#I can't believe I spent time editing these pictures.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 7: Home

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to (us)

(In which with bittersweet feelings, a nostalgic writer, finally writes the end of the story)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 7.1K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my loves! I can't believe we've actually reached the end, who would have thought huh? I'm not sure if there will be an epilogue, mainly cause I don't know what I'd write but never say never. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter and if I've done the end I pictured justice but I really hope y'all like it anyways. There's a fair amount of creative liberty taken with WNBA logistics but please just accept it for the plot. Per usual, did I edit? Yes. Are there grammar mistakes and typos anyways? Yes. As always, let me know what you liked and disliked. And finally, to all my lovelies who have liked, reblogged, commented, sent in an ask, dm-ed me or simply just silently read this fic, I just wanna say thank you guys so, so, much, y'all have made writing every word worth it and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much I enjoyed writing it <3

August 2018

Paige swears, tonight, there are stars in the Minnesota night sky she’s never seen before in her life. The summer sky has darkened with nightfall, yet the shine of the moon and its companions make it still seem ever so bright. Or maybe, it’s just the girl lying next to Paige that makes tonight feel luminescent, sparkling with the promises of something not quite like friendship that Paige has never felt before. She’d spent the whole day with Azzi at the Minnesota State fair, trying to suppress these new butterflies in her stomach that seemed to have taken birth over their time in Latvia. Or well, maybe they’d been there from the start, but they’d really only started this dance of theirs, the one that makes Paige feel all tingly when Azzi smiles, over the course of this summer. 

“Paige it’s cold, stop hogging the blanket,” Azzi chastises, breaking Paige from a trance, as she tugs on the pink and purple blanket covering the two of them, “I knew we should have brought two of them.”

“It’s barely on me” Paige argues for the sake of arguing but she shifts anyway to allow the younger girl to pull the blanket, so clearly meant for one person, a little more towards her, “besides, it’s about sharing body heat.”

“You’re not even warm enough to share body heat,” Azzi mocks as she makes a show of tracing a finger down Paige’s arm and everything in the blonde feels like it’s been lit on fire at the touch. And she wonders if Azzi feels it too, the electricity, the sparks of this could ruin me that scatter through her veins before finding themselves setting her heart ablaze. It’s too much and Paige shakes Azzi’s hand off with a little more force than she means too. 

When Azzi sends her questioning look, she splutters through an excuse, “your hands are cold too. Can we just do the boring shit we’re here to do.”

"Stargazing is not boring,” Azzi says indignantly, opening the little stargazing booklet she’d brought with her, flicking through the pages looking for something specific. 

To be honest, sitting still in an open field and squinting at the sky trying to figure out a distant constellation isn’t really Paige’s brand of entertainment. She’s a fidgety person by nature, constantly embroiled in the urge to be moving. But Azzi had brought it up the other day, with pleading eyes and a hopeful grin and well, sometimes it felt sinful to deny Azzi of anything she wants. And that’s how they’d ended up at a campsite, not too far from the State fair, lying on the grass, heads tilted towards each other, with a single blanket shielding them from the summer breeze. 

“Okay,” Azzi says after a while, using her fingers to point out a pattern in the sky, “I think that one’s Cassiopeia.”

“If you say so,” Paige nods, not really sure what she’s supposed to be looking at. 

“Paaaaige,” Azzi whines, “focus.”

“Dude I can barely see anything, the fuck am I supposed to focus o-”

Before Paige can finish her sentence, she feels herself being pulled by the younger girl, the side of her body fitting into the crook’s of Azzi’s like a perfect puzzle piece. She looks over at the brunette, and the protest dies on the tip of her tongue, as she realises just how close Azzi is to her now, all semblance of air leaving her lungs. Paige gulps, eyes tracing every inch of her best friend’s face, stopping of their own accord at Azzi’s lips, before guiltily flashing back to meet the younger girl’s eyes which are just as focused on Paige. And it feels like there’s no force in this world right now that could make either of them look away. Except maybe the force of friends don’t do this. 

“Just focus,” Azzi breaks contact first, turning her face back at the stars, before gently grabbing hold of Paige’s hand so she can guide it in the pattern of the constellation. And Paige still doesn’t really see it, doesn’t even particularly care about seeing it, but if it gets Azzi to hold her hand, soft skin putting light pressure against her palm, she thinks she’ll try to see some random lines in the sky forever. 

“It’s pretty.”

“You don’t see it do you?”

“Nope,” Paige’s grin widens when Azzi chuckles, shaking her head fondly. Something in her blooms, delighted at being the reason for that. And she’s always prided herself in being funny, she thinks of herself as a little bit of a comedian really, but she’s never wanted to make anyone laugh quite as much as she wants to make Azzi laugh. 

“Well that’s enough stargazing for us then,” Azzi rolls her eyes, closing her little booklet and making a move to sit up but Paige is quicker, pulling the younger girl back down and interlocking their fingers. Her own overeagerness causes a tinge of embarrassment to race up her cheeks, and she hopes it’s dark enough that Azzi won’t see the pale pink blush taking over her face. 

“It’s peaceful out here,” she says quietly, sounding shy even to her own ears and she can’t help but wonder when the hell that happened, “you wanna stay a little longer?”

“Yeah okay let’s stay longer,,” Azzi agrees  and sometimes when Azzi speaks like that, her voice lyrically soft with a secret smile hidden in it, Paige wonders if maybe it would be okay to hope for, to feel something more because maybe, just maybe, Azzi feels it too. 

“You know you should come to the state championship,” Paige says after a second of silence, trying to keep her voice nonchalant but she can hear the wishfulness bleeding into it anyways. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “isn’t that in March? That’s like months and months away.”

“Yeah but- well-” Paige shrugs, cheeks burning just a little bit, “you probably wanna book in advance cause like tickets and stuff you know?”

“You don’t even know if you’ll be in the state championship. There’s still a whole season to go.”

“Oh I know. I know we’re definitely gonna be there.” Paige smirks, cockiness back in full-fledged form. 

“Then I’ll be there,” Azzi says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, “you better win though Bueckers.”

“Watch me,” and she’s jutting her chest out in arrogance sure, but really everything inside her is swelling with something else, a feeling she’s starting to understand a little too well, a feeling that terrifies her, a feeling she doesn’t think she’s quite ready to let herself feel yet, “it would be nice you know, to win a championship together at some point.”

“I don’t think my parents would be on board with moving to Minnesota.”

“I’m sure I could convince them,” Paige feels a little giddy at the thought, “but I meant more like college, like UConn.”

It’s a topic they’ve stumbled upon a couple of times, with each other, and with the other girls at Team USA. And as much as Paige would love for her other teammates to follow her to her dream school, she’s practical enough to know they might have other priorities. But the thing is that with the rest of the girls, it’s just something she’d like to happen but with Azzi, now that Paige has said it out loud, she’s beginning to realise how desperately she wants that, her and Azzi, on the same team, fighting the same battles and winning the same wars, together. 

“Don’t think you can win a national championship without me Bueckers?” Azzi smirks, twisting her head towards Paige, eyebrows cocked in arrogance. 

“Of course I can,” Paige’s face softens, the vulnerability that only ever seems to come out around her best friend seeping on to her features, “but I think it would be fun to win one with you. Someday.”

“Someday, “ Azzi whispers back, giving Paige’s hand a light squeeze, and then her eyes widen at the sky, “holy shit is that a shooting star? Oh my god Paige look up, quick, it’s beautiful.”

In the dark of the night, a rare flicker of gold shoots across the obsidian Minnesota sky. Paige has never seen one before but it seems fitting really, that she’d see one tonight. 

“We have to make a wish,” she whispers and Azzi, never one to really believe, rolls her eyes but she follows Paige’s lead, closing her eyes. And the thing is Paige could wish for a lot of things really, but she finds herself thinking of only one word that sums up all she could ever want: someday.

***

August 2026 

They’ve been playing against each other for years now and yet the thrill of the face-off still hasn’t quite worn off. Back in the handful of games in high school, it had been quickfire friendly trash talk, two best friends going at it like the competitors they were. College had been drastically different, each game, each play, underlined with the tension of two people who still hadn’t quite figured it out. But Paige thinks her favourite version of them as opponents is definitely this one, the one where they might be on different teams in the WNBA, but off the court, they both know they’re on the same side, together. 

Their relationship isn’t quite a secret; it would have been impossible to hide if after the kiss at the 2025 national championship. But they’d kept as quiet about it as possible, skillfully dodging media questions, wanting to shelter it from the prying eyes of the public. It makes playing each other on national television, just that little bit more entertaining, trying to keep things as cordial as possible. If Paige’s hands end up just a little too close to Azzi’s waist, lingering a little longer than necessary against the patch of skin she’d marked with a hickey earlier this morning, and it makes the younger girl shiver, then that’s just a tactic to win. And if Azzi breathes seductive thoughts of what she’d like to do after the game when guarding Paige, and it makes the blonde want to turn around and kiss the smirk off of her girlfriend’s lips, well that’s just another innovative defensive strategy. 

“Be a good girl for me and move,” Paige whispers, the double entendre in her voice apparent, as she tries to dribble the ball past Azzi. There’s only a minute or so left in the last meeting of the regular season between Paige’s Lynx and Azzi’s Mystics -funny how that had worked out-  and the score is painfully close, with the Mystics closing in on the Lynx’s two point-lead. 

“Always a good girl for you P,” Azzi smirks, her voice the quietest it could possibly be, but Paige hears her next words like they’re on a loudspeaker in the area,  “it’s why I’m wearing your favourite purple panties.”

It takes a second, a second where Paige’s eyes gloss over with lust, as her mind rushes back to the last time she’d seen, the last time she’d touched the silky undergarment, for the ball to be stolen from her hands. She’s a step too slow to recover and by that time Azzi’s already scored the easy lay-up to tie up the game, a mischievous grin adorning her normally stoic game face. 

On the other end of the court, Napheesa draws a foul and Paige and Azzi end up next to each for free throws. Paige is seething, unsure if the heat curling up her spine is from the game or the girl standing next to her. 

“Sorry baby, all’s fair in love and war right?” Azzi teases, pinky brushing against the blonde’s, “I’ll make it up to you later if you want.”

“You’re such a fucking menace,” Paige practically growls. She does want, in fact she’d like it right now if it was possible. Two years they’ve been together, longer if you count the inbetween, and still, every time Azzi lights a match, Paige feels herself burn just as brightly as the first time she’d felt that magnetic pull. 

“Learnt from the best,” Azzi hums with a grin as Napheesa hits both free throws. 

The rest of the game passes in a blur of frenzied shots and hurried fouls but the Lynx pull out an eventual, much-needed win, to better their chances of clinching a higher seed in the playoffs. After missing the playoffs in 2024, the Lynx, despite having relatively low odds, had secured the no.1 pick and there had never really been a doubt that they would pick Paige. She’d helped the team get back to the playoffs last season but they hadn’t made it out of the first round. A championship doesn’t seem quite possible yet, but Paige has her fingers crossed that they’d at least make it to a semi-final this time. 

“The two of you are terrible at this,” Aaliyah’s the first person to hug Paige during the handshake line, “I thought you’d jump each other’s bones in the middle of the game today.”

“We’re not that bad,” Paige rolls her eyes at her former teammate. She high-fives a few more of the Mystics team until she gets to Azzi, who’s already smiling, despite the loss. The cameras are quick to crowd them, clearly wanting a more sensational picture than the one they’re likely to get. Still, despite the unwanted attention, Paige lets herself nestle into the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“You owe me twice tonight,” she whispers into the younger girl’s ear, “one for the win and one for that bullshit you pulled on the court tonight.”

Azzi’s voice is breathless when she replies, “I can give you way more than two.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

***

“With the new rules, after this season you’ll be a free agent, have you given any thought to that?”

Waiting for the Lynx’s turn in the media room, Paige hadn’t been paying much attention to the questions being asked to the Mystics players, her focus solely on how hot her girlfriend always looked post games. But the words ‘free agent’ pique her interest. The W had changed the rookie contract rules for first round draftees to two years and that meant both Paige and Azzi would be free agents after this year. But while it hadn’t reached the media quite yet, the Lynx were likely to use their core designation on Paige. Which meant the only one of them making any decision about next season would be Azzi. It was a subject the two of them were cautiously tip-toeing around, using the shield of distance to avoid talking about what it could mean for them. 

“I’m focused on the season, this team and the rest of our games. I’m not really thinking about the future,” Azzi answers diplomatically. 

“You’ve obviously got very strong ties to the DC area but you also went to UCLA, if the Sparks or maybe even the Valkyries, considering your connection to Steph Curry, were interested, and there have been rumours that they are, would you consider it?” the same reporter prods. 

“Again, I’m not currently thinking about any of that,” to anyone else Azzi probably sounds neutral but Paige has studied the sheet music of Azzi’s voice to the point where she knows what’s hidden behind every note, behind every little indent. The tinge of irritation is masked by a smile, but the line of questioning is clearly unappreciated. 

“And what about the Lynx?” the persistently oblivious reporter continues and this time Paige sucks in a breath, “you have some ties to that team don't you? Have you given some thought to maybe going there?”

Azzi’s eye twitches ever so slightly, “the Lynx just beat my team. The only thoughts I have right now are about how to beat them next time.”

That elicits a laugh from the media and finally the rather obtuse reporters seem to understand that he’s not going to be able to pry anything newsworthy from Azzi’s mouth. But even if he hasn’t achieved his desired effect, he’s succeeded in making Paige’s mind start running in circles. She hadn’t let herself think about it yet, the potential of Azzi joining the Lynx, the potential of playing with Azzi, the potential of finally just being with Azzi. Because facing the potential for all of that, facing all the things she wants means also facing the potential that maybe Azzi doesn’t want any of that. 

***

The air in Paige’s living room is thick with a suffocating tension as she and Azzi sit on opposite ends of the couch. It reminds Paige a little bit of the before, a dreaded version of them she’d foolishly thought they grown out of, until something reminiscent of their past problems had reared its ugly head, and suddenly it feels a bit like she’s playing a losing game. 

“Will you please stop that,” she bites out, referring to where Azzi’s foot is incessantly tapping on the wooden floors, “it’s giving me a headache.”

Azzi’s eyes narrow, flashing with irritation, “is it my tapping or the alcohol giving you a headache Paige?”

“I didn’t even drink that much,” Paige says through gritted teeth and Azzi scoffs. 

It’s a lie. After both teams were done with post game pressers, she, Azzi and a couple of the other girls had ended up at a local bar as they often did when the other team didn’t have to fly out til the next day. Paige had been tense the whole evening and trying to pretend not to be, especially when Azzi could see right through her façade, had only made the whole thing worse. She wasn’t one to drink too much, always happy just being sufficiently tipsy but then she’d gotten in her head too much. And when the first shot didn’t quite hit the way she needed it to, she’d kept on going, receiving worried looks from all the girls, until Azzi had finally stepped in. The ride back from the bar had been a sobering experience, one look at Azzi’s stoic face, giving away her irritation. 

“That’s why you still reek of tequila?” 

“How the fuck would you know? You haven’t come near me all night.” 

“Don’t you dare try and turn this on me Paige. I tried to talk to you all night til you decided you wanted to act like freshman frat boy,” Azzi spits out, hurt and anger colliding in her voice, “we barely get to spend time together during the season and the one night in forever that we do, you pull this shit?”

They haven’t had an argument like this since they’ve been officially together, the kind of argument that has them balancing on a delicate tight rope, too afraid to take a step backwards in their relationship, and too prideful to take a step forward towards each other. 

“I didn’t think you cared about spending time together during the season,” Paige accuses and there’s a sensible part of her, one that’s currently being held captive by the dangers of liquor, that knows it’s a ridiculous allegation. 

Azzi stares at her, lips opening and closing in disbelief, “excuse me?”

“It’s pretty simple really Azzi. If you wanna spend the whole season together, the option is right fucking there, but I- I can’t even tell if you’re interested in taking it,” Paige is pacing now, teeth gnawing at her lips like they always do when she’s nervous. 

“What- what are you even talking about?” Azzi asks, clearly confused. 

“Free fucking agency. They asked you about it and you said you hadn’t thought about it at all. That’s really great to hear Az, really great to know you haven’t thought about how that could literally change our whole fucking life,” and even as the words waterfall out of her mouth, Paige knows she’s being unreasonable, but the mix of stress and alcohol churning in her stomach is just enough to keep her from taking the words back. 

“I didn’t- that’s not even what I said. Jesus fucking christ Paige,” Azzi rubs her face, looking defeated.

“So you have thought about it then?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it, “ Azzi throws her hands up, “but I wasn’t gonna tell the media about all of that. But you- you seriously think I haven’t thought about what this means for us? You don’t- do you really think I’m not thinking about you- about us- while trying to make this decision?”

“Well you definitely didn’t think of me- of us- when you chose UCLA,” Paige’s eyes widen at her own words, knowing immediately that of all things she could have said, those were the worst ones, “I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

In front of her, Azzi has gone deathly still, face completely devoid of emotion, until the first tear drops and all of Paige’s anger dissipates, the guilt clawing back with full force. 

“I thought we were over that,” Azzi whispers, voice trembling, as she looks down at her hands, “but maybe we’ll never be over that.”

“We are,” Paige sinks to her knees in front of the younger girl, tugging Azzi’s hands into her own, “we are over it. I just- it just slipped out.”

Azzi’s quiet for a moment before she pulls her hands out of the blonde’s grip, sidestepping her as she stands up and Paige feels empty and cold and just a little bit broken. 

“Are you leaving?” she whispers, peering up at Azzi through tear soaked eyelashes. 

“I think I should, before anything else just slips out,” Paige flinches and Azzi’s expression softens, “I know- I know you didn’t mean it like that but I just- I need some space.”

Panic filters into Paige’s lungs, wrapping its dirty hands and squeezing so tight that she can barely breathe. She’s not sure when she’ll see Azzi again, now that there’s no more Lynx-Mystics games left in the regular season and it’s unlikely with their expected seedings that they’d meet at some point in the playoffs. It’s not like distance is new to them, but in the last two years, they’ve only ever said goodbye with an i love you attached to the end. 

“Are you-,” Paige gasps for air, “are you leaving me?”

And it must be written all over Paige's face, just how petrified she is of this moment, because that's all it takes for Azzi to rush back into Paige’s space, hands cupping her cheeks, “oh baby of course not. I just- you’re still drunk and I’m upset and I don’t want us to say anything we don’t mean. And I- need time to think about free agency and I think you- you need time to think about why that slipped out.”

Paige sighs, melting into Azzi’s touch as the knots in her stomach begin to untangle themselves, “you’re so logical.”

“Someone has to be,” a half-smile flitters across the younger girl’s face as she wipes at Paige’s tears, “we’ll figure this out okay? Just- just give me a little bit of time.”

Give me time. It’s a familiar line, so similar to what Azzi had asked for when she was making a decision about college and Paige would be lying if she said there isn’t a part of her that’s terrified fate is going to make them repeat the same mistakes. But part of growing up, Paige surmises, is letting time test you with the same trials and tribulations, and the next time, coming out of the other end on the right side. 

And so she squeezes Azzi’s hand, matching the younger girl's half smile, with a soothing one of her own, “okay.”

***

November 2027 

Paige doesn't know when she ended up in a love triangle with Azzi and the state of California but she wishes she was competing against an actual person. At least then she could throw a punch at the other guy. The W season is barely over and it seems like every front office has thrown themselves headfirst into convincing free agents to join their team. There’s a couple of teams interested in Azzi, but no one seems to be trying harder than the Los Angeles Sparks. Paige thinks whoever gave that city a name meaning “the angels” could not have been more wrong because really it’s a city full of devils constantly trying to steal her girl and no she’s not being dramatic. 

They’re supposed to be leaving for thanksgiving dinner when Azzi’s phone rings and Paige can’t help but roll her eyes when Cameron Brink’s name flashes on the CallerID. The Sparks seemed to have put her as head of their recruiting Azzi campaign and Cam had been diligently doing her part. 

“Azzi, Cam’s calling again,” Paige yells out to her girlfriend who’s still not quite finished getting ready.

“Can you pick it up?”

“Do I have to?”

“Paige,” Azzi whines and Paige sighs, hitting the green answering button. 

“The amount of times you’ve called my girlfriend this week, Brink, should I be concerned?”

“Jealous I’m replacing you as her favourite blonde?” Cam’s voice always sounds like she’s smiling and Paige can’t help her own smile. Goddamn Cameron Brink for always being the sweetest soul on this planet. 

“As if,” Paige scoffs, “it’s a holiday Cam, give the recruiting a rest.”

“Hey, I’m just calling to wish her a happy thanksgiving,” Cam defends. 

“Mmmhmm where’s my thanksgiving wish?”

“Oh please, the two of you are basically a unit. Wishing her is wishing you,” Cam is quiet for a second before speaking again, “the Sparks would be a good fit for her Paige.”

Paige sucks in a sharp breath, “I’m not the one you’re gonna have to convince.”

“I know but you know your opinion means a lot to her. I know you want her in Minnesota and she'd be good there too and I- I know it isn’t my place to say any of this but just- just don’t discourage her from doing what’s best for her,” there’s not a hint of malice in Cam’s words, there never is, but they pierce at Paige’s skin anyways. 

“Okay I’m ready, hand me the phone,” she’s saved from having to answer by Azzi waltzing into the living room and prying the phone from her hands. 

Paige watches silently as Azzi talks animatedly with Cam, noticing the way her girlfriend’s smile widens while talking about certain spots in L.A. They’d subconsciously decided not to breach the subject of free agency after that night. Paige hadn’t interfered in any of the Lynx’s conversations with Azzi, deciding that this time, she’d stay out of it. It hadn’t been easy, every little bit of her itching to pitch why the Lynx were the perfect fit, why Paige was the perfect fit, but she was determined to give Azzi the space -the time- she’d wanted. This time she’d leave the choice solely up to Azzi and whatever she decided, Paige would find her happiness in that. 

“Paige you ready to go,” Azzi waves a hand in front of Paige’s face, eyebrows raised in question when the older girl doesn’t make a move to get off the sofa, “hey, you good?”

“Cam says the Sparks would be a good fit,” Azzi stiffens at Paige’s words. 

“Paige-”

“She’s right,” Paige concedes, fingers fidgeting as she averts Azzi’s gaze. 

The younger girl blinks at her, clearly not having expected that, “she is?”

“Yeah. They need a shooting guard and you,” Paige smiles, reaching out to pull Azzi onto the couch with her, “you’re the best there is.”

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

“You are to me and it’s why I want you on the Lynx,” they both let out a breath with that. It’s not a secret of course but Paige hasn’t said it out loud before. 

“Paige-”

“But it’s okay if you don't wanna be on the Lynx, if you wanna be on the Sparks or stay here with the Mystics or on any other team, if you think it’s the right move for you and for your career then that’s fine. It’s okay and you don’t- you don’t need my permission or anything of course but I just- whatever you decide, I’ll support it okay? What I said that night about UCLA-  it wasn't- it wasn’t about you. I thought about it like you asked me to and it’s me. I was scared that I would fuck it up again and I’d lose you again-”

“You won’t,” Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze,  “I won’t let you.”

“I know. I know now that whatever happens, we’ll be okay. And so you can choose whatever team you want and it won’t- it won’t affect us, I promise. It won’t be like last time I swear. When you make your decision- I just- I don’t want you to make it for me or for us, cause you and me? Baby we’ll be just fine no matter what. Wherever you go and wherever I am, we’ll make it work, just as we have for the last two years,” Paige smirks, “besides I kinda enjoy kicking your ass.”

Azzi lets out a snort as she climbs onto Paige’s lap, thighs straddling her hips, “you really had to ruin it with that last part huh?”

“Was getting a little too sappy for me,” Paige mumbles and when she looks up, the emotions floating in Azzi’s eyes make Paige’s heart stutter. Because no one else gets this Azzi. This Azzi, who wears her heart on her sleeve, who lets her walls down, only for Paige’s eyes to see, only for Paige’s mind to memorise, only for Paige’s heart to keep. 

“You mean it?” Azzi whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of Paige’s face, touching lingering, “you’d be okay with anything?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Paige cups Azzi’s cheeks, brushing her lips against the younger girl’s, “whatever you choose, we’ll be fine. No matter what, I believe in us.”

***

January 2028

Paige groans when her phone rings at 2 a.m., fumbling around in the dark trying to answer it. 

“I swear you better be dying if you’re calling me this late,” she grumbles into the phone, voice scratchy with sleep. 

“Not quite,” Azzi says, and Paige’s eyebrows furrow at the amount of background noise she can hear behind her girlfriend. 

“Dude where the hell are you at 3 in the morning?” she asks, now a little more awake as she sits up. 

“I uh- I had a bit of a revelation,” and Paige can practically picture Azzi, wherever she might be, fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lips. 

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I know. I know. Shit, I was supposed to do this in person. I had a whole plan but apparently being with you has made me impatient,” Azzi rambles. 

“You’re still not making any sense,” but Paige’s heart is starting to beat erratically fast in anticipation. 

“I had this realisation while I was in the gym today, it was really quiet and peaceful and I was fine you know- all day I was fine- just doing daily routines and then I just- I missed you. I miss you all the time do you know that?”

Paige does know, knows it far too well. Sometimes she thinks missing Azzi comes as naturally as breathing, an innate part of her day to day, a constant ache that she’s felt since she was 15. 

“I miss you too,” she whispers. 

“And I’ve learned to survive with that feeling, with missing you constantly. I mean it’s been more than 10 years at this point, how could I not? But what I realised today is that just because I can- just because I can live missing you- doesn’t mean I want to.”

“What are you saying Azzi?”

“DC is my childhood. My family is close to there, it’s part of where I grew up. It’ll always be my first home. And LA is where I found myself, my identity, and for a while it felt like home too.”

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, hands gripping the phone as tight as possible, wrapping that one syllable in emblems of give me forever. 

“But my forever home isn’t in DC or LA and it’s not really in any other place either because-  Jesus this might be the clichést thing I’ve ever said but-,” Azzi lets out a chuckle, “my home is wherever you are Paige. Wherever we’re together, that’s home.”

It feels a little bit like the end of a drought, the wetness on Paige’s cheeks like the rain that comes after. In the pitch black of her room, phone clutched closely to her ear with Azzi’s words floating through it like a swan song, Paige swears she’s never felt the world glow quite like this before. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Beating your ass has been fun as hell but I think we’d make a pretty good team Bueckers.”

And it’s a good thing Paige’s walls are soundproof because the delighted whoop she lets out practically vibrates around the room, all previous wisps of tiredness completely gone from her body. Azzi lets out a tearful laugh and Paige wishes they were together right now so she could tattoo this happiness onto both of their skins. 

“The greatest team ever,” Paige affirms, “When are you com-”

“Attention passengers Delta Airlines Flight 1248 to Minneapolis will be boarding soon, please have your passport and ticket ready to check at the gate.”

“About that,” Azzi says shyly as Paige’s mouth drops open at the announcement, “I uh- I had a moment of spontaneity.”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my overthinking girlfriend?” Paige demands and Azzi giggles on the other end of line.

“I know it’s last minute, like really last minute and it was meant to be a surprise actually but I just- I really wanna see you. Is that okay?”

“Is that okay? Fuck Azzi, it’s all I want. Baby,” Paige breathes out softly, “come home.”

*** 

Time isn’t going nearly fast enough Paige thinks as she checks the arrivals board for the nth time. She’d tried for about four seconds to fall back asleep after hanging up the phone but her entire body had been buzzing with excitement. And so she’d gotten to the airport far earlier than necessary, and had maybe one too many cups of coffee if the jittery shake in her left hand is anything to go by.

She swears she feels her before she sees her. The air is electric as if the whole city, the whole state is waiting for Azzi too, for them to get their elusive forever. This moment feels like years in the making, and Paige is ready, ready to grasp it and make it hers. And then there’s Azzi, a clearly chosen-at-last minute wrinkled t-shirt, eyes drooping from the tiredness from not having slept all night, baby hairs in a frenzy across her forehead. To Paige, she’s still the prettiest girl in the entire universe. 

Azzi’s eyes scan through the airport until they land on Paige, a dazzling smile illuminating her exhausted features. It’s the exact same smile that Paige had first elicited from her on the flight back from Argentina when she’d told Azzi she had a feeling they'd make great friends. It’s her Paige smile. The world is still for a second, everything melting away except them and the whispers of the journey it had taken them to get to this point. Every delicately placed step towards each other feels like an ode to every year they’d spent apart. And then Paige is running, not caring about everyone else around her. She jumps into Azzi’s arm, all 6 feet of her, tangling her legs around the younger girl's waist while her arms fasten around the neck. It forces Azzi to let go of her small carry-on, not caring that it falls to the floor with a thud, as her hands wrap around Paige’s back, steadying her girlfriend’s weight on top of her. 

“You’re here,” Paige whispers, still a little in disbelief, “you’re really here.”

“I’ve been in Minny plenty of times before,” Azzi quips, adjusting her balance to properly hold the girl clinging to her like a koala. 

“Shut up you know what I mean. You’re here forever this time.”

“Well I don’t know about forever- OW,” Azzi shrieks, as Paige pinches her arm, “do you want me to drop you woman?”

“You’re never allowed to leave.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening.”

“Good because it definitely is a threat,” Paige says before pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, “welcome home baby.”

***

October 2028 

There are moments in life you remember forever. Sometimes you know they’re going to happen, sometimes they take you off guard and sometimes, it’s a combination of both. The Minnesota Lynx’s journey to the WNBA finals this season had always felt inevitable but the journey there, for a team that had unexpectedly fallen to the 4-seed despite pre-season clamour of them being number one, had been filled with bitter losses and moments of pure uncertainty. In a way, it perfectly mirrors Paige and Azzi’s relationship. 

There’s 11 seconds separating the Lynx from their 5th championship trophy as they lead the Sky by two points. The crowd is up on their feet, ready for their cheering to turn into roars the minute the final buzzer rings. Paige has the ball in her hands on the inbound, Coach Reeves yelling at her from the bench what to do, as she makes eye contact with Azzi. There are no words, not even a gesture that the other team might be able to interpret, but they know exactly what play they’re about to run.

Truth be told it hadn’t been the seamless transition the two of them had expected when Azzi joined the Lynx. They’d been naive to think years of not playing together wouldn’t have affected the backcourt chemistry they’d had almost instantly once upon a time. The first few games, there had been an embarrassing disconnect between the two of them that had resulted in a nasty berating from Coach Reeves and a subsequent argument between the two of them that had lasted into the next morning. It had taken several more practices, and a couple more games of flailing around, for them to finally become the duo Paige had always known they would. 

The game buzzer beeps and Paige throws the ball to Azzi who immediately returns it back to her, and then she’s running off screen after screen to get herself open on the wing, her sweet spot. Paige dribble penetrates into the paint, dragging an extra defender with her as they try to prevent her from getting a layup, the other defender blocks her from stepping back into a pull-up. Azzi’s defender has a momentary lapse in judgement, falling for the age-old trick of thinking she should help on defence, and that’s all it takes. A second for Paige to see Azzi open on the corner and pass it to her. A second for Azzi to shoot it. 

The three-pointer falls through the next with a perfect swish. Dagger shot. 

A small smile flits across Azzi’s face, the only emotion she’s shown all game and Paige can’t help the much larger grin that starts to flash on her own face. She can almost taste victory on the tip of her tongue, the two seconds left in the game are the only thing separating her from finally getting her version of the things we live for. Behind her she can hear Coach Reeves yelling at them to not foul, the 5-point lead enough of a cushion for them to withstand a last minute shot. But the Sky barely make it over midcourt and when Marina Mabrey heaves up a last second prayer, Paige doesn’t bother to see if it goes in as the buzzer sounds throughout Target Arena. The Minnesota crowd explodes in noise and colour as confetti falls from the sky. 

Despite the chaos of everything, Paige has never seen Azzi clearer than in this moment. Since she’d met the girl, in all of Paige’s prayers about winning a championship, one thing had always been constant, that when they’d come true, they’d come true with Azzi by her side. And she had been. The high school state champion, the college national championship, Azzi had been there for both but on the bleachers, as a spectator and as Paige’s biggest fan. But this, winning a championship with Azzi as her teammate, as her ally, as her partner, means something more. This win is theirs. 

“Do you remember when we saw that shooting star?” Azzi says softly, as they find their way into each other’s arms, not caring that there’s a thousand cameras capturing their every move. Paige pulls Azzi closer to her, every inch of her body pressing into the other girls until she’s not sure where she begins and where Azzi ends. 

“That was years ago,” Paige remarks but she can see it clearly, two young girls underneath the stars, unaware of what their future would be but sure that the other would be in it. Those girls would probably laugh at how long it had taken Paige and Azzi to figure out what had seemed so simple back then. 

“Yeah, yeah it was. Do you remember what you wished for?” Azzi asks, smiling when Paige nods, “do you wanna know what I wished for?”

“What did you wish for Az?”

“Before we saw the star you- you said it’d be nice to win a championship together someday. And so I-,” Azzi looks down shyly, “so I wished for someday. I wished for today.”

Paige stares at Azzi, drinking in the sincerity on the shooting guard’s face, silently letting herself absorb the meaning of Azzi’s words. And then she lets out a laugh because of course of course. 

“I didn’t realise I’d said anything funny for you to be laughing at me,” Azzi scrunches her nose, looking slightly offended. 

“God baby no,” Paige cups Azzi’s face, and she thinks this smile on her face will last forever as long as this is her reality, “I’m not laughing at you. I just- do you know what I wished for?” 

Azzi shakes her head. 

“This. The same exact thing you did. For someday.”

It’s not quite the shade of blue Paige had imagined them in, the Lynx blue its own shade, something inbetween UConn’s navy one and UCLA’s sky one. But it’s perfect nonetheless. And when Azzi crashes her lips against Paige’s, someday feels a lot like forever and always.

[sallowsarchives]

War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."  

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. 

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can. 

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin. 

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.” 

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.” 

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance. 

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate. 

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident. 

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last. 

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.” 

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony. 

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!” 

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte. 

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side. 

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor. 

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with. 

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow.  “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back. 

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness. 

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny. 

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable. 

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence. 

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets. 

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you. 

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement. 

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?” 

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur. 

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise. 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.” 

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below. 

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations. 

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him. 

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk. 

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point.  “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you. 

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. 

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.” 

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?” 

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness. 

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss. 

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality. 

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony. 

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. 

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed. 

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over. 

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings? 

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say. 

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration. 

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded. 

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt. 

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

[yuvany]

⋆｡˚ ⋆ # 𝙈𝘼 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙐𝙏É

Moments where they can't stop adoring you ;; w.c : ~ 200 / character .

pairing: ot7 enhypen x fmr ;; warning(s) : fluff+ skinship+ down bad behaviour+not proofread!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 always tries to make you laugh because he strongly believes that your smile could light up a dark room. Heeseung invited you over to spend time with his friends–and that’s how you found yourself cuddled up in his arms right now. You zoned out their boring conversation, turning to your phone. Your boyfriend asked if you were comfortable multiple times, and you reassured him that you were. It wasn't until you heard the group roar with laughter that you perked your head up with interest."Babe, look." He said, calming down his own laughter, and turned his phone towards you. You saw a funnily edited picture of one of his members with thick black glasses while holding up a finger, resembling a nerd emoji (🤓☝️). You burst out in giggles at the unexpected picture. "Hah, who is that even!" You exclaimed. It was obvious to everyone else in the room that Heeseung just wanted to make you laugh, because his focus immediately shifted to your laughter. When you realised that no one was laughing with you anymore, your laugh quieted down. "I have more of these." He says excitedly mostly to you while he skims through his gallery with a wide smile, searching for more memes.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 is as much of a listener as he is a talker. Spill the recent tea to him, and he'll actively listen to what you have to say. The same goes for when you want to rant about a stray cat you might've seen, or perhaps a concert you bought the ticket for. Jay never gets tired; if anything, he finds you cute and entertaining. Let's say the two of you found yourself in his kitchen while cooking together, you were washing and chopping up vegetables while he was by the stove and oven. You spoke about your day, and he hummed along, secretly also snatching glances at you from time to time – he would've been staring at you if he wasn't scared that the pot would over boil if he wasn't looking at it. You suddenly stopped without realising, probably due to the loud noice of the water tap, or sound of the food cooking. Jay would then ask what you wanted to say. "So, I went to this cat cafe with a couple of friends, and..." You zoned out, not fully comprehending that there was more to your sentence. In which he fills you in, "you and your friends went to a cat cafe...? Was it fun, sweetie?" He inquires, getting you back on track. "Right! The cafe..." He smiles to himself when you're back in the rhythm again.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 loves his dog, Layla, just as much as he loves you. So, there's no doubt that he'd stay silent and watch the two of you play together. By silent, I mean watching you spend time with his other life. Jake was sitting in the livingroom with Layla beside him on the couch, petting her fur while watching the TV. The sound of keys turning the door open caught both of their attention. "Hello?" You called out while shutting the door behind you, not wanting them to think you're a burglar. The familiarity of your voice had Layla sprung up from the couch and hurry towards you with Jake close behind. Before even getting the opportunity to take off your jacket, Layla was excitedly climbing your leg. You leaned down, and cooed her name as you petted her head. Jake kissed you on the cheek when he arrived, and held Layla back to give you space. You quickly hung your jacket, and neatly placed your shoes to the side before returning Jake's kiss, and turning to Layla. You sat on the floor, and patted your lap for the dog. While you spent a lot of time with the pet, Jake rested his head on his propped arm on his knee, enjoying the sight.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 and you were at the mall together. The two of you walked hand in hand as you entered a clothing shop, Sunghoon already leading the way. Time went by, and you had walked around the shop enough times to be able to navigate with your eyes shut. Sunghoon approached you with a short pile of clothes on his arm, asking you to try it on. You sighed, knowing he won't take 'no' for an answer. He stood outside the changing room as he waited for you to step out. You walked out in the outfit he had picked for you, consisting of new pieces of clothing covering you from head to toe, literally. This man could not pick out just a top and bottom, but felt the need to hand you a hat, and a pair of shoes as well. "How do I look?" You questioned as you twirled to show him the fit. Sunghoon looked you up and down, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, and a satisfied smile. "Beautiful, as always." He replied. Sunghoon took a step forward, and adjusted the collar slightly, before taking one last look, and nodding happily. Some might say he's a fool by the awestruck look on his face, but others will argue that he's a man inlove.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 is captured by your beauty at any given moment. You will never hear him judge what you deemed as accidents or mistakes in your make-up or attire, if anything, he'd call it a new fashion trend. Sunoo takes a lot of care of his skin, so it's natural that he'd want his precious girlfriend to also beam as much as him. He loves watching you apply both skincare and makeup. You could call it a hobby of his. The way you would hold the brush and swipe it along the apples of your cheek, applying lip balm, lipstick, and gloss. He talks to you non-stop at all times. You doing makeup is no exception. You sat in front of your mirror by your vanity, and Sunoo posistioned on your bed with crossed legs saying,"You're so pretty" "Woah, that colour is gorgeous!" and so on. If you asked if he wanted to try your makeup, he'd say yes in an instant, i mean who wouldn't want their awesome girlfriend to doll him up? Sunoo leans in, with his nose scrunched, and eyes closed, and you wave your brush on his nose like a magic wand, now a soft pink spot was on his nose and cheek. "Am I pretty like you now, Y/nie?"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 starts to think that there's something magical about the bathroom in his house every time you stayed over –specifically the shower. It was any normal evening, you had excused yourself from the movie to take a shower–which you promised Jungwon would take maximum fifteen minutes. Well, you just happened to break that promise. By now, an hour went by, and it felt like torture for the poor boy who just wanted to snuggle with you. He heard the shower turn off, and he shifted on the sofa to watch the door swing open. You stepped out in your sleep wear, and a towel wrapped around your head. Wet droplets slid down the contours of you face from the baby hairs that stuck out. You might find it annoying, but Jungwon thinks it adds to your charisma. Something about you just looks so fresh and authentic, he wishes his brain could snap photos so that he could make a collection of you stepping out the shower with your face slightly flushed, exposing the temperature of the water, "Sorry if took a litte longer than promised, honey. Your shampoo just smells amazing." You said taking a seat beside him, and he cuddles close to you, taking in your scent. "No worries, use it as often as you want."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 loves playing video games with you, that's no secret, everyone knows that. It didn’t matter what you guys played, he'd always let you win. You guys played Mario Cart? Riki would 'accidentally' bump into the side of the track to slow himself down. On the other hand, if you played a game that required teamwork, he'd carry you without question, and you wouldn't even notice. He's just sneaky like that. Riki would always glance over at you from time to time, just wanting to see you sat beside him on the floor, and thanking fate for binding you two together. Sometimes though, he'd watch you as if he was in a trance, examining your profile a while longer than before. His eyes traced the shape of your nose, the way you bit your tongue in concentration, and your brows, making you also turn your head, catching him in the act. You made eye contact, and he jerked his head forward again. If he heard you giggle, he'd flush in embarrassment. Even though he is flustered, all he can think about is the sheen on your face in contrast to the darker background in his room, and how pretty your focused face is. He remembers the small details on your face, like moles or freckles.

Don't spam like, as it shadow bans me

Layout credits to @flwrstqr

[throwawayhero]

hi!! could you do a kirishima bf headcanons? i feel like nobody ever writes for my boy, thank you! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Of course omg??? He doesn’t get the amount of love he deserves ong. One of the best characters imo, kill me if I'm wrong!! He’s been my favourite for YEARSSS and I will never get tired of him. Some of these are a bit random but I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

Eijirou!Kirishima who always walks to school and/or class with you. He’ll wait for as long as you need him to with little to no complaints (most of the time..)! He’ll just hang around in your dorm trying to look unsuspecting as he looks at your stuff while you rush to get ready. He especially loves to snoop through your trinkets.

“.. Hey, I didn’t know you still had this!”

“Neither did I..”

“Oh—“

Eijirou!Kirishima who actually takes care of his physical appearance/personal hygiene. He doesn't have a sociopathic 30 step skin care routine but don't be surprised when his bathroom drawer is full of hit or miss products that he's tried out. Will give tips about finding good products if asked about it. He always smells SO good. He also has hair products he uses to get the red dye to last longer.

"Hey, can I borrow this?"

"That made my skin super irritated, try this one."

Eijirou!Kirishima who always supports you and your hobbies, even if they only last a week. He's always up for being a test subject of sorts. Painting/drawing? He's ordering you top quality paints and pencils. Reading? Tell him about the characters, the drama, the romance, the plot twists, he's invested. Crochet/knitting? He's wearing the sweater you made him, even if it is a little bit itchy. Yoga? He bought matching yoga mats! He's ALWAYS supportive, now matter how extreme.

"Any other hobbies peaked your interest?"

"Rock climbing."

"..Sounds like fun!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who NEVER forgets to text you good morning/night. He forgot once and showed up to your dorm to apologise (You hadn't even woken up yet). Sometimes he sends little GIFs too.

'Good morning beautiful!! 💗💗💗'

Eijirou!Kirishima who has a highlight on instagram dedicated to pictures of you and things that remind him of you. He doesn't really post on social media, but when he does, 80% of the time it's about you. He also sends you a bunch of those lovey-dovey quotes from Facebook. His captions on photos are always so sweet.

'Spent the day Go-Karting with my beautiful girlfriend! Can't believe how lucky I am! #gokart #love #girlfriend'

Eijirou!Kirishima who is the KING of PDA, to an extent of course. He will kiss you anywhere, in front of anyone. Oh my GOD does this man know how to give good hugs. He's always holding your hand/wrist/finger no matter what you're doing. You could be on a walk, in a line, grocery shopping, or just sitting down together. He's always by your side :)

"..Can you let go of my hand so I can scan the groceries?"

"No but I'll help you!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who GUSHES about you to his friends. This man is head over heels and everyone knows it. He doesn't necessarily believe in soulmates but he does believe that you were the one he was meant to find. He gets this horribly happy look on his face when he thinks about a future with you that everyone can't help but laugh at. He talks about said future all the time.

"When do you want to get married?"

"..What?"

"I wanna know when to start editing my vows."

"..Editing??"

Eijirou!Kirishima who is a bit of a restless sleeper. And when I say restless, I truly mean it. This man will roll on top of you and just lay there, sprawling out and snoring happily. You have been and will continue to be kicked. One time you had woken up to him rolling off the bed.

"You slapped me in your sleep last night."

"Oops. You should've slapped me back!"

"I did."

Eijirou!Kirishima who goes all out on dates. He'll take you to a fancy restaurant and wear a suit and tie with his hair done nicely. He'll ask you to wear something pretty beforehand so that you know not to underdress. He arrives at your house/dorm with flowers and the biggest smile you'll ever see (besides your wedding day). He'll treat you like the princess you deserve!

"You're stunning, hun.. where would I be without you?"

[fcthots]

thinking about fake dating jason and falling in love.

it happens slowly and quietly, so slow you don’t even notice it.

and then you turn around and you’re head over heels for him, no idea how it happened.

-🍓

Anon, if i ever gain the ability to write full fics, this is the first thing i'm writing.

might turn this into an au and let y'all request scenes (tattooartist!jason style)

It started off simple. He needed a date to the gala. the press was brutal and he was a Wayne. He didn't want to put anyone in that sort of spotlight. He had a dark past and didn't want anyone to get dragged into it. You were bored, needed a date to a wedding, and you cared about your friend. Also, it helped that he was willing to pay you because he felt bad about the whole press thing. It was nothing more than an arrangement between friends, a way for you to help him out. He's always been there for you, no matter what. You didn't think twice about returning the favor.

He was sweet in public. Held your hand, kissed your cheek, always asked if you were up for a kiss when he thought it was necessary. His hand was always warm and comforting on your waist. It grounded. you, kept you in the moment with him. You loved hanging out with him. The arrangement had let allowed you to hand out with him all the time, anywhere and everywhere. There were some comments made about you in the press, but the negative ones didn't bother you (how could they think you were the bad influence, secret identity or not, he was the one with murders under his belt!) and there were some nice things. You ha your past delved into, which wasn't exactly fun, but Jason had warned you it would happen and oracle made sure everything traceable wasn't bad. Overall, it was fun. You got to hang out with your best friend 24/7 and you got some new instagram followers and fun edits made of you along the way.

When it did inevitably get a little rough, Jason was there for you, like always. He took care of all the truly nasty things the press had to say about you. He always respected your boundaries, and he took you on vacation when it all got too much, even if he had to leave early for a Gotham emergency.

Things had to be believable, of course, so there needed to be couple's pictures on your social media. He needed to lay down with you. He needed to press his body up against yours. he needed to wrap his arms around you. He needed to draw you so close to him that there wasn't any given one inch of space in between you. He needed to press his face to your chest and close his eyes.

Right?

He just needed the picture to look believable. That was all.

So why did he stay cuddled into you? Why did he fall asleep there like he was made to fit? Like it was the only place he's ever wanted to be?

And why did it make you want.

After that, you spent all of your time wanting. Wanting more. The arrangement was perfect. It gave you everything it was supposed to. So why did you want more? Why did you wish Jason would stop apologizing when he said he had to kiss you? Why did your heart sink when his hands left yours after you were away from prying eyes? When did the edits people made of you go from fun to painful, a reminder of the way you wished he really looked at you? Why did you wish he wasn't faking it.

And, fuck that hurt, because he was just faking it all, right? He only looked at you like you were his world when someone else was looking. He didn't want you.

Not like you wanted him.

"Why do you look like that?" His voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Your eyes drift to him where he's sitting on the couch, his phone long forgotten timing out and turning off in his hand.

"What?" Your eyebrows had just lightly drawn together, your voice duller than usual.

"You look sad. What's on your mind?" His face looks a little worried. His eyes searched yours. You hope he can't see the truth lying beneath them.

What were you supposed to tell him? That this wasn't just a game to you anymore? That you can't stomach him holding your hand not because he means it? That you're taking advantage of him? That when he kisses you, you pretend it's real?

You don't meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

[kaliforniahigh]

Hi, everyone! As I have mentioned before, earlier this month I was cleaning up my blog and I accidentally deleted recent posts. I've been trying to get them back and now I decided to respost them! I don't know if I've found all of them yet, but I'll post the ones I did. They're not edited or rewritten.

This is a respost from June 26th.

WC: 365.

Noah was already sick of hearing you say how much you wanted to visit Yellowstone National Park.

He decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He really had to hold himself back from taking you as soon as he got home from tour. No, this had to be special, your birthday was only 2 months away.

So he spent the 2 months planning. Where you would stay, what guided tours to participate in, the main places you HAD to visit. It was safe to say he knew the Yellowstone National Park map by heart by then.

When the day came to tell you the news, he was a jittery mess. He took you to dinner because it was your birthday, hoping that it would ease his nerves. Halfway through your dinner, he let his fork and knife drop on his plate. "I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore".

You really thought this mf was about to break up with you on your birthday. But he reached inside his pocket, pulling out two plane tickets and an iterary.

"We're going to Yellowstone National Park next week, and we're spending a week there just exploring and seeing everything you've dreamed of seeing". You were gaping at him like a fish, not believing what you were hearing.

You got up from your seat and rounded the table, planting yourself on his lap, spreading kisses all over his face and muttering a million thank yous.

He thought it couldn't get any better than this. That is until you arrived at your destination and came the first day of exploring the park. Your eyes were bright as you took in the scenery around you. All the beautiful colors, hot springs, geysers and obviously, the one you were most excited about: the Yellowstone caldera.

Noah got to hang back and see you gleam like a child at everything around you, taking pictures when you weren't looking, that he would keep just to himself, and hearing you talk animatedly about everything you knew about the park. He reminded himself to do this more often. There was nothing more rewarding than putting a smile on his girl's face.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of lawn care

10:30pm, sunday, may 26, 2024

cut the grass today, and then went and spent two hours lolling around outside, sitting on a blanket that even now smells perfectly of summer

reading just finished kj charles' the henchmen of zenda (thank you @yogurtforever for mentioning it to me! please overlook the fact that i'm about to go off) and i have to say, surprisingly, this was a rare kj charles miss, for me! i still finished it, i still think i'm glad i read it, but from an author who i've adored all of her other work, it's odd to realize i didn't have as much fun here as i would have liked. two reasons for this, possibly, one that i think it was an early work for her [edit: nope came out in 2018] and two that i actually had read the source material of which this is an au, and i found it continually grating that this book's whole tone and style is set up to be cynical about the original prisoner of zenda novel. if you want the critique to really, actually matter, don't change so much! don't make your case by actually rewriting the entire personalities of the king and player-king, who in this turn into strawmen because they've literally been restructured to prove monarchy is awful. the other option, b), would be to step further away from the source material, in which case you need to stop quoting the original book and integrating so much of the original language. bah. this leaves us open for one of my most irritating little meaningless quibbles, which is that a character gets very self-righteous about what the original novel's narrator meant by using the term 'well-bred', to the point that i think ends up actually being ahistorical and weakening the overall critique we're trying to produce here.

charles is also trying to introduce more time and personality for the female characters (moderate success) and insert some revolutionary, 'hey wait a minute the best answer here is not a continuation of the monarchical system where everyone sucks' sentiment (middling to poor success). i just...found i really hated the idea that every character was Worse, Actually than in the original novel, although in fairness it is believable that the pov character here would think that, i guess. you chose a narrator who's going to take a cynical view of everything, and are trying to show how he allows himself to trust and/or like certain very few people, and it didn't make for a great reading experience.

the same, however, can't be said for the other two books here, although arguably they are also dealing with a narrator who is a) damaged and grieving b) gay. katherine addison's the goblin emperor was a christmas/birthday gift for me in...2022 and was such a gem, a gift in multiple senses, and this spring i have finally indulged in the two companion (?) novels, which i read voraciously on Eclipse Day and the weeks following, and then have turned around and listened to in audiobook almost immediately. the world of amalo is no less full of horror, death and injustice and corrupt or infuriating structures of power are a big part of the inciting action, but the time we spend seeing the people who are kind makes these so much more. pleasurable to read. plus the details of the city, the public transit, the tea houses, the opera, the belle epoque prague vibes. there's comparatively more death, more 'true crime' style mystery solving, more small vignettes of crime (reminding me that she does like writing cases like this, and making her her sherlock holmes au angel of the crows, pictured in ilcb 05/12/24 but not discussed, fit into place in a new way), but the lack of cynicism matters.

listening a lot of podcasts lately. had reason to try and sum up my podcast habit recently, and realized that i am really almost constantly listening to one, of some variety. i go through different moods and will switch between shows to find the right vibe rather than try to finish one all the way through. that being said, the list i tell people when asked 'oh what do you listen to?' is, like, 99% invisible (genuinely really enjoying the robert caro the power broker read-along, despite not reading the book-- it's fascinating) and articles of interest and ologies, whereas this week i think it was primarily no such thing as a fish, followed by normal gossip, followed by i hate it but i love it followed by some npr and crooked media pods (god help me, i do still check in on their election takes and will probably continue to do so out of morbid curiosity). the maxfun shows i listen to? are like family to me, and may be just as overlooked-- but you can bet that's where i'm turning first when stuck on a long subway ride.

watching had reason, last week, to sit down and watch the entire new season of gamechanger start to finish. y'all heard about this shit? gamechanger? anyone? yes? i bought dropout for myself and a few friends last year, and it has been the best possible investment. i love feeling the, like, increase in energy and stakes and creative chaotic potential in each new episode, each new show that gets added to the roster, but i love gamechanger til death do us part. hard to pick a favorite bit for cast psychic damage and resulting peak performances (second place?? bingo?? the timeloop??? sam says????) so let me here give a shout-out to the lesser memed episodes this season, the drawfee collab and the newlyweb game (scream) and beat the buzzer, all of which were so fun while featuring people i knew less or not at all. the little sam reich matryoshkas absolutely killed me. can we hear it for the motherfucking ART DEPARTMENT.

playing having beaten one of the colosseum of fools tournaments in hollow knight, i've gone back for round two and am now emotionally trapped until i can win this second one. since i need the pale ore from it in order to upgrade and do anything more challenging. so it goes. this has also meant that i turned back to other games, after not wanting to continue to die so very much. chants of sennaar was there waiting for me so politely, and i got through the third language and felt pretty accomplished after puzzling slash brute-forcing it i had to do to make things work. was not expecting the uh. the jumpscare, as it were, at the end of the bards' level. but look how gorgeous.

making made a pretty passable banana bread today. the ratio of banana to other ingredients was a little off, so it's largely just 'bread' and isn't too sweet, but it's more than edible.

working on ignoring my email inbox, ignoring my article revisions, ignoring my chapter edits--forgot to send out the email with discussion questions for our panel discussion which we meant to send out this friday, fuck! trying to make progress on paid tasks and stay on top of those hours before i leave, trying to also organize my trip which has meant, like it or not, getting back to some of those emails. also i found an article in welsh which i had been unaware of which will be Extremely Good to have read, even if it doesn't tell me anything too new, just so that i can prove i did. my footnotes always feel so anemic. hopefully this helps, and hopefully i speed up--currently reading about two pages an hour if i'm lucky.

[hopepetal]

Ranchers fic! It's close to my birthday so I thought "why not write a birthday fic?"

--

For the first time in months, Jimmy woke up cold.

Tango was Netherborn, his body temperature running a little higher than Jimmy's on average. It wasn't unpleasant, not at all– the warmth reminded him of summer, of flower fields, of love and the ranch and nights spent in the arms of his soulmate. It was a little shocking to wake up without Tango in the bed, because last time he checked, Tango was most certainly not a morning person.

Nor was he a cook, judging by the faint acrid smell of food burning, and yelped swears as– and Jimmy could picture it so vividly, even with his eyes closed– as Tango likely grabbed whatever was burning off the pan with his bare hands.

Welp. That was as good of a wake-up call as he'd get.

Sliding out of bed (totally not struggling for a moment with the tangled sheets, not at all) Jimmy stretched, yawning as his joints popped and cracked. Feet bare against the cold wooden floors, he slowly slipped downstairs, yawning loudly again as he entered the kitchen. “Mornin', sunshine– what in Void's name is that?!”

Tango held out a paper plate decorated with blackened bacon and overly fried eggs. “Breakfast. Tango edition.”

Jimmy hesitantly took the plate, offering Tango a strained smile. “...thanks...?”

Tango deflated. “Yeah, it's awful. I don't know how to cook.”

Jimmy laughed softly as he took the plate to the garbage and dumped it. “You tried your best, I'm sure.” He grabbed another pan, placing the used one in the sink and putting a bit of water in it. Placing the clean pan on the stove, he turned the heat on and grabbed some of the bacon Tango had been about to cook. “So,” he began, oiling the pan, “what... prompted this, exactly?”

Tango plopped down at the table with a loud sigh, resting his elbows on the table. “I wanted to do something special for you. Y'know. You're always making me breakfast and I thought, *hey, this couldn't be that hard, I'm a genius redstone engineer!' but no! Turns out cooking's a lot harder than it looks.”

Jimmy laughed as he set the bacon in the pan, hearing the satisfying sizzle as it began to cook. “It's a science. Takes a lot of practice. Trust me, I burnt my fingers so many times... though I guess you wouldn't have that problem, would you?”

Tango smiled sheepishly. “You know it.”

“Love the apron, by the way.” Jimmy cackled at Tango's face instantly turning beet red. “The frills suit you. They do!” He turned the bacon over, before walking over to give Tango a kiss on the forehead. “And 'kiss the cook'? Don't mind if I do.”

Tango buried his face in his hands with an embarrassed wheeze. “You're awful.”

“Thanks, babe.”

It was silent for a moment, save for the sound of popping bacon. “Sooo...” Tango looked up, leaning forward in his chair. “Is there anything you wanna do today? Go out? Prank someone? Build something? Learn some more redstone?” He fidgeted nervously. “I didn't really plan much.”

Jimmy glanced over at Tango as he transferred the bacon onto a paper towel and cracked a few eggs into the pan. “Sorry? What's all this about?”

“Today's your birthday, isn't it?”

Jimmy froze. “...oh my gosh. It is. I completely forgot.”

Tango almost fell out of his chair from laughter, clutching his stomach as he howled. “Jimmy!” he wheezed, “oh my god! I can't– I cannot believe you, and here I was so stressed–!”

Jimmy flushed a bright red. “Okay, look! ...I got nothing, yeah. Okay. Oh my gosh, stop it, stop laughing, it's not that funny–”

Tango did fall out of his chair then, smacking his head against the table. “Ow! Oh, man, that hurt!”

“I have no sympathy for you,” Jimmy huffed, transferring the eggs to a plate. “Absolutely none.”

“You're so mean,” Tango complained, picking himself back up. “I'm going to have a bruise.”

Jimmy plated the bacon and eggs, turning off the stove before walking over to the table. “Here.” He set the plate down in front of Tango before gently pressing a kiss to his head. “All better.”

Tango blushed. “Thanks, Jimmy. And happy birthday.”

Jimmy sat down next to him with a smile. “Thanks, Tango.”

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + christmas day

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: oh lordy i can't believe it's christmas already. keep sending me requests so i have stuff for january por favor. merry happy to all u guys

alright so the big day has finally arrived

christmas

it's been snowing for the last week and the trend continued today which means rudy is ecstatic because it's always been his dream to have a white christmas

he's also one of the first people to wake up and he has to fight the urge to run around and wake everyone else up

another person of the first people to wake up list is soap and unlike rudy soap does not fight the urge

he goes throughout the base blasting christmas music (mariah carey ofc) and shaking everyone out of their beds

ghost's been up for a while (as expected) and is already waiting in the kitchen with a cup of tea as everyone else piles in

pretty much everyone is in pajamas or sweatpants

rudy and soap are wearing their favorite ugly christmas sweaters tho

and as price starts up a pot of coffee the gift opening ensues

they all let rudy start out because he's literally trembling with excitement

of course everyone chipped in to get rudy his dream lego set this year

the ferrari daytona sp3

but in addition to that ghost somehow managed to get rudy a mint condition, never opened, ferrari f1 racer set

and for those of y'all who aren't familiar with legos (pretty much the entire team except rudy) this is a huge deal because the set has been retired

rudy was so excited he couldn't stop himself from running up to ghost and giving him a massive hug

ghost awkwardly let him but mainly because rudy looked so happy he couldn't say no

and yes rudy spent the rest of the day raving about how cool the set ghost got him was

the next person to open up their gifts was price

and apparently all his coy hinting worked because he got what he wished for, a heated weighted blanket

unfortunately (or maybe fortunately idk u decide) his hinting worked a little too well because gaz, soap, and rudy all got him one

so now he has three

in addition to that alejandro got him a super nice bottle of macallan whiskey

and ghost got him a really expensive set of cigars

after price went gaz

soap felt so bad for sitting on and breaking gaz's speaker that of course he had to buy him a new one

it's bluetooth of course and very nice

that being said the gift is technically from soap and price because the speaker was pretty expensive (but really good quality)

alejandro and rudy both chipped in and got gaz a really nice pair of noise cancelling headphones so that he wouldn't have to deal with the task force's nonsense anymore

and gaz had recently mentioned how he had gotten back into listening to the weeknd

and ofc ghost bought him two vip tickets to the weeknd's after hours til dawn tour

gaz literally freaked out when he saw the tickets like im talking jumped up out of his seat jaw dropped wide open

ghost let's gaz give him an awkward hug too because he doesn't want to kill his mood

and then it's alejandro's turn to open his gift

and low and behold what does he see when he opens up the wrapping paper

of course it's his dream gift and like the one thing he wished for

a brand new ps5

everyone on the team chipped in to pay for it

and they got him a few games too

then next it was ghost's turn

he wasn't expecting much and he was pretty surprised when he opened his gift

he got all the books he wanted of course, plus a few extra

soap got him the metamorphosis by franz kafka

gaz got him the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

alejandro got him journey to the center of the earth by jules verne

rudy got him the count of monte cristo by alexandre dumas

and then somehow, price managed to score a signed, first edition version of treasure island by robert louis stevenson

ghost was literally speechless for the first time in his life when he realized what he was holding

like his hands were literally shaking and he had to put it down because he was scared he would ruin it

he tried to interrogate price and find out where he had got it from but price wouldn't say anything

and then last but not least was soap

he was getting kinda nervous as everyone opened up their gifts because it didn't look like there was gonna be any for him

and the ghost opened up the last box and soap's heart pretty much broke

but before the sadness could fester too long everyone dragged him to the garage

and low and freaking behold what does soap see

but his dream gift, the yz250 sitting in front of him with a bow on top

and soap freaked out he was literally bouncing off the walls in shock

it turned out ghost knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy

and so he was able to get the bike at an insane discount

and with everyone chipping in, they were able to get him a helmet/gear as well

and again soap was literally freaking out

he tried to hug ghost, who declined at first but then gave in

after gift opening was over they all went to have lunch and the kinda split off to do their own things

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so the first thing ghost does is take his first edition treasure island and sprint to his room

like i cannot emphasize to you enough how insane of a deal this is

because not only is a first edition copy valued at literally ~$10,000, treasure island has an insane amount of sentimental value to ghost because that was his favorite book as a child

that being said ghost was literally terrified to touch the book

like he put on his gloves and anything

the book was in really good condition and even the signature looked like it was in mint condition

i mean again ghost was just in awe completely shocked

he ended up tucking it away in his safe because he was too scared to read it

he ended up brewing himself a cup of tea and reading the count of monte cristo to relax

and if you're there with him than congrats u get to see a new side of ghost, nerd!ghost

because he will not stop raving about the first edition treasure island

he'll also give you your gifts in private

and they're everything you ever wished for

including something you didn't even remember wishing for until you saw it

and then he's more than happy to spend the rest of the day hanging out with you while he reads

at least until price calls everyone to the dining room for christmas dinner and soap starts drinking

john "soap" mactavish:

alright after seeing his gift soap has one thing on his mind and that's riding the dirt bike

unfortunately the weather outside is not the most friendly to dirt bikers

but what soap wants soap does

and so (very unwisely i might add) soap decides to try riding his bike indoors

he takes it to the hangar because it's got a lot more space but just because he has the extra space doesn't mean he's successful

it's been a long time since he last rode a dirt bike and so he almost immediately nearly ran into one of the planes

and then you and price practically forced him to stop so he wouldn't immediately destroy his bike

he was disappointed for a bit but you made it better

he gave you his gift and it was the best, most soap-centric gift you could ask for

it was absolutely perfect and it referenced one of your many inside jokes

he also let you pick one of the soap's everyone put in his stocking

you picked a fancy bath and body works one

then he spent the rest of the day hanging out with you and the others until dinner time

and you know that afterwards he's getting stupid drunk again

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so honestly gaz was freaking out about the weeknd tickets a lot

like it took him a good while to finally relax

and of course the other ticket is going to you so you can join him

he also pretty much immediately put on the noise cancelling headphones alejandro and rudy got him

and you just know he was listening to the weeknd's entire discography

he also pulled you aside so he could give you your gift in private

he got you some new clothes you've been wanting for a while

as well as some jewelry with your initials engraved in it

he was kind of nervous it was too much but you assured him it was perfect

he spent the rest of the day listening to music and dancing with you

as well as hanging out with the others until dinner came

and during the after dinner party gaz's speaker was the prime music source

john price:

alright so price is just ready to milk his gifts as much as possible

but before he does he knows he has to give you your gift first

it's something really sweet and heartfelt and you can tell how much he loves you through the gift

and he also got you your own bucket hat with your initials embroidered on the inside

he says you look like the most beautiful girl in the world with it on

then he drags you to his room where you milk his presents with him

he pours you a glass of the fancy whiskey while he lights one of ghost's cigars

if you smoke too he'll offer you one as well

and then he'll have you cozy up to him under one out of the three weighted heated blankets

and the two of you will just cuddle there until dinner

alejandro vargas:

alright so the first thing alejandro does after everyone's done opening gifts is hook up his PS5 to the tv

he's super excited to play some games and he brings you over to play with him

before you start though he gives you your gift

it's something you've been wanting for a while

plus an all expenses paid for spa trip at a really nice spa

then he pulls you against him and has you pick a game to play

and the two of you will play that until dinner comes

and then he might still keep playing after dinner, although this time he'll be much worse because you don't get to go through a soap party without drinking at least a smidge of alcohol

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so rudy is just super duper hyped about his legos man idk what to say

his first thought is to immediately start building one of them but he has enough reason to give you your gift first

one of them is an expensive set of shoes you've been eyeing for a long time

another is a lego set of your own (because he wants to build legos with you but he also gets super defensive if you try to build his so he needs it to be seperate)

and then a super duper heartfelt homemade gift

he's really really nervous about it and his heart just about bursts when you wrap your arms around him and tell him it's perfect

and then the two of you spend a pretty long amount of time building legos

honestly you finished pretty quickly but you stuck around to watch him finish his

you also helped massage his back/shoulders whenever they would hurt from being hunched over for too long

and lord knows rudy would sing your praises so loudly for doing that

he's done by dinner and during soap's little party rudy is more than happy to be all over you

and it's easily the best christmas he's had so far

[wilanserulia]

Just for fun, I figured it'd be interesting to post a "before and after" comparison, with the raw picture straight from the game on the left (before shaders) and my final edit on the right. I don't always do this, god I don't have enough time in the day to do this for every photo I take and in retrospect I could have probably spent my afternoon in better ways yesterday, but I think some shots really deserve the extra effort. So if that sounds interesting to you let me show you a breakdown of what goes into a shot like this!

When I decide bring a picture on the editing table, usually first and foremost I take a photo of the environment by itself, and a chromakey photo of just the characters of the foreground (I eventually cut out the rest of the floor by hand). These will come in handy for adjusting the elements of the picture independently later.

What I'll probably touch up on first is smoothing out polygons. Shoulders, knees and other joints tend to create unnatural sharp angles when bent too much, and muscles like the thigh here can't accurately simulate the way human muscles flex. Not to mention the body horror going on with that thumb.

While I'm at it, I painted over some parts of the model where the lighting got confused, and made it look a little more believable, like on the fingers of Wilan's hand here.

The biggest reason I did a photoshop pass however is the skirt. Everyone who has ever tried to pose with skirts, robes or capes knows that FFXIV isn't really built for handling cloth, and there's a lot of negotiating involved to make it look decent. I sent more time than I care to admit trying to get the best approximation possible, smoothed it out with Liquify and then painted over folds that didn't quite look believable and details that clipped in awkward places.

While I was painting over polygons, there were a handful of places where I couldn't avoid some clipping, and certain spots were more noticeable than others. For all the spots where the 3D models really wouldn't behave I resorted to just fix it manually.

Once that's done, I went over the lighting. Gpose's three posable lights did most of the work, but I still went in to take care of some details. In most places I just painted over additional highlights on shiny material, or I added subtle touches of rim lighting to make the pose more readable.

And then, for something less subtle, I sometimes just add more rim light for no other reason than to make the pose more dramatic or to further make it pop from the background. This is a photo with a strong pose and sense of motion, so it's worth taking the time to highlight it.

(speaking of which, the base pose I used for this shot was done by Nhagiri, even though as I almost always do when I use pre-made poses I spent plenty of time adjusting it and calibrating it to my two specific OCs)

This shot had pretty intense and dramatic back-light too, so since FFXIV's graphic engine usually calls it a day early when it comes to draw ground shadows I've just painted it myself.

And most importantly, the lighting was very carefully set but I couldn't manage to properly light up their faces without messing with the overall light and shadow contrast. So I carefully mixed in a different photo with better lighting on their faces, and then calibrated the luminosity and exposure to make sure they'd be the the centerpoint of the shot.

Well that's about it for the models, now off to the color correction.

Most of it was done in photoshop but a lot of the heavy lifting was made by shaders. My go-to presets are @owlincense's CandleBlooms (formerly known as Purple Cocoon), which I've used in pretty much every single one of my photos and can't recommend enough. For this shot in particular I've used her Tourmaline Colorful preset.

It looks great already, but I have some further touches in mind for the specific mood I'm looking for for this scene and I don't want to mess to mess with the shaders' interface to achieve them, so post-editing it is.

First of all I've adjusted the tonality of the background to be colder and more bluish and a tiny bit less saturated, while accentuating the reds of the two characters, bumping up slightly their saturation and contrast. I've also manually simulated bright light coming from the main hall in what's hopefully a convincingly seamless fashion, reinforcing the light source and making the strong highlights and shadows feel more justified, and a vignette to darken the far edges of the composition.

Just a little dash of particles caught in the light as the last touch, and that's about it! Wilan and Delen can enjoy their passionate tango, in a little quite corner to themselves, just outside the bustle of the celebration in the main hall.

[fishboneart]

Fishbone #005

They weren't kidding, that history can rhyme

Only 9 layers and 5 source images this time. Things don't always have to be a federal fucking issue.

With how much ai art wank discourse is rooted in purity politics, especially but not exclusively on tumblr, I was amused by the mental image of slipping into a hazmat suit before venturing into the dangerous and repulsive wasteland of ai art to retrieve alien salvage like the stalkers in Roadside Picnic. It doesn't feel like that, it feels like being a grabby little corvid in the shiny trinket factory, but I still enjoyed the concept.

The rest of the image is about art as alchemical process and I'm not going to explain it.

I've been observing for some time that the objections to ai art are indistinguishable from the objections to photoshop ~20-25 years ago (including the one about "it's different this time bro trust me") so I want to look at some of them a bit closer.

It's not real art

Stop getting your talking points from fascists.

But-

I don't care how you justify it, it's a fascist talking point. Stop.

It's stealing

At risk of resurrecting stupid bullshit I was already bored with 20 years ago, I honestly think there's a better case for this regarding PS than machine learning. PS artists actually do use elements from existing images, lots of them (ideally with permission/license). However, consensus opinion has long since concurred that PS artists substantially transform and recontextualise those elements and the result is an original creation, same as physical collage.

As I've come to understand it, ML doesn't use elements from existing images, just mathematical descriptions of image attributes. It doesn't incorporate images on any level, or even pieces of images, so I'm left wondering what's being stolen here? I'm not being shitty I genuinely can't see anymore what is stolen when ML simply does not use any part of any existing image to generate an image.

There's no skill/creativity involved

The first time I ever used adobe photoshop (I've long since switched to GIMP, change the name, FOSS 5evar, etc.) I spent about fifteen minutes excitedly stacking filters on a picture of a butterfly, before the person showing me how it worked dismissively explained that filters don't make art.

Elements and principles of design are learned skills. They're taught at art school because they're not innate and they're important as hell. I often feel like people are tacitly arguing all that stuff's just padding--and if you're staunchly anti-ai-art I promise that's not an argument you want to make, it will backfire spectacularly on you.

And yeah, I think everyone still agrees that just piling filters on a photo isn't very creative and takes no particular skill. I doubt anyone thinks instagram filters take a good photo for you. I think (or hope) that we all understand now that complex image editing and manipulation does in fact take skill and creativity.

I can't help but wonder how much of the vapid trash we're seeing in the explosion of ai art is the equivalent of the 2000s explosion of shitty filtered photos.

The computer does it for you

There's so much more to PS art than filters, and the computer emphatically does not do any of that stuff for you. It doesn't do composition or colour theory or concepts or art history for you. It just does what you tell it to, you still have to make the art good. Fishbone #001 involved manually isolating dozens of fucked up hands from ML images, and I complained about it the entire time and the computer didn't even get me a cup of tea.

A lot of people used to actually genuinely believe that photoshop was a magical plagiarism machine that you stuck stolen art in and it automatically made perfect composites for you. Probably some people still do, it's a big world. But it never was true, no matter how hard they believed it.

Is there more to ML image generation? Idk I'd have to try it to find out for sure and I'm very tired. But the more I learn about it the more I think there could be. The frequency with which I see very elaborate and specific prompts with garbled and all-but-irrelevant images does at least suggest that the magical ease of making ai art has been somewhat oversold.

Using it in any way is cheating/cheapens your art

I think the cheating idea mostly came from the photography community, who thought PS was a shortcut to better photos for undisciplined talentless hacks who couldn't be bothered to learn to take a good photo. The irony. But for me, since I wasn't using it to improve photos, this was such a weird take. Cheating at what? At photoshop art? I'm cheating at photoshop by... using photoshop?

And the idea that using PS at any stage in your process irredeemably sullies your art is just stupid on its face. It's not radioactive. It's not a PFAS. Sin isn't real. Santa isn't putting you on the naughty list for photoshopping. The Galactic Council of Artistic Integrity aren't checking for pixels.

Needless to say, since 100% of the source images I use in this project are ML generated, I also think it's a bit of a silly objection to ML image generation.

It has no soul

I am not and have never been christian. I do not and will never care what your imaginary friend thinks about art.

Also, this is a repackaged fascist talking point. I told you to stop that.

It sucks

Most of everything sucks, what's your point?

People are going to lose their jobs

Unfortunately this one had some connection to reality. By about 2010 there were almost no painted book covers, and painters who'd made their living from them were forced to adopt PS or find a different job. It wasn't just book covers of course, commercial artists across the board felt the pinch of automation. That's not exactly PS's fault, the parasitic owning class will simply take any opportunity to fuck over a worker for half a buck, and PS art is generally cheaper because it's generally faster to make.

I actually have some questions about how this will play out with ML though. Currently, yes, it's looking very much like in ten years there won't be any PS book covers any more, but I think the parasitic owning class are going to quickly remember they don't actually want art that they can't hold copyright over, and human artists will remain necessary. No one wants a logo they can't trademark. No one wants commercial art if they can't control the licensing. I don't even think it'll take a wholeass test case, just a few things like selfpub novels using the same cover image as a major release or folks using pure ML images from the big stock sellers without paying, and as soon as they realise they can't sue anyone about it they'll come crawling back, cap in hand, to hire you back as a contractor at an insultingly low rate.

People will lose their jobs or find their billable hours severely cut, but, unfortunately, as the brave Luddites showed us, you can't stop automation by fighting the machine, no matter how noble your motives. You need to actually change society somewhat.

But I think this should be enough of a concern without having to also make shit up. You can just object to ML on the basis of tangible harms it will be used to inflict on individuals and society. That's plenty to be mad about, you don't need to put lipstick on it.

It's different this time bro trust me bro

Plenty of people sincerely believed that rise of PS was fully automated skill-free art theft and the sky was falling, and pointing out that all the same things were said about the invention of everything from the photocopier to home video to the printing press to the camera didn't even slow them down because this time it's different, this time it really is that bad. It wasn't.

And I honestly don't know anymore if it is.

[icology]

ICO has a hint system, and I personally have spent way too much time digging into it. For those who don't know, Yorda will sometimes point to important objects and puzzle elements if you haven't interacted with them yet. But a lot of people don't realize how this is triggered or the ways Yorda's AI can more subtly hint to a puzzle solution.

I made a document detailing all of this. Not a must-read, I just like to put it out there as a resource for those curious: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16RBBvK0dJORvI7ITgn2_MX-JYx_HU4FeWBKtPgYSbbg/edit# (Also I apologize for the low picture quality, I definitely need to update these images someday)

I believe most people know that Yorda does give you hints, but I think that just like me, many others had no idea that there were so many!

For most people, Yorda looks like a passive character most of the time, but she was built to be not just a companion, but an aid when you get stuck and that's really cool. Story wise, it even makes sense for her to know her way around the place she grew up in, when you think about it. I wish the team had made her react and interact with other things, as many people don't catch all of these since the game is fairly easy when you get the hang of the mechanics.

I always found it super cute whenever she shakes her head "no" when you ask her to do something she can't. The next time I play Ico I'm gonna try for all of these lol!

[wandapinkay]

hiyaaa 👋 it’s the same anon from before back again with an update!

my friend, it is without a hint of irony that i bring you this momentous news. i don’t know what manner of spell you have cast on me with your lovely art and your immaculate vibes, but i genuinely think you have infected me with the self-shipping virus.

evidence to support this theory:

this morning i woke up from an indescribably wonderful dream where i went on a romantic date to the movies with the current fictional man of my dreams

in the 12 hours since then i have done nothing except fantasize about introducing him to my family and getting married (insane behavior)

i have drawn cat ears on like 4 different pictures of him (INSANE BEHAVIOR)

i spent two hours doodling him in my workbook instead of doing the assigned exercises

simply put, i love him, your honor

i cannot make this up. for all my life i have never once had any particular interest in self-shipping, but you single-handedly shattered that illusion with TWO sweet responses to my asks and some truly adorable art! i am ever grateful to you for opening my eyes, peace and love 🫶💕💞💓💗💖💘💝

.

.

.

(p.s. this is so embarrassing to admit but i am obligated by rule of funny to confess that the fictional character in question is in fact okabe. i cannot think of anything more on-brand for daru’s s/o than the inherent comedy of said s/o accidentally getting his bestie a girlfriend, you are truly the ✨Real Deal✨)

HOLY SHIT YOOOO?? NO WAYGFSDGH

Congrats on starting your selfship journey!! With the mad scientist of all characters? That's amazing 🤭 The first time I read this, I honestly was like ".. no way, I can't believe I inspired someone like this." because IT FEELS SURREAL WHEN IT HAPPENS LIKE UH?? /POS Just as a lil' trivia fact btw; my selfship journey started all the way back in 2013, so you could say I'm a veteran selfshipper before I knew the term existed GHDFHG But still!! Anyone can begin doing so in literally any moment of their life! It's never too late to indulge into it, and I'm proud of you for doing so 🥹 I wish the both of you a great relationship as well!!

Also, I gotta say.. I adore the cat ear edits on his pics in particular GHFDHG I need to do that with Daru LMAO And, more importantly, love the helping you both get together! Happy and glad to do that hehe~ (Thank you again for the series of asks, you wonderful being 💕 have a great day/night!)

[heididthat]

Introducing for the first time ever: Mr and Mrs Zechariah Church!

(With photos and an exclusive interview with the stylist!)

Written and Edited by: Anna-Marie Kingston-Layne

You heard right folks, a new power couple has made their official debut! On a beautifully warm and sunny afternoon at Newcrest Wedding Chapel, A-List stylist to the stars, Amaya Kingston-Brown, married the San-Myshuno Times Bestselling Author after just over two years of dating. The wedding, hosted three Sundays ago, was witnessed by the pair's extremely close friends and family members, including World famous rapper, August Lovett and his entrepreneur/influencer wife, Alanna Lovett.

Fresh from their honeymoon, I sat down with Kingston-Brown to hear her thoughts on that special day and how her relationship came to be.

First and foremost, congratulations on your nuptials! How did you manage to pull off such a small, intimate wedding as someone who is well known?

“Thank you, Ms. Layne. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to have a family centered wedding,” Kingston-Brown stated. “From the maid of honour and best man to the officiant, I wanted everything to be our family members. I'm fortunate enough to be loved by a man with similar values. We were very meticulous about choosing where we wanted to hold our ceremony. Newcrest is often seen as a dead zone and we both live there, it just fell into place.”

Above: Pictures of Zechariah Church and Amaya Kingston-Brown, with the wedding officiant, B-Tier street Artist, Jeremy Layne.

What was the inspiration behind your wedding theme?

“Funnily enough, we had no theme. My whole life is about creating trends and themes but for my own wedding? We just did everything based on feeling and some how, it came together seamlessly.”

Seriously, no theme?

Nope. Just love and vibes.

So you bought your dress without having any direction?

“Actually, my friend and fellow stylist, Darovan made my dress. She insisted. So I was the first person to wear a dress from her now released bridal collection! When I put the dress on, I knew that no matter how our wedding looked, it would be perfect. She made sure Riah's accents on his tux also matched my dress. We were surrounded by people who knew us so well, we didn't have to do much so we could just enjoy being engaged. It was such a blessing.”

I'm seriously impressed. Tell me then, how did this relationship even come to be? In our interview a few years ago, you said that you were indifferent to romance.

“Hahaha, I can't believe you remember that! Honestly, I have my youngest sister Crystal to thank for that. Zechariah and I were neighbours and I never looked his way because I didn't think there'd be anything there. I was definitely interested, but I'm so dang introverted, there was no way I was asking him out.”

Photos from the reception

Who made the first move, then?

“He did! It came completely out of the blue for me. We spent a few months growing from neighbours to friends and then one random day in the spring, he asked me out. He didn't even get the question out before I said yes,” she laughs. “I was so tense during our first date that I thought I'd ruined my chances. We'd went to the park near by and spent the afternoon there for a picnic. I was avoiding eye contact, speaking very few sentences but he was so patient with me. At one point, he slid his finger under my chin to get me to look at him. I don't know where the confidence came from but I ended up planting one right on him!”

So you kissed him first?

“Yes! And then swiftly ran away. I was so embarrassed, I had a tiny crying fit in my room, over analyzing every where I went wrong, thinking he probably thought I was weird. At this time, I knew I had it BAD for Riah, so if he found me weird, I was 100% prepared to disappear into the abyss.”

Well clearly that didn't happen! So, what did?

She smiled faintly before starting again. “A few hours later, he stopped by the house with a bouquet of tulips and asked for us to be exclusive. Apparently, my nervous rambling was— and still is a major turn on for him, haha!”

More photos from the reception.

How did you know Zechariah was the one for you?

She smiles faintly. “When I stopped questioning myself when I was with him. When I realized I could be 100% myself with him without feeling self-conscious. Not only does Riah make me feel safe, he makes me feel so loved. Despite how difficult I was, he chose to love me everyday in spite of it. Also, he's not afraid to tell me where I messed up and how I can improve. He's always putting my needs before his own. He's so selfless, it's ridiculous.”

He actually said something very similar about you! You two are very in sync.

“Really? Wow. You know, personality wise we're so different but we're soulmates in every sense of the word.”

What are some of your fondest date memories with you and your now husband?

“Ahh, you said husband!” She glowed brightly, continuing. "Gosh, we've had so many great ones. My favourites are definitely the ones where we talked all night under the stars or when he'd pick me up just before dawn to watch the sunrise.”

Are you planning on sticking with your current branding or are you rebranding with your new name?

“As much as I like my last name, I'm very excited to be Mrs. Church. When we'd just got engaged, I practiced writing out my name to see how I could potentially incorporate it into my brand. Then I decided, I wanted to keep my professional and personal lives separate. The best way to do that was to keep both of my names. So on paper, I'm Amaya Church. When I'm working, however, I'm Amaya Kingston-Brown. Who knows, I may feel different in the future but this is currently what's happening.”

The Churches, pictured above, in front of their new home.

Last questions, Mrs. Church: how was your honeymoon and what's next for this relationship?

“It was absolutely wonderful, a well needed vacation. Tartosa is beautiful at this time of year and the locals were lovely. We stayed right on the beach.”

Pictured above: Amaya Kingston-Brown (front) and myself, Anna-Marie Kingston-Layne (back).

“As for what's next, we recently bought a house in our hometown and since we're both financially stable and we've done our own self reflection, like working on our mental and emotional health, we're thinking about maybe adding a few additions to our little family in a few months or years, maybe a dog or maybe a baby. I have a feeling it'll be soon, if the way Riah looks at me is any indication 😏.”

Interviewing Kingston-Brown is always a treat. She proceeded to disclose some plans for her brand being made public very soon so be sure to stay on the lookout! She also told us that Church's new romance book duet will also be releasing at the end of the month.

As for me, I couldn't be happier for my older sister and my new brother in-love. Congratulations to you both again!

[joylinda-hawks]

The month of August is a difficult month for the ZZH fandom. That's why I want to write here this month about good things and show the true beauty of the man who is ZZH. This time my choice fell on this photo. We've seen them many times. More or less edited in photo editing software. I love some ZZH photo shoots, most of them actually. From this session I chose the photo that is the most true to reality. ZZH above the pool. Dressed in a visible T-shirt, he enjoys the time spent at the pool. We have a close-up of his face here, the photographer took the shot from above. We can't see his face clearly, but we can admire his dazzling smile. Just like his laugh. Unforgettable and one of a kind. Longer hair frames his face nicely. They look like the wind blew them away. We may not see his eyes, but we know he is beaming with happiness. The right hand resting on the edge of the pool comes to the fore. Jewelry, two chains do not distract attention from his beauty. A nice color composition only emphasizes the beauty of ZZH. This is the real ZZH. I believe he will come back with the same beautiful smile as in the picture.

[late-to-the-fandom]

23, 32, 40

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what's around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

During the day, my writing is done on an iPad or on my phone in one of a hundred places around my house. It's done while sitting in the too-small chair at the little wooden table in the playroom while my son makes me pretend coffee. It's done at the real dining table at real tea-time with my daughter while we sip from that day's specially chosen mismatched cups, her working on her own story (it's called "The Kingdom of Terrible Animals") and me on mine. It's done in the rainbow tent I set up outside to rest in while they play what can really only be described as "Jackass Junior" in my half-acre yard. It's done on the couch while they watch Star Wars which both children (6 and 1) are inexplicably into even though I could not tell you where that comes from because I've never watched even the original three. It's done in the kitchen, tapping a few words here and there between my awful attempts at cooking, and it's done in the laundry room, pausing between folding to add or edit another line, and, yes, it's done in the bathroom with the fan on where I linger longer than necessary to get a few private minutes to myself to read the words I manage to write out loud.

At night, though, when everyone's asleep, writing is done where it should be: in the library. This, our first ever house, has a sort of nebulous open living space upstairs which I immediately knew would be the library I always wanted. I painted it a muted shade of green Behr paints named "Arsenic" (which I'm sure is fine) to match the green bookcase shaped like a tree which houses the children's picture books, and on the two larger walls I installed three rows of light grey floating shelves (which I spent 12 days sawing into just the right size). They are stuffed with books. Horror, sex, and non-fiction textbooks on the highest shelves, the chapter books of my childhood on the lowest, and on the in-between shelves the classics I inherited from two sets of grandparents and which have that lovely, crumbly spine that I won't pretend isn't an excellent aesthetic. In the middle of the room are a pair of brown leather chairs with ottomans that I bought like new at a yard sale and are inexplicably the most comfortable pieces of furniture I own. I set up camp here, writing under the light of the cheap Ikea floor lamps (I'm not replacing with anything better until my son outgrows his love of breaking my things). In the winter, I even indulge in a fire from the actual working fireplace, which turns the room into exactly the combination of mysteriously inspiring and soothingly restful I always dreamed my library would be. Although the fireplace and the chairs and bookshelves with their books and even the David Bowie pictures on the wall are not quite magical enough to solve all my writer's block problems, just sitting there, even when I can't manage to write, is a ritual all its own.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic that you return to from time to time? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I probably quote more from "Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell," by Susanna Clarke more than any other book, and there's so many amazing quotes it's hard to choose just one. But, what I will do is combine this ask with the next one and share for you what is really a spell from that book rather than a poem.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it?

So in the book, this is a spell that frees a person from enchantment. And there is something haunting about it I always loved. I don't mess with magic, but I believe the advice in the spell is something that can be applied whenever anything is haunting you, though I'll leave it to you to interpret the practicalities of that as you will.

Here it is, the Chauntlucet

“Place the moon at his eyes and her whiteness shall devour the false sights the deceiver has placed there.

Place a swarm of bees at his ears. Bees love truth and will destroy the deceiver’s lies.

Place salt in his mouth lest the deceiver attempt to delight him with the taste of honey, or disgust him with the taste of ashes.

Nail his hand with an iron nail so that he shall not raise it to do the deceiver’s bidding.

Place his heart in a secret place so that all his desires shall be his own and the deceiver shall find no hold there.

Memorandum. The colour red may be found beneficial.”

Thank you for the asks!