#Minnesota Day-trips

[nadiagiordana]

Day-trips and Weekend Excursions around Minnesota

[cloudbatcave]

Is there a word for not really being in a bad mood but being generally dissatisfied with things you can't change and you know are no one's fault? That's me right now.

[foccaccia]

i got trapped here once

I adore that riverside iowa just decided one day that they were where kirk was born and the writers were just like fuck it why not

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss (Minnesota State Fair edition)

And they say all good things must end

(And the Minnesota State Fair is no exception, obviously....)

But at any rate, our rather interesting party of yours truly, Huckleberry Hound, the Hair Bear Bunch and Emmy Lou and Jenny Lee, find ourselves wrapping things up at Coasters, a carnival-themed eatery close to The Mighty Midway, within view of it even, sharing burgers and fries galore to wind things up for another year.

Which will be bound to include one last run on the Swiss Sky Ride and a ride up the Space Tower, especially so as evening becomes all the more obvious ... in its own way, you might say, a way of saying goodbye for another round.

"Which, I have to acknowledge," remarked Emmy Lou, "can get to be a little emotional in its own way ... and so much in the way of especially fascinating memories."

"And plenty of them," Huckleberry Hound chimed in.

"Too many to mention," added I. "But still, the fellow Funtastics you're bound to run across, the interesting exhibitions to be displayed, the fair food you manage to try and not wind up having to take Tums, let alone the nearest toilet and either throw up in same or otherwise sense an episode of explosive diarrhea, and then some, followed by having to get a bottle of water to ease the discomfort!"

To which Square Bear added his quarter: "And how could us bears manage to resist corn dogs by the dozen, or so it must seem?"

"Let alone Belgian waffles, egg rolls, fajitas, grilled chicken and rice bowls, poutine, rainbow ice cream, even buckets of French fries?!" added Hair Bear.

"And trying not to get sick to the stomach to the point of throwing up on the street!" was Bubi's comment.

Presently--"HEYYYYY!!!!" it turned out to be no less than The King "himself" going into thumbs-up and fist bumps galore, not to mention his leonine girlfriend Sheena. "So how did the Fair go, even if this may be but the last day?" (Essentially general agreement.) "And whom," The King added, "do I have the pleasure of meeting in ursine form?" (Whereupon the Hair Bears, Emmy Lou and Jenny Lee explained as much as introduced themselves.)

Sheena, ever the observant as the romantic one, was quick to ask where we were bound for next, prompting Huckleberry Hound to respond, "You'll see ... it'll be a surprise beyond all surprises!"

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

The horrors* are endless

[aliceofwonderland6]

Finally got to go check out the SPAM museum yesterday! Lots of interesting history (and SPAM samples!) to be had there, but I wasn't exactly ready to meet Spammy, who looks like he's either already met an eldrich horror or two or is ready to face off against Freddie Fazbear as deadliest mascot, lol! Seriously though, it was a lot of fun, and more folks should check it out! It's free after all!

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[thefreakandthehair]

written for ‘pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: m | cw: n/a | a @steddiemicrofic collaboration with the absolute incredible, always wonderful, mindblowingly talented @ahhrenata!

It starts with a map. 

A faded, folded map with thin red and blue lines traversing the midwest landscape that Steve finds in the console of the RV Eddie hot-wired. When no one's looking, he tucks it safely into his pocket, carrying it with him as a symbol of hope through the hopelessness of the Upside Down. 

Against all odds, they live— Eddie wakes up, Max walks again, Dustin’s ankle heals up just fine— and that little map sits in the glovebox of his car, untouched but not forgotten. At least, that’s where it rests until Eddie finds it one night a year later and Steve, a little hazy and loose, tells him all about his dream. 

The RV. The six kids. The road trip. 

“Well,” Eddie starts, voice syrupy with a slack smile that only ever seems directed at Steve these days. “We probably shouldn’t risk grand theft auto again and I definitely can’t give you six kids, but I do have a van and no responsibilities if you ever wanna stick a pin somewhere in that map and take off.” 

And that’s how, against even greater odds, Steve finds himself on the hood of Eddie’s van at a rest-stop in Minnesota just off of I-94. He’s been driving for hours, trying to make it to the North Dakota border before nightfall, but both he and Eddie need to stretch their tight joints and tighter muscles. 

It may not have been the plan, but Steve’s glad that they decided to stop here because sure, they haven’t technically reached Big Sky Country yet but damn if they aren’t getting a taste of what’s to come. Splattered in shades of pinks and oranges, sunlight pierces the fluffy clouds like prisms and throws the colors across the sky. 

Eddie drags a flannel blanket out of the back and wraps it around both of their shoulders with an uncharacteristically shy smile. As they watch the sunset, Steve turns to Eddie to thank him for indulging this fantasy and finds himself close enough that their noses touch. 

The expansive sky and unending horizon gives him courage, a kind of freedom he’s never experienced back in Hawkins with its arbitrary rules and expectations. Back in Hawkins, he'd pull away but in the vastness of Minnesota, he just matches Eddie's smile and leans in.

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[holyblonded]

headcanons | birds of a feather

notes: quick hcs to give background on Cecilia and Paige

✧ Cecilia was Paige's tutor in middle school but had to stop cause Paige would just stare at her the whole session

✧ Cecilia is a huge morning person, courtesy of her mom, and wakes up early for a morning jog. This habit eventually rubbed off on Paige and later on when they live together she joins Cecilia on her jogs

✧ Paige never calls Cecilia, Cecilia. At first, she called her Cece but when everyone else started calling her that Paige decided she needed a new nickname

✧ At one of Cecilia's peewee soccer games, Paige and her dad attended after Paige begged him to go. One kid shoved Cecilia and she landed awkwardly in her wrist and started crying, before anyone could stop her Paige was on the field tackling the kid to the ground

✧ Paige's biggest pet peeve about Cecilia is that when she is upset she bottles everything up and doesn't want to talk about it

✧ Cecilia's biggest pet peeve about Paige is that she automatically thinks she's right about everything

✧ Drew genuinely believes Paige and Cecilia are married (cause they told him they were since birth) and calls Cecilia his sister

✧ Cecilia is wickedly good with math and did all of Paige's homework in middle school until their parents caught them

✧ Even though Cecilia spent their high school years in Spain, the two never broke up. Paige even claimed it made their relationship stronger

✧ Cecilia has tried many times to teach Paige Spanish and Catalan but it often ends in a make out session

✧ Cecilia grew up around the Minnesota Timberwolves. Her mom played with the Minnesota Lynx, where she won a championship, before retiring due to an injury. She then coached for the Timberwolves and led them to a championship

✧ Many of the Timberwolves and the Lynx check up on her and some even go to her Barcelona games

✧ Paige believes everything she does should be rewarded with kisses. Even as a kid whenever she won basketball at recess she would go over to Cecilia and ask for a kiss on the cheek

✧ Whenever Cecilia trips up on her words and Paige starts laughing, she immediately says, "English isn't my first language."

✧ Paige takes her naps very seriously and always drags Cecilia into it. It has slowly been added into Cecilia's daily routine and now she can't go the day without one nap

✧ Paige can sometimes get jealous of some of the girls on the team. She knows that they are just affectionate and it’s all platonic but she can’t help but to get that burning feeling in her stomach sometimes.

✧ As kids, Cecilia had a pet rock that Paige had major beef with and still does to this day

✧ When they were kids, one time Paige wore a Real Madrid shirt and Cecilia didn't talk to her the whole day. Paige was so distraught that on their walk home she fell on her knees in tears so Cecilia broke and told her the reason. Paige immediately took the shirt off when they got to Paige's house and she threw it in the trash

✧ Cecilia's dad is a big time retired English football player (think like David Beckham era) and now coaches Bayern (there’s been rumors of him going the Real Madrid) but he is not in her life. She's probably only met him three times and my people don't know he's her father because she has her mom's last name. In fact, the only people that know are her family and the Bueckers family

✧ Cecilia has many little talents. One includes playing the piano and having perfect pitch

✧ After a game, Cecilia always plops down on the field and rests. It's become apart of her routine at this point and the media loves it

✧ Cecilia’s mom, Georgina is a WNBA legend. She went to the University of Connecticut with Sue Bird. She led the Minnesota Lynx to many victories as a teen and did the same with the Spanish Women’s Basketball Team. She met Cecilia’s father at the 2000 Olympics and they started dating. After she got pregnant and her BD expressed his disinterest in the baby, Georgina left and took a leave from the WNBA to raise Cecilia with her support system (Alexia, Mapi, Alba and Eli)

✧ Cecilia has two godmothers and one godfather cause her mom didn't know that many men that being: Alexia Putellas, Sue Bird, and Kobe Bryant

✧ Alexia and Georgina grew up together but Georgina basically lived with them cause her parents never cared for her. Georgina was Alexia’s older sister and always looked up to her. Eli refers to Georgina as her and Jaume’s first daughter because she was raising her before she even had her own kids.

✧ Sue and Georgina played for UConn together and they became a dangerous duo on and off the court. They were best friends, roommates, teammates. It’s was a no brained for Georgina to make her one of Cecilia’s godmothers.

✧ Kobe and Georgina met when Kobe went to the Lynx vs Sparks game. He saw Georgina get her nose broken right before half time, by the time half time was over, she had her nose bandaged and was back in the game and she completely balled out. They have been close friends ever since and he teared up when she asked him to be Cecilia’s godfather

[ckret2]

Hellooo, I have a question about Billford in your au.

how do they get a chance to get together if both Mabel and Stanley are keeping a sharp eye on them, and forbidding them of any romantic relationships?

They are NOT keeping a sharp eye on them.

Mabel has identified Bill as a needy ex, and is determined to get him to move on—but like, he's gonna be dating around town! She's gonna meet a couple of the people he goes out with! (We're using the word "people" really loosely here.) And Bill's attitude toward Ford has evolved from "hey buddy, don't you wanna be buddies again, buddy??" to "if you don't like me then why bother." So getting Bill to move on is totally working, right?

(I DO still need to edit a couple scenes in some early chapters for TBOB compatibility on this front—but that basically only means Mabel's going from "I need to help Bill make new friends and keep him away from Ford so he won't be a jerk toward him" to "I need to help Bill make new friends and keep him away from Ford so he won't be a jerky ex toward him." Either way, she's mostly concerned about Bill being a jerk.)

Stan has realized Ford's weirdly obsessive over Bill... but not THAT kind of obsessive. It's like "interview him about his species while vivisecting him" obsessive. Like so. Ford gets like this about stuff! Stan might not have a damn clue what autism is but he sure as hell has seen his brother's special interests! He tried to kill that triangle for thirty years, this obsession is not coming from a place of love. He's worried about Ford—but he's NOT worried about romance.

As a bonus, the two of them DIDN'T have a past relationship—they're not actually exes, they just spent the 80s being weirdly homoerotic—so there's no grounds to worry that they might "get back together." Bill's current feelings on Ford are more mixed; but at this point in the fic, Ford honestly, genuinely, truly hates Bill with no romantic interest.

Plus, once romance creeps onto the table, Ford thinks "if anything happens between Bill and me, my family would never forgive me (and I'd never forgive myself)" and Bill thinks "if anything happens between Ford and me, the Pines would murder me, and that might not be hyperbole." They'll be motivated to downplay their feelings for each order before feelings even start to happen.

Bill & Ford tend to clam up around each other or only have shallow surface-level conversations when other people are around. When they DO have serious heart-to-heart discussions they trip and stumble into them when no one's listening. (They keep having serious conversations at midnight, usually in the kitchen. It's happened like, what, four times so far?) This is gonna continue in future chapters. Oh, boy is it gonna continue.

So during this time period, as far as anyone else knows, on a scale of 0 = sheer loathing to 10 = passionate love, Ford's feelings for Bill go from 0 to 2 and Bill's feelings for Ford go from 3 to 1.

It doesn't help that their idea of flirting is "spend an entire day arguing about whether or not Minnesota exists and compromise by agreeing the backs of dollar bills are blank. Tell no one how this is a compromise." This is some kind of shrimp romance.

(This is an actual upcoming chapter, and I wrote it like a week before TBOB came out where Bill has a whole paragraph about how Minnesota doesn't exist. Originally the chapter was about Wyoming. I still think Wyoming works better than Minnesota but I'm tickled "Bill claims a state doesn't exist" is canon.)

Add that all up? And by the time anyone realizes something's going on—IF anyone realizes something's going on—they've been licking each other's eyeballs and roleplaying erotic deicide for weeks.

(This is a slight exaggeration. Only Bill's into eyeball licking.)

[callsign-dexter]

Tiny Visitors, Big News

Request: Could you do fic for Bobby Nash from 9-1-1 with wife reader? She was a kindergarten teacher and she had brought them to the station for a trip. Like the one they had during one of the episode. Everyone is just gushing over them because they're so cute 🥺 Maybe she and Bobby had a private time together and she reveal that she was pregnant. With his past, he didn't think that would be a father again. And he deserves that. Just something fluff and cute. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

Pairings: Bobby Nash x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fluff, cursing

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you @pear-1206 for requesting this!

There were many things you loved. You loved your job as a kindergarten teacher. You loved your husband of 8 years, Bobby Nash. You loved your extended family who were like your kids sometimes. You have always wanted children of your own but you knew his history and knew he was hesitant after bringing up children one day. If he was being honest, he would love to have kids of his own but after what happened in Minnesota, he thought of himself not being fit enough to raise kids and you quickly shut that down. After a few months of him thinking about it he finally came to you and told you that he wanted kids and you brightened up and so you both started to work on creating life. After 1 year of trying, you were about to give up hope but then one morning when your period didn’t come you were hopeful and you remembered that day clearly.

***********

You were sound asleep when your husband’s alarm started to go off at 6 AM and that made you jerk awake and it seemed like it surprised him too because he had the same reaction as you. His arm that was draped over your stomach was quickly retracted and he was rolling onto this back and reaching blindly for his phone. He got it and quickly turned the alarm off but it was no use the both of you were awake. “You get up too early.” You groaned, turning on your back and slowly opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. You were met with the sound of his chuckle and a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s not my fault that I have to go in early and get the firehouse in tip top shape.” He said and you pulled a face and looked at him.

“Actually, you’re the captain so you have a say in the schedule.” You said and he chuckled again.

“You got me there, Darling. I also have to get the firehouse in shape for certain tiny visitors coming today.” He said and then was slowly rising and sitting on the side of the bed, that’s right you had a field trip today with your kids to the firehouse. You got up and kneel behind him rubbing both hands up and down his biceps and kissing his neck. “Keep that up and I might just have to call you and I both in sick.” He said and he could feel you smirk against his neck. “I also don’t think your school would like the sudden notification that they need to get a sub in for you.” He said and you groaned. 

“They’ll get over it.” You said and he laughed, a laugh that you loved. 

“I’m sure they would but you don’t want to miss out on a day with your kids.” He pointed out and you once again groaned.

“I can’t disappoint them, can I?” You ask 

“No, you cannot.” He replied and you fell back on the bed and he got up starting to get ready for work. He was only his tight brief boxers and his muscles were on display and you couldn’t help but drool just a tad bit. “I can feel you staring and drooling.” He said turning to look over his shoulder and you smirked not caring that you were caught.

“I can’t help it when my husband looks so fucking hot.” You said and he chuckled and smirked.

“Well, I can say the same about my wife.” He said looking at you in just your underwear and bra and you frowned and he took notice of it. “What’s wrong?” He asked, coming over now halfway dressed.

“I’m not hot.” You said and he gave a confused look.

“Yes, you are.” He said and you shook your head.

“No, I’m not. I’m bloated and look disgusting half the time. None of my clothes fit and I have to wear yours sometimes, especially your hoodies.” You said and he shook his head.

“You’re hot to me and to be honest you look better in my clothes than I do. Also, what are you saying about hoodies you steal mine pretty much all the time, I think half of your wardrobe is my hoodies.” He said and you cracked a smile. “There’s that smile I love so much.” He said.

“Your hoodies are so comfortable and they smell like you. It’s like you’re hugging me all the time when I’m wearing them.” You said and he smiled and crawled up to connect his lips to yours. You laid back and now he was hovering over you.

“Steal my hoodies anytime. I know I can get them back.” He said against your lips. If he stayed here any longer you wouldn’t be able to resist him. 

“You better get going. You’re going to be late.” You said trailing your hands down his chest and down to his abs and you kissed him.

“My incredibly hot wife is right. I love you.” He said and you blushed.

“I love you too. Be safe and come home to me.” You said

“I will always come home to my girl.” He said and then he was climbing off of you and finishing getting ready and then he was looking back at you again and smiling. “I love you.” He said again.

“I love you too.” You replied and then he was grabbing his already packed bag and then he was heading out of the bedroom. You didn’t move until the front door shut. You sighed and got up and your world spun for a minute but everything came back after a few seconds and you were grabbing clothes to take to the bathroom to hop into the shower. You didn’t have to be at work until 7:30 AM and it was only 6:30 AM so you had time to kill and you didn’t live too far away from the school, 20 minutes, and the firehouse was 30 minutes away. When you got done with your shower and dressed you went into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker as it started brewing the smell you always loved started to make you sick. It made your stomach churn and before you knew it you were running to the guest bathroom and barely making it to the toilet before you were spewing your guts into the toilet bowl. “Fuck, that was not normal.” You said to yourself as you got up and flushed the toilet and wiped your mouth with the hanging towel and then. Once you felt like you weren’t going to puke your guts out against you walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl and your favorite cereal along with the milk from the fridge. As you went and sat down at the table and poured the cereal then the milk you began to think about everything you had to do to get ready for the day and you hoped the kids had their permission slips. This field trip had been planned for weeks. As you ate your cereal you felt good about everything and so glad you didn’t get sick. Though it did make you wonder what was wrong with you, you never got sick over the smell of coffee. As you sat there thinking you remembered that your period was late and that made you stop eating. “No, it can’t be.” You said but then you grabbed your phone and unlocked it and went to your app and it showed that you were 10 days late. You looked at the time and it was only 6:50 AM. You would have enough time to run to the store and grab a pregnancy test. So, after you ate and put away the milk and your dirty dishes you grabbed a travel mug and poured some coffee in it. You grabbed your things for the day, then your purse and your keys to your black with red trim Ram truck. You unlocked it and put everything in it and then got in. You started it up and headed to the store which took no time. When you arrived there, you found one of the many empty parking spots and parked. You turned the truck off, grabbed your purse and got out. You locked the truck and headed into the store.

“Good morning.” The cashier said and you smiled at her.

“Good morning.” You replied and headed to the section with the pregnancy section. You were nervous and you didn’t know why. When you got there, you looked at the many different ones and it overwhelmed you, you didn’t know which one to pick, and an older woman worker must’ve seen because she came over to you with a smile.

“Can I help you with anything?” She asked and you jumped “I’m sorry, Dear. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She added quickly.

“No, it's ok. I just don’t know which one to pick. First time.” You told her and she smiled and nodded.

“The best one that seems to have good and accurate results would be First Response Early Result.” She said, grabbing it and handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You said looking at her gratefully and she smiled.

“It’s no problem. Here I’ll check you out.” She said and then you followed her over to the cash register and you put the test on the counter and she rang it up and you paid for it. You thanked her again and then you were heading out of the store and to your truck unlocked it and got it and turned the truck on. You debated on going home but looked at the time and saw it was 7 AM and so you decided to make your way to the school and do it there. You took a deep breath and headed to the school. Traffic was pretty easy going and you didn’t run into heavy traffic which you were grateful about. When you pulled into the parking lot you parked in your usual spot and turned the truck off. You got out grabbing everything including the pregnancy tests and put it in your bag. You walked to the building and into the greeting your best friend, Mia Buckley the younger Buckley sibling. 

“Hey, Y/N.” She said and you smiled at her.

“Hey.” You said and it must’ve not been your enthusiastic self because she raised an eyebrow at you.

“Ok, what’s up?” She asked and you looked at her confused.

“Nothing is wrong.” You said and she continued to raise an eyebrow at you.

“I’ve known you for 3 years. I know your tells. What’s up?” She asked and you sighed.

“I think I might be pregnant.” You said and she squealed which made you wince but smile. “I bought a pregnancy test and am about to take it.” You said “I’m nervous.” You admitted.

“Want me to be there with you?” She asked and you looked at her gratefully.

“Please.” You said and she nodded and then she was dragging you to the bathroom. She took your stuff and you went into the stall and undid the test you took a deep breath and took it then capped it. After you wiped and pulled your pants up you walked out to her and set a timer then washed your hands.

“If you are pregnant. How are you going to feel about it?” Mia asked

“Ecstatic and scared. Bobby and I have talked about having kids but I know he was uneasy about it after everything happened in Minnesota.” You said and she smiled and nodded.

“I think you two will be great parents. I know Bobby is going to support you if you are and I know he’ll be ecstatic because that is who he is. He loves you and wants everything with you including kids.” She said and you nodded as tears came to your eyes and spilled down. She ran her hands up and down your arms and then eventually pulled you into a hug. She held you there for a few seconds until the timer that was set for 5 minutes went off. You pulled back and held her forearms and you took a deep breath and nodded. You both turned to the test and there were two pink lines, it was positive. 

“It’s positive.” You said and a wide grin broke out on her face.

“How do you feel about it?” She asked 

“Ecstatic, scared, and shocked.” You told her and she chuckled.

“You’re gonna be a great mom. Now come on, we have to start getting ready for the day and then you have to take a field trip to the firehouse.” She said and you grabbed your stuff and stuffed the pregnancy test in your purse and walked to your classroom. As you set your stuff down the kids started to come in and you greeted each and every one of them the parents that were going stayed and the others left. The field trip would be taking place early in the day and lasting throughout lunch. 

“Good morning, everyone! Who is ready for the day?” You asked and you got a collective of ‘yea’s then they settle. One of the kids, Ashlan, raises her hand. “Yes, Ashlan?” You asked as everyone came up and turned in their permission slips.

“Will we see your husband there?” She asks and you smile.

“Yes, you will. He is the captain of the firehouse where he runs it.” You said

“That is so cool.” She said and you smiled. You answered more questions and then it was time to go. You had them walk in a single file line to the bus.

“Mrs. Nash?” Bleu asked as you stood by the bus door and he stopped while everyone settled down in their seats.

“Yes?” You asked, looking down at him.

“Do you think we will be able to go into the firetruck and turn on the sirens?” He asked and you smiled.

“If you ask really nicely, I’m sure they will let you.” You said

“Yay!” He exclaimed and got on the bus. Once everyone was in you walked up onto the bus and sat at the front. The drive began and the bumps and the curves that normally wouldn’t bother you were starting to get to you. Luckily you arrived at the firehouse quickly and the bus was stopping and parking the kids were yelling in excitement and then you were stepping down to be met with you husband and Evan Buckley.

“Hey, Baby.” He whispered quietly and you smiled.

“Hi, Honey. You ready?” You asked

“Always.” He said and then you had the kids start coming down one by one and then gather around the front of the firetruck. Bobby and Buck started to explain things and then Eddie Diaz, Howard ‘Chimney’ Han, and Henrietta ‘Hen’ Wilson started to come in and out and explain different things. When Bobby talked you just stared in awe and at all the information he knew. 

Finally, lunch time came around and while the kids ate with the other firefighters you looked at your husband and he looked at you. “Can I speak to you in private?” You asked and he looked at you confused but answered.

“Of course, come on.” He said and led you to his office, where you’ve been many times and had a lot of fun in there and you had a feeling your baby was conceived here because this was the last place you got down with it. He held the door open and let you in and when you were fully in the room he walked in and shut the door. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned.

“So, I threw up at the smell of coffee this morning.” You said

“You love the smell of coffee.” He said and you nodded.

“I also got dizzy this morning when I stood up.” You said

“Why didn't you call me?” He asked

“Because I was fine afterwards. I found out why I was sick this morning. I’m late, 10 days late to be exact.” You said and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Baby, I’m pregnant.”

“You’re... You’re pregnant?” He asked and you smiled and nodded and pulled out the test. 

“I went and bought it this morning and took it at school. Me, you, and Mia know.” You said still not being able to gauge his reaction. “How do you feel about it?” You asked.

“Baby, I’m ecstatic.” He said and pulled you in for a hug and you let out breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be.” You said and he pulled you back and looked at you.

“Not in a million years. I want everything with you and that means kids. Yes, I’m scared of not being a good father after what happened in Minnesota. But darling, I want this baby.” He said putting his hand on your stomach. “We got this.” He said and you smiled and brought your hands up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I love you.” You said against his lips.

“I love you too.” He said back and kissed you still having his hand on your stomach. “Now come on, I want you to eat. Gotta keep you healthy you have a human being growing inside of you know.” He said and you smiled.

“Ok, Daddy.” You said and he smiled.

“After you, Mommy.” He said and you led the way to the kitchen where everyone was scattered around. One of the kids grabbed his attention away from you and you smiled watching him interact with the kids. He was going to be a good father to your child and you couldn’t wait.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@callsign-revenge

[castiwls]

invisible string - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'All along there was some, Invisible string. Tying you to me?'

Requested; @writing-with-emy

Notes; this idea is so cute omg (also I am British and have no idea how the American college system works and also I'm unsure of what year Sam started collage so pls bare with me ahaha)

also requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

“I didn’t even know I had all these still.” You laugh quietly pulling yet another pile of pictures out of the box. The carpet in your childhood bedroom was scratchy as you shifted to pull out the final pile. “Your parents really did keep everything,” Sam said as he thumbed through a pile of your baby pictures.

He paused on one holding it up with a grin. “You looked like ET.” You looked over squinting slightly at the picture. “All newborn babies look like ET.” 

He nodded looking at the picture again before picking up the next one. “You were a cute kid.”

You smiled reaching over to take the pile. The pictures held memories you barely remembered.Trips to the park, your first few birthdays, family holidays. You smiled quietly to yourself pausing on a picture from your first day of school.

A vague memory flashed through your mind as you traced the picture with your finger. Too caught up in your own memory you missed Sam’s noise of confusion. 

He placed a hand on your ankle. “Hey. Look.” He gestured for you to come closer. Moving to his side you leaned over his shoulder. “What?” The picture was one from a trip to see your grandparents in Minnesota. An eight-year-old you were smiling while holding a half-melted ice cream. Sam pointed to a boy who stood a few feet behind, his back to the camera and you. “That's me.” His head turned slightly as he held the picture closer. “He pointed to another figure who stood over to the side. This boy was clearly older but still not nearly old enough to be out without some sort of supervision. “See, that's Dean.”

You frowned slightly squinting. Sure enough the closer you looked the more similarities you could see. “Oh my god.” You moved the picture down. “That's insane. Seriously what are the chances.”

Sam laughed quietly looking back to the picture. You watched him for a moment, gauging his expression. His eyes seemed to grow sad for a moment as he looked from the picture to the piles scattered over your floor.

“Keep it.” 

“I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s your picture.” 

“Technically it's ours.” You pointed to the picture. “And Deans.” You shrugged.

You continued on for a while, memories seeming to come and go as you watched yourself grow up through the piles. It was a nice change to simply sit in relative silence with no worries. 

The last hunt had been bad. The bandage on Sam’s arm an ugly reminder of how close it had been. Going home had been his idea - a way to destress. 

Picking up the last pile you flicked through the pictures pausing after a moment. “You went to Stanford right?” Sam looked over at your words nodding. “Yeah, why?”

“What year did you start college?” you inspected the picture further. “2001.”

You nodded flipping the picture around. “We were in the same graduating class.”

He looks at the picture his lips parting slightly. The picture had been taken during orientation. You and your friend had been snapping pictures with the new camera you’d been gifted for your birthday.

Somehow you’d seemingly managed to catch an almost perfect picture of your boyfriend while he’d been walking through the fair. Sam laughed. “No way.” He held up another picture. “I’m starting to think we’ve been in each other's pockets for years.”

You reached for the picture. You couldn't have been more than twelve in it as you and your mum both smiled at the camera. The Grand Canyon was visible in the back - as were three figures.

You looked back over to him. “Your dad took you to the Grand Canyon?” You raised an eyebrow. He nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Perks of moving around I guess.” You passed him back the picture.

“That's how many now? Three.”

“Four.” He passed you another from the pile. “Oh my god, I loved that coffee shop.” You gasped taking the picture. “Their cake was so good.”

Sam chuckled. “It was.” You looked up from the picture. “I can’t believe we've never met before. We always seem so close in these pictures.” You placed it down. 

Sam hummed thinking for a moment. “Maybe we were meant to meet until we did I mean,” He picked up another picture - five-year-old you in a Cinderella dress. “We lived in a different world.”

Snatching the picture back you rolled your eyes. “I guess we did.”

Gathering up the pictures you began placing them back into the box. Sam watched for a moment before shifting behind you. He wrapped a hand around your waist as he placed his chin on your head. He watched quietly.

“I’m glad we met.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “I’m glad to.” You turned your head, pressing your lips to his for a moment. 

He smiled looking back down to the five pictures still laid out on the floor. “You wanna keep them?” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I think I have enough.” 

He chewed on his lip for a moment before reaching for the orientation picture. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The box was pushed back under your bed as he stood stretching. Taking his hand you pulled yourself up looking around the room for a moment. “We should probably head back to the motel before Dean claims the room as his own.” He grinned squeezing your hand.

You nodded taking one last look before following him out.

“Wait. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Sam nodded mumbling a small ‘okay’ before disappearing down the stairs.

Turning back into your room you opened your desk drawing pulling out your old camera. The same one you’d had at orientation. You flipped it over in your hand for a moment before putting it into your bag.

Glancing over your desk smiled at the graduation picture tucked in the corner. You picked it up looking it over for a moment before frowning. 

Stood pretty much besides you was a familiar figure. Shaking your head you placed the picture back down.

Maybe fate was real.

[paigebueckersloverr]

Three's A Crowd

This is a multiple part story. This chapter does not have smut. But the next one does, so stay tuned and feel free to critique. I am always open to suggestions and overall thoughts. Thank you.

Stream of the Day: Novacane 🤍

Contents: Paige And The Reader Attend Paige's After-Game Homecoming Party. Where Reader Finally Meets The Infamous Laliah A Former Flame And Now Friend Of Paige's. Which puts both the reader and paige on edge as laliah makes no mistake in letting paige know she still thinks of her.

THINGS TO KNOW: The Reader Is Black As I Am A Black Girl.

Although, Paige Takes On More Of A Switch Role? Sorry, Yall She's Not Getting Dicked Down...For Now.....

Warnings: Kissing, Fingering, Swearing, Vibrating Strap, Breeding, Degration, Praise, Groping, Possesive Reader, Suggestive Language, Possesive Paige, Jealous Reader, Jealous Paige,* I can't think of anything else right now. * COMING SOON!!!

Word Count - 1.6k MEN And MINORS DNI

☆ Salem's Thoughts ☆

This Story is purely fictional I have no personal relation to anyone mentiond. And I have no malicious or weird intent when writing. These fanfictions are purely for enjoyment and obsessed girls like me.

☆ Salem's Final Thoughts ☆

Please be mindful I'm a little rusty at writing as I haven't Written serious fanfiction. Since my wattpad days, I'm Also dyslexic so read at your own risk.

Paige’s after-game homecoming party was in full swing, the living room pulsating with laughter and music, but all the sound seemed to fade as I laid eyes on Laliah. She was standing by the kitchen counter, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned in close to Paige, their shared history palpable in the way they moved. As I walked closer, I could see the flicker of recognition in Paige’s eyes, a mix of nostalgia and unease. Laliah's smile was warm yet carried an edge, her gaze lingering on Paige longer than necessary, making it unmistakably clear that old flames still flickered in her heart.

Earlier That Day....

I sighed as I finally turned off the alarm set for 8:15 AM, groaning softly as I pushed myself out of bed. The morning light filtered through the curtains of our hotel room in Minnesota, where Paige was born and bred, her dream of becoming a UConn Husky now a reality. Her family had moved away a year and some change after she left for Storrs, but Minnesota still held a special place in her heart. I moved quietly around the room, gathering Paige’s bags for practice and the upcoming game.

The city was buzzing with excitement, the air thick with anticipation for the game. Paige and Laliah, once formidable teammates at Hopkins, were now playing on different teams, and their reunion on the court was the talk of the town. This trip was a homecoming of sorts, and the shared history between Paige and Laliah added an extra layer of intrigue to the event. Little did they know paige and laliah shared more than a court together.

Later that day, after the game, the real test would come at the after-game party, where I knew I’d finally meet the infamous Laliah, a former flame and now friend of Paige’s. The thought of Laliah’s presence set me on edge, knowing she still harbored feelings for Paige. With a deep breath, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on getting everything ready for Paige’s big day.

Paige stirred in bed, her eyes fluttering open as she sensed my movement. She stretched and then sat up, her expression a mix of excitement and anxiety. "I'm nervous about the game," she admitted softly, running a hand through her hair. "It’s been a while since I’ve played in front of a hometown crowd, and with Laliah on the other team..."

I walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and pressing a light kiss to her forehead. "You’ve got this, my love. You’ve trained so hard, and everyone here knows what an amazing player you are." I smiled, trying to infuse my voice with confidence. "Plus, it’s just another game. You’ve faced tougher challenges."

She smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks. I just...I want to make everyone proud."

"You will," I assured her, then hesitated before continuing. "And about meeting your former teammates tonight...I’m a little nervous too. Especially about Laliah."

Paige's smile faded slightly, and she nodded. "I know. It’s complicated, but you’re the one I’m with now. She’s just a friend."

"I trust you, my love," I replied, squeezing her shoulder gently and running my fingers through her hair. "But it’s still a bit intimidating, you know? Meeting people who’ve known you for so long and finally seeing Laliah after everything..."

"We’ll get through it together," Paige said, her voice steadier now. She leaned in, giving me a soft kiss. "Just focus on the game for now. We’ll deal with the rest later."

After reassuring Paige, we finished getting ready and headed to the arena. The drive was filled with quiet moments of hand-holding and exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and underlying nerves. As we pulled up, the bustling energy of the city was evident, fans already gathering in anticipation of the game.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric, teammates greeting Paige with enthusiasm. I found a spot in the stands, the sea of familiar faces reminding me of just how significant this game was. The crowd erupted in cheers as the teams took to the court, and I spotted Laliah warming up on the other side, her presence a stark reminder of the evening to come.

As I scanned the crowd from my seat in the stands, my eyes eventually landed on Laliah. She stood out effortlessly, her presence commanding attention without even trying. Her dark curls framed her face in a cascade of effortless elegance, and her smile, though warm, held a hint of mystery. Dressed in her vibrant mustard yellow and worn leather red uniform , she exuded confidence and grace.

Beside me, Paige's family chatted excitedly, her mom waving enthusiastically at every point Paige scored. Her dad and stepmother watched intently, their pride evident in every cheer and applause. Paige's two little brothers were bouncing in their seats, their energy contagious, while her little sister sat quietly, eyes fixed on the game with a thoughtful expression.

The game was intense, both teams playing with unmatched vigor. Paige moved with a grace and determination that made my heart swell with pride. Each basket, each defensive move, showcased her dedication and skill. But it was impossible to ignore Laliah's equally impressive performance, the chemistry between them on full display even as opponents.

Amidst the excitement, I couldn't help but steal glances at Laliah, her interactions with the crowd and the game itself a fascinating study. Despite the history between her and Paige, there was an air of familiarity and respect in the way she engaged with everyone around her.

Paige's family, oblivious to the significance of Laliah's presence, continued to cheer and celebrate each play with infectious enthusiasm. As the final buzzer sounded and uconn emerged victorious, the crowd erupted in cheers, and I quickly rushed down to meet her. She wrapped me in a tight hug, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

"We did it," she whispered, her voice breathless.

"You were amazing, my love," I said, kissing her cheek. "Absolutely amazing." She said as she spun us around and cheered. In the locker room, amidst the jubilant cheers and high-fives, Paige and i shared a quiet moment of celebration, her arms wrapped tightly around me as we basked in the euphoria of victory.

After the locker room celebrations, Paige and I retreated to our hotel room to get ready for the party. As Paige changed into her usual attire—a black button-down shirt paired with loose trousers—I opted for a more toned-down look, slipping into a sleek yet understated dress that accentuated my curves in all the right places.

As I smoothed down the fabric of my dress, Paige sauntered over, a playful smirk playing on her lips. "You know, I think I prefer you in less clothing," she teased, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.

I chuckled, leaning back into her embrace. "Oh really? And here I thought you were all about the mystery."

She nuzzled into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone. "I like a little mystery, but I also like knowing what's underneath," she murmured, her voice low and suggestive.

A shiver ran down my spine at her words, the familiar heat of desire igniting between us. "Well, lucky for you, you've already unwrapped this package," I replied, turning to face her with a playful grin.

Paige chuckled, her eyes darkening with desire as she pulled me closer. "And what a delightful surprise it was," she murmured, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

As we finally made our way to the party, the playful banter between Paige and me took on a tense edge, each teasing remark and stolen glance fueling the simmering jealousy between us. The air crackled with unspoken tension, our insecurities festering beneath the surface like a wound that refused to heal.

As we mingled amidst the crowd, Paige's gaze lingered on Laliah for a moment too long, and a surge of Jealousy with a hint of anger ignited within me. "Can we talk?" I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her aside with a firm grip on her arm.

Paige's eyes flashed with frustration, her own insecurities about the night finally bubbling to the surface. "What now?" she snapped, her tone sharp and defensive.

"It's about her, isn't it?" I accused, my voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can't deny that there's something between you and Laliah."

Paige's jaw tensed, her expression defensive. "She's just a friend, damn it!" she spat, her voice laced with frustration. "Why can't you trust me?"

But trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the lingering stares and whispered conversations that passed between them. "Because it feels like I'm competing with her for your attention!" I shot back, my voice rising in desperation.

As our argument escalated, the tension between us reached a boiling point, our words a painful reminder of the growing rift between us. And amidst the chaos, Laliah approached, her presence casting a shadow over our already strained relationship.

We soon put the argument to rest, realizing that no one would come out happier than when we entered. In Paige's attempt to reassure me, she gently guided me over to Laliah, attempting to make introductions. Despite the lingering tension, Paige's gesture was a small but significant step towards easing the palpable unease that hung in the air. As we approached Laliah, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me, unsure of how the encounter would unfold. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders and forced a polite smile, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Laliah, this is..." Paige began, her voice trailing off as she glanced uncertainly at me, her hand still clenched in mine.

"Y/N, her girlfriend and secretary on occasion. I interrupted, my tone cool and clipped. As I smiled softly and reached out for a handshake, which she returned steadfastly, "I've heard a lot about you."

Laliah's lips curled into a knowing smirk, her gaze flickering between Paige and me with a hint of amusement. "Likewise," she replied, her voice smooth as silk. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both."

[ohmybueckers]

Never Strangers: Chapter Two

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: drinking, author who is terrible about being consistent with tenses, incredibly down bad main characters (be gentle with Paige and Maya guys, the first love WLW situationship breakup is ROUGH)

Authors note: Not sure exactly how I feel about this chapter, but I feel like it gives a decent amount of context. Prepare for more flashbacks next chapter. Also this is highkey not proofread so … approach with caution there.

August 26, 2023

The drive from Stamford to Storrs is about two hours, traffic permitting. My mom waits approximately 20 minutes before she begins the inevitable interrogation session into the state of my life. More specifically, the train wreck it has become.

“You know, I really think you should consider rejoining mock trial. You loved it for so long, and look how many friends you made.” She rambles, her eyes never leaving I-95. “You probably would have never met Brooke if you hadn’t joined mock trial.”

Brooke and I met as co-counselors at a mock trial summer intensive for high schoolers at Yale the summer after my freshman year of college. Turns out trying to keep track of a bunch of hormonal fifteen year olds is a bonding experience like no other. She quickly became my formerly long-distance best friend and very soon-to-be roommate. 

“I told you, I’ll check it out when I get there.” I say, half telling the truth and half just trying to get her to change the subject. Clearly, my attempt was failing.

“I just want to make sure you’re making the most of college. I know University of Minnesota was not your thing, but I want you to find your why when it comes to Connecticut.”

I sighed. One of the perks of having a therapist as a mother is that you always have someone to listen to your petty problems without judgement. The downside is that she’s always trying to dig deeper, even when I really do not want to. “My why is being close to you. Plus, UConn is close enough to New York.”

“And close to Paige.” This remark nearly makes me choke.

“Mom!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She quickly apologizes, though knowing her she knew damn well what kind of reaction she would receive. I never told her full details of what actually went down between us - maybe because I thought it would be too embarrassing, or maybe because I knew that if she ended up in my mom’s bad graces, there was no coming back from that. All she knew is that at one point we were friends, then we were more than friends, and then things got messed up and we don’t talk anymore. She also knows that I really don’t like talking about it with her. “Does she know you’re coming?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, I didn’t tell her.” 

The last text I had sent Paige was shortly after the basketball player announced she tore her ACL. Despite the tension between us, it felt wrong to say nothing in these circumstances. Basketball was Paige’s world, and I couldn’t even fathom the grief she must have felt. I received a “thank you maya, i hope you’re doing well. miss u” in return. It took everything in me not to call the blonde after reading the last five letters. 

Thankfully, my moms line of questioning ends there, and she returns to the driving playlist we made together the night before, an eclectic mix of 80’s hits with the occasional R&B ballad. Occasionally I hear her sing along, letting the crack of fresh air from the car window flow through her almost-black hair. Some people say I’m basically her twin: same dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, and short stature. I just wish I got a fraction of her curves.

The rest of the car ride, I alternate between reading the newest Emily Henry book and messaging Brooke, who has been sending me updates on our new apartment. She moved into a couple of days ago while my mom and I were still on our girls trip to New York City, and her texts ranged from “ill give you the room with the ensuite bathroom if i can have the bigger room” (deal) to “our neighbors are FINE” (knowing her taste in men, doubtful). 

After what feels like too long in the car (maybe I never actually got over my tendency to get carsick), we pull into a lot. there it is: My new apartment, a small building surrounded by others similar to it and tall trees, still wrapped in vibrant green hues untouched by the incoming fall. I hear a yell from across the lot as I step out, but I’m so overwhelmed by the new sensations in Storrs that it takes my brain a moment to process that the tall figure running across the lot with a truly impressive speed was my best friend.

Brooke barrels towards me, wrapping me in a hug that nearly tips me over. “About time you got here!” She grabs my shoulders, her white acrylics a comfortably familiar sensation on my skin, before turning to my mom with her award-winning smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Brooke. Wow, you could have convinced me you two were sisters. You’re gonna have to give me your skincare routine before you leave.” She gestures to my mom, who giggles. I can tell that her day has been made.

I will never fail to tell Brooke Jones that she is perhaps the most charismatic person I have ever met. When I’m in Mock Trial, I will fight to make my voice heard. Outside of the courtroom, however, I tend to lean on the more reserved side. On the first day of counselor training, it was as if she could sniff out how nervous I was and made it her personal mission to befriend me. And one thing about Brooke: she will make you talk. Somehow I don’t mind it as much when I’m with her. 

So it’s a great sight when Brooke and my mom trail ahead of me, hands filled with various decor items and chatting (I think I hear one of them mention bringing out photos of me in seventh grade, an action I know I will have to intercept later for my own sanity).  

About three hours later, with the hard work of the three of us supplemented by SZA’s discography, my space is set up just enough to where I can sleep comfortably for the next few nights. Brooke pulls my mom in first, after getting her phone number “for emergencies”. Next, it’s my turn. 

“Alright, you know what I’m about to say.”

“We’re not going to throw a party, I know you’re worried about the security deposit.” Behind my mom’s shoulder, I could see Brooke’s brows furrow as she mouthed don’t promise that. 

“No, I meant have fun. Take risks. Find your why,” She grabs my shoulders at the last word for emphasis, and it’s hard to believe that this is my real life and not some after school motivational special. 

We embrace one last time. Despite her cheesy moments, I am reminded just how much I’m going to miss seeing my mom every day. After three years of being in closer proximity to my dad, it was nice to spend the summer in Stamford, my days filled with NYT crossword games by the water and day trips into New York City. This summer solidified that it didn’t even need to be Boston - I was just happier on the east coast. 

“I like your mom, she’s sweet.” I hear Brooke say as we watch the white Toyota leave the parking lot from our third floor window. Our view is perfect, and I picture what it will be like to watch the leaves change from it as the semester goes on. It makes the last few hours of lugging furniture and suitcases up flights of stairs worth it.

“I love her when she’s not trying to psychoanalyze every decision I make,” I chuckle, moving to continue unpacking some miscellaneous items in the kitchen.

Brooke follows me. “Is that what that whole ‘find your why’ thing was about?” 

“Got a whole interrogation in the car. Everyone in my family thinks I’m having some sort of crisis,” I place a stack of plates (a gift from my mom’s boyfriend) in a cabinet. “She even suggested I came here for Paige.”

Brooke stands there, her lips falling into a flat line. She is taking far too long to respond for my preference. My jaw falls, eyes widening. “Stop.”

Brooke lifts her hands in surrender. “Ok, I would be lying if I said it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

My head falls into my hand, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose as my eyes shut. “I swear to god, why does everyone think I chose to go to UConn because of Paige?”

“Maybe because other people definitely have.” Ok, Brooke does have a point. While I have done everything in my power to not think about the blonde, everyone else has been increasingly trying to get in her orbit. I’ve even seen a handful of edits made for her in the past few months as people anticipate her first season back from her injury.

I shake my head. “I’m not that dumb. I’m here for-“

“In-state tuition and to be closer to me and your mom, I know.” Brooke finishes, coming around to wrap one arm around me. It’s her way to both apologize and check in on me. While I appreciate the gesture, a small part of me feels guilty - like I have gotten use to people extending pity to me for one reason or another: my parent’s divorce, the move to Minnesota, Paige, transferring schools. It gets to a point where I just want to win at something.

I lean into her embrace, smelling the citrus in her hair product. “I know I was down bad for a while, but I promise I’m fine.”

I feel Brooke nod above me. “Good, because she’s kinda everywhere on campus. Even if you don’t run into her, people don’t shut up about her.” This was to be expected, a fact I have been preparing myself for months for. I decided it’s just something I’m going to have to get used to, like many things in life.

“Well, why don’t we shut up about Paige and order some food. I’m starving,” I exclaim, moving towards my phone to pull up Doordash. Perhaps my first win can be proving to people that I can thrive at UConn and absolutely not fixate on Paige Bueckers. 

“Okay, okay. You good if we invite my cousin Adria to come over too? She’s chill I swear.” I remember Brooke telling me about Adria last summer, how she was entering her freshman year at `UConn at the time. I nod in agreement, excited to host my first get together in my new space. 

////

Just an hour and a half later, the three of us are sat in the sparsely furnished living room, eating pad thai surrounded by a large collection of boxes. Upon one look at Adria when she stepped through our front door, I could tell her and Brooke were related: both had the same long legs, clear deep complexion and white smiles that looked like they belonged on billboards. Where they differed was in dress: while Brooke wore the same blue sweat set that she helped me unpack in, Adria was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a boho white tank top, a cascade of black and blonde braids down her back and an “A” necklace around her neck. 

Adria is only a sophomore, and yet from the first hour I have known her she appears far more put together than I was at this time last year. It’s evident in the way she talks about her pre-professional sorority, or in the way she talks about getting ahead of internship applications for the next summer. It would almost be irritating if she wasn’t also so charming.

“So what brought you to UConn?” Adria asks me from the other end of the couch. 

“Well, I tried U of M. My dad and his new girlfri… new wife,” The correction felt bitter on my tongue in a way that made me feel guilty. “They live out there, so I got in-state. It just wasn’t for me. I decided to transfer here just in case I still want to go to law school, since my mom lives in-state and I don’t want to go further in debt than I need to.”

“What do you mean if you still want to go to law school?” Brooke questions, her face incredulous. “Wasn’t that your whole plan since you were in, like, fourth grade?”

I love Brooke with everything in me, on the deepest platonic soulmate level there is. I tell her everything - except for the fact that I don’t know if I still want to practice law outside of college. I guess if I said it out loud to her, the girl who I once dreamed of going to law school with, practicing in the same city with before opening a shared practice, it would become more real: that I was seemingly blowing up all I’ve known with no plan B. She already thinks me dropping mock trial is some sign of an incoming mental breakdown.

“I’m just… exploring all of my options.” I muster, though from the furrow in Adria’s brow it must not be as believable as I would have hoped. Judging by the way Brooke’s shoulders appeared to relax, however, it at least worked on her. Eager to switch the attention off of myself, I turn to the younger girl once more. “Adria, what are you studying?”

“I’m kinesiology, trying to become a physical therapist. Maybe do some athletic training?”

Brooke chokes back a laugh, waving her hand. “She’s just saying that because she’s fucking someone on the basketball team.”

If there’s one similarity between Adria and I, it’s the way both of our jaws drop at Brooke’s candor. Her cousin seems particularly taken off guard, throwing her hands up with a, “Jesus Christ, Brooke!”

I can’t help but laugh at the dynamic. “Who is he?”

“She’s on the women’s team.” The word she rings in my ears as my cheeks get hot with embarrassment. I’m literally a lesbian, I thought she was above assuming sexuality based on looks after having it done to me throughout the summer by daddy’s money frat guys in Stamford.  Adria scratched the back of her neck, her cheeks flushing. “Um, KK Arnold?” 

I’ve only seen the name in passing, during a late night scan of the women’s basketball roster that I would never admit to. KK was the new recruit from Wisconsin to my memory … or was it Indiana? 

“She got a job with athletics over the summer. Somehow her and KK crossed paths and they’ve been hooking up since.” Brooke took a bite of her noodles between sentences, filling in the gaps that Adria left. 

“We haven’t even had sex, chill.” Adria held a hand up to her sister, but the shy look never left her face. “KK’s nice though. I think I could really like her, which totally sucks because basketball players aren’t exactly the relationship type.”

“Looks like you both have the same type.” Brooke says through another bite.

Silence falls on the room, followed by a confused “What?” from Adria. 

A part of me wants to be frustrated with Brooke for bringing it up - the last thing I want is to be known at UConn as just a girl who got with the basketball star. However, Adria seems like a kind person, and she did just confide in me about KK. Part of me feels like I owe her an explanation in some sick way. With a sigh, I give her the context. “Brooke is giving me shit because a long time ago, in high school, I kinda had a thing with Paige Bueckers.”

The younger girl looks at me for a beat as if she can’t believe the words that just came out of my mouth. Once she gets a minute to reboot, she explodes “Like Paige Bueckers Paige Bueckers?Holy shit!”

“Don’t say anything, it was a really, really long time ago,” I plea, recognizing that she was acquainted to one of her teammates. Oh god, the last thing I need is KK telling Paige that her … whatever Adria was … told her that her sister’s friend is still hung up on her or something.

“I won’t, I promise.” Adria holds both hands up, a move that must be genetic. “You’re not gonna hit her up now that you’re on her campus?”

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” I say, taking a bite of my own food. I try to ignore the way my stomach flips at how Adria claimed the entirety of University of Connecticut as belonging to Paige somehow. As if there was no room for me. “She may be great at basketball, but that girl does not do emotions.”

“Well, I’m not exactly surprised.” Adria shrugs. My head snaps back up, and Brooke shoots her cousin a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

Adria continues, “I mean, its not a secret Paige kinda has a reputation here.”

So much for not fixating on Paige Bueckers. My mind races as I ask, “What kind of reputation?” although based on her tone and the context, I can make my own educated guesses. 

“She just gets with a lot of girls on campus.” Adria speaks slowly, her expression somehow guilty. “My freshman year roommates friend got with her. Said she slept with her one night and never talked to her again.”

It’s not like I had no clue that Paige had no issue moving on from me once she got to Storrs. For one, she didn’t seem to have an issue doing such a thing when we were together in the first place. She had also heard rumors through the grapevine at school during her senior year, with people saying that they knew someone whose sister was friends with someone who got with Paige or some outlandish connection like that. Hearing confirmation from someone in Storrs somehow made it more confirmed in my mind. That all Paige wants is to kiss as many girls as possible, touch as many girls as possible, fuck as many girls as possible. Maybe that’s why she started acting so cold and things fell apart. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t enough for her, I can’t help my mind from thinking bitterly. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” I force myself to breeze past the conversation, knowing that I cannot dwell on the past again. After a year or two of trying to figure out where everything went wrong, I have long since realized that there is nothing else to decode. I preferred to think of Paige as a painful memory that I’ve locked far, far away - it was just easier that way. “Who wants to watch a show?”

“You good, Maya?” Brooke asks, a small smile on her face. I know she feels guilty for bringing it up in the first place. But really, I have no reason to be mad: I was the one who ended things, and years ago at that. Being hung up over Paige Bueckers was ridiculous at this point.

“Yeah.” I answer, my voice more sharp than I intended. Fuck. Shaking my head as if to shake off any sort of doubts in their mind, I smile as I stand and walk towards the kitchen. “Believe me when I say I do not care what that girl does. She can do what she wants, and so can I. And what I want right now is to drink some prosecco and watch the Bachelorette.”

The sight of me pulling out the bottle of wine seems to strip Brooke of her doubts, because she agrees with a “Hell yeah, lets do it.”

Thankfully, once the TV is on we all settle into a groove of gossiping about strangers on our TV, not the very real people in our lives. Brooke in particular is enthralled, even though I had to beg her for weeks last summer to give the show a try. Even Adria chimes in as the two contestants cry over these men with a yell of “stand the fuck up!” I am quickly reminded in this moment that these two girls are, in fact, related. At one point in the night, Adria whips out her phone and snaps a photo of Brooke and I, grinning under a pile of throw blankets with our wine glasses in hand, an act I fail to question. After all, she had been checking her phone sporadically throughout the night.

Soon enough, we catch up on the past two episodes, our heads buzzing with the wine we consumed and our eyes struggling to stay awake as we say our goodbyes for the night. Adria pulls me into a hug, my head surrounded by the scent of her vanilla perfume as she whispers, “I’m so sorry about saying that stuff about Paige. You should know you… you absolutely did not deserve that shit, whatever she did. For the record, I think you’re awesome and that its completely her loss.”

I smile, happy to hear her words even if this is just a wine happy trail of thought. “It’s okay, Adria, I promise. It was so good to finally meet you.”

Brooke walks her out, and I can barely make it through brushing my teeth and washing my face before collapsing on my bed. The mattress is not the best quality and Amazon still says my mattress topper won’t be here for a few days, but I drift off easily, my thoughts filled with nothing except gratitude for my first night in Storrs and eager for my new start.

It’s safe to say this feeling does not extend in the morning, when I am awoken by the sun blazing through my window. My mouth is dry as I reach for my phone, eager to check the time and groaning when I see it is only 7AM. My groan is not audible for long, though, as I am quickly silenced by my most recent notification. One that has been awaiting me since 12:37AM.

Paige (DO NOT CALL): You go to UConn now???

August 26, 2023

“Go, go, go… Let’s fucking go Dorka!” I yell, watching as my old teammate scored in a game against the Liberty. It’s the Saturday night before the start of classes, and while the streets of Storrs are filled with people on their first night out of the semester, my teammates and I have all been moved into our current apartments for a little over two months. When your summer breaks are filled with workouts on campus mixed with brief vacations or visits home, that first night out doesn’t exactly carry the same novelty.

Which is why some of us were sat in Nika and Azzi’s living room, game on the TV as the two hosts prepare whatever alcoholic beverage they are subjecting us to from the kitchen separated by a counter. Three of our freshmen sit in the room with us: Ashlynn is on the floor, Ice is right above her on the couch with Aaliyah and Aubrey, and KK is next to me, typing hurriedly on her phone. Being one of the oldest players this year, I feel it’s especially important for me to get to know them - not just how they play, but who they actually are off the court.

“If UConn gets me playing like that,” Ice gestures to the TV, “I’ll know I made the right decision.”

“No turning back now.” Aubrey clapped her on the back, an over exaggerated grin on her face, which Ice responded to by shoving her off playfully. Ashlynn giggles, but doesn’t respond beyond that. It’s not abnormal for her to be quiet - what is abnormal is how silent KK is, her phone apparently more interesting than any of us. Aubrey seems to notice too, because she calls over to her.

“Hey KK, what did you think of that play?” No response. The typically extroverted girl has her chin in her hand, still staring at the screen in her other hand. Ice grabs the nearest pillow to her and throws it at the girl, prompting a jolt and a startled “What?” from KK and a “Ay, cut it out!” from Nika across the counter as she stirs a pitcher of God knows what.

“Bruh, KK, you’re not even watching,” I roll my eyes.

“Probably busy texting her girl,” Aaliyah mutters, although clearly she wasn’t trying that hard to be quiet. Hold up … her girl? Now the entire room quickly turns away from the game and to the freshman, who sits up from her slouched position with a death glare.

“I told you that in private.”

“Yo what? KK, you’ve been on campus for, like, five seconds,” Nika pops in the room.

“Clearly that’s all she needs,” Ice shrugs, earning her the same pillow thrown right back at her.

“Y’all suck,” KK slumps back into the couch, crossing her arms with a slight pout. I feel bad, wondering if we’ve been too hard on the teasing.

“Ok c’mon, we’ll stop. Let’s see her.” I gesture her to bring her phone closer to me, an act that she ignores for now.

“She’s not even my girl,” she mumbles.

“Do you want her to be?” Nika asks, eyebrows raised as she steps closer. All of us watch as KK bites her bottom lip, looking down at her sneakers. Hold on… she’s blushing. I may have only known the girl for two months, but i’ve never seen her do that before.

“Holy shit,” Nika exclaims. “KK’s a lover girl.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, just surprising is all,” Aaliyah clarifies, “not many freshmen are too into settling down.”

I notice Aaliyah, Nika, and Aubrey turn to face me, their stares deadpan. “What are you lookin’ at me for?” I exclaim, pointing at my chest. The heat rising to my face reveals that it’s no secret, even to me.

“What do you think?” Azzi calls from the next room. I sigh.

It’s no secret among the team (or anyone, really) that I had a pretty… entertaining first two years at UConn. Once COVID restrictions began lifting and the team was able to see other people outside of other players, some of the older players made it their mission to show the younger ones what they had been missing, one of those things being who they were missing. Honestly, it’s what I thought I needed at the time: being trapped in my dorm the majority of the time I wasn’t in practice gave me a lot of time to think, and with thinking came regret. More than once I jolted up in my bed in the middle of the night, dreams of dark hair, tanned skin, and that laugh replaying in my mind. It was torture.

Being in a different girl’s bed every weekend silenced it, just momentarily. Some people viewed me as a player who got off on getting any girl she wanted. The guilt of it finally caught up to me at the beginning of my sophomore year, when I thought about all of the girls I hurt, the ones who thought I wanted more than just one or two nights. It just reinforced my worst fear about myself: I was a womanizer who was incapable of caring about anything aside from basketball. 

“Aight aight,” I surrender, shifting my attention back to KK. “We not talking about me right now. Let’s see her.”

KK unlocked her phone, typing a username into the search bar before handing the phone off to me. Nika and Ice were quickly at my side, craning their necks to see a peek. The girl (Adria Taylor, I discover from her bio) is tall, with deep skin and long braids going down her back.

“She’s so pretty!” Nika gushes, and I would have to agree.

Ice, unable to resist the pink circle surrounding Adria’s profile photo, taps on the waiting story before KK can protest. The phone illuminates with a photo of two girls smiling on a couch, captioned “first night back” with a heart and a couple of mentions, presumably her friends handles. I don’t even need to take a look at what is written, however, because my eyes seem to have zeroed in on the girl further from the camera, and my mouth seems to go dry. It can’t be, but it is.

Because the girl in the photo is Maya. 

“Holy fuck.”

I don’t even realize I’ve said it until the three girls turn to look at me, confusion laced in their faces. “What?” Nika asks, concern evident. My heart is racing at a million miles an hour and my hands suddenly feel impossibly sweaty, but I refuse to reveal myself to them. 

I fake a cough, covering it with one hand while the other goes to scratch the back of my neck. “Uh, nothing. Thought I saw something but um,” Suddenly the sight of my lap clad in Nike tech sweats is the most interesting sight in the world. “She’s cute, KK.”

Almost like some sort of angel sent to save me, Azzi appears with a tray full of drinks that are a bright pink color and look entirely too sweet. “Drink it slowly guys, I’m not really sure I measured correctly.” She looks embarrassed at the admission, passing them around the room. Upon my first sip, I wince. Yep, definitely not too sweet. Will I still drink it? Yes. It would be a shame to let a perfectly good drink go to waste, and I now have something to run from tonight.

We continue watching the game, or at least I am. During commercials I spark conversations with anyone who will listen, including asking Ashlynn about some country concert she went to with her parents over the summer. I don’t even really listen to country, but it was nice to see the typically shy girl light up over something. Plus, it gave me an excuse not to think too hard.

Truthfully by the end of the night I was fucking hammered, not bothering to keep track of how many shots I chased down after whatever concoction Nika and Azzi made. Everyone in the room knew it too, to the point where Nika took it upon herself to walk me back to my apartment once the game ended, even though I only lived one floor down and KK and Aubrey were both still at her apartment. 

After I promised her I would chug some water before bed and take the pain reliever she laid out for me in the morning, she agreed to leave and let me go rest. I collapsed in my bed, which suddenly felt like the most comfortable place I had ever been. My brain, on the other hand, was providing anything but comfort running at around 100 miles an hour. Unable to resist, I look up Adria’s profile on my account, clicking the story. Sober me probably would have thought about how it would look if I showed up in her profile views, but drunk me clearly didn’t care enough. 

Sure enough, she’s sat there with a glass of wine in her hands. My heart jumps as I realize that she’s still just as beautiful as she was when I first met her, just more grown up this time. Her face is all defined cheekbones, glistening eyes, and a smile - God, that smile, that never failed to brighten my day if it was directed at me. It’s been a while since I’ve glanced at her profile - though we still follow each other, she barely ever posts and I don’t remember the last time she’s interacted with anything I’ve posted. Viewing her profile is reserved for nights where I’m filled with just enough delusion to convince myself it’s a good idea. Nope, never is. 

The girl next to her (Brooke, I assume from the tag) is leaning into her slightly in a way that makes my stomach flip. She’s not entirely unfamiliar to me - I’ve definitely seen her in a photo dump by Maya last summer. A part of me wonders if that’s the next girl that gets to treat her the way I should have. What if she came to UConn for her, I think. Nope. Can’t do that. Maya hasn’t been mine, not for a while.

The urge to reach out has died down through the years, going from entirely unbearable at times to more of a constant dull itch that I feel as though I can’t ever scratch. Her texting me after my ACL tear last summer provided temporary relief. I mean, it had to say something that she cared enough to show that she cared. A person that hates me wouldn’t do that.

But then, she never responded to my reply. A person that hates me would do that.

So yeah, there is nothing I want more in this world than to text Maya one last time, just to tell her I’m sorry. That I still think about the way I treated her, and how I’ve been too afraid to be with another girl since I’m worried I’ll do the same thing. That I know I don’t deserve her, not even platonically, but feelings aside I miss being around her. I wish we could be friends again, or acquaintances who occasionally text each other on birthdays and holidays, or something. At the very least, I want her to know I’m sorry.

But beyond everything, I want her to be happy. And if me not talking to her makes her happy, as stated the last time I saw her physically where she stated she “just needed time”, I was willing to suffer through that.

Somehow knowing she could be anywhere right now, even just a short walk away, made the suffering unbearable right now, in a way that I hadn’t felt since freshman year. 

Blame it on the alcohol, or the picture, or whatever you like. Doesn’t change the fact that I opened my contacts in search for one particular one. Doesn’t change the five word text I sent that took an embarrassingly long time to think of. And it doesn’t change how my fingers pressed send before any other doubts could enter my brain. Putting my phone on do not disturb, I plug it in and turn off my lights, deciding that chugging water can wait until tomorrow. For now, I need to sleep off everything I’ve seen tonight and the memory of what I just did. 

[robinsheldonillustration]

Day 22 of Peachtober - Village! 🏘️

I have always dreamt of living in a cozy seaside village, like the one Jessica Fletcher lives in. This scene was heavily inspired by our many trips up to Grand Marias/ The North Shore here in Minnesota. It’s small little town that we always visit in the off season (November) and I just love everything about it. Lake Supierior isn’t the sea but it is very very close!