#office princess

[miss-what-a-d0ll]

✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗ 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

[slut4motherearth]

{ig: iamgia}

[princesseilish]

NO MATTER WHAT

Police!Officer!Paige Bueckers x Pregnant!Kidnapped!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, kidnapping, violence, emotional distress, pregnancy-related danger, injury, slow-burn rescue, and intense emotions.

7:08 AM

The morning was slow, easy. The kind of morning Paige always wanted more of but never got enough of.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting a golden hue over the countertops as the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. The radio played softly in the background—some old love song you liked humming to under your breath.

Paige sat at the table, still half-asleep, blinking slowly as she nursed her coffee. Her uniform was already on, badge clipped to her belt, gun holstered at her side. She looked the part of a cop—stoic, tough—but right now, with her hair still messy from sleep and a soft smile tugging at her lips, she just looked like your Paige.

You, on the other hand, moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, one hand pressing into your lower back as you packed her lunch. At eight months pregnant, even the smallest tasks felt heavier, but you’d be damned if you let Paige go to work without a decent meal.

“You know I can just grab something at the station,” Paige mumbled, watching you.

You rolled your eyes, setting the packed container in her bag. “And spend another day running on gas station coffee and half a granola bar? I don’t think so.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “You spoil me.”

You gave her a pointed look. “I take care of you.”

Paige smirked, taking another sip of coffee before gesturing toward your belly. “And who’s taking care of you?”

You shot her a glare, even as your lips twitched into a smile. “Don’t start.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” you huffed, but the way your hand instinctively rested on your stomach betrayed you.

Paige stood up, crossing the kitchen in a few slow steps before wrapping her arms around you from behind. She rested her chin on your shoulder, hands gently pressing over your belly. “You’ve been on your feet all morning.”

You exhaled, leaning into her warmth. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you,” she countered, pressing a slow kiss to your neck.

You sighed, melting just a little. “Maybe I’ll nap later.”

Paige hummed in approval. “Good.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you.

Then—

“Did you ever think of names yet?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

You turned in her arms, raising an eyebrow. “For the baby?”

Paige nodded, running a hand over your stomach absentmindedly. “Yeah… I mean, I know we talked about it, but we never really decided.”

You bit your lip, considering. “I have a few I like.”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah? Lay ‘em on me.”

You grinned, rubbing slow circles against her chest as you teased, “Not yet.”

She groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “Come on, you can’t just—”

“Later,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You have work, and if I start now, we’ll be here all morning.”

Paige pouted but didn’t argue. “Fine. But we’re talking about this when I get home.”

You smiled, patting her chest. “Deal.”

8:45 AM

Paige finished breakfast, grabbed her things, and kissed you goodbye at the door.

It was soft, slow—like she didn’t want to leave. Her hands lingered on your waist, her lips brushing against yours once, twice before she finally stepped back with a sigh.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said.

“I always do,” you reassured her.

She gave you one last lingering look before heading out.

The apartment felt quieter after she was gone, but not in a bad way. You finished tidying up, made yourself a cup of tea, and curled up on the couch with a book. The baby kicked every now and then, and you smiled, rubbing your belly.

It was a normal day. A good day.

Until it wasn’t.

2:17 PM

The knock on the door wasn’t Paige.

You knew it the second you heard it.

Paige never knocked. She had a key. And even if she forgot it, she always called first.

This knock was different—sharp, insistent.

Your stomach twisted.

You hesitated, glancing at your phone. Maybe it was just a delivery, a neighbor—

Another knock. Louder.

You swallowed, standing slowly. The baby kicked again, almost like a warning.

Something was wrong.

You reached for your phone just as the door burst open.

2:42 PM

Paige was at her desk, halfway through writing up a report, when her radio crackled.

“Possible 10-15, domestic disturbance at—”

She barely heard the address before she was running.

Her chair slammed against the floor as she bolted out of the station, her heart in her throat.

She broke every traffic law getting home.

But by the time she got there—

You were gone.

Hour 80

Paige could hear them.

She could hear everything.

She wasn’t stupid—she knew how these cases went. She knew what 72 hours meant.

And so did they.

“We’re doing our best, but at this point…”

“With no leads, the odds are—”

“Sometimes, you have to accept—”

She slammed her fist against the desk. “Don’t fucking say it.”

The room went silent.

Officer Cruz, her partner, exhaled sharply. “Bueckers—”

“No.” Paige’s voice was raw. “I don’t wanna hear another damn word about ‘odds’ or ‘accepting’ anything.” She swallowed, her throat burning. “We keep looking. We don’t stop.”

Nobody argued.

But she could still feel it. The doubt. The hesitation.

It made her sick.

She pushed away from the table, ignoring the way her hands shook, and stormed out.

Hour 82

The house wasn’t a home anymore.

Paige stood in the doorway of the nursery, her chest tight.

The crib still sat in its box, untouched.

She was supposed to build it this weekend.

You had been so excited, talking about how you wanted it near the window, how you wanted to hang those little glow-in-the-dark stars above it.

“It’s gotta be perfect, P.”

Her hands curled into fists.

She couldn’t do this.

She turned away, stepping back into the bedroom, but it was worse there.

Your slippers were still by the bed.

Your robe still hung over the chair.

The mug you had left on the nightstand, half-empty from the last morning you spent together, sat untouched.

She should’ve washed it.

She should’ve—

Her phone rang.

Paige nearly dropped it in her scramble to grab it, her pulse hammering.

Unknown number.

Her stomach dropped.

She answered. “Hello?”

Static.

A second of silence.

Then—

“You listenin’, Officer?”

Paige froze.

The voice was low, distorted, like it was run through some kind of filter.

Her grip on the phone tightened. “Where is she?”

A chuckle. Slow. Amused.

“She’s here.”

Paige’s heart nearly stopped.

“You hurt her, and I swear—”

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

Her breath was shaky, but she forced herself to sound steady. “What do you want?”

Another pause.

Then, casually, “A few things.”

A list followed. Demands that didn’t make sense, requests that felt random, like they were playing a sick game just because they could.

And Paige could barely breathe.

Because in the background—faint, almost unnoticeable—

She heard you.

A muffled sound. A whimper. A sharp inhale.

It took everything in her not to break.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Prove she’s alive.”

Silence.

Then—

A shuffle. A rustle. And then—

“P-Paige—”

Her knees nearly buckled.

“Baby,” she choked out, stepping forward like she could somehow reach you through the phone. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Another shuffle. A muffled noise.

Then the voice returned.

“Now you know. Don’t make me regret calling.”

The line went dead.

Paige stood there, gripping the phone so hard her knuckles ached, her heart hammering against her ribs.

You were alive.

For now.

But she wasn’t going to wait until it was too late.

Her hands were already shaking as she grabbed her badge, her gun, her keys.

She was going to find you.

No matter what.

Hour 85

The FBI was in her precinct.

The FBI.

Paige had never thought she’d be on the other side of this—watching a team of federal agents take over her case, walking through her department like they belonged there.

But she didn’t care.

She couldn’t care.

Because this was for you.

Because if it meant getting you back, she’d let them do whatever the hell they needed to do.

Special Agent Thomas was leading the task force. He was seasoned, sharp, the kind of guy who didn’t waste time sugarcoating things.

“We’re running a full analysis on the call,” he said, flipping through a folder of information Paige hadn’t even seen yet. “Our digital forensics team is working on voice decryption. If there’s even a trace of a real vocal pattern, we’ll find it.”

Paige sat stiffly in her chair, arms crossed. “They used a voice modulator.”

“We’ve cracked those before.” Thomas nodded toward a man standing near the computer station, his eyes fixed on multiple monitors. “Agent Miller—our best in digital forensics. If there’s a way to extract even a syllable of the original voice, he’ll do it.”

Miller didn’t even look up, just muttered, “Already working on it.”

Paige’s eyes flickered toward the screen, where waves of audio data pulsed in real time. It meant nothing to her, but it meant everything to them.

A different agent—Lina Patel, information technology specialist—was working beside him. “We’re also tracking possible locations based on the call’s origin. They used scrambling software, but we’ve seen similar patterns before. Takes time, but not impossible.”

“Time isn’t something we have.” Paige’s voice was sharp.

Thomas sighed. “We know.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Then Miller exhaled. “Got something.”

Paige’s heart leaped into her throat.

“What?” Thomas moved behind him. “Talk to me.”

Miller’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “It’s faint, but… there’s another sound in the background. Not just the victim. It’s like… a frequency. Low. Almost like—” He adjusted the sound levels, isolating the noise.

A faint whooshing filled the speakers.

Rhythmic. Steady.

Paige’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is that?”

Miller analyzed the waveform, his eyes narrowing.

Then he snapped his fingers. “That’s an air vent.”

“A what?”

“Industrial ventilation system,” Miller confirmed. “Not residential. That’s high-powered airflow. Could be a factory, a warehouse, some kind of industrial building.”

Thomas was already pulling out his phone. “I’ll get the search radius adjusted.”

Paige gritted her teeth. It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

She turned back to Miller. “Can you get more?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I can try.”

Patel jumped in. “I’ll check city blueprints—see what kind of buildings use that type of system. If we narrow it down, we might get lucky.”

Paige hated the word lucky.

This wasn’t about luck.

This was about finding you before it was too late.

Hour 90

The news was everywhere.

Pregnant Woman Still Missing After 90 Hours—Wife a Police Officer

Possible Ransom? FBI Now Involved in the Search

Time Running Out? Experts Say Every Hour Lowers Chances of Recovery

Paige turned the TV off before she put her fist through it.

She sat in the dark, gripping her badge so tightly the edges bit into her palm.

The house was so empty it hurt.

She didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. She barely breathed.

All she did was wait.

Wait for another call.

Wait for another lead.

Wait for something to bring her back to you.

Then, finally—

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

Paige’s stomach lurched, her hands clammy as she answered. “Yeah?”

Silence.

Then—

“I see you’ve been busy, Officer.”

Her blood ran cold.

They knew.

They knew the FBI was involved.

“I told you not to waste my time.” The voice was calm. Amused, even.

Paige forced herself to stay steady. “Where is she?”

A low chuckle. “Ah, you don’t get to make demands. But since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll give you something.”

A shuffle.

Then—

A whimper.

Your whimper.

Paige felt something in her break.

She gripped the phone. “Baby? Baby, I’m right here.”

Your voice was weak. “P—”

The line cut.

Paige shot up from her seat. “TRACE IT.”

Miller was already typing furiously. Patel was flipping through maps.

Thomas grabbed his radio. “All units, be ready.”

Paige clenched her jaw.

She didn’t know where you were.

But she knew one thing.

She was going to find you.

And God help the people who took you.

Because she wouldn’t.

Hour 91

Paige stood in the middle of the precinct, the phone still clenched in her fist, your voice echoing in her head like a ghost she couldn’t shake.

The way it wavered.

The way it barely even sounded like you.

They had you. And you were alive.

But for how much longer?

“Anything?” Paige’s voice was raw, her throat burning from lack of sleep, from screaming into the void of a case that felt endless.

Miller looked like he wanted to give her good news. But he didn’t have any. “They’re using some kind of signal scrambling. We got fragments, but no exact location yet.”

“How big is the radius?”

Patel sighed. “Too big. We’re looking at over fifty possible locations.”

Fifty.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling sharply.

She didn’t have time for fifty.

She needed one.

She needed you.

Hour 94

The next call came quicker this time.

But it wasn’t from them.

It was from you.

Untraceable, of course. But Paige answered it so fast she barely registered her own voice saying your name.

The line crackled. Then—

“Paige.”

She nearly collapsed.

Her grip on the desk was the only thing keeping her standing.

“Baby. I’m here, I’m right here.” Her voice was hoarse, frantic. “Where are you? What do you see?”

There was rustling, heavy breathing. “I—I don’t know. It’s dark. I can’t—”

A sharp cry.

Paige’s whole body tensed. “What? What happened?”

Your breath hitched. “They—they’re getting impatient.”

Paige’s vision blurred. “I swear to God, I’m going to find you. Just hold on. Don’t—”

The sound of something shattering.

A door slamming.

Then—

The line went dead.

Hour 96

“Where’s the nearest abandoned factory with a ventilation system like the one we heard?” Paige demanded, pacing furiously.

Miller was already typing.

Patel snapped her fingers. “Here.”

A map popped up on the screen.

“Old manufacturing plant. Shut down three years ago. It has the exact ventilation system we identified, and it’s in the call radius.”

Paige was already reaching for her gear. “That’s it.”

Thomas hesitated. “Paige—”

“No.” Paige’s glare was deadly. “That’s it.”

She turned toward the SWAT team, her fellow officers, every damn person standing there watching her unravel.

“Get the vans.”

They didn’t argue.

Hour 97

The convoy moved in silence, a coordinated beast of flashing sirens and bulletproof vests.

Paige’s hands trembled over the steering wheel. Not from fear.

From rage.

From desperation.

From the thought of you, scared, alone, calling her with the last bit of hope you had left.

I’m coming, baby.

She repeated it in her head like a prayer.

I’m coming.

The building was a skeleton of rust and dust, hollowed out by time and decay.

But you were here.

She knew you were here.

Paige moved with trained precision, gun drawn, breath controlled. The SWAT team spread out, clearing each section methodically, voices murmuring through her earpiece.

Then—

A sound.

Muffled.

Strained.

Paige’s heart stopped.

She turned a corner.

And there you were.

Tied to a chair, gagged, your face streaked with tears.

A man stood beside you, gun pressed to your temple.

Time froze.

Paige’s entire world narrowed to the sight of you, the way your body flinched under his grip, the way your wide, terrified eyes met hers.

It was only a second.

But it felt like a lifetime.

Then—

The man jerked you up, pulling you as a shield. “Back up, or she dies.”

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Her finger hovered over the trigger.

She could end this. Right now.

But your stomach—your baby.

The risk was too high.

The man’s grip tightened. “I swear to God—”

Then—

A shot.

Not from Paige.

From the side.

A sniper.

A single, clean bullet to the head.

The man crumpled.

Paige was moving before his body even hit the ground.

She dropped her gun, her hands already on you, untying the ropes, ripping the gag away. “Baby, baby—”

You collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

She held you so tight she thought she might break you. “I got you. I got you.”

You clung to her, hands fisting her uniform. “I—I was so scared—”

Paige pressed her lips to your forehead, to your cheeks, to every part of you she could reach. “I know, baby, I know. It’s over. You’re safe. I got you.”

Her hands slid over your stomach, feeling the soft swell beneath her palm.

A heartbeat.

A miracle.

You were alive.

You and the baby.

Paige’s whole body shook with relief, her forehead dropping against yours.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, over and over. “You’re okay.”

But the truth was—

She wasn’t.

Because she had almost lost everything.

And that thought alone?

It would haunt her forever.

The Aftermath

The house felt different when you came home.

It wasn’t the same place you had left.

Paige had left the crib half-built in the nursery.

She had spent days staring at it, wondering if she’d ever finish it.

Now, she sat beside you, watching as you traced your fingers over the tiny wooden frame.

“Can we finish it together?” you asked softly.

Paige swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, we can.”

Your hand covered hers, squeezing gently.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Paige’s throat tightened.

“I thought I’d never hear you say that again,” she admitted.

Your eyes filled with tears. “You will. Every day. I promise.”

Paige kissed you.

Slow. Deep.

A promise of its own.

That no matter what?

No matter how close to the edge she had come?

She would always find her way back to you.

[joycieillustrations]

Lil sketch from chapter one of my modern AU Office Hours (of which there is a new chapter)

they will not be looking this happy again for a while sorry not sorry

Please do not repost anywhere without my express permission!

[pinkacademiaprincess]

fall lookbook: business casual🍂💼🎀👩‍💻

if you can't tell, my business casual style icons include lorelai gilmore, rachel zane, elle greenaway, rachel green, etc. 💌

[pedroam-bang]

Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

[nerdreamer]

[incorrect-xena-quotes]

Xena: I lied. Gabrielle and I can never be just friends. I wrote down a list of bullet points why Gabrielle and I should be together, and I'm going to find the perfect moment today and tell her.

Xena: [reading from the smudged writing on her hand]

Xena: Number one: Gabrielle, you and I are soup snakes. The...and the reason is...because in terms of the soup, we like-- that doesn't make any sense.

Xena: We're soulmates. Gabrielle and I are soulmates.

[camilatabora]

Appreciation post for my sweet princess Doechii

[slut4motherearth]

{ig: iamgia}

[celestiaras]

oh my god, the girls are so cute and the guys are so sexy-

[s-aint-elmo]

*twirling my hair* do you have some good yuri manga recs?

(lying on my stomach and kicking my feet) i'm SO glad you asked!

to preface this i'll be excluding better-known yuri or yuri that's recently gotten its flowers (whether thru virality or adaptations) (e.g. in love with the villainess, love bullet, bloom into you, etc. etc.) and will instead be recc'ing works i don't often encounter in the wild. some will be more well-known than others, but all of these i've enjoyed and would encourage others to check out! under the cut because. this got. so long. i heart yuri <3

multi-chapter

the princess of sylph (ongoing; self-publishing): plot-heavy fantasy yuri between a bereaved princess with the aura of a thousand sad hamsters and a persistent nun whose silliness conceals a deep well of trauma. gushed about it plenty here. i recommend starting with the serialized version, the proceeding to the twitter version + extras. cw: blood, violence, dismemberment (nothing too graphic, more standard monster-fighting fare).

i love amy (completed): school loner strikes an unlikely friendship with the girl known (and feared) for her violent tendencies and single-minded obsession with the school prince. cute but striking and skilled art with a surprisingly nuanced handling of trauma and neurodivergence. cw: attempted child murder, animal death (non-graphic). there are also depictions of standard yandere fare (kidnapping, torture basements) but they're always presented comedically.

i see you, aizawa-san! (ongoing): girl who steadfastly pretends not to see ghosts meets one she just can't seem to ignore: a deceased classmate and former j-pop idol, who has taken to haunting their classroom. ft. art that harkens back to classic shoujo and a supernatural mystery centred on the relationship between the two leads--that one of them can't seem to remember. cw: blood, body horror.

school zone girls (on hiatus): slice of life yuri comedy ft. a massive interconnected web of girls spanning at least three schools. it juggles gut-busting comedy with genuine heartfelt moments of character growth and connection and expresses it all through a solid, dynamic art style. the sprawling cast also makes for incredible outsider pov moments that lets us really appreciate how far some characters have gotten. this genuinely motivated me to revamp how i approached ensemble casts for my ocs.

brides of iberis (completed): wedding planner unenthusiastic about her engagement falls in love with a bride she's taken as a client. bittersweet but deeply loving; and so compassionate to each and every character, even the men the female leads have relationships with. cw: infidelity.

destroy it all and love me in hell! (ongoing): model student finds her miserable, tightly controlled life unraveling after being blackmailed by the class truant into indulging her ugliest impulses. toxic yuri extravaganza eleganza between two girls desperate for escape and the catharsis of fucking! shit! up!!! also hits that sweet sweet "love triangle as a conflict of ideals" beat. cw: blackmail, coercion, bullying, violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, adult/minor relationship.

yuri is forbidden for the yuri otaku (completed): passionate himejoshi enrolls in an all-girls private school to observe class s yuri in action, but never to engage in it herself--at least, until a misunderstanding wins her the resident gyaru's heart. a surprisingly poignant exploration of being queer in a repressive society and experiencing your queerness through the safety of unobtainable fantasy.

the superstar idol crushes on me today too (ongoing): failed idol-slash-middling radio personality finds an unwanted superfan in the country's biggest superstar. explores the merit of pursuing your artistic passions in the face of repeated failure, and what makes an emotional anchor in the fraught seas of showbiz. they are also just so so funny. what if i emphatically declare you my rival in show business but you've been in love with me since you saw me in a cooking show as a child actor and you take any excuse to spend time with me and have my attention with blinding enthusiasm

normality and monsters (ongoing): outcast weirdo witnesses the class idol devour their homeroom teacher in one bite and begs to be trained in the art of appearing normal. the art is snappy and charismatic, the monster design is properly grotesque, and the friendship of convenience between the two leads teeters between overcoming the monster's nature and just being a prelude to the monster acquiring a new meatsuit. cw: blood, gore, death, body horror.

a monster wants to eat me (ongoing): suicidal girl meets carnivore mermaid who promises to eat her if she develops a desire to live. it's been a while since i read this one, but the monster designs are once again sick as fuck and the drama of being cared for by a creature that finds you tantalizing is sooo juicy. cw: suicidal ideation, blood, gore, violence, body horror.

liar satsuki can see death (completed): high schooler who can see corpses before the death occurs strives to save as many lives as possible despite being branded a liar by the entire student body. this and ryouko's other manga, a walk to death, are pretty banging declarations on the value of living ironically (or maybe aptly) wrapped in so much death. blanket cw for blood, gore and death bc i tell you every mini-arc somebody dies in a fun new way and we'd be here all day if we listed them out.

anthology:

i'm the villainess but i'm being captured by the heroine?!: an anthology featuring heroines of otome games swerving hard and sweeping the villainess off her feet. i am such a sucker for villainess yuri. mean women forever. my favourite chapters are vol. 1 ch.1 and vol. 2 chs. 1 and 4.

honourable mentions:

my idol sits the next desk over! (completed): loner idol otaku ends up deskmates with her oshi and between jealous sabotage from a rival stan and the herculean task of acting normal around your fave, lands herself in the first and closest friend group of her life. one girl does explicitly have romantic feelings for another girl, but i bumped it down here because it isn't explored to the extent it could have been. it felt like it was setting up a slow burn only to end abruptly. do not recommend if you want a love story, do recommend if you want lonely people forging deep and enduring bonds of friendship.

the one within the villainess (ongoing): the villainess of an otome game reawakens for her condemnation and sets off on a path of vengeance for the sake of the beloved transmigrator who's occupied her body for years. it's ostensibly het, but to hear the way that the villainess speaks of her transmigrator, the first person to love her wholeheartedly and wish for her happiness and so inadvertently prevent her from becoming the hollow bitter woman she originally grew into...... like. that is yuri. like what if i knew your life in its entirety and loved you for it and i found myself in the position to give you the happiness i always wished for you to have. what if we wrote fix-it fic for each other on the fabric of the universe. what if we never even had a conversation but we knew each other the best and loved each other most. and we were both girls. do you understand why i'm insane about them. cw: blood, gore, violence.

[icanthandlechange777]

🌊 ⊹₊ ⋆ 🌊 ⊹₊ ⋆ 🌊 ⊹₊ ⋆ 🌊 ⊹₊ ⋆

[nat-20s]

Do you guys think I could successfully scratch the serial numbers off a Mulan/belle Yuri story or not

[screeching-painter-witch]

i'm reading osamu dazai's entrance exam... kunikida on god we're gonna GET you an ocd diagnosis bro