

“Good.” He leaned forward and softly kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. It was as if he were savoring the tender contact, the intimate gesture. He pulled away and smiled warmly, “Do you have time to go this evening?”

“Yeah… I’ve got time,” you croaked out, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat and lightly let out a chuckle, for which he joined in.

You readjusted to sit back as you were before and picked up your sandwich.

You sat there for a moment, then scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “So tell me, how was your meeting?” You took a bite, then slid your hand into his.

He couldn’t help the idiot grin he had on his face but couldn’t give a shit.

He hummed softly, contentedly, and took his sandwich with his free hand and sighed softly, “Long version or short version, hermosa?”

You nuzzled your head in softly, “Long version…”

After you left Harry’s work and went back to yours, he told you that he’d pick you up from the hotel to go shopping around 5 pm.

In true Harry Castillo fashion, he was 10 minutes early, standing outside his car with a new bouquet. This time, it was of peonies.

You clocked out a few minutes early and walked out to find him leaning against the all black SUV, his eyes on the flowers. He was now dressed in a tan button-down and dark-wash jeans.

You smiled at the sight, “Do you ever not look dashing?” you teased.

His eyes snapped up to you and instantly had a smile on his face, “Hey there, beautiful…”

You came up and gently kissed his cheek. “What do we have this time?” you looked down at the flowers, your cheeks pink.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek back, then held up the flowers a little to present them, “Peonies…”

You took them from him gently and took a small sniff, “Ooh, I like the smell of those…” you glanced up at him.

He smiled wider, excited, “Oh? Have we found a favorite?” He had his hand gently on yours, his thumb rubbing the outside of your wrist.

You blushed at the tenderness, “I think we have a contender, but let’s still run through other flowers. You know, just to be sure…” You winked.

He chuckled, “Noted.” He then leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Shall we?”

You nodded and went to get into the front passenger seat out of habit.

Meanwhile, he opened the back door for you and waited for you to notice.

You turned around to him, confused about why you'd be sitting in the backseat. But then you saw there was a driver in the front seat and tutted. “Should have known better,” you giggled and came back, getting in the back seat.

Ted, Harry’s driver, took you both to a shopping plaza in SoHo.

The moment Harry opened your door and you stepped out, you saw places like Chanel, Dior, and Louis Vuitton.

You chuckled and shook your head, backing up towards the car, not knowing how to react. “Harry, we are not shopping at places like this… It’s too expensive… I…” You looked up at the pretty neon signs above the store's doors. “This is…” You scoffed, not able to find the words.

You didn’t feel worth it.

You didn’t feel that him spending this much money on you was something you deserved.

It felt wrong. But there it was again, Ben’s words, ‘Let him take care of you,’ and for Harry, this was his way of doing just that.

He chuckled at your reaction and looked at Ted. “Meet us back here in a few hours.”

Ted nodded and drove off, leaving you looking at Harry with a bewildered smile on your face, to which he just smiled adoringly at you.

“What?” you giggled.

He held out his hand and sighed. “Just trust me?” he said, smiling warmly.

You bit your lip and shook your head, but then sighed playfully, “Alright… fine…” You slid your hand into his.

He led you into the first store, Chanel, where a shopping attendant greeted you both at the door, eager to make a nice commission.

She looked lavish and expensive, dressed head to toe in 'completely out of your budget' attire—even the air she was exhaling made you feel poor. “Welcome in! My name is Genevieve. Is there anything I can help you find?”

You looked up to Harry, unsure of what to do or say. Everything about this seemed like an out-of-body experience to you.

He smiled and looked at her, letting go of your hand, setting his on the small of your back. “Genevieve, we have a masquerade ball this weekend, and she needs a new dress, new shoes… she needs it all,” he grinned.

You smiled shyly at her, “Maybe we can just start with a dress? I have stuff at home, I’m sure I can use…” You looked up at Harry for a moment, then back at her.

You didn’t want to be like every other girl Harry had been with; you didn’t want to feel like a gold digger.

He mouthed to her, ‘Everything’, then winked and grinned.

She chuckled and nodded at him, understanding completely. “Well, that sounds like fun!” She looked at you and said, “Let's start with what colors you have in mind?”

She started to walk through the store, heading towards the dresses, and you both followed close behind.

You looked around, eyes scanning over everything. It was all so immaculate, gleaming, and expensive. You’d never even thought you’d own anything like this, let alone be walking through one of the stores. “Well, I usually go towards darker colors, but I’ve been told I look good in red?” you glanced at her.

She nodded and started skimming through some of the selections, grabbing some options, humming as she did so.

Harry walked to another section with you, pulling out a dark red dress, one with a slit up the thigh, but it was just what you liked or would have picked out yourself. “Thoughts?” He glanced at you.

You nodded and smiled, barely running your fingers over the silky fabric, “I like it.”

Genevieve gasped, coming over, seeing his selection, “Good choice!” She smiled and took it from him, putting it in the small pile she’d gathered over her arm. “Why don’t we try these on? And then we can narrow down what we do and don’t like– and if we need to go from there.”

You nodded and smiled.

“Perfect. If you’d follow me… and then Mr. Castillo, if you’ll take a seat, we’ll get started.” She nodded for you to follow her.

Harry softly rubbed your back, “I’ll just be out here,” then kissed your cheek gently.

You nodded and smiled up at him.

You walked away and followed her into the dressing room, your hands shyly behind your back.

You entered the dressing room and changed into a dark brown dress with a very deep bust and dangerously high slit up the thigh. It felt a little too inappropriate for the party you were attending.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and shook your head, then looked at Genevieve, “I think this is too much…” You looked down at the plunge that opened up your cleavage, blushing at what Harry might think.

“Do you want to go out and show your boyfriend? Just to get a feel for it?” She smiled and tilted her head, “You know, give him a show?” She giggled playfully.

“Oh, um, he’s not my— well not yet… I mean, I hope eventually he– Fuck sorry...” You were stumbling over your words.

She grinned and tilted her head mischievously, “Even more reason to then…”

You chuckled lightly and looked back at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, you looked good. No. You looked fucking amazing. The dress accentuated your curves, complemented your skin tone, it made you radiant. “Alright…” you looked at her. “What’s the harm?” you smirked and picked up the front to walk out.

She cleared her throat and began walking to the main floor to catch Harry's attention.

Harry was sitting back on the couch, but then immediately straightened up and turned a light shade of red the moment he saw you. He quietly cleared his throat and mumbled under his breath, “Fuck me…”

You stepped onto the platform and turned to look in the mirrors, watching Harry’s reaction from behind you with a slight smirk.

“You’re wearing one of our vintage evening gowns from 1987…” She began straightening some parts as she continued, “This is typically worn with black velvet gloves, which would go quite nicely with your masquerade theme…” She began to adjust the train of the dress to present it.

Harry was speechless. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, off your body.

His mouth went dry. His mind—usually so sharp, so calculated—was suddenly fogged with one thought, one need, one echo pounding in time with his pulse:

Want.

His pulse thundered in his ears. The slit in the dress climbed like a secret up your thigh, and the way your eyes flicked to him in the mirror—slow, knowing—sent fire curling in his gut.

His thoughts? Completely undone. Replaced by vivid flashes: your back against a wall, lips crashing into his, fingers in his hair, that dress tangled somewhere on the floor.

Genevieve clocked his reaction in the mirror and glanced at you, giving you a knowing wink and a slight smirk.

You turned around and smiled innocently his way, “Thoughts?”

His eyes continued to drink you in, eyes trailing down your body— not hearing a word you said.

You let out a soft giggle, “Harry?”

His gaze snapped up to yours, and he cleared his throat, turning a darker shade of red.

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you say something? I…” he ran his thumb over his bottom lip and looked back down your body, “You look…" he exhaled, "Wow…” he said lowly, sitting forward a bit.

You blushed and turned back to look at yourself in the mirror. “I feel it might be too much for a work party, you know?” You slid your hands down your body to smooth out the dress. Not knowing it was doing something to him, giving him a little show.

He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his hips from the unwelcome bulge starting to form. “I… look, you’re hearin’ no complaints from me…” He swallowed, trying to calm himself down.

You looked back at him and bit your bottom lip, “So, you like this one?”

His eyes snapped back up to yours and he grinned, “Darlin’, you make anythin’ look good… Of course I like it.” he nodded towards the dressing rooms, “But let’s try on some more, get a feel for what you like, not what I like...” he raised his eyebrow, being supportive of you dressing for you, not for him.

Genevieve spoke up, “I like what he said. This is about what you like.” She offered her hand. “Plus, we can always return to this one and see if our minds change…” She looked up at you and smiled politely.

You looked down at Genevieve, taking her hand, stepping off the platform, and smiled back, “I agree…”

She nodded and then led you back to the dressing room, where she had you put on a few more dresses.

You walked out and showed Harry each time, but they didn’t have the same reaction as the first—for you or him.

However, there was one last dress.

It was the one that Harry had found.

And once it was on you, it fit like a glove.

It was everything— elegant, sexy, tasteful, but allowed for slight teasing.

It had a high slit up the thigh and had a somewhat lower cut in the bust. However, it was more tasteful than the first as it highlighted your collarbones and shoulders beautifully.

You couldn’t help but beam when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked radiant.

You walked out to see Harry on his phone texting, but the second he heard Genevieve’s high heels hit the floor, his attention snapped up.

It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs the way his breath caught as he saw you.

You bit your bottom lip and blushed at the clear reaction. You knew this one was it with how his eyes drank every inch of you in.

The first was fun—something to wear to a more intimate and casual event. However, this one was tasteful and had the exact same effect on him, leaving him speechless.

You stepped up and looked into the mirrors. You now were able to see how it hugged every curve of you beautifully. Every line— highlighted.

You worked your angles, making sure everything fit perfectly, and then looked at Harry in the mirror, “Thoughts?”

He took a moment to absorb how beautiful you looked.

He was thinking about how much he’d been waiting for so long to feel this way for someone, and now here you are— right in front of him. He wasn’t going to let you go or let you down. As he looked at you in this moment, not only was the dress the one, but so are you.

He smiled adoringly and nodded at you, “I’m going to be the luckiest man at the party with how beautiful you look in that dress, querida…” He leaned forward, giving you his fullest attention.

You blushed and found his eyes in the mirror. You took a deep breath and nodded at him, "Ok, this is the one."

Genevieve giggled, which pulled your focus to her. She clapped her hands together a couple times, “Ah! I love it! This dress was made for you…”

She took a step back and hummed, “However, it’s missing something…” She tapped her fingers on her lips as she began thinking for a few seconds, then she lit up and held up a finger, “I’ve got it! Wait here…” She then disappeared into the store on the hunt.

You looked back over your shoulder and chuckled, “What could possibly be missing?”

Harry looked behind his shoulder to see where she had gone, but couldn’t find her.

He looked back at you, and both of you smiled shyly at each other.

He stood from the couch and made his way over to you. The closer he got, the more his eyes ran over every part of you. You shyly looked back at the mirror and watched his movements.

He hummed before offering his hand for you to step off the platform, “Well… it may not be what she’s thinking… but I do have something in mind that I’ve been thinking might make it better…”

You took his hand and stepped off the platform, slightly confused but intrigued. You looked up at him and smiled softly, “Oh? What would that be?” you teased, feeling shy under his gaze.

He swallowed down his nerves, then found your eyes, “Just my opinion, but…” He slowly reached up and cupped your cheek before leaning in, his voice a hushed whisper lost between the beats of your heart. His thumb brushed gently along your cheekbone, eyes searching yours like he needed to be sure this moment was real.

The world seemed to blur around you—no more noise, no more people, just the closeness between you and him. You could feel the warmth of his breath as the space narrowed, your lips a breath apart.

Your hands—unsure at first—found their way to the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling lightly near his chest. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palms, quick like yours. One hand slid up almost instinctively, fingertips grazing the side of his neck, drawn to the way he leaned into your touch.

“…this,” he finished, his words trembling on the edge of a kiss.

Your thoughts became rushed—Is this really happening? Can he feel how nervous I am? God, please don’t mess this up. But beneath all that noise was something quieter, something softer: I want this. I want him.

And then he closed the distance.

It was gentle and deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, all those thoughts dissolved. There was only the feeling—the warmth, the closeness, the way the world melted away until it was just him.

Your fingers tightened slightly in his shirt as the kiss deepened, just a little, and you tilted your head to meet him more fully. You felt seen. Wanted. Safe.

When he pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breath mingled with yours, both of you smiling in the quiet.

Your eyes flutter open, and you let out a soft chuckle, whispering, “I um, I think to add that to the outfit, there’s an added fee…” you joked, gently caressing his jawline with your fingertips, studying his features, memorizing everything about this moment.

His eyes remained closed, forehead still against yours as he chuckled, low and warm in his chest, before he leaned back in and murmured against your lips, “Whatever the price… I’ll pay millions if it means I get to kiss you like that, querida…”

You barely had time to smile before his lips were on yours again—this time slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of rushing any second of it.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your waist, fingers splaying there as he gently pulled you in, closing the last bit of distance between your bodies. The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands moved instinctively, trailing up his chest—feeling the steady beat of his heart — before loosely wrapping around his neck, fingertips threading into his hair. You tilted your head slightly, leaning into him, meeting the kiss with just as much quiet urgency.

It was deep, but not desperate—tender in its intensity. He kissed you like he needed you to feel what he couldn’t quite say out loud yet. Like he wanted you to know this wasn’t just a moment. It was the moment.

Your breaths mingled, uneven now, but neither of you seemed to care. The world outside your embrace didn’t exist anymore—not when his thumb was drawing slow circles against your waist, not when you felt him smile slightly against your lips like kissing you was the best decision he'd ever made.

Genevieve’s voice cut through the haze you two were in, making you both slowly pull away and look at each other, both smiling like idiots.

“I found thi—” she saw what she’d interrupted and shyly chuckled, “Oh, pardon me, umm…” she turned away, attempting to give you both privacy.

Harry lightly chuckled and kissed your forehead. “No, no… pardon me...” He let go of your waist and looked at Genevieve as she turned back around, his lips somewhat red and cheeks rosy. “What did you find for her?” he nodded to her as he went and sat back down.

You let out a slow exhale, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she came over and had some jewelry and handbags to show you.

You looked away first, cheeks warming all over again as Genevieve continued talking, holding up a clutch with little gold details. You nodded along, barely catching half of what she said—your heart still somewhere between his hands and that kiss.

You caught him glancing at you again from the corner of your eye.

Not in a way that demanded anything, just… there. Warm, steady, a little breathless—like he was still replaying that kiss in his head the same way you were.

Your lips curved into a shy smile before you could stop it. You no longer tried to hide it. Not when the air still hummed between you. Not when he looked at you like that kiss opened up that part in his heart deep down like it did for you.

He tilted his head just slightly, like he was memorizing the way you looked when you were trying not to smile. Like this was his new favorite view.

Genevieve didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she was kind enough to pretend. She kept chatting as she turned to the mirror, holding up one of the necklaces to your neckline.

And in the quiet moment that followed, your eyes met his again.

This time, you held the look.

Long enough for it to say everything,

I liked that. I want more. We’re not done.

And when he gave you that barely-there smile again—the one that said I know, me too—your heart skipped, flipped, and practically melted into your chest.

Friday

You managed to get off work around 4 pm, as you were panicking about being ready on time.

Harry told you last night that he’d pick you up at seven. With that being said, that would give you 3 hours to run around your place like a madwoman while Lila chased you around, trying to help put you together.

As expected, he knocked right on time, 7 pm sharp.

Lila was still there unexpectedly, as there was a last-minute makeup snafu.

You whispered hearing the door, “Fuck! You aren’t supposed to be here!”

She quietly giggled and shoved you towards the door.

You turned back and chuckled, pointing behind the couch, “Hide! Quickly!”

She ran and hid behind the couch, peeking around so she could see the front door.

You let out a breath and shook your hands shaking out all the nerves.

You hadn’t seen Harry since that day he took you shopping. Afterwards, both your schedules picked up again– his taking him out of town for the last couple of days.

All the nervousness and tension had been building up from the calls and texts you two shared over the last couple of days. You both were very eager to see each other.

Lila popped out and loudly whispered, “Oh for Christ sake, open the door!”

You turned around and waved her off, shushing her, giggling.

She popped back down, and you opened the door— and there he was.

He looked absolutely devastating in a dark, subtly patterned suit that hugged his frame perfectly, the crisp white of his shirt peeking through just enough to make him seem both dangerous and heartbreakingly polite. His hair was tousled back, like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times in nervous excitement. He had a little smirk across his lips — the one that made his deep-set eyes soften — aimed straight at you.

‘God damn it, how was I supposed to survive tonight when he looks like that?’

He was holding a bouquet that was wrapped in brown paper, tied sweetly with a dark red bow, one to match your dress.

The moment he laid eyes on you, for a second — maybe longer — he forgot how to breathe.

He dragged his eyes back up to yours, trying (and failing) not to look too awestruck. His heart was pounding like he’d just run a mile.

"Wow..." he breathed out, voice a little rougher than he intended. He chuckled low, shaking his head as he stepped closer, the world around him narrowing down to nothing but you.

"You’re... you're going to ruin me tonight, aren’t you?" he smirked.

Before you could even tease him back with a response, he was already moving, drawn in like gravity had decided you were the center of the universe.

He cupped your face gently, and then he kissed you — slow at first, like he wanted to savor the moment, then a little deeper when he felt you lean into him.

It wasn't rushed, wasn't messy — it was the kind of kiss that promised a night neither of you would forget, filled with heat, laughter, and something dangerously close to falling head over heels.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, a little breathless, "You have no idea what you’re doing to me..."

You breathlessly whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ve missed you…”

He smiled like he’d never smiled before hearing that. His arm moved down to wrap around your waist and pull you close to him, “God, I’ve missed you too…”

You giggled and leaned back in, forgetting about Lila completely– who was watching from behind the couch with a shit eating grin on her face trying not to make a peep.

This time, you kissed him deeper.

You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, needing something to hold onto as the kiss grew hotter, messier — the kind that made time stutter and your heart pound in your ears.

He tilted his head, deepening it even more, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat that made your knees threaten to give out. It wasn’t just desire in the kiss — it was something hungry, something that said he’d been waiting for this without even realizing it.

When you finally broke apart, both of you felt a little dizzy. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

"If we don't leave right now..." he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "... I’m not sure we ever will." He gently squeezed your waist, pulling you close to him.

You swallowed and nodded, your eyes staying closed for a moment while you centered yourself.

Your eyes opened, and slowly, reluctantly pulled away from him, blushing, “I uhm, I need to grab my mask and purse.”

You nodded to your living room, “Make yourself at home.”

You went to turn away when he gasped and pulled you back, “Shit, I uhm, I got these for you…” he held up the bouquet between the two of you, smiling down at you.

You leaned down and sniffed them, blushing as he watched.

“Chocolate ranunculus…” he softly said.

“I like them. They match my dress…” You smiled sweetly up at him.

He tutted and tilted his head, biting his lip, “That may have been intentional, hermosa…”

You hummed and took them from him softly, “Well, I’m going to go put these in a vase before we leave… I’ll be quick.” You reached up on your toes and pecked his lips, leaving him smiling like a fool as you disappeared down the hall.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, still feeling the ghost of your lips, and began casually pacing your living room — taking in the framed photos, souvenirs, and small touches that felt undeniably you.

His smile widened when he spotted a photo of you and Lila on your wall at the beach, arms wrapped around each other, laughing mid-splash.

That’s when he heard it — the soft creak of movement behind the couch.

He tilted his head slowly. “You know,” he said, loud enough to be heard but still casual, “if you’re gonna spy on your sister’s love life, Lila, you should at least bring popcorn to enjoy the show.”

Lila popped up like a guilty meerkat, her expression caught somewhere between sheepish and exasperated. “I knew I should’ve hid in the coat closet,” she muttered.

He crossed his arms, grinning smugly. “That would’ve made it so much less suspicious...” He chuckled.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself, okay?” she grumbled. “I wasn’t spying. I was... waiting for my moment to escape when you two left.”

“By hiding behind a piece of furniture like a sitcom character?” he teased.

“You were early!” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger.

He just laughed. “I was on time!”

Just then, you reappeared, carrying a vase of freshly arranged flowers — and immediately froze.

“Oh my God.” You stared at the two of them, eyes wide. “Lila you didn’t just see—”

“She did,” he said, without missing a beat.

“She didn’t,” Lila cut in at the same time, trying to sidestep around him with her dignity barely intact.

“You did, you saw…” you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified.

Lila chuckled, feeling your embarrassment, “I’m sorry… but for the record... you guys are adorable... all love sick and needy!” she teased.

You waved a hand at the door. “Just go. Get out. Shoo. Go. Vanish...”

Lila muttered something under her breath that made Harry chuckle, then finally slipped out, leaving the door swinging shut behind her.

He looked at you, still smiling. “You two really are sisters.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch and mask. “Oh, stop it...” Your cheeks are still red with embarrassment.

He chuckled lowly. “You’re cute when you’re like this…” he said, offering you his arm. “Ready?”

You looped your arm through his, still grinning as the two of you stepped out into the night — leaving behind the flowers, the laughter, and the sister-shaped chaos.

Ted drove the two of you to the Cipriani 25 Broadway venue.

When the two of you got inside, the hall was packed.

His hand was warm against the small of your back as the heavy doors creaked open before the two of you. For a moment, you both just stood there, the world inside the ballroom spilling out, enchanting you.

The hall was bathed in gold and shadow, candlelight flickering off marble columns — soaring, painted ceilings.

Nearly two hundred masked figures swirled and laughed, their movements weaving an intricate and glowing motion.

You could hear music coming from a hidden quartet, which made the atmosphere feel delicate and rich.

You felt his breath hitch– you glanced up to find him already looking down at you. His dark suit caught the light just right. It was enough to hint at its texture — and the sharp line of his jaw was only partly hidden by the black Venetian mask he wore. He looked deliciously handsome, and you could instantly tell he was the envy of the room — as most of the women’s heads turned towards him.

"You’re breathtaking," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, his voice rough around the edges. His fingers squeezed gently at your waist to reassure himself that you were real and his.

You smiled behind your delicate, dark red mask and reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his with easy, intimate familiarity. “I feel quite lucky tonight…”

He let out a soft chuckle as the two of you began strolling further inside to find a table. “Why’s that?”

Sharp eyes behind jeweled masks raked over his tall frame, his dark suit cut to perfection, as he strode with quiet confidence.

And then they looked at you. At his hand, which you held. How close the two of you walked. At how his attention — his energy — and how it was wholly yours.

It felt electric. Intoxicating.

You lifted your chin slightly as you moved past them, feeling bold beneath your lace mask. Their stares didn’t shake you once. In fact, you felt emboldened by them. Let them look. Let them wonder who you were, and what you’d done to make him look at you the way he did.

“You seem to have been the goal for all the single ladies tonight, and I’m afraid I may have stepped on some toes... burst some bubbles…” You nodded towards a group of women — their eyes not so subtly watching the two of you, drinking champagne, surely gossiping about who you were and why you’re with him.

Harry looked that way, then he stopped and slowly pulled you close, “Then why don’t we give them somethin’ better to stare and gossip about?” he grinned sinfully.

You barely had time to process the mischievous gleam in his eye before he slid his hand along your jaw, tilting your chin up toward him. The music, the crowd, the glittering spectacle of the ballroom — all of it blurred into nothing the second he leaned in.

His mouth captured yours in a slow, almost teasing kiss. His thumb brushed along your cheek as if he was savoring the moment, deepening it little by little until you felt yourself melting into him.

Gasps rippled through the nearby crowd that you’d just pointed out. You could feel the stares on you like a thousand tiny sparks, but you didn’t care. Not when his arms wrapped fully around you, drawing you so tightly against him that there was no mistaking it — no mistaking the claim he was making by doing this.

The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding down your spine in a way that made you arch instinctively closer. When he finally pulled back — reluctantly, slowly — he stayed close enough that you could still feel the brush of his breath against your mouth.

He grinned, all wickedness and charm.

“Think they got the message?” he murmured, softly nudging his nose against yours.

You barely found your voice. “Loud and clear.”

He chuckled low, stealing one more soft, lingering kiss before slipping his arm firmly around your waist and leading you further into the glittering masquerade, leaving behind a trail of envious stares and whispered speculation in your wake.

And you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips.

If they weren’t watching before, they sure as hell were now.

The night went on with dinner and the importance of this event was discussed around you — closing the deal with Tets Investments.

When the two of you sat down to eat dinner a few of his coworkers attempted to talk shop. However, he constantly shifted the conversation to topics you could be included in as well as the other plus ones.

You admired how he spoke to others — he was confident but not arrogant. He made everyone feel welcome, included, and supported. It wasn’t a shock that there were so many people who came to say hello. Each time he’d hold you close, introduce you, and keep you involved in whatever was being discussed.

Close to 9 o'clock, the rhythm slowed down, and the two of you stood in the back of the ballroom, sipping champagne, watching those on the dance floor.

Harry stood with his arm around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered little facts or stories about certain people to you he'd pointed out, fully opening up his world — his life to you.

You had never felt so welcomed into someone’s life. Everyone you’d been with in the last couple of years was always so shut off. They always had something to hide. They feared letting you get too close, or maybe you didn’t want to get that close deep down. But, things with Harry felt different. At some points, it's all too good to be true. You’ve thought he deserves better, but there he is, every time those thoughts come up, reassuring he wants nothing — nobody but you.

—

The music shifted at one point—a slow, pulsing waltz began. Without a word, he moved from behind you and tugged gently at your hand, his other settling possessively at your waist. Your breath caught as he pulled you close, chest to chest, the heat of him sinking through the silk of your dress.

"You owe me a dance," he said, voice a low tease against the shell of my ear.

You smiled, tilting your head up toward him. "I don’t remember agreeing to that, handsome."

His mouth curved into a lazy, wicked grin. "You didn’t. I’m cashing it in anyway."

Before you could say another word, he guided you onto the floor, folding you into him so naturally it felt like both of you had danced this way a hundred times before.

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding low on your back as you moved together, bodies swaying in time with the slow, sultry music. The candlelight flickered across his mask, but you could still see the warmth in his brown eyes — the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire room.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing just beside your ear as he whispered, voice rich and teasing, "You know, I think you might just be my favorite view tonight."

Your breath caught, a smile curving your lips as a delicious shiver ran down your spine.

You tilted your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze — playful, daring.

"Just tonight?" you teased.

He laughed under his breath, the sound low and intimate, and tightened his hold ever so slightly, pulling you even closer.

"Darlin', you've been my favorite view every night since that wedding..."

Your heart skipped wildly in your chest, the world around you fading even further away as you let yourself fall a little deeper into him.

The music slowed down as it wrapped around you both. His fingers tightened gently on yours, and without warning, he spun you out — just a step, just far enough that you caught a few eyes, those still envious of you and their stares aimed at you.

You laughed, the sound light and breathless, and the moment your hand found his again, he pulled you right back in — closer than before.

The smile he wore was adoring and charming — he looked at you as if you were the moon and stars.

Then, before you could catch your breath, he slid his hand down your back and dipped you low, his arm strong and sure behind you, the beautiful painted ceiling above you with the skylight creating a halo around his head.

The world spun, tilted, and all you could do was cling to him, laughing, and breathless as you stared up into his smiling eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, just for you.

He brought you up slowly, holding you so close your masks brushed, your noses almost touching, your breaths shared in the tiny space between you.

You clutched at his lapel, heart hammering in your chest, completely lost in the moment — but completely his.

You tilted your chin up and closed the distance between the two of you.

The kiss started slow, achingly slow — the two of you memorizing it all, the feeling of each other in one another's arms.

But then he groaned low in his throat, a sound that went straight through you, causing an ache to stir deep below, between your legs.

You deepened the kiss — heated, hungry, losing every bit of restraint you had pretended to have all night.

His hand slid higher, threading into the hair at the back of your head, anchoring you to him.

When he finally pulled back after the song ended and started into a new one, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, smiling without meaning to.

"God help me…" he muttered against your lips, "... you’re going to be the death of me tonight if you keep kissin’ me like that."

Before either of you could speak again — still breathless, still clinging to the high of that kiss, a deep, rich voice cut clean through the haze.

“There you are.”

You both turned slightly, still tangled together. A tall man in a navy velvet jacket stood a few feet away. He exuded the unmistakable air of people around him beckoning to his call.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added with a cheeky smile that said otherwise, “but I need a quick word with you before the Tets people get too deep into the champagne.” he nodded towards a group of people across the room, all enjoying the party. He turned to Harry, touching his shoulder, starting to pull him to join him, completely ignoring you.

You felt Harry shift, his posture subtly straightening, and just like that, the man you’d been dancing with, the one who’d whispered things that still buzzed in your veins — slipping into something more polished, more composed. But his hand didn’t leave your waist, he didn’t let himself be pulled away towards the gentleman.

“Of course, sir,” he said, then paused — just long enough to turn to you and place a steadying hand on the small of your back. “But before I disappear—” he looked back at the man, his voice smooth, but warm, “—I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.”

‘Girlfriend? Did he really just say that?’

The word hung in the air for half a second longer than it should have, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your heart pound excitedly.

Your eyes fluttered up at him, but he didn’t flinch — just gave you the softest, quickest squeeze at your side. His eyes flicked down, as if to say yes, I meant that, and I hope you’re okay with this, all at once.

A blush flared beneath my mask, but you managed a graceful and polite smile as the gentleman held out his hand for you to shake.

You gently took it and quickly ran through your head at who he may be. He was someone higher than Harry who commanded respect. From conversations with him, the only person you could think of that he could be was the CEO, so you took a blind shot. “You must be Mr. Clarkson, it’s lovely to meet you, sir.”

“Pleasure is all mine, sweetheart,” he said, gently shaking your hand.

'Bullseye. Thank god'

He offered a short soft smile. “Glad he’s not here alone — man needs someone to keep him grounded.”

You shook his hand and offered some polite response that you barely remembered the second it left your mouth, because your brain was still short-circuiting around that one word.

Girlfriend.

Mr. Clarkson nodded at Harry to follow him before walking away.

Harry leaned down again, his voice lower, private, “I’ll make this fast. Don’t run off too far.” he joked and gave you a quick wink.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” You whispered back, still trying to keep the smile in your voice as your thoughts were running wild.

He brushed his lips against your cheek ever so softly.

Before you knew it, he turned to follow his boss toward the edge of the ballroom, already murmuring numbers and terms as they walked away — leaving you on cloud nine.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @sp00kymulderr @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab @readingiskeepingmegoing @sincerelywithheartt @youusunshineyoutemptress @lilasskicker-23 @melsuns00hine @wencontre @pedrofan @suzysface @orcasoul @misstokyo7love @bitchyfestnight @galotti7 @locaparapedrito @harrysrosetatto @bluenightmarepost

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrohub #harry castillo #harry castillo fanfic #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo smut #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo materialists #the materialists #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagines #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #harry castillo fluff #pedro pascal fandom

298 notes · View notes

nasa · 1 year ago

Text

Sharpening Our View of Climate Change with the Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem Satellite

As our planet warms, Earth’s ocean and atmosphere are changing.

Climate change has a lot of impact on the ocean, from sea level rise to marine heat waves to a loss of biodiversity. Meanwhile, greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide continue to warm our atmosphere.

NASA’s upcoming satellite, PACE, is soon to be on the case!

Set to launch on Feb. 6, 2024, the Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem (PACE) mission will help us better understand the complex systems driving the global changes that come with a warming climate.

Earth’s ocean is becoming greener due to climate change. PACE will see the ocean in more hues than ever before.

While a single phytoplankton typically can’t be seen with the naked eye, communities of trillions of phytoplankton, called blooms, can be seen from space. Blooms often take on a greenish tinge due to the pigments that phytoplankton (similar to plants on land) use to make energy through photosynthesis.

In a 2023 study, scientists found that portions of the ocean had turned greener because there were more chlorophyll-carrying phytoplankton. PACE has a hyperspectral sensor, the Ocean Color Instrument (OCI), that will be able to discern subtle shifts in hue. This will allow scientists to monitor changes in phytoplankton communities and ocean health overall due to climate change.

Phytoplankton play a key role in helping the ocean absorb carbon from the atmosphere. PACE will identify different phytoplankton species from space.

With PACE, scientists will be able to tell what phytoplankton communities are present – from space! Before, this could only be done by analyzing a sample of seawater.

Telling “who’s who” in a phytoplankton bloom is key because different phytoplankton play vastly different roles in aquatic ecosystems. They can fuel the food chain and draw down carbon dioxide from the atmosphere to photosynthesize. Some phytoplankton populations capture carbon as they die and sink to the deep ocean; others release the gas back into the atmosphere as they decay near the surface.

Studying these teeny tiny critters from space will help scientists learn how and where phytoplankton are affected by climate change, and how changes in these communities may affect other creatures and ocean ecosystems.

Climate models are one of our most powerful tools to understand how Earth is changing. PACE data will improve the data these models rely on.

The PACE mission will offer important insights on airborne particles of sea salt, smoke, human-made pollutants, and dust – collectively called aerosols – by observing how they interact with light.

With two instruments called polarimeters, SPEXone and HARP2, PACE will allow scientists to measure the size, composition, and abundance of these microscopic particles in our atmosphere. This information is crucial to figuring out how climate and air quality are changing.

PACE data will help scientists answer key climate questions, like how aerosols affect cloud formation or how ice clouds and liquid clouds differ.

It will also enable scientists to examine one of the trickiest components of climate change to model: how clouds and aerosols interact. Once PACE is operational, scientists can replace the estimates currently used to fill data gaps in climate models with measurements from the new satellite.

With a view of the whole planet every two days, PACE will track both microscopic organisms in the ocean and microscopic particles in the atmosphere. PACE’s unique view will help us learn more about the ways climate change is impacting our planet’s ocean and atmosphere.

Stay up to date on the NASA PACE blog, and make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of sPACE!

#NASA #Earth #climate #climate change #PACE #ocean #atmosphere #global warming #science #planet

1K notes · View notes

always-just-red · 11 months ago

Note

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #rafayel x reader #rafayel #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #qi yu #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

487 notes · View notes

ruewritesoccasionally · 4 months ago

Note

Hey babe, Can you do a origin story on how the reader or Terry got obsessed with each other ? And how their relationship is going currently?

pairing: dark!terry richmond x black reader

warnings: dark themes, smut (18+), deception, power imbalance, voyerism, possessiveness, obsession, roleplay and implied noncon/dubcon fantasy elements

word count: 2K

a/n: ahhhhhhh dark terry - my favourite. i didn't wanna rehash previous fics i had done so i hope this turned out okay !

how it started:

The engine sputtered. A harsh, grating sound that sent frustration rippling through her body as she twisted the key in the ignition again. Nothing. Just the futile whine of a car refusing to cooperate.

She exhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had places to be.

Pulling out her phone, she searched for roadside assistance, fingers tapping with growing irritation. The estimated wait time? Two hours.

"Oh kill me now!" she muttered, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

As if on cue, headlights appeared in her rearview mirror, illuminating the dim roadside with a golden glow. The hum of a powerful engine slowed behind her, and a familiar truck pulled up alongside her stranded vehicle.

She squinted through the window, and the tension in her shoulders eased when she recognised the driver.

Terry Richmond.

She didn’t know much about him beyond the surface-level pleasantries they had exchanged in passing. He was just… around. A neighbour? Maybe. A local? Definitely. Someone who existed on the periphery of her life, always within reach but never close enough to question.

The window rolled down, and his deep, smooth voice reached her ears. "Car trouble?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Yeah. Just my luck. Won't start, and roadside assistance is useless."

Terry nodded as if this was expected. "Pop the hood. Let me take a look."

She hesitated. She wasn’t naive—accepting help from a man, even one who seemed familiar, always came with a level of risk. But then again, what choice did she have? It wasn’t like she was going anywhere.

Flicking the lever, she watched as he stepped out of his truck. His presence alone was commanding, the way his broad shoulders flexed under his jacket, the purposeful way he moved. He propped the hood open, inspecting the engine with a practiced ease that suggested he had done this plenty of times before.

"Looks like your battery cable’s loose. Could be the alternator, too. But either way, you’re not getting far like this."

Her stomach sank. "Great. Just great."

Terry straightened, wiping his hands on a rag he had pulled from his pocket. "I’ve got tools back at my place. I can fix it up for you if you want a ride. Won’t take long."

She studied him for a beat, weighing her options. On one hand, she could sit here for hours, waiting for a tow truck that may or may not show up. On the other, she could take the offer of help from a man she had no real reason to distrust.

And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the fact that his expression held no urgency, no pressure—just quiet assurance—but she found herself nodding.

"Alright," she relented. "Guess I owe you one."

Terry smiled, slow and knowing, as he opened the truck door for her.

"You have no idea."

The ride back to Terry’s place was quiet, but not uncharged. The soft rumble of the truck’s engine filled the space between them, but it was the glances—the way he occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, then back to the road—that made her shift slightly in her seat. The heat from the vents wrapped around her like a cocoon, lulling her into something close to comfort.

Her fingers traced the edge of her phone absentmindedly. She had texted a friend before getting in, something casual, letting them know she’d broken down and was catching a ride. No real details. Just enough to ease any lingering hesitation.

“You live far from here?” Terry asked, his voice rich, deep, filling the cabin like a slow pour of something strong.

“Not too far,” she murmured. “Few more blocks up.”

“You want me to take you straight home?”

She hesitated, just for a moment. “I—”

“You should warm up first,” he offered before she could decide, his eyes cutting to her with that unreadable gaze. “Don’t want you catching a chill sittin’ out there all that time.”

It made sense. And the way he framed it, so casual, so considerate—it was easy to say yes.

At Terry’s place, the atmosphere was warm. Almost too inviting.

The space was clean but lived-in, a mix of rugged and refined. The scent of something distinctly him clung to the air—woodsy, masculine, with a faint trace of leather and something smoky.

“You’re a cognac girl, right?”

She blinked. “Yeah… how’d you know that?”

Terry just smirked as he poured, the amber liquid catching the light. “Lucky guess.”

She didn’t question it, not when the glass was pressed into her palm, smooth and cool. The first sip burned in the best way, spreading warmth through her chest.

They talked. Not about anything particularly deep—work, the neighbourhood, the occasional grumble about bad mechanics. But it was the way he listened that drew her in. The way his focus never wavered, his eyes drinking her in as if she were the most fascinating thing in the room.

At some point, the space between them shrank. Small touches—his knuckles grazing hers when he reached for his glass, the press of his knee against hers when he shifted in his seat. Nothing overt. Nothing she could call intentional. But it was there.

“You comfortable?”

She nodded, a slow smile playing at her lips. “Yeah. I am.”

The attraction was undeniable, humming between them like an electrical current. And when he made his move—fingers trailing up her arm, his touch firm but unhurried—she didn’t resist.

The first kiss was slow, exploratory. A test, a tease, a promise of something deeper. Then it unravelled, turning into something more. More urgent. More consuming. By the time they made it to his bedroom, their clothes were a scattered path of surrender.

The way he touched her, the way he moved against her—it wasn’t the fumbling heat of a chance encounter. It was deliberate. Measured. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he’d memorized her, studied her, known exactly how to unravel her piece by piece.

By the time they collapsed against the sheets, tangled and spent, her mind was a hazy blur. She barely registered the press of his lips against her temple, the way his hands smoothed over her skin as if grounding himself in the reality of her.

She drifted into sleep, thinking she’d just had a wild, unexpected night.

And Terry watched her, gaze heavy, unreadable.

He finally had her right where she needed to be.

The room was bathed in the dim glow of a bedside lamp. Terry leaned against the headboard, watching her sleep, his expression unreadable. She looked peaceful, oblivious to the meticulous planning that had brought her here. He reached over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer with slow precision.

Inside lay a well-worn, leather-bound journal. He flipped through the pages, each filled with entries detailing every step, every calculated move that had led to tonight. Notes on her routines, the places she frequented, the things that made her smile. The entry from earlier that day was already taking shape in his mind.

February 23rd. The plan worked perfectly. The cable came loose just as expected, right on schedule. Her frustration was predictable. The waiting time for recovery services? Unacceptable, of course. I knew she’d take my offer. She trusts me now, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

He glanced at her again, reaching for his Polaroid camera. The soft whir filled the silence as the picture printed, her sleeping form captured in the glow of the moonlight. Carefully, he pasted it into the journal, right beside that night’s entry. His fingers trailed over the image, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She fits here. In my space. In my bed. Right where she belongs.

Terry exhaled, closing the journal with quiet reverence. He slid it back into the drawer and switched off the light, his possessive gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. Tomorrow, he would continue what he had started. But for now, he let himself revel in the victory of having her exactly where he wanted her.

how it's going:

Time had done nothing to dull Terry’s obsession. If anything, it had sharpened it.

She thought their relationship was normal—intense, passionate, but normal. He was protective, devoted, the kind of man who knew her better than she knew herself. She had no idea how deep it went.

He still followed her when she left the house. Still kept a record of her every move. The leather-bound journal on his nightstand had filled with more details, more polaroids—her in his bed, her at the coffee shop, her combing her hair in the bathroom. A timeline of his devotion.

She never questioned how much he watched her. If she caught him staring, she only smiled, shaking her head. "You’re always staring at me, Terry." He never denied it. Just smirked, the dark glint in his eyes unreadable. "Can’t help it, baby."

She fed his obsession without realising it. When she went out, she sent him pictures—sometimes a mirror selfie, sometimes just a glimpse of her outfit. She thought it was harmless, flirty. But to him, it was something else entirely. Proof that she belonged to him, even when she wasn’t by his side.

Then came the night everything shifted.

They were curled up on the couch, a bottle of wine half-finished between them. She was relaxed, teasing, playing with the hem of his shirt. And then, so casually, she said it.

"Let’s pretend we’re strangers."

The words settled between them, a spark to dry kindling.

She had no idea what kind of door she had just opened for him.

The bar was dimly lit, low music humming through the space. They sat at opposite ends, pretending not to know each other. She played the part well—giving him coy glances, pretending to be intrigued when he finally approached.

"Can I buy you a drink?" His voice was smooth, casual.

She tilted her head, smirking. "Depends. Are you a gentleman or trouble?"

His lips twitched. Both.

She thought it was just a game, a fun way to switch things up. But for him, it was more than that. It was reliving the thrill, the chase, the quiet power of watching her, studying her, making her fall into his orbit.

He leaned in, brushing his knuckles over her wrist. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

She laughed, playing along. "Maybe in another life."

If only she knew how true that was.

By the time they got home, the tension had reached a breaking point. As soon as the door shut, he had her pressed against it, hands greedy, mouth claiming hers. She gasped against his lips, breath hitching as he lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom like he had that first night.

It was the same hunger, the same fevered need. As if no matter how many times he had her, it would never be enough.

When it was over, she lay sprawled across the sheets, her body limp in sleep. The moonlight cast soft shadows over her skin, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

Terry sat up, reaching for the nightstand. The leather-bound journal was exactly where he left it. He flipped to the next blank page, picking up his pen.

March 2nd. She played right into my hands. Just like before. She thinks it’s a game. She thinks it’s just for fun. But this is more than a game. It’s a perfect excuse.

A reason to keep watching her. Hunting her. Even inside our own home.

He reached for his Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of her sleeping form, capturing the way she belonged to him. Carefully, he pasted it into the journal, fingers tracing over the image.

A satisfied exhale left his lips as he clicked the book shut, tucking it back into its place. He slid down beside her, curling a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her close.

She murmured something in her sleep, nestling against him. Completely unaware.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

Even now, she doesn’t realise. And I’ll never let her.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @theogbadbitch @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#ruewrites #terry richmond #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #dark!terry richmond #dark!terry richmond x black!reader

183 notes · View notes

artemisiasmuse · 4 months ago

Text

always known | CH.6

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, multiple rounds, no protection don’t be like them, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 5k (this one is just purely smut)

MASTERLIST

< previous

being more than friends with rafe while at tannyhill proves extremely difficult. you’re both not great at hiding it and ward very pointedly says that you’re not allowed to visit each other’s rooms. so naturally you have to get creative, rafe “drops you” to school most days, you “hang out” at the country club. being that you had two decades of pent-up frustration to make up for you capitalize on any private moment. and really even though he’s put you in this situation you’re thankful ward has tinted windows on all his cars even if you thought it was shady before.

the first time rafe dropped you to school he had his hand on your thigh, squeezing and rubbing at the plush of it. warm palm easily encompassing it and large fingers absentmindedly caressing. he’d done it without much thought, you’d been holding hands and his hand just rested against your thigh so easily. its such a simple thing but your entire world flips on its axis. you’re thrown head first into your desire before you even know it. you had worn jeans that day but even still you swore your skin had lit on fire. there was absolutely no hope for attending class when he pulled into the parking lot to reach into the backseat for his rain jacket before handing it to you. you hadn’t even processed the words, “it’s gonna rain later,” before you leaned over the console and kissed him. rafe made a small noise of surprise, a hum from the back of his throat, that sounded so deep and sweet you couldn’t help but want more. his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you into him. the angle was too awkward for how close you wanted to be. you’d already done the estimation in your head before when he parked, there was enough space. rafe made that noise that you were getting addicted to as you straddled his lap and sat down. the weight of you on his lap was nothing short of euphoric, his hands instantly roaming your hips pulling you closer by your ass, this time it was your turn to be surprised. you’d been a bit worried you were too heavy for him but the way rafe’s lips were curling into a smile assuage any doubts. his thighs are so muscular under your own and you wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin. your hands found his face and angled it down towards you, smiling at how pliant he was in your hold. rafe was sure he’d get hard if you moved even an inch and as much as he wanted nothing more than to move this to the backseat he still had enough rationality to know your first time shouldn’t be in a car.

your lips are on his before he can think too hard, his hands massage the fat of your ass, pulling you as close as possible. you’re right over his bulge and if you keep it up it’ll be impossible for either of you to ignore. but there’s no way you’re stopping not when even coffee breath is sexy to you. you’re biting at his lips hungry and rafe can’t help but give in, swirling his tongue with yours. the press of your tits against his chest isn’t helping his increasingly hard situation. he has to stop this before he loses his mind.

“don’t you have class?” he says it between kisses, you’re relentless.

“don’t care, i’ll make the next one.” you pepper his face with kisses. rafe shudders as you flick his ear, kissing him sweetly. you can feel him hard between your legs, thick and solid and definitely bigger than anyone you’ve had before. you know it’s mean but it feels like payback for how turned on you’d been the whole car ride. although it would’ve felt great youre begrudgingly glad you didn’t wear a skirt, how embarrassing it would’ve been if he could feel how wet you were.

“fuck can’t have our first in a car,” he mumbles and you shift your hips infinitesimally, he holds them still, giving you a look of warning. it only makes you want to act out more.

“i don’t mind,” you look him dead in the eyes as you say it and rafe might just come in his pants from that alone. how would he survive you?

“don’t say that shit baby,” he throws his head back against the car seat, his voice rough like it physically hurts him to hold back. and it does, he’s never been so hard from so little. your body hums at the pet name, you want to listen to him because of it, you’re like putty in his hands even if you’re the one who initiated this.

“okay okay we won’t,” you don’t make any move to move off him though, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“okay just-you know what let me close my eyes,” he’s trying to will his boner away, in fact he’s trying to not come in his pants from any slight movements from you. something about him being in so much agony because of you isn’t really making you want to stop. you press kisses to his jawline and neck, to his pulse point. his cologne mixes with his body heat and you want to shove your nose into the column of his neck.

“rafe you smell really good.” you’re practically purring it into his ear, pressing a kiss to the skin.

“oh god shut the fuck up.” there’s no hope, he’ll just have to be blue balled for the rest of the day. his eyes snap open as he pulls you back by the back of your neck and you grin victoriously into the kiss.

and then there’s the country club. thank god for those extra changing rooms otherwise you would have traumatized a lot of parents. you snuck away from topper and kelce to fool around and rafe had you shoved against a wall, out of sight from everyone, hands roaming as you did the same. it was a shame you couldn’t get his shirt off because you really couldn’t stand seeing the outline of his pecs and biceps through fabric. rafe pulled back for air, huffing into your shoulder as you did the same into his chest. he was curled around you, if anyone saw you two they wouldn’t even be able to see you. his thigh was wedged between yours, dangerously close to making contact with your core. if he did you couldn’t trust yourself to grind against him. it was safe to say the restrictions around you weren’t helping your infinitely growing desire.

it feels like it’s been ten years-it’s been four days-when you finally get the call that your place is fully repaired. rafe was out with ward when you heard so you hightailed it back home, taking as much as you could from tannyhill in your rush. you and rafe had made dinner plans and he agreed to bring whatever you had at tannyhill over when he picked you anyways. being home was nice even if it felt a little empty without rafe or the cameron’s. you hoped now that you weren’t under ward’s watchful eye rafe could stay over more. you were missing a couch and some other fabric chairs after the flooding but your rooms upstairs were untouched. you clean up and air out your space, lighting some candles. the smell of wood and repairs eventually fades and it feels normal again. you even bake some cookies so your kitchen doesn’t feel so barren. by the time it’s evening you’re rushing to get ready. you knew what you were gonna wear, you had it all planned out as soon as rafe asked you out. a baby blue satin slip dress that cinched at the waist and was low cut enough to show off your curves. you looked and felt damn good in it. you put your hair up and did your makeup to withstand whatever the night brought on. you spray on rafe’s favorite perfume and are putting on your pearl earrings when the doorbell rings. you answer it with one hand and do an obvious once-over of your man. rafe looks perfect, as usual, white dress shirt with slacks and a bouquet of flowers that look fake from how pretty they are.

“hey handsome.” rafe cannot believe he got so lucky. he knows you’re beautiful, you’re always beautiful, but the sight of you so dolled up just for him has his head spinning. he enters your space, but he doesn’t even notice anything around him because all he can see is you. you finish putting on your earring and hug him.

“hey you look amazing” his hands find home in the curve of your waist, pulling you closer.

“thanks, i just need to grab my purse-“ you’re about to move to leave but rafe makes a noise that is somewhere between a grumble and a whine. you don’t move, instead looping your hands around his neck and letting him relax into your arms. he noses along your neck, you smell good enough to eat.

“how hungry are you?” he murmurs it into your neck, kissing the spot under your ear.

“not that hungry, by the time we get the food and everything i think i will be though,” you replied thoughtfully, he

“im fucking starving.” he presses a kiss to your neck, the skin is so soft and unmarked and it’s irresistible. his whole body refuses to let go of you, it's like the air around you is thicker, he can’t seem to move away. he’d dreamed about how you taste and he knows your lips and your breath but he wants more. he wants to taste more.

“i can make you something real quick.” you’re still not catching on to how you have affected him with one look alone.

“nah not for that.” a nip of teeth along your jugular make you suddenly all aware.

“oh-we could always move the reservation,” you’re so cute, rafe thinks, always so eager to please and he can’t help but wonder how much it extends.

“or order in.” his nips turn into bites, kissing over them and you crane your neck for him to have better access. your legs are starting to feel weak from how intentional he’s being with every touch and word. they’re all coalescing into a fire in your core, you’re not wearing underwear so you’re really testing the limits.

“or order hah i-in.” he doesn’t think he can handle another second without having you, it’s been hard to hold back the past week and it’s impossible now that he knows there’s no real obstacle. you can scream his name and no one can stop you and the thought makes him clutch you a bit tighter.

“where’s your room baby?” he pulls back to look at you and you blink at him slowly before intertwining the fingers around your waist with your own and leading him up stairs. he follows your lead, enjoying the view of you going up in front of him. you hadn’t given him a choice when you put on this dress he realized.

your room is far cozier and colorful than his, trinkets and memories on every wall and he sees himself in a few pictures and keepsakes. there’s no hiding your personality and he loves it automatically. he remembered your childhood bedroom was so devoid of anything you actually liked because your parents didn’t like it. you watch rafe take it all in, he looks so much bigger in the space than you feel but he somehow still fits in. you’d been itching to tell him about your room and have him in your space and there’s one thing still bothering you.

“i got a place with a guest bedroom cause of you.” it blurts out and you regret it as soon as you say it. rafe’s head snaps towards you in shock.

“what?” you may have completely ruined the mood. you hurry to explain.

“i know it’s kind of stupid, i didn’t even know if you cared about me back then but still i don’t know i just always thought we’d-“ rafe thinks he might start crying. you tend to make him feel like that, emotional. maybe it’s because he’s never cared about anyone like he’s cared about you. the jarring realization that you care about him just as much for just as much time has his heart soaring out of his chest and he can’t hold back any more. the words will rip their way out of him anyways.

“i love you.” his voice comes out low like a whisper, like a promise. your mind blanks for a split second before it all snaps into place. it’s as natural as breathing when you open your mouth.

“i love you rafe.” rafe crosses the space to kiss you, sweet and gentle and it solidifies any room for doubt in either of you. the kiss naturally progresses into something needier and rafe’s hand slips down your face to your neck before slipping a strap of your dress down your shoulder. you gasp into his mouth before pulling back and unbuttoning his shirt. you had to even the playing field.

rafe is trying not pass out from the sight of you desperately undressing him and pushes you back by your hips until you fall back on the bed. he takes over the rest throwing his shirt to the side. your eyes hungrily roam his chest, the low light of your lamp is enough to solidify that rafe is way too hot to wear a shirt ever again. you sit up to slide your hands along the divers of his abs, tracing the lines before smoothing over his pecs and pulling him down towards you by his neck. rafe shudders at your touch, wedging himself between your legs. your dress is nearly off you with one more touch of his hands and you pull back. he’s being far too hesitant.

“you don't think…” your eyes narrow in a silent question, one that he picks up easily.

“i dont know.” and you nod your head, that explains it.

“i’m not, are you?” you can’t gauge if he’s disappointed or not.

“nah and i don’t care by the way, i might not be your first but i'm definitely gonna be your last,” your head spins at the statement. he pushes the skirt of your dress up, you panic a bit because you’re completely bare under it, he feels you stiffen and stops.

“i’m just a bit scared.” you whisper it into the air and maybe scared wasn’t the right word but you’re suddenly very aware of every inch of your skin and how rafe looks like an angel sent from the heavens.

“we don’t have to-“

“no i want to i just-you probably have super high expectations.” rafe’s eyes narrow at your words, he can’t believe that you’re simultaneously the smartest and dumbest person he knows.

“i love you every part of you, you could never disappoint me by being you.” rafe doesn’t want to pressure you into anything but he needs you to know that.

“okay.” you unzip the side of your dress, making it easier for him to pull off and he kisses your forehead. your eyelashes fluttering from the sweet affection.

“that being said, i might come just from seeing you naked.” and there’s goes that cute moment.

“real fucking romantic.” you shove against his shoulder and he laughs, you silently thank him for loosening you up.

“what can i say my girl’s really fucking hot.” your stomach flutters at his words and the dopey grin he’s wearing. you need him so badly you don’t care about your insecurities any more.

“as long as you can get it up again we won’t have a problem champ.” you tease him back after a moment of ingesting his words.

“yes ma’am.” everything he says is getting you hot and bothered and finally he takes off your dress. his eyes don’t even know where to look because every part of you is perfect. your stretch marks, your tummy, your breasts, oh and oh god rafe was joking but now he might actually come. your pussy is bare and although he can’t see it properly it’s so cute. his heart is already racing so fast and it’s somehow picking up speed. his head feels a bit faint as all his blood rushes south—“fuck i think i might die.” he whispers it so seriously you can’t help but laugh, he hasn’t looked you in the eyes since you took your dress off and the way he looks like a man starved has you squirming under him.

“shut up-“ you don’t know if you can handle him staring without so much as blinking much less touching you.

“no you’re-what the fuck.” it’s all he says before kisses you and loops your legs around his waist. you feel his bulge against your bare cunt and if he wasn’t wearing black you knew you’d see a remnant of you there. in fact if he doesn’t do something you’re gonna start dripping onto your sheets.

“rafe-need you” your words come out broken as he barely lets you pull away for air. kissing and grinding aren’t cutting it any more and the heavy thick weight of him between your legs is nearly torture. the words are like a zap of electricity to his brain and he unbuckles his pants and has them off in seconds, only in his boxers now. the way you whined his name is replaying over and over in his head and he just can’t get enough. he’s back in his spot and trailing kisses down your neck and then your breasts. one of his hands pinches a nipple while the other dips between your legs. you buck into him from the sudden stimulation—lips attach to your nipple sucking and biting at it, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. he’s sloppy with it, drooling all over you with zero worry for the marks he’s leaving. his hand between your legs teases the soft skin of your inner thighs, never quite where you need him. the presence feels like the lump in your throat, unyielding and attention-seeking. you whine his name again and he actually thinks you might have found a way to mind control him. his thick fingers ghost your folds, finding them absolutely drooling. they’re so puffy and messy he almost coos at how desperate you must feel.

“you’re so wet, baby.” his mouth is back on your neck, groaning the words into your ear. his tone is gravelly and rough, still sweetened by his love for you and you writhe for him to touch you properly. he actually laughs-the fucker-at your response before his ringed index finger presses into your opening. you’re nearly dripping into the palm of his hand and when the cold metal of his ring catches on your entrance you huff out in shock.

his finger is so much larger than yours and it’s starting to scratch the itch you feel but it’s not enough and rafe knows it, he adds his middle finger and this time it’s a stretch—your poor pussy is hugging him so tightly he thinks you’ve never been fucked properly before, his fingers curl into you and feel around for the fleshy spot he knows will make you cry. he knows he’s found it when you clench around him, gooey walls closing in on his fingers. “that’s it, sweet girl” and while rafe knows he should stretch you out more he can’t help himself. he’s been hungry, starving, for days, for years. your eyelashes flutter open as his fingers are pulled out, he wants to lick them clean but why not try straight from the source. you don’t even register what’s happening before rafe is putting the backs of your thighs against his shoulders and squeezing between the plush of them.

“oh!” it hits you when his tongue swipes up the length of your pussy. rafe moans at the taste, heady and sweet, it’s so good he thinks if he wasn’t in love now your juices might be a love potion. one taste is enough for him to pull your thighs down, shoving himself into your cunt and you moan at the force. his tongue is everywhere, swirling between the mess you’ve made on your legs and your folds, flicking against your clit and delving into you teasingly. he presses a finger into you as he sucks on your clit, biting at it and sending your mind into black and white for a second. then he’s delving into you and pulling anything he can out of you, finger hammering into you and his tongue swirling instead slowly in a mind-numbing contrast.

“so sweet,” you hear him moan into you, his dreams didn’t hold a candle to your actual taste. you’re bucking and writhing into his mouth but his hold on you is firm, he doesn’t care if your thighs squish his head either because he’s too drunk off you to care. you can feel yourself getting close as he curls his finger inside against your g-spot your poor pussy quivering at the action and before you can hold back any more your hold snaps, you’re cumming into his mouth before you can help it crying out his name like a plea. it’s violent and overwhelming and your hips are bucking into violently but rafe needs to drink you up, he needs to taste you when you come. the way you milk his tongue has him desperate to feel you around him. you sound so wrecked saying his name and he wants to pull it out of you again, wants to look you in the eyes when you say it. when he’s sure you can’t give him any more he releases his hold on you and pulls away. the lower half of his face is glistening and you’re almost ashamed but you can’t help but admire how depraved the sight is. you want to thank whoever made him so good at eating pussy because you’re never letting him go now. rafe looks positively fucked out and you can’t imagine you’re any better. you tug him in for a kiss tasting yourself on his lips. you still feel desperate for more, you need his cock and you don’t care if you have to beg.

“rafe if you don’t fuck me so help me-”

“relax princess, i told you i was hungry.” he says it without any shame and you actually can’t hold his eye contact. you’d only ever imagined him talking to you like this and the reality is so much harder to handle. he pulls his boxers off and then intertwines a hand with yours, pressing it next to your head. you can’t help yourself when you look down, being met with what is undoubtedly the biggest dick you’d ever seen. it’s unfair how pretty it is. long and thick with a vein running down the middle and cropped brown hair at the base. there’s white precum dribbling out of the mushroom head and you’re equally intimidated and turned on. you let out a shaky exhale and the monster cock twitches at your attention, “fuck don’t stare like that-“ rafe groans at the way your eyes widened at the sight of him. you’re not even trying to hide your reactions. despite how you feel you, you’re childishly putting on a brave front.

“why not? it’s mine isn’t it?” yeah rafe is gonna die. he just groans again before shoving your legs up and out until they’re framing his hips. it is yours of course it’s yours, he’d let you do anything you want to him. your bravado is once again swept away when his tip is gliding against your entrance, far wider than anything you’d ever expect. you’re not even sure if it’ll fit. you nod at him to move and he pushes into you, a gasp leaving your lips. the stretch burns and it’s unlike any pain you’ve had before. this is tinged by pleasure and you try to relax but you’re still a bit worried about all the inches and girth past the tip.

“so tight i-“ rafe is addicted sure he’s always been in love and it’s always been a bit too intense for anyone to understand but the way you feel around him, warm and snug, has him going fully insane. no way he’s letting you go.

“t-too big.” you shudder under him, rafe can’t look down because if he sees it he knows he won’t be able to survive it. in fact he’s so close that if he doesn’t focus his absolute best he might just come.

“can’t talk like that i’m actually gonna-“ and he does in fact come. he comes just from putting the tip in. thick gooey ropes pump into you and the added lubrication makes it easier for him to slip in a bit, the urge to plug you full is impossible to ignore. there’s something pathetic about him coming just from this and it’s so inexplicably sweet that you’re moaning his name. “don’t say anything.” rafe is trying to damage control. you can feel him still hard inside you and his come is already slipping out of you, what a shame you think.

“come on big boy who said anything about stopping.” the nickname makes his dick twitch inside you and a sick smirk curls his lips. you’re just as far gone as him. he eases into you and the stretch is unimaginable. you’re unbelieving that anyone can even reach that far, you feel like you’re being molded to him, even the vein along his length is a dent inside you. when you think he’s done, you can feel him in the back of your throat and he’s nestled against your cervix, you realize he hasn’t even bottomed out. “it doesn’t fit.” you sound as heartbroken as rafe feels. he pulls out and pushes back in experimentally, still being stopped at the same spot. the thrust is enough for you to see stars, the feeling of being eased in replaced by the full hammering thickness and length of him at once.

“pussy’s too small for me—fuckkk that’s okay i’ll make it fit hmm?” rafe is mindlessly murmuring to himself, he pulls your hips up, wedging a pillow under them for a different angle, this time he gets further and finally his balls press against you. you’re shaking from the stretch and he has to clench his jaw to not move again. when you’re not clenching down like a vice he finally moves again, slowly easing in and out, halfway down his length. he refuses to pull out all the way, he thinks he’ll have an aneurysm if he isn’t inside you all the time. “so perfect s’like you’re made for me, fuck i love you so much.” it’s much more manageable and the slow drag of him inside you has you getting worked up again. rafe is close too but he has been for a while—actually right after coming.

you pull him down for a kiss, the angle of him leaning down presses him further into you and you gasp into his mouth. “i love you rafey, you feel so good.” he’s pressing against your most sensitive spot and rafe thinks this might be his favorite position, kissing you and fucking you deep and slow. he can feel your heartbeat against his and your hair that was up before started to slip out more and more he curls a strand around his finger. when it becomes too much you’re panting into each other’s mouths, desperate to catch you breath but not enough to stop. you’re drenching him in your sweet juices and they mix with his come to form a circle at the base of him.

“come on baby, pretty girl, you’re doing so well.” a few more torturous drags of his tip against your g-spot has your walls fluttering and clenching on him, he comes inside again and you can’t believe he’s still hard. you’re not tired though yet and you start to think rafe might actually go all night. you shove against his shoulder and he pulls out but then you shove again and get him onto his back. his eyes go wide as he realizes what you’re doing, you straddle him and wince a bit as his come spurts out of you. your clit bumps against his toned stomach and the sick mess of your juices paints his skin white. rafe watches it happen, it’s undeniably obscene but he’s gonna think about it for the rest of his life. he props a pillow under him as you move down until his length is nudging against your hole. being on top has its perks but the sensation of him filling you is even more overwhelming that before.

“fuckkk.” he shuts his eyes at the sensation, even now you’re still tight as you lower down onto him. without the pain you can feel how he fills you, vein catching on your entrance and his tip still has to shove its way. you take your time, eventually bottoming out. you grind your hips against him, the new angle makes him feel even deeper and you’re both panting from the stimulation.

“this is where you are rafey.” you take his hand and press it to where you feel him. he blinks rapidly, moaning at the words, his fingers push at the spot on your stomach, amazed by how far up he is. he really should be careful with you, his poor little baby was getting skewered by him. but then you’re the one teasing him—brat

“you tryna kill me?” rafe’s other hand spanks your ass and you jolt at the feeling, you don’t let it show that you like it but rafe can feel you clench, can feel how you get wetter. oh he can’t wait to test your limits. you start bouncing on him slowly, moving your hips at the pace that’s comfortable. eventually though your knees feel shaky and you lean down into him, your weight fully against his chest. rafe presses a sweet kiss to your cheek before hammering up into you. it’s a far more brutal pace than before, slamming his hips up into you and it’s nearly launching you off the bed. you scream his name and rafe can’t stop pulling the sound from you. your cunt feels like it might be bruised from his pace but the coil in your stomach is building regardless.

the bed shakes from his thrusts as the room is filled with rapid rhythm of plap plap plap and the pornographic moans from both of you. rafe can’t stop praising you and you can only repeat his name. the pressure is too much for your poor pussy building and building with no end in sight. one particular thrust that he pulls you down to meet by your hips snaps the band inside you, the dam breaking all at once— you’re splashing his hips and stomach with squirt and he fucks your through it, pulling as much out as he can. if rafe’s chest wasn’t a mess before he’s actually dripping come onto your sheets now. you’re clenching him so tight and the added lubrication feels like he might just be shoved out of you. he fucks into you until he can’t any more; until he pulls one more orgasm from you and can finally plug you full. rafe thinks that your timeline is so fucked up that getting you pregnant wouldn’t even be that bad, he wants that with you so why not start now? at least you should practice every night. you’re completely worn out on his chest, panting and clutching onto him as you regain strength. rafe even now loops his arms around you and holds you close.

“you’re never using that guest bedroom.” you say it in a croak, you may have lost your voice from screaming his name. rafe laughs and he can’t agree more.

“i was never planning on it.” he kisses your forehead adoringly, like he didn’t just rearrange your vital organs and gently lays you down beside him. you’re so grateful that you were able to come to obx and that in the end your best friend forgave you. because now you truly had him forever. what came next you’d face together.

a/n: it’s over :,( but i really enjoyed posting this it’s been in my drafts for a while <3 i’ll pry go back and edit this since i didn’t check much for mistakes my first run-through, also pry post a fluffy short epilogue!!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk @pluviophilis @emmiesummers

#artemisiasmuse #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe

372 notes · View notes