#open arms of minnesota

[vamptizm]

NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

[saeori]

Porch Side Yard This is an illustration of a sizable side porch with a roof extension made of transitional stone.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!!!

what about bau!reader who’s super affectionate with spencer (and he just takes it with a blush and sugary coffee)

example; jawline kisses that are supposed to be cheek kisses instead of hello’s and goodbye’s & reader having her arm around spencer’s waist at all times cuz she’s just so used to his body warmth!!!

(for some reason i’m imagining s9 reid & new-ish reader but u can do what u want ofc!!)

FUGITIVE AFFECTIONS | Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

description: fugitive (noun) meaning escape, runaway. (adjective) meaning fleeting, brief, passing.

Length: 1.1k

warnings: fluff fluff FLUFF.

He knew what was coming the second he heard her footsteps. The coffee machine spluttered with effort as it churned out his third cup of the day, and he was already perched with the sugar waiting for the appliance to do its thing. Spencer barely had chance to acknowledge the approaching figure when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone attaching themselves to his back with a feather light kiss to his spine. 

“Good morning,” He called over his shoulder, and you hummed, quickly squeezing the soft pooch of his stomach and releasing him. 

“Morning,” You said, and he leaned up to open the cupboard door, which wasn’t a big feat for him with his heinously long limbs. Plopping a mug down on the side, he poured coffee in your cup first before he started on his own, “Reports due today?” 

“Hotch wants the Minnesota and the Nevada cases wrapped up,” He said, sliding the milk and sugar over to your side of the counter and keeping his head down. Spencer felt his ears run hot, like they usually did whenever you got so close to him, which just happened to be always. 

He doubted the words ‘personal space’ were ever a thing in your vocabulary. It had started with Garcia, with the two of you linking arms and braiding each other's hair after two weeks of you moving to the BAU, and he’d figured that Garcia had won you over with that natural, bubbly charm of hers. But Spencer was perceptive, and he’d quickly realised the behaviour was not strictly limited to Penelope and her chirpy attitude. You tended to walk close to everyone, like you were trying to mesh you bodies in with them and the shoulder bumps and hands brushed against one another didn’t matter. In the end, rather than push you away, Morgan had taken to wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you waltzed around the office together. Even Blake was succumbing to your touchy-feely attitude as you liked to cosy up next to her on the jet, usually falling asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she thought little of it now, just continuing with her crosswords unbothered. 

And then you’d set your sights on Spencer. 

He supposed you hadn’t quite got the memo about his germaphobia, or perhaps the transference of bacteria between humans during simple hand holding just never occurred to you. Yet after just a month of being desk buddies with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin the day you slipped your fingers in between his when the two of you had been paired up on a case and you were heading down the witness’s driveway to interview them. 

He’s been about to ask what the hell you were doing, or perhaps scramble to shove you off, and sanitise his hands with the emergency gel he kept in his bag at all times. But by the time he’d looked over at you, his cheeks a flaming strawberry colour with what he’d thought of as annoyance, you were simply smiling at him, and began swinging your joined hands back and forth, nudging your temple into his shoulder affectionately. 

“You look really pretty in that purple shirt, Spencer,” You said simply, and whatever scathing remark about how eighty percent of pathogens are transferred during hand holding was robbed from his gullet and he was stunned into silence. The way you’d said his name alone made his lips part in wonder, because he’d never heard it said like that. 

“T-thankyou, I like your jacket.” He cringed as soon a he said it, and the two of you looked down to your government issued FBI vest, the same one he wore, the same one Hotch wore, the same one they’d all worn for the past nine years. 

You sniggered, bumping him again with your forehead like you were a cat purring up against him, marking your territory. 

“You’re cute,”

You were full of sweet, loving words like that he realised, all buttercups and candy floss and honey and sweetie and my love and he felt himself expecting it now, biting his lip in worry if you were ever just the tiniest bit too busy to fluff him up with affection.

Like when you’d been called out by Blake on an emergency, the two of you scrambling to grab the SUV keys to go meet Morgan and JJ where they were moving into the building  after the suspect. 

The two of you had all but ran out of the precinct in the effort to catch up with the other agents, leaving Spencer, pen still in his hand as he mapped out the geographical profile, and he hadn’t realised anything was missing until he heard the door slam shut and he hadn’t felt the warmth of your hug, your hand in his hair ruffling it lovingly, not even a ‘goodbye, sweetie!’

Spencer pouted, despite the fact he’d spent the first few weeks wondering if he should be shying away from your touch because he was quickly running out of sanitizer and had yet to want you to stop. He felt like his routine had been interrupted, because that’s definitely what the source of his disappointment was, not the fact he wondered if he had done something wrong, and yet before he could think too hard about it, the door swung back open, Blake yelling something from the hallway that he could just about make out was your name, before a body crashed into his side and your lips were on his jaw, kissing him lightly through laboured breaths. 

“Bye, Spence.” You murmured, kissing up his cheek a few times to apologise for the wait, and he hadn’t even had the chance to return the favour through the fish out of water gape as he watched you run back to the door, Blake looking at you incredulously. 

“I just watched you run up three flights of stairs for that?” She asked, the door slowly closing behind you and giving him unfiltered snooping on your conversation. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt, the same one that you had just kissed over and over again like it was a normal thing for you two, and he wondered if he could coordinate you rushing out of the office every time if it meant he’d have that again. 

“It’s Spencer, it was important,” You insisted, and he squoze his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palm, because it was too late to tell you just how much you’d made him feel in such a tiny gesture, and the electricity from your kisses had to come out somewhere. If not, Spencer worried he might explode. 

His hand sanitizer sat empty in his pocket, the same way it had been for months, and Spencer couldn’t care less.

[thebibliosphere]

Joy I have to ask - what temperature do you think it is inside Wayne Manor?

Is it essentially outside temperature except where the fireplaces are? Does Alfred have a one man war against climate change? Is that why Bruce spends so much time in the basement?

Depending on which timeline you follow, Wayne Manor was built in the late 1800s. Having worked in giant historical homes, I'm telling you now it's a fucking pain in the ass to update the heating systems in those buildings. I know we've got comic book logic to contend with, and they've got massive generators in the basement to keep the cave running (sometimes it's turbines powered by the water flowing through the caves), but I also think it's plausible that to avoid damaging the historical facade of the building, you might walk around the house and see box fans shoved into the window frames during the summer because fuuuuck trying to install modern AC through 18th-century brickwork.

As for heat, well, for a frame of reference, the James J Hill house up here in MN—built roughly around the same time during the Gilded Age when the Waynes were pioneering industry in Gotham—was forced to rely on a boiler roughly the size of a steam engine to heat the house and used 250 tons of coal each year to keep it warm. That boiler provided hot water and ambient heat through steam radiators, but they also still had fireplaces in almost every room to try and compensate for the winter. The house was updated for modern heating and air conditioning within the last 40 years, but with a house that size and ceilings so tall, it's not particularly efficient. They still rely on box fans and space heaters to keep the space habitable during summer and winter.

New Jersey is not as far north as Minnesota, but the temperatures can still drop comparably low, especially when you factor in the seafront Gotham is on. So, while I do think they likely upgraded the heating systems at some point (they can't keep guzzling through coal like that), I also can't help but feel it's got to be cold as hell in that house unless they're being meticulous about lighting fires and airing every room out to prevent damp.

Because that's another thing. If you're not keeping your stone house warm, you risk damp and water damage, and I feel like Alfred would rather gnaw off his own arm than let Wayne Manor crumble to dust with black mold festering in the original French plaster.

So he's not so much fighting a one-man war against climate change as he's fighting a one-man war to keep the house dry. He's walking through rooms no one even uses, making sure the steam radiators are working and opening the windows a crack to let the condensation out.

Is he also turning off all the light switches as he goes? Yes. Is he always yelling, "Why is every screen in this house turned on if no one is using them?" also, yes.

Is Bruce also down in the cave huddled under an extra cape, overclocking the batcomputer to stay warm? Also a distinct possibility.

[azzibuckets]

Okay but can we get a blurb about Azzi being in Montana before her and she wakes up to P getting home and sliding into bed trying not to wake her

sappy and sleepy [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: anon i tried to incorporate as many of your requests as i could! thank you for this prompt it was super fun to write

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

As soon as her hand twisted the doorknob and the door creaked open, Azzi’s heart ached. She swore she could smell the lingering scent of Paige’s perfume, even though the rational part of her mind knew that Paige hadn’t stepped foot in the room for almost an entire year.

Although Paige hadn’t grown up in this room, her mom had it reserved for her when she came back during the summer, giving her daughter the liberty to decorate the space however she liked. And now Azzi appreciated it more than ever, because looking at the posters plastered with UConn greats and husky logos felt as familiar to her as home. Now only one thing was missing.

Azzi flopped on the bed, tired from the plane ride over. She cursed when she realized she’d forgotten her charger at home. Hopefully Paige had a spare one, she thought as she started rummaging through the drawers of her beside cabinet. As soon as she opened the first drawer, though, a polaroid fell out.

Azzi’s heart doubled in size when she flipped the polaroid over to find a photo of herself from the Minnesota state fair from two summers ago. In it, she was holding a cone of ice cream, chocolate sauce dripping all over her fingers. Tucked under her elbow was the stuffed animal that Paige insisted on winning for her every year (and Azzi never got tired of it). She had been smiling hard, her eyes crinkled as she stared past the camera. Shaking her head, Azzi snapped a photo of the polaroid.

💗: You’re such a sap

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: ?? where did you find this.

💗: In your drawers

bighead: when did i give you permission to go through my things🤔🤔🤔

bighead: and im taking this as a sign you got home safe?

💗: You’re not distracting me from the fact that you creepily have photos of me all over your room

bighead: youre being so dramatic

bighead: and you can’t blame me

bighead: i always miss you so much

bighead: now you know what it’s like to be in montana all bored without ur gf

💗: Don’t say that. You have your family

bighead: you’re my family

💗: Tell me that when you put a ring on it

bighead: oh i will

Azzi bit her cheek, trying not to beam from Paige’s text. “Azzi! You ready for lunch, hon?” Amy’s voice called from downstairs. Azzi stuffed the polaroid back in the drawer and clambered down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Amy. Thank you again for letting me stay,” Azzi said, going in for another hug.

Amy airily waved her hand, leading Azzi to the dining table. “No worries at all. We‘ve got a lot of exciting stuff planned for this week. Mini golf tomorrow with the kids, then this new restaurant is opening up on Tuesday and I thought it would be a nice date night for you and Paige so I already made a reservation for the two of you!”

Amy continued talking excitedly about their stay at Montana, and Azzi appreciated it, she really did, but she was also exhausted from the plane ride and all she wanted to do was be in Paige’s arms after way too much time apart. The ESPYs photos that Paige had posted an hour ago didn’t help either. Her girlfriend had looked so damn good, her hair up in that style Azzi loved, and Azzi had spent more time than she was willing to admit staring at the photo, wanting to run her hands through that hair.

Later that night, Azzi put on Love and Basketball on her laptop as she got ready for bed. Paige couldn’t facetime because she was at a party, but Azzi still wanted a little piece of her girlfriend with her before she fell asleep, just a little something to make her dreams a little sweeter.

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

💗: Heard you liked this movie??

bighead: you miss me SO much

💗: I do

bighead: then i got some good news ;)

💗: What

💗: Paige?

💗: Helloooo

💗: I’m not gonna repost your espys post.

bighead: oh hey i’m back😁

💗: You’re a fucking idiot

bighead: wait can you repost the second slide i look the best in that one

💗: Tell me the goddamn good news

bighead: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: flight leaves in 1 hour!!

💗: Wait I thought you had a morning flight?

bighead: well the shoot tmr got canceled and i missed you too much so…..

💗: You’re wasting all your money booking these last minutes flights.

bighead: you dont gotta worry about me baby

💗: 🙄 Text me when you’re home and I’ll let you in

bighead: no don’t stay up baby i won’t home until like 3 am

💗: I wanna see you

bighead: $10 you’re gonna be crashed out

💗: I guess you’re gonna be spending all your money today then

••••••••••

“She’s asleep, isn’t she?”

Amy wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Don’t you dare wake her up.”

Paige shook her head. She was slightly disappointed she wouldn’t be able to talk to Azzi tonight, but she was glad the younger girl was getting her rest. She slipped into the room as quietly as she could, her heartbeat speeding up as soon as she saw the lump on the bed.

Kneeling down, Paige brushed her fingertips over the crease in Azzi’s forehead, trying to smooth over the worry lines. Azzi looked ethereal in her sleep, the moonlight from the window casting a glow over her face and illuminating the sharpness of her jaw and the pinkness of her lips. Paige pressed a light kiss on her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible, but before she knew it, Azzi was stirring.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Paige?” she groaned, hands going to rub her eyes.

Paige smiled guiltily. “Hi, baby,” she breathed out. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Azzi reached for Paige, still half asleep, and Paige sat at the edge of the bed and let her girlfriend nuzzle her face into her stomach.

Paige ran her fingers through Azzi’s hair, marveling at how she managed to smell so good all the time. “Is now a good time to say that you owe me $10?” she whispered.

“Shut up,” Azzi whined, her fingers jabbing at Paige’s ribs but failing to do much damage with her sluggishly lethargic movements.

Paige chuckled before brushing one last kiss against Azzi’s temple. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

“No.” Azzi’s voice was surprisingly demanding considering how sleepy she was. “You woke me up, now you’re staying.”

Paige rolled her eyes. She hated the idea of getting into her sheets while in her dirty airport clothes, but once Azzi’s hands clutched tighter around her waist, she knew she was a goner. Sighing, she slipped under the covers with her girlfriend. Azzi happily burrowed herself in Paige’s chest, weaving her leg between the blonde’s. Her hand slipped up Paige’s shirt and rested there, palm on her abdomen, and Paige shivered at the bare contact.

“I really did try to stay up,” Azzi whispered, already falling asleep again.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, hm?” Paige tightened her hold around Azzi. The last two weeks had been ridiculously fun, getting to see Nika again, going to partnership events, and presenting at the ESPYs, but this was by far her favorite part - when she and Azzi were so tangled up, every part of their bodies interwoven, their limbs and hair and even the beating of their hearts connecting, it felt like they were breathing as one.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑ᵏʲ⁹¹

in which y/n and kent hide a big secret from his teammates.

warnings; pregnancy, mention of kids, alcohol, vacation

Kent was the kind of guy who always seemed at ease, the life of the party but with a quiet confidence that drew everyone to him. You had fallen for him long ago, when the two of you were young teenagers, and now, you were his everything. This vacation with his teammates was supposed to be fun, a chance to unwind, but you had a secret - one that had been growing for months.

You were pregnant. 

Kent was ecstatic when you told him. He’d hugged you so tightly that night, whispering about the future, about how perfect everything was going to be. But now, here you both were, on this vacation with Sean Kuraly, Cole, Gavin, and Adam, and neither of you had told them. The timing wasn’t right - in fact, you guys hadn’t even told your families. Maybe they’d get suspicious, or worse, maybe they’d feel like you were holding out on them. Kent was sure they’d freak out once they knew.

But here you were, at Sean’s beach house in Cape Cod. While the rest of the boys had flown, you and Kent had decided to make the 16 hour drive from Columbus, simply to spend more time with each other before having to share a living space with the others for two weeks. Once you had arrived, though, everyone was exhausted and just wanted to spend the first night in. In fact, Adam had suggested a few card games.

There was only one problem. On top of that, Cole had suggested alcohol. You looked at Kent nervously, but he gave you a reassuring smile as Sean turned to you, “Y/N, come up with a challenge for us. Whoever loses has to buy drinks.”

This was perfect. You nodded, picking up your phone and opening a random wheel spinner. You had each of the boys pick an NBA team, but when it came to entering them onto the wheel, you entered Kent’s all four times. So, when the wheel stopped spinning, you announced the team out loud, “The Minnesota Timberwolves.”

Sean, Adam, and Cole all cheered as Kent pretended to roll his eyes, but he sneakily shot you a knowing smile before picking up his keys from the counter. The boys slapped him on the back a few times but he shook them off, gently grabbing your arm, “Since your challenge is the reason I lost, you’re coming with me.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but immediately gave in. Adam snickered behind you as Sean and Cole let out a few cheers. Kent wrapped an arm around you and opened the door for you, gently leading you to his car. As soon as you were out of earshot, Kent spoke up softly, “You feeling okay?”

You couldn’t lie. The exhaustion was creeping in. The pregnancy was still early, and you weren’t showing much, but the morning sickness, the fatigue – it was all becoming harder to hide. Kent had noticed the change in you almost immediately, but knew that it had grown harder for you in the past couple of weeks. He was worried. He was so excited to have a little him or little you around the house soon enough, but also hated seeing how hard it was on you. On top of that, he knew that you wanted to keep it a secret for as long as you could, and he knew you’d be even more stressed if people were to find out, so he didn’t want to spill anything. 

In fact, he questioned even coming on this trip, but you had explained that you’d needed it. Whether he believed you or not, was only up for him to decide. 

He opened the car door for you and you waited to reply until he was buckled in on the other side, “Just tired,” you answered, offering him a small smile. 

He rubbed the pad of his thumb across your cheek, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, offering him another small smile. The drive to the liquor store was rather quiet. Kent had put on some Frank Ocean, which you both had softly hummed along to until you pulled into the parking lot. 

Kent turned off the car and exited his side, only to appear on your side of the car a few seconds later to open the door for you. You grabbed his hand and as soon as he knew you were safely out of the car, he placed his arm on the small of your back protectively. The cool night breeze rolled in off of the ocean as you made your way through the parking lot. The distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore helped ease some of the nerves that had been building up inside of you.

“I feel like I’m gonna slip up at some point,” you admitted, resting your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, “Cole’s just gonna keep offering me drinks and it’s gonna be suspicious if I keep saying no.”

Kent rubbed your back with the pad of his thumb, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head reassuringly, “You’re doing great, pretty girl. But I’ll tell you what. We’ll buy an extra pack of drinks, dump them out, and then go to the grocery store to buy some non-alcoholic alternatives that we can put in there instead. I would say we’d just buy some non-alcoholic beer here and have you drink that, but Adam’s overly observant.” he chuckled.

You nodded, shooting your boyfriend a relieved smile. You always appreciated how calm and steady he was. Even though you were both navigating this secret together, Kent always managed to make you feel like everything was under control.

When you stepped inside, the cool air-conditioning hit you immediately as the door jingled behind you. Kent headed straight for the fridge, grabbing a couple cases of beer and a bottle of whiskey that he knew Sean would like. You followed suit, selecting a case of High Noon out of the fridge. 

“Ready?” Kent asked, shooting you a smile when you replied with a yes.

As you reached the counter to pay, the cashier raised an eyebrow at you and Kent, his eyes flicking to your stomach before looking back at Kent. You shifted uncomfortably, aware that people might notice your changing body sooner rather than later. Kent caught the look too but didn’t say anything, keeping the conversation casual with the cashier as he handed over the money.

When you stepped back outside, you breathed a little easier. “Think he noticed?” you asked, half-joking.

“What an asshole,” Kent muttered, rolling his eyes playfully. 

The trip to the grocery store was pretty uneventful. Kent had gone in and picked out a sparkling water brand that you liked, along with some flavored sodas that looked fancy enough to pass as mixed drinks. On top of that, he grabbed a few more things, making sure you’d have enough variety to keep up appearances for the next few days. Once the cart was full, he checked out, the cashier giving him a friendly nod as he paid for the items.

When Kent reached the car, he opened your passenger side door. “Now comes the tricky part,” he said with a grin, opening up the package of High Noon and dumping out the drinks. He grabbed a few water bottles from his trunk before flushing out the alcohol from the cans - and thoroughly.

“I think that’s good, KJ,” you chuckled, flashing him a smile. He looked up at you and flashed you one in return.

“Gotta keep my girls safe,” he explained, ruffling your hair before opening up the bottles of sparkling water and pouring them into the clean cans with the same care, resealing them to make sure they looked untouched. Everything looked perfect - no one would suspect a thing. Kent stood back and took a moment to admire his work, placing the resealed package at your feet before ruffling your hair again. 

You rolled your eyes, shaking him off, before he quickly made his way back to his side of the car and hopped in. You looked at him incredulously, “We don’t even know what we’re having yet!” you exclaimed, but you knew there was no point in arguing. Ever since you told him that he was going to be a dad, he was adamant that the two of you were having a baby girl. Of course, he’d be happy as long as the baby’s safe and healthy, but that didn’t change his fatherly instinct, as he liked to call it. You rolled your eyes again, chuckling softly, and were on your way back to the beach house.

When the two of you arrived back there, Sean, Cole, and Adam’s rowdy laughter could be heard through the walls as you and Kent slipped through the side door into the kitchen. When he looked over towards you, he noticed how you self-consciously had placed your arms over your growing bump. Sensing your discomfort, he softly placed the alcohol down and gifted you the hoodie off of his back.

You smiled gratefully at him, grabbing the “seltzers” from him as he carried the whiskey and beer. The two of you carried the drinks out to the main room, where Sean, Cole, and Adam were engrossed in a game of Black Jack.

“Finally!” Cole exclaimed, dropping his cards as he noticed the two of you walk in, “We were wondering what took you so long!”

You chuckled, placing the drinks down on the table alongside Kent, “It’s Friday night in a vacation town,” Kent explained, shrugging his shoulders to keep it casual. Adam nodded along, seemingly saying fair enough.

As the guys reached for the beer and whiskey, Kent grabbed one of the “seltzer” cans and handed it to you with a wink. You accepted it gratefully, taking a sip and letting the cool, refreshing taste calm your nerves. He then wrapped an arm around you as you cuddled into his side.

The night continued on, with no one suspicious about what you and Kent had just pulled off. The boys were yelling about the game of euchre they were playing, earning a soft but playful eye roll from you. Kent kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you were comfortable, all while seamlessly blending in with his teammates.

As the night wore on, the laughter in the living room began to slow, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion settling over you. Between traveling all day and the energy it took to keep up appearances, your body was calling for rest. You smiled at the guys, pretending to stifle a yawn as you pushed your chair back from the table.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you said, glancing around the room, “I’m pretty wiped from today.”

Sean, Cole, and Adam all gave you understanding looks, still focused on their cards and drinks. “You’ve earned it,” Sean said with a grin, “We’ll try not to be too loud and keep you up.”

“Good luck with that,” Adam teased, “Cole’s not exactly the quietest person you’ll ever meet.” 

You laughed lightly as Cole smacked Adam upside the head. Standing up and giving Kent a quick look, your eyes communicated more than words could in that moment. He caught your glance immediately, knowing exactly what you meant. You needed him with you, but at the same time, you didn’t want to raise suspicion by him leaving too soon after you.

“I’ll be up in a bit,” he said, giving you a small, reassuring smile, “I’ll keep an eye on Cole and make sure he’s not too loud.”

You nodded, giving him a quick hug and offering the guys a wave before slipping away from the table. As you climbed the stairs, you could hear them still talking and laughing, their voices a soft hum in the background. Once you were upstairs, you exhaled a long breath of relief, the tension of the day finally easing as you made your way to your room. 

You changed into your pajamas, feeling the weight of the day lifting as you settled onto the bed. It didn’t take long for Kent to join you. About 30 minutes later, you heard his familiar footsteps on the stairs, and the door quietly creaked open.

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him as he moved toward the bed, “You okay?”

You smiled, nodding as he sat down beside you, “Yeah, just tired. It was a lot today.”

Kent slid into bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “I know. You did so good today, pretty girl. No one suspects a thing.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming you, “Thanks for helping me pull it off. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kent kissed the top of your head, his voice low and comforting, “Of course, my love. We’re a team.”

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, the soft sounds of the ocean outside your window mixing with the distant murmur of voices from downstairs. It felt peaceful, the weight of the day finally lifting now that you were alone together.

“I can’t wait until they're here,” you whispered after a few moments of silence, your hand resting gently over your stomach.

Kent smiled against your hair, his arm tightening around you, “Me too. But until then, we’ll keep playing it cool for as long as we can. You get some rest, though, alright? You’ve had a long day.”

You nodded, feeling sleep begin to pull at you as Kent’s warmth and presence comforted you, “Goodnight, KJ.”

“Goodnight, Y/N/N,” he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead.

With Kent beside you, you felt safe and content, knowing that no matter what challenges the next days would bring, you had him by your side. As your eyes fluttered shut, the last thing you felt was Kent’s hand gently resting on your stomach, a quiet reminder that the two of you were in this together. Always.

a/n; would kj be a girl dad or a boy dad

[hcsiqs]

Hi! Could you do a Kate x Reader where we travel with her and the rest of the Aces to an away game?

| life’s better on saturn

• pairing: kate martin x fem!reader

• summary: you and kate travel to minnesota for an aces game happening the next day.

• warnings: none!

• hope you like this! <3

You and Kate boarded the plane together, her carrying your luggage along with hers.

“I can’t believe you convinced them to let me come,” you whispered, walking closely behind her as you two made your way to your seats.

“I wasn’t gonna let you fly alone,” the blonde laughed, turning her head to look at you for a moment before coming to your assigned seats. You slid down the row of seats to the window seat as Kate flung y’all’s bags into the overhead bins. She then plopped down in the seat beside you, laying her legs out as she comfortably found herself leaning on your shoulder.

“You know there's a whole middle seat that you could use to lay down on, right?” you asked, looking down at her on your shoulder.

“But you’re much more comfortable,” she replied, her voice already laced with tiredness. You just giggled in response as she took your hand in hers. You placed a soft kiss on the hood of her hoodie before A’ja walked by the two of y’all.

“Damn she is whipped,” she laughed while shaking her head and throwing her stuff into her overhead bin as well. You just smiled at her in response.

The flight wasn’t very long and soon enough you found yourself attempting to wake Kate out of her deep slumber.

“Baby we landed,” you spoke quietly to her while rubbing her arm attempting to wake her up.

“Mmm, five more minutes,” she whined, snuggling closer to you.

“You can sleep when we get to the room,” you told her, which immediately made her get up just from the thought of being able to fully cuddle with you in a comfy bed. You then got up shortly after her and helped her get the bags from the bins before exiting the plane.

Once off the plane, the entire Aces team headed into the bus that would be responsible for taking them everywhere. Kate and you found seats to sit in for the short ride to the hotel and once y’all got your room key she dragged you to your room not allowing you to stop at any of the amenities it offered.

When she finally had you in the room she wrapped her hands around your waist and pulled you into the bed with her.

You rested your chin on her chest, looking into her beautiful blue eyes, “You have that team dinner in a little.”

“We can miss it,” she smiled, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Kate,” you looked at her sternly, “If we miss dinner, I’m never gonna be allowed to come with you again.”

“I just wanna hang out with you though,” the blonde’s lips formed into a playful frown, her hands running under your shirt and up your back.

“After dinner, kay?” you smiled at her and she just nodded. She then closed her eyes and let her nap for around an hour before sadly having to wake her from her peaceful sleep, so she could head to the dinner for her team. You obviously couldn’t get her out the door without her complaining about having to leave your side for like two hours. She had tried getting you into the dinner, but the reservations had been made weeks in advance and they wouldn’t be able to add another person. You weren’t upset though because that meant you could go swim in the pool for a little bit while waiting for her to finish up.

That’s exactly what you did too. You found yourself swimming in the dimly lit atmosphere of the pool waiting for Kate to finish her dinner and then come join you in the pool.

As you were swimming you heard the door open and turned around to see the blonde standing there in an oversized tee-shirt with a goofy smile on her face.

“Hi,” you giggled, swimming over to the edge of the pool to meet Kate. She removed her shirt to reveal her swimsuit underneath before sitting on the edge, letting her legs hang in the heated water. “How was dinner?”

“It would’ve been better if you were there,” she smiled looking down at you.

“Whatever,” you turned your head, trying to cover up the blush that took over your face. Her hand then found your jaw, turning you back to face her, she then pulled your face up to her’s. She gently placed her lips to yours, her hands placed at the nape of your neck.

“I’m so happy you're here,” she whispered, holding your face close to her’s.

“Me too,” you smiled, placing a quick kiss against her lips before pulling her inside the pool with you.

allie’s corner

ok so i lowkey forget i had this in the drafts…

very sorry😭 but start requesting more one shots 😋😋

[cosmopretty]

Little Sister

Nika Mühl x fem

warnings: none

Part two: little sister pt2

✦•〰〰〰〰〰〰•★•〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

Getting offered a scholarship to UConn Juilliard and was shocking for you. So shocking you forgot to mention it to anyone, including your own family. You didn’t know what you were going to choose and didn’t want everyone butting in on your decisions. Right now your older sister Paige had a few of her teammates over in her house in Minnesota where she lived with you and your younger brother drew and dad.

Instead of being home where Paige and her friends were watching some basketball game you went out with your best friend Lexa. Both of you decided that to just go get some food together at Canes. You left your phone in her car while you both sat and ate in the air conditioned fast food restaurant.

Drew walks into the living room where Paige, Nika, KK, Ice and Caroline sat watching the game. He looks at Paige “You got mail from UConn I think” he hands her the folder with your name on the back that he didn’t notice neither did Paige.

The blonde opens up the folder just to gasp when she sees your name on the files. Nika pauses the game and looks over Paige’s shoulder her eyes widening “Another Bueckers at UConn damn” the Croatian girl says.

Right when she says that you walk into your house after Lexa drops you off. Drew jumps up and down and hugs you “Congratulations Y/N” you furrow your brows and hug your little brother back.

Paige hold the folder and your eyes widen “That’s mine” you go to grab it but she holds it above your head using her height to her advantage.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got a scholarship for dance” Paige says trying her hardest not to get mad at you for hiding it.

Your groan “It’s no ones business I don’t even know if I’m going anyways” you try to grab it again but you give up and walk away from them all and go to your room slamming the door behind you.

Paige scoffs and goes to follow you but Nika holds her arm back “Let me talk to her” the brunette begs. Paige rolls her eyes and sits down next to KK.

Nika knocks on your bedroom door and you groan wiping the tears away. You look up at the taller girl standing at your door “What? Here to get mad at me too?” Rolling your eyes you turn away from her and walk back into your room. The basketball player follows you and closes the door behind her.

She sits on top of your vanity and looks at you “Why don’t you wanna go to UConn?” Nika asks.

You turn away from her and look out the window at the birds sitting in the tree. You sniffle and a take a deep breath “I don’t want to be known Paige Bueckers little sister I want my own name for myself not hers” you look away from the window and to the girl sitting on your dresser.

You always had a little crush on Nika but no one knew not even your best friend. You met Nika when Paige started playing basketball for UConn with her, you were only fifteen when you met and she was nineteen so you didn’t try anything with the girl. Now you’re older and so is she but you still didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with her or her relationship with Paige. Your older sister was always very protective of you when it came to relationships because you always picked the wrong people who hurt you.

“Your not just Paige’s little sister I mean your gorgeous and the most sweetest person I’ve ever met and your one hell of a dancer I mean when I see you dance I can’t pull my eyes away from you it’s incredible and your very known for your dancing Y/n not because of Paige because of your talent” Nika says not looking away from you.

You smile and laugh a bit wiping your tears you walk towards her “You think I’m gorgeous” you flirt biting your lip.

What you didn’t expect was for Nika to pull you into a kiss her hands on your cheeks. She pulls away and jump down from the vanity “You the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen” she says honestly her voice quiet as if she didn’t want to scare you away.

You look up at the taller girl your mouth opened in shock “D-Did you know I liked you?” Nika scoffs “Liked?” She asks her head tilting to the side.

“I mean I like you but ho-how did you I mean I don’t know sorry” you stutter falling over your words shaking your head. Nika laughs at your “Your so cute” she says and you blush looking away from the girl.

Nika graps your waist pulling you into her, you slide your hands around her neck and look up at her. She leans down and kisses you again sliding her tongue in your mouth. You kiss back immediately Nika turns you both around and you hop on the vanity sitting where she sat before. You look down at her and pull away from the kiss while she massages your thighs.

“I want to go to UConn if it means I can see you everyday” you say smiling down at her. Nika nods “Yeah well first I gotta take you out on a date” you kiss her cheek and hop down from the vanity. You bubble burst the second you remember Nika is your sisters best friend.

“Fuck my life” you groan and drop down on your bed. Nika furrows her brows confused just a second ago you were happy now she watches your face turn sad, a pout forming on your lips. “What happened?” Nika asks sitting next to you.

“What about Paige?” you ask the older girl sitting next to you. Nika shrugs “What about her?” The Croatian girl asks not understanding what you mean. You look at Nika and scoff “On a scale of one to ten how mad is Paige going to get when she finds out her little sister and best friend are what ever we are?” the gears in Nika’s brain click and she laughs.

“She can get over it I could treat you better than anyone else could” The tall girl scoffs at the idea of Paige trying to keep you both apart. You sigh and Nika pushes down on your bed and gets on top of you. She brushes a strand of your hair from your face and looks down at you “Ne brini dušo moja, bit će dobro, obećavam da se ne opterećuješ” Nika says.

“No idea what you said but sure” you smile at her and she repeats herself in English for you “Dont worry my baby it will be okay I promise dont stress”

You grab her cheek and pull her down into a kiss right when her lips touch yours you slide your tongue in her mouth. Paige opens the door to your room wanting to talk to you just gasp seeing her little sister under her best friend kissing.

“WHAT THE FUCK” Paige yells.

COMMENT IF I SHOULD MAKE A PART TWO OR TURN THIS INTO A SERIES

[imaginespazzi]

Part 7: Home

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

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

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

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 7.1K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

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

August 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paaaaige,” Azzi whines, “focus.”

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

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

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

“It’s pretty.”

“You don’t see it do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

August 2026 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you have thought about it then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

November 2027 

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

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

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

“Can you pick it up?”

“Do I have to?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmhmm where’s my thanksgiving wish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige-”

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

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

“Paige-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

January 2028

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

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

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

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

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

“I miss you too,” she whispers. 

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

“What are you saying Azzi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re never allowed to leave.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening.”

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

***

October 2028 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you wish for Az?”

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

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

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

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

Azzi shakes her head. 

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

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

[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

[paiges-1vur]

can you write for hopkins p x reader!! also love ur stories babe 💗

hold on, we’re going home… as always, enjoy loves <3

paige bueckers. the girl from the small town in minnesota. the uconn women’s basketball commit. ya, you “went to the same school as her.” at least thats what people knew about the two of you. paige wasnt openly gay, but wasn’t necessarily denying any allegations. you were both in similar situations, and were both… girl kissers. you had met in ap biology, junior year. ever since then you guys had become friends, but not necessarily close friends.

you really found out that paige was gay the night you got drunk for the first time. you were hanging out with one of your close friends kaylie. the two of you were just having fun at her house because her parents were gone for the weekend. towards the end of the night, you had found yourself abandoned in her room, while she hooked up with her boyfriend of the time in her hot tub. while trying to walk down to the kitchen to grab water, you fell and fucked up your knee bad. you panicked at the gushing blood, and subconsciously called paige, the first person you could think of. “hey paigey poo! im having so much fun, but can you pick me up…”

two things were sure. one, that she picked up the damn phone in one ring. and two, you were in her car less than 15 minutes later, on the way to her house. you had the hiccups, and the car was silent most of the way home. you decided to break the silence. “hey…paige” you slurred, pausing to hiccup. “are you mad at me.. because im drunk and because i called you.. to come get me?” you managed to ask.

her jaw tightened, her eyes set on the road. “what happened, y/n…” she said plainly. it was a moment before she spoke again, “and.. no. im not mad” her eyes flickered over to you for a second before shifting back to the road again. you were sat criss cross apple sauce in the seat next to her with your hands placed in your lap. “well… me and kaylie were having sooo much fun,” you notice her tongue move against her cheek as you say this, but keep speaking anyway. “but then this stupid guy came over and started…i dont know but kaylie seemed reallyyy busy.” paige thought carefully before she answered. she looked to your knee, “i will take care of your knee when we get home, so dont worry about that,” she locks eyes with you as she speaks “the guy didnt… bring a friend?”

you drunkenly ruin the moment and light heartedly punch paige in the arm, snorting before confessing, “oh god no! i dont know.. its confusing, this year i realized i think im actually into-” you look over to a smirking paige. “into what?” she asks looking at you like your about to be her last meal. you swallow and immediately quiet down. “i-i forgot. are we almost there?” you try to shift the conversation. she laughs, as she pulls into her driveway. talk about perfect timing. paige swiftly got out of the car, putting her lanyard with her keys in the pocket of her sweats. she made her way to your side of the car, opening the door. “im gonna pick you up, i dont want you to fall trying to walk and hurt yourself even more. “ you swallowed. you werent big by any means, and if anything were on the smaller side, but something about someone picking you up always made you feel uneasy. “no.. paige i can just walk, you cant hold me” you try to push her arms away but soon you find yourself being hauled bridal style through paiges front door. you were soon brought to her bedroom, and she placed you to sit gently on the edge of her bed.

“here,” she threw you an oversized tshirt that would reach to about your knees. no surprise, it was a uconn tshirt. “put this on, i dont know if you noticed but your hoodie is soaked, you must have spilled something on it without realizing.” you look down frowning at the stain. “thanks paigey,” you pull the hoodie off and put the tshirt on, paiges eyes fixed on your body the whole time. “mm smells, really good paige.. you smell so fucking good.” she grins walking towards the bed, rolling her eyes and putting a bandaid on your no longer bleeding knee. “thank you, y/n your too sweet” she says softly, looking you in the eyes. “uhm- its really hot in here… can i take off my sweats? i dont want to melt” you ask half nervously, half giggling. paige smiles down at you, placing her hands on the bed next to either side of you, standing between your legs. “ill help you ma, dont worry..” she says, moving to help you take them off. “just lift your hips for me baby” you quickly comply and she pulls them off, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

your paralyzed. trapped by paiges arms, her eyes devouring you. “you can get comfortable, lie down and ill go grab you water” she says finally getting up from between your legs and turning to the mini fridge in her room. you lie down and she tosses you a water. you quickly drink it, watching as she climbs into bed next to you. she leans against the headboard, one arm propped behind her head as she turns to look at you. “uconn looks so damn good on you, you know?” your voice is suddenly gone along with your ability to speak as paige presses you for answers. “about earlier, what are you into? just… want to get to know you better. its been a while since we have talked” she says smirking. she moves her hand to your thigh, slowly tracing up and down the length of it.

your so drunk at this point in time that you cant help but let out a small whine at the sudden touch of paiges cold, long fingers on your hot skin. “oh my.. paige..” her smirk only grows, her fingers traveling higher and higher up your thigh. “yes darling? keep talking dont be shy” she looks at you again, knowing shes about to get what she wants. “well somebody.. recently.. just made me realize, maybe im not into guys” you say slowly. paige takes her hand off your thigh. she looks down at your legs again before meeting your eyes. “dont be shy around me love, just know you can always call if you need help with anything.. okay?” she says lying down.

whatever this… moment is, you dont want it to end. a mix of pleasure and confusion floods your senses as paige grabs you by the waist, pulling you in. “we can talk about.. it, another time love. you need to rest” she whispers, placing a small kiss on your shoulder. you decide to take her advice, and adjust yourself against her body, leaning into her touch as you drift off to sleep in her arms…

muehehhehe lots and lots of tension, but a sweet ending. whats better than that? (pure smut. thats the answer.) i tried to take a break from just writing pure filth, so heres this shitty idea i wrote out at 1 am <3

also i loveeee hopkins p, so expect more fics!!!

[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.

[whatsnewalycat]

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

���We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure. 

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact. 

So it begins. 

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office. 

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?” 

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.” 

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?” 

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.” 

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.” 

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.” 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.” 

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat. 

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.” 

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her. 

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings. 

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor. 

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface. 

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?” 

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?” 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers. 

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.” 

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you. 

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that. 

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant. 

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it. 

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm. 

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray. 

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait. 

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer. 

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open. 

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him. 

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?” 

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort. 

So fucking professional. 

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant. 

“Anything else I can get for you?” 

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.” 

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.” 

“I can smell.” 

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional. 

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. 

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.” 

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” 

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door. 

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do. 

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning. 

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor. 

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy. 

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again. 

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest. 

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything. 

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy. 

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford. 

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided. 

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh. 

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes. 

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?” 

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?” 

“What’re the options?” 

“Chicken roulade or salmon.” 

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder. 

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?” 

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.” 

“Dining room or room service?” 

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.” 

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?” 

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—” 

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.” 

“But still—” 

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.” 

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.” 

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.” 

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way. 

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you. 

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation. 

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table. 

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting. 

“Dieter.” 

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?” 

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?” 

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.” 

“You could eat out here.” 

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.” 

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him. 

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.” 

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.” 

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality. 

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you. 

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?” 

“I… shouldn’t.” 

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision. 

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.” 

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there. 

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.” 

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping. 

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass. 

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable. 

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.” 

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile. 

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.” 

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.” 

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?” 

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?” 

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.” 

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to. 

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.” 

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.” 

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.” 

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like. 

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.” 

— 

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING 

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting. 

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?” 

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.” 

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?” 

“Help yourself.” 

“Do you want one?” 

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy. 

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial? 

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office. 

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge. 

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” 

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?” 

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape. 

“Right now?” 

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question. 

“Can I shovel first?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room. 

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?” 

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet. 

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest. 

What a fucking nightmare. 

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?” 

“The fan doesn’t work.” 

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.” 

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life. 

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches. 

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?” 

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.” 

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales. 

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.” 

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake. 

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?” 

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit. 

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.” 

“Whadda you mean?” you frown. 

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie. 

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?” 

You nod. 

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon. 

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.” 

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?” 

“Because we’re snowed in.” 

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.” 

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter. 

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—” 

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.” 

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat. 

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.” 

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?” 

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?” 

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?” 

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?” 

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?” 

“Here is fine.” 

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise. 

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box. 

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open. 

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants. 

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. 

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”  

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?” 

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.” 

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.” 

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.” 

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?” 

“In pictures.” 

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.” 

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble. 

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still. 

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter. 

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white. 

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party. 

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling. 

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern. 

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire. 

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.” 

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him. 

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.” 

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.” 

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.” 

“Is that the shitty one?” 

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.” 

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.” 

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”  

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.” 

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable. 

You have a big fat crush. 

So fucking professional. 

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face. 

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring. 

Curiosity prods your heart. 

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob. 

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut. 

Dusting it is. 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity. 

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you. 

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like: 

He-doesn’t-like-you 

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage. 

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him. 

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds. 

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something. 

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him? 

Can’t get far enough away from you. 

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock. 

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die. 

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock. 

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible. 

Well, he seems chipper. 

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area. 

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss. 

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway. 

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?” 

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.” 

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases. 

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!” 

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on. 

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.” 

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES. 

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room. 

“Want me to carry that?” 

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested. 

“No, I got it.” 

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.” 

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder. 

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms. 

“Were you painting?” 

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet. 

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.” 

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table. 

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside. 

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames. 

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?” 

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing. 

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.” 

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.” 

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs. 

He doesn’t, though. 

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.” 

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?” 

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter. 

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?” 

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor. 

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone. 

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?” 

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.” 

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.” 

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?” 

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?” 

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?” 

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.” 

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.” 

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.” 

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.” 

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down. 

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?” 

“Will you be joining me?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease. 

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?” 

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.” 

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?” 

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?” 

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room. 

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?” 

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him. 

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation. 

“Fuck it, why not?” 

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.” 

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?” 

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.” 

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?” 

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.” 

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters. 

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?” 

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other. 

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.” 

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”  

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair. 

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.” 

“To the possibilities.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM 

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad. 

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more. 

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.” 

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Can I open another bottle?” 

“Go for it.” 

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway. 

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark. 

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself? 

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room. 

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table. 

“Of course, sir.” 

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle. 

“Sorry. Habit.” 

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?” 

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.” 

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable. 

“Palm reading?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?” 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?” 

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.” 

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs. 

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod. 

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm. 

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting. 

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy. 

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.” 

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.” 

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?” 

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them. 

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you. 

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though. 

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite. 

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his. 

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.” 

You do. 

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?” 

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.” 

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy. 

But really, you know he’s right. 

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life. 

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face. 

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.” 

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?” 

“But what if it’s right?” 

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in. 

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth. 

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer. 

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp. 

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine. 

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief. 

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.  

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?” 

“Yes.” 

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?” 

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle. 

“Underwear too?”

He nods. 

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.” 

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.” 

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello. 

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.” 

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?” 

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.” 

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching  him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?” 

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.” 

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.” 

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly. 

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?” 

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” 

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length. 

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face. 

“God yes, please, baby.” 

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down. 

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair. 

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin. 

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in. 

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob. 

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan. 

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.” 

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?” 

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them. 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.” 

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.” 

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?” 

“Is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing. 

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?” 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you. 

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life. 

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen? 

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut. 

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful. 

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions. 

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his. 

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.” 

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe. 

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?” 

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.” 

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving. 

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?” 

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?” 

“What’re you freaking out about?” 

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?” 

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?” 

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.” 

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug. 

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?” 

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.” 

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.” 

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart. 

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.” 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” 

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter. 

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.” 

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.” 

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter. 

��

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday. 

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras. 

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen. 

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work. 

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky. 

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work. 

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner. 

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since. 

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it. 

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial. 

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?” 

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.” 

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.” 

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.” 

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.” 

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body. 

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.” 

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.” 

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302. 

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room. 

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp. 

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face. 

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.” 

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair. 

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.” 

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?” 

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Runaway

Anyone But You

Summary: After successfully running away from your past, it all comes crashing down 10 years later on a cold, snowy Halloween night.

Hello loves and Happy Halloween! This is part 1 in a mini-series!

18+ Only! MDNI!

CW: No use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "sunshine". Home invasion. Knife use. General canon type violence.

WC: 1.5K

Halloween Night - 2019

Scandia, Minnesota

“A KitKat for the witch, oooh and how about a Snickers for Spider Man?” You fawned over the two small children proudly wearing their costumes, settling the candy in each of their buckets, waving to their parents as they took off back down the sidewalk with unadulterated childhood delight.

You smiled, looking around as the neighborhood was beginning to grow quiet in the cool night. The visitors went from a steady stream to trickling at this point.

A Halloween movie marathon was playing in the background as you shut the door and made your way back into the living room to make yourself cozy on the sofa once more. Your eyes grow heavy the closer the clock edges past 10 pm.

The doorbell chime caught your attention, rousing you from a soft doze as you stood, stretching. In your half dazed state, you grabbed the bowl of candy not realizing it was far too late for any more youngsters.

You shuffled to the door, sweater falling off your shoulder, swinging it open with as much enthusiasm that you could muster but there was no one there. No black cat or Buzz Light-year standing in the doorway begging for a treat.

With bleary eyes, you blink a few times, stepping out onto the porch with your worn house slippers looking around with a slight uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.

Your breath blows visible in the air, as you wrap your free arm around yourself. A new blanket of snow sparkled under the moonlight, with a fresh set of footprints visible, leading to the side yard, prints larger than any child could make suddenly setting you on high alert.

Slow and methodically you start to back up into the house, spotting movement just out of the corner of your eye. Quickly, you turn your head in time to see a shadow move out of your line of vision and into the nearby trees.

“Shit,” hissing low under your breath, moving a little faster and slamming the door as soon as you made it back into the foyer. Your hands moved to lock and deadbolt it as quickly as possible, keeping your eyes fixed firmly out into the yard through the front door windows.

Maybe some teenagers were trying to play a trick on you, but something deep down told you otherwise as you decidedly moved to the kitchen.

There were two choices, pretend you hadn't seen whoever's shadow that was and hope they were playing a harmless prank or prepare for a fight that was years in the making.

You didn't own a gun, too many questions and a background check would have immediately drawn attention, although right now you wish you had something other than just kitchen knives.

The sliding back door was locked, but it was the most vulnerable entry point. You made no attempt to hide, standing there in the kitchen light, moving across the door and looking out across the frozen yard. This was it, making it very clear you weren't going to make it easy for them.

You crossed back into the living room, about to shut the TV off, when a loud crash of glass shattering echoed through the house. Wasting no time, you ran out into the foyer and climbed up the stairs two at a time, without looking back. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you made it to the second floor landing and rushed down the hall.

The blood coursing through your veins was thoroughly spiked with adrenaline as you made it to the bedroom, the last room at the end of the hall, leaving the door open you quietly lean down and crawl under the bed with the large knife gripped tight and at the ready.

It was quiet, too quiet, as you waited for any sounds of the intruder, trying to steady your now rapid breathing but all you could hear was the TV from downstairs.

A few more excruciating moments of silence that seemed to stretch on forever and then you hear it, the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls against the old hardwood floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump. They were taking a leisurely pace down the hall, as if they hadn't just broken into your home. They stop, just as the door across from yours slowly creaks open.

Shuffling and banging around momentarily startles you, but you stay quiet, clasping a hand over your mouth. Your eyes remain glued to the bottom of the doorframe.

You hold your breath as a pair of black tactical boots come into view, pausing momentarily as they take in the layout of the room. They edge toward the closet and pull open the door, instantly ripping clothes from hangers and shoving things out of the way littering the floor below.

They let out a frustrated sigh, muttering a muffled “shit,” turning toward the bed. It feels like time stands still as you try not to make a sound but draw the knife closer to your body.

They whirl slightly back toward the door and take a step as you let out a breath you had been holding, closing your eyes.

Leather suddenly creaks in the dark, making your head jerk toward the sound at the end of the bed.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of a masked figure looking back at you but before your brain can process a decent thought, a large hand wraps around your ankle yanking you forcefully from your hiding place as you let out a squeak of surprise. The knife slips from your hand as you claw to get it back, hanging onto it with everything you have.

They pull you further out into the open as you begin to kick and thrash, screaming out. The carpet burns your bare torso, with your sweater rising up from the force of it all.

A few grunts and protests from them, but it's to no avail, their grip is tight, bruisingly so. You grapple for purchase a few more moments, grabbing the bottom of the bedpost as you force your free leg back into their shin as hard as you can.

“Fuck!” They hiss, releasing your ankle but quickly regaining composure and forcefully holding onto your hip, pressing you further into the carpeting as you let go of the bed pulling the knife toward you, hoping they hadn't spotted it.

You close your eyes as both of their large hands easily flip you over on your back. Your eyes snap back open, suddenly face to face with a Jack Skellington mask.

Your lips quirk into a small smirk as they tilt their head down at you curiously. Time to act, grabbing the knife and slicing toward them as fast and hard as you could.

They see the glint once you brandish your weapon and lean back, dodging most of the blow as it grazes their bicep with a hiss and growl, briefly gripping their arm before quickly turning their attention back to you.

“Goddamnit!” They grit, easily overpowering you, grabbing your wrist as you tried to take another swing and tossing the knife across the room.

“Fuck you!” You spit, thrashing as they pin your arms above your head and throw their leg over you, straddling your waist, pinning you down as you continue to kick.

“Goddamn, just as fiery as ever! Should've known this wouldn't be easy!” He bellows out, muffled through the mask but your eyes narrow warily at the voice. Your face morphs into confusion, followed with a sudden flash of recognition passing over your features.

It couldn't be. Your gaze lingers on the mask for a moment, trailing downward. A leather jacket, paired with black tactical pants and a thigh holster. No. Anyone but him.

“Gator?” You rasp out, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

His name hangs thickly between you, tilting his head as if debating with himself before heavily sighing and maneuvering his hands around so only his left still has both your wrists pinned above you.

He lifts the other, finally ripping the mask from his face. You stare into those once familiar, hazel eyes that suddenly thrust you back into a landslide of memories and emotions. A far cry from the boy you once knew, a man before you now.

“Hey Sunshine.” He says with that lopsided grin that used to give you butterflies, a nonchalance about the entire situation that has you stunned, the urge to fight suddenly draining from your body.

“That damn mask was gettin’ hot.” He adds, tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Wh— What the hell are you doing here?” Asking, when you already know the answer but your mind is unwilling to believe it.

“What do you think?” Leaning a little further into your space. “Roy sent me.”

“Gator, you can't take me back there. You know exactly what's waiting for me.” You rush out, a million scenarios running through your mind.

You'd expected this eventually, always looking over your shoulder but never could have imagined it would be Gator coming to collect.

[stormsplurge]

happy tears overflowing, lightning bolts so overwhelming

warnings: slight smut at the end, just fem receiving oral, 18+ read at your own risk

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

inspired by anime eyes by kacey musgraves <3

1192 words

a/n: this is my first time writing x reader smut and my first time writing x reader stuff in a whiiiiile so i apologize if this is rough. regardless, i hope you enjoy!

“seth.” you said, putting down the knife you were chopping vegetables with, “i can feel your eyes staring a hole in the back of my head.”

“if you want me to stop you should try being less beautiful.” he replied.

before you could open your mouth to reply, he’d made his way across the kitchen and pulled you away from the counter. 

“seth!” you shrieked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into the air. 

you two had been spending the last week in minnesota, spending time with burnzie’s family and enjoying the last bits of summer before you had to get back to carolina. it was through burnzie, actually, that you’d met seth. he was a frequent customer at the animal shelter you worked at, eventually becoming a volunteer, and one of your friends.

you’d organized an adoption event, trying to find some of the pets forever homes and make room for new rescues, and burnzie offered to bring his “friends” as volunteers. he’d forgotten to mention those friends were a bunch of professional hockey players. 

seth had immediately caught your eye. his gap-toothed smile and infectious laughter, but also the edges of his shoulder tattoo peeking out from the edge of his t-shirt sleeves. everything about him was drawing you in, by the time he’d brought you adoption papers to sign off on you knew he’d had you.

“you’re adopting lulu?” you questioned, petting the gorgeous pitbull puppy in his arms.

“if it’s okay.” he responded, focusing his eyes away from the dog and looking into yours for approval.

“of course it’s okay” you said, “i’m so glad she’s finding her forever home. she’s been in the shelter for forever.”

“do you think i could get your number?” he quickly replied, before adding a “so i can text you if i have any questions about, yknow, lulu.”

“jarvis.” you chirped. “if you wanted my number you could have just asked, you didn’t need to adopt a puppy.”

“i know… but lulu was looking at me with her sad puppy dog eyes i couldn’t just leave her here.”

oh god, you thought. i’m fucked.

——

seth asked you out not even a week later.

he’d managed to get his hands on your work schedule and sent a flower every hour, all eight hours you were all at work. at first it was a daisy, with a note attached with only the word “go” you on it. next came a lily, with a note saying “out”. eventually leaving you with eight different flowers spelling out “go out with me please, love seth.” and a mystery address attached to the final one.

everything about the date was perfect, he’d found a secluded park where you wouldn’t be bothered by anybody and set up a picnic. every snack you’d offhandedly mentioned while you two had been texting, all of your favorite foods, everything you could think of was laid out on the blanket.

“oh seth…” you marveled. “you didn’t have to do this all for me.”

“of course i did.” he said, matter of factly. “my mom raised me to never half-ass anything, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman.”

“how’d you even think of this.”

“well burnzie mentioned that you’d been stressed out at work, and aho told me his girlfriend thinks this park is really romantic. so, yeah.”

“i love it.” you said, placing your hand on top of his, where it sat resting on his thigh. “thank you.”

——

from there the rest was history, the last year you’d spent with seth had been some of the best of your life. every minute of your day was filled with love, from lulu’s morning kisses to the daily texts you would get from jarvy as soon as practice was over. everything about it was perfect. 

“seth.” you said as he gently placed you on the counter. “i love you.”

“i know.” he mused, tilting your chin up and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this here.” you whispered as his lips trailed over your jaw and onto your neck. “anyone could walk in at any second.”

“they wont be back for another couple of hours, i promise.” he replied as he placed his hands under your thighs and picked you up. you looped your arms around his neck, letting him carry you into the guestroom. 

the kisses were unrelenting at this point. your neck, your collarbones, the spot above your belly button. slowly making his way down to the edge of your shorts. 

“can i?” he asked, waiting for a yes to leave your lips before hooking his finger under the waistband and pulling the fabric down. the energy in the room had quickly turned from comforting to intense, seth’s eyes focusing exclusively on you. 

“you are so beautiful.” he breathes out between kisses, letting the stubble on his cheeks scratch against your inner thighs. 

“you don’t have to keep saying that.” you reply as he brings his tongue to your pussy.

seth aproached sex the same way he did hockey. making every second count, every move having an end goal. on the ice this meant helping his team and scoring goals, and in the bedroom it meant making sure you always felt good. 

you moaned his name as he inched his middle finger farther into you, bringing your hands to his hair and wrapping your fingers in the slight curls that formed at the nape of his neck. 

“you should, ah-, shave the sides again.” you whined, twitching with every slight movement he made. 

“bring back the mullet?” he chuckled, pushing his ring finger in as he spoke. “what about racing stripes should i do those too?”

a yes slipped out of your lips, followed quickly by seth pumping his fingers in and out of you at a desperate pace. his mouth made it’s way to your core as you felt yourself begin to unravel, rapidly reaching your peak.

“seth.” you moaned, throwing your head back. “i’m so close.”

“i know baby, you’re doing so good for me.” 

you were seeing stars, forgetting that you were in someone else’s house, panting and moaning and whining as loud as you could. the pressure in-between your legs growing until you couldn’t take it anymore, coming with seths name on your lips and his head in between your legs.

he was grinning at you from the edge of the bed, already back to his giggly self.

“i love you so much.” he said, making his way up the bed and tucking your hair between your ear.

you shushed him as you brought your hands to his cheeks and pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. if it were any other day you’d happily go for another round, but the sun was getting to you so you just rolled seth onto his side and burrowed yourself in his chest. the smell of sweat and deodorant pulling you into him. as you felt your eyes begin to grow heavier you felt him drape a blanket over the two of you.

“i love you too.” 

[bu3ckers]

never be like you

•paige bueckers x fem!reader

•angst, explicit language, fluff

•nsfw

summary | oc is paige’s highschool best friend, except they’ve always had feelings for each other. when they got to uconn, things got complicated..

author’s note: this is loosely based off of never be like you by flume!! best friends to lovers is my favorite trope ever so enjoyy. also im too lazy to put my auto caps on, so im sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes

-

halloween 2019

hopkins, minnesota

11:30 pm

*oc and paige are both 18*

-

this was my last halloween party of my highschool years. as paige and i were dancing together in a random senior’s backyard, my mind began to wander. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was because she was staring into my soul with the most lust filled gaze ever. i broke out of my trance to find her smirking, tilting her head towards her car. “wanna get out?” she mouthed, knowing i wouldn’t be able to hear her over the music. i nodded in response and she gingerly took my hand and jogged out of the backyard. i struggled to keep up, still feeling the slight effects of the pen i took a few hits of almost an hour ago. she wasted no time driving back to her house, knowing her parents and brother were gone for the weekend. her free hand was gripping my thigh, dangerously high as i bit my lip in an attempt to simmer my excitement down. i dont know why i never told her how i really felt - i know she felt the same. but there was something telling me that she was just toying with me.

-

she finally pulled into her driveway and ran around the car to open the door for me. i stumbled out, gripping the blonde for balance. “get on” she said, holding out her arms, gesturing for me to jump into them. i obliged and she lifted me up, her hands going to my ass as i wrapped my arms around her neck. she walked to her door and opened it, slamming it closed with her foot once we were inside. she set me down to put her keys on the table before surging towards me, bringing me in for a passionate kiss. she lead me to her room, lips never leaving mine. after her door shut, the whole night became a blur. the only thing i remember was waking up with a pleasant pain between my legs, wrapped in paige’s arms.

-

august 2020

storrs, connecticut

7:30 pm

-

it was move in day for me and paige. we’d graduated from hopkins together and somehow ended up committing to uconn together. we both decided it would only make sense for us to dorm together. boy was i wrong.

-

jerking back tears while watching my parents leave along with paige’s wasn’t easy. paige noticed me standing there alone, staring at the road long after they’d left. she came up behind me, her hand going to the small of my back as hot tears were now flowing freely down my face. “no, no, no, it’s okay don’t cry, you’ll see them soon”, she said, allowing me to fold into her open arms. she held me as i soaked her shirt with tears, completely disregarding the box filled dorm that was waiting for us. i stayed wrapped in her embrace as the parking lot emptied and my tears subsided. the sun began to set as i lifted my head from her chest, looking up at her with glossy eyes. she looked down at me with a pout, trying to cheer me up. i giggled at the sight, watching her mouth turn up into a smile as she did a little fist pump. "see, all better” she joked, cupping my face and wiping my tears with her thumbs. “i bet you feel real accomplished” i said through a snotty laugh. “you know i do” she replied, her breath catching when she looked at the beautiful sunset. the sky was painted deep orange and yellow, pale pink reflecting onto the clouds making them look like cotton candy. i watched her take in the sunset, admiring the way it shone on her perfect face. i peeled my eyes away to look at the sunset myself. it was ethereal. i got lost in the sky, unaware that paige was gazing at me with a soft smile. i turned my head to find her staring, and before i could tease her about it, she connected our lips in a slow, sweet kiss. her hands gently held my waist as my arms traveled to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. my lips moved expertly against hers as her hands moved up my back. i pulled away, smiling up at her. “you’re so beautiful”, she began, watching my face redden, “i love you”. my eyes widened a bit at the last statement. “i love you too p”, i replied, reaching up to kiss her again.

i had to keep reminding myself that we were just best friends, even though i was beginning to hate the label. best friends don’t kiss like that. best friends don’t have sex every so often. and best friends sure don’t talk to each other like that.

-

present day

9:45 pm

storrs, connecticut

-

paige was hanging out with her teammates while i was in class. i loved her team - they treated me like a sister, especially the freshmen, who always looked up to me. i had just gotten home from my last class, exhausted and burnt out from the amount of work i had to do. when i got back inside, i overheard paige, aubrey, kk and ice talking about something, someone. “so, paige, how’s your lil girlfriend?” kk joked. it clicked in my head that i was the topic of conversation. i stopped in my tracks as paige began to respond. “what girlfriend?”, she replied. “come on p, stop playing dumb, we all know you guys aint best friends” ice retorted. i peeked through the door that was cracked open and watched aubrey playfully punch her in the shoulder, laughing. see, throughout our freshman year, i had to deal with the amount of girls paige brought home. i hated that era of her. i knew she was just being a dumb college girl, i knew she didn’t care about those girls, but it hurt me to think about the fact that i was one of the many girls on her roster. when she finally changed her ways to focus on basketball after her acl injury, i felt a wave of relief wash over me. sure, it meant that i was also cleared off her roster, but we still resumed our normal not-best-friend-like activities. i held my breath as she began to answer. “i’m being serious, she’s my best friend and nothing more. i don’t even like her like that for real. i mean, she’s not even my type”, she replied. i practically winced at every word that left her mouth. she couldn’t be serious, right? i didn’t know what else to do in that moment. i turned around, grabbed my keys and stormed out. im guessing she heard me, because as i was running down the hallway she flew outside and sprinted to catch up to me. “shit, yn, you heard that?” she said when she got to me, exasperated. i turned around to face her guilty eyes. “yeah paige, i did. do me a favor and fuck off for me will you?” i replied, my words shaky as tears pricked my eyes. i ran downstairs and made my way outside before she could even reply. i started my car and began to drive mindlessly, just wanting to get away. i pulled into an empty dunkin’ lot, let my tears flow freely, and cried for what felt like hours.

-

paige’s pov

10:00 pm

storrs, connecticut

-

none of my words were true. i liked her so much, i just didn’t want to tell them right there. azzi was the only one who knew.

watching tears build at her waterline crushed me. i’ve never made her cry before. her words hit me hard. i wanted to follow her, i wanted to be the one to comfort her just like i did on move in day. i knew she wouldn’t let me in - she never did. she always had her walls up and rarely cried in front of me.

i checked her location, wanting to know if she was safe at least.

dunkin: hartford, ct

i had no idea why she was all the way in hartford. i knew she had a habit of absentmindedly driving when she was upset, but she’s never gone this far. fuck. i seriously hurt her. as much as i wanted to drive to her, i knew it was a bad idea. it took everything in me to trudge back to my dorm, our dorm. i opened the door slowly, my head hung low. aubrey, kk and ice were waiting behind the door, confusion painted on all of their faces. “p, what the fuck was that?” aubrey said. “man, i fucked up big time. i lied to y’all, i really do like her. i just didn’t wanna tell you guys”. “do you think we’re stupid? we knew girl. you suck at lying” kk retorted, snorting. “oh”, i replied, biting my lip. “go get your girl bueckers” ice said, ushering me out of my own dorm. i grabbed my keys and hopped into my car, wasting no time driving to her. luckily she was still at that random dunkin’, although i knew she didn’t exactly want to see me. i pulled up next to her car and peered through her window. the only thing i could make out through the heavy rain coating her window was the sight of her holding her head in her hands, her chest heaving up and down. it broke me to see her like that. i just sat there and watched her for a while, my face turning white when she eventually noticed me. her expression immediately shifted from miserable to livid as she switched from park to reverse, quickly pulling out of the lot. i didn’t even try to follow her. i sunk into my seat and ran my hands down my face, pinching my eyelids and hitting the steering wheel. i fucked up, bad.

-

oc’s pov

11:00 pm

storrs, connecticut

-

i booked a room at the graduate hotel, solely to get away from the blonde. i only planned on staying there for the weekend because of the ridiculously high prices. i checked in and didn’t even bother putting my stuff away. i just flopped on the bed, burying my face in a pillow. stop thinking about her. you’re not her type. my mind was in a million different places at once, but it seemed to go silent when i checked my phone. they were all notifications from paige, about 16 missed calls and 20 unread messages. they ranged from “im so sorry” to “i miss you” to “are you okay?” to “where are you??”. tired and angry, i took her off my allowed people on do not disturb. i couldn’t bear to think about her at all. i quickly got changed into my pajamas and settled into bed, feeling cold and empty without paige’s presence beside me. it was weird falling asleep without her around me. i don’t think i’ve slept without her since freshman year started. i guess it’s never too late to try new things.

-

4:30 pm

storrs, connecticut

i spent practically the whole weekend rotting in the graduate hotel. i was honestly getting tired of ignoring paige. i missed her so much, but she didn’t have to know that. checking out of the hotel felt so good, and i was finally ready to speak to her after regaining my composure. i made my way back to our dorm, preparing to let her in and explain herself. i walked in only to be met with paige and another girl. she looked exactly like me, a doppelgänger if you will. her hair, her height, her eyes, everything. it looked like a friendly interaction, as though paige was planning to get up and leave, but i didn’t even let her reach the door. spinning on my heels, i stormed out for the second time this week, slamming the door in her face. i had enough. i’d seen enough. the sound of the door opening behind me angered my soul. “don’t fucking follow me paige”, i yelled, not even looking back. i didn’t want to see her face at all. i heard the door close quietly, footsteps trailing behind me. i was ready to scream at her. instead of being met with the tall blonde, i turned to see my doppelgänger. “hey, i don’t have any idea who you are, i was just leaving anyways but i’m not really interested in paige for real. she looked like she needed a shoulder to cry on..but that’s none of my business. i’m on your side babe, if anything” the girl, who’s name i learned was jade, spoke. her tone was gentle. she sounded genuinely concerned. “thank you, at least someone here understands me” i replied, laughing slightly. we exchanged numbers and i thanked her again for being so kind. she smiled and i left, needing somewhere to stay. although i was close to the entire team, azzi was the one i was closest to. well, aside from paige. azzi, paige and i have been sort of like a trio since highschool. whenever azzi came to visit, we had the time of our lives. we were so excited when she announced her signing with uconn. i texted her the whole situation and she immediately replied, welcoming me over. i sped over to her place, which wasn’t far from paige and i’s. she was waiting for me at the door, worry painted on her face. i began sobbing as soon as i saw her, just needing to be comforted. when we got inside she brought me over to the couch and pulled me into her lap, holding me as i hiccuped and shook uncontrollably. i cried until i couldn’t anymore again this week. this wasn’t like me. i never really cried like this. how could paige be causing all of this?

my tears turned into sniffles and azzi’s shirt was soaked. after i finished crying, i sat in her arms, my head buried in the crook of her neck, a comfortable silence filling the room as i regained composure. “honey, what happened?” she finally spoke, her voice soft. i lifted my head and began, “i overheard paige talking to aubrey, ice, and kk on friday.. they were teasing her about me and she said that she never liked me at all and that i wasn’t her type and…oh God”. my head fell into my hands as more tears began flowing down my face. azzi instantly pulled me back against her, rubbing my back to soothe me. “shh, it’s okay, i’m right here. you’re okay”. “i caught her with another girl azzi”, i confessed, sobbing harder. “oh hon..” she replied, visibly upset with paige. “i swear, im gonna kill her” she muttered to herself. i mustered out a slight, snotty laugh at her anger. “i wanted to give her the light of day after she tried to explain what she said about me, but that was the last straw. i don’t know what to do now”, i spoke, my voice cracking, tears still spilling down my face. “you don’t have to do anything right now, just stay here and take a break. you need it. i’ll be right here” she answered. “thanks az, i love you” i told her, meaning every word. i don’t know what i’d do without her. “i love you too”. i continued crying in her arms as the sun set.

-

paige’s pov

azzi’s apartment ..

-

i couldn’t help but follow her to azzi’s apartment. hearing everything she said and how she said it broke me. her voice, her tears, everything about it made me sick to my stomach. it made it worse that i was the one who did this, again. how could i be so stupid? how could i try to fill the void she left? nobody could ever be like her. i wasn’t going to let anything happen between jade and i. i couldn’t bring myself to. i had to tell her that. but seeing the look on her face when she saw me that night, the way azzi was cradling her as tears streamed down her face was too much for me. i couldn’t stand to see her like that. i quietly slipped away from azzi’s apartment, not being able to see her crying anymore. when i got back to our place, i tried texting her again. it was pointless - she hadn’t even replied to the texts i sent her on friday night. i sat on the couch and pondered for a while. deciding to test my luck, i headed back to azzi’s apartment.

-

oc’s pov

-

my tears finally faded as i began drifting off to sleep. azzi noticed my eyes drooping which inclined her to lift me off the couch and carry me to her room. she laid me down and tucked me into her bed. “get some rest, okay?” she whispered, lips pressed to the crown of my head. i nodded and smiled sleepily up at her. “thank you az” i murmered. “of course” she replied, turning on her fairy lights and flicking the light off. she closed the door, leaving it cracked open slightly. i heard some commotion coming from outside the door, but i eventually fell asleep, tear tracks drying on my face.

-

paige’s pov

-

speeding right back over to azzi’s apartment almost cost me my car privileges, but i didn’t care. i needed to see her. i flew down the hallway and practically banged on azzi’s door. after about a minute or so it opened, and i was met with azzi’s stern glare. she was visibly angry with me, for good reason. “paige. are you stupid or dumb?” she said. not really what i wanted to hear. “i know, i know, i messed up bad. but i need to explain to her. i need to talk to her”. “you do realize she’s completely broken and wants nothing to do with you? she’s also asleep right now”. great. i just want to see her face again. “can i just..” my voice trails off. “can you what paige?” i clear my throat. “can i just see her, please?”

azzi thought for a few moments.

“fine, go, she’s in my room”.

i thanked azzi profusely and quietly shuffled into her room. there she was, sleeping like an angel with the fairy lights perfectly illuminating her face. she looked beautiful during any time of day. i stood over her for a while and just watched her sleep like the weirdo i was. eventually, i got tired of standing and oh so gently sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. a heavy sigh escaped my mouth as i watched her sleep peacefully. my arms and hands apparently had a mind of their own, because before i knew it i was stroking her face gently. i couldn’t bring myself to stop. her face is so perfect, everything about her is so perfect. i slightly brushed my thumb over her lips, trying not to wake her. i failed as soon as my hand reached the top of her head, petting it and stroking the hair down her face. she began to stir under me, blinking her eyes open. i knew she was a heavy sleeper and it took a few minutes for her to wake up, so i continued to graze her face. when she began to gain consciousness, i panicked and planted my feet in the ground to stand up. a soft voice stopped my escape.

“paige?”

i froze in place and waited for her to speak again.

“what are you doing here?” she asked in that adorable, sleepy voice she has when she first wakes up.

turning around, i slowly walked back towards the bed where she laid, curled up in azzi’s fuzzy blankets, head craned slightly to see me.

“oh uh, i was just-“

i stopped.

“hm?”

“i was checking..on you.”

“why?”

she was waking up fully now.

“because i hurt you. and i’m sorry.”

her expression changed from sleepy to upset, and i noticed the tear tracks that stained her face.

“you’re sorry?” she answered, tears welling up in her eyes. “now you’re sorry? do you realize what you put me through?” she said, hot angry tears flowing freely down her soft cheeks.

“i-“ i tried to retaliate, but stopped immediately when she broke down sobbing.

“baby i-“

“don’t call me that”, she spat, glaring at me through wet eyelashes.

ouch.

“how can you casually come back here and sorry your way out of this? don’t you know how long i suffered watching you hook up with all of these girls in front of me? don’t you realize how hurtful it was to be one of those girls on your ever growing roster? do you even know how long i waited for you paige? all throughout our little friends with benefits phase in high school, all while i became a hook up and not a best friend, all while i was there for you when you tore your acl, all of it. and then you go ahead and tell aubs, ice and kk that i’m not your type? that you never liked me like that? and then proceeded to hook up with a girl that looks exactly like me? don’t you know what that does to someo-“

“i love you”.

-

oc’s pov

-

“i love you”.

i stopped my rant instantly and shot my eyes up to meet hers. she immediately looked down and took her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“you what?”

“i love you. more than anything”.

i scoff and laugh a little, shocked.

“but i thought-“

she cuts me off by leaping onto the bed and bringing me in for a long kiss, pouring out every pent up emotion she had built up in her. our lips moved against each other perfectly. i didnt want to admit how much i was craving this. she slid her tongue into my mouth and they danced together as we made out. it was sweet. it was everything i had been missing. we slowly dwindled down and pressed our foreheads together. she took my head in her hands.

“i. love. you.”

i sniffled and lightly smiled up at her.

“you do?”

“i’ll say it again and again and again. however many times it takes for you to believe me.”

“you would?”

she brought her lips to my forehead and spoke against it, still holding my face.

“of course i would”.

laughing breathily, i retaliated.

“i love you too. i love you more, actually”.

she peeled her lips away from my forehead and looked me dead in the eyes.

“not possible. all those girls? they’ll never be like you.” she said, grinning wildly, waiting for my response.

my finally dried face turned damp again and my mouth turned up in a smile as happy tears streamed down my face. i hugged her so tight and cried into her neck, kissing it simultaneously.

“i love you paige. so much”.

“i love you more baby”.

pulling away from her neck, i crashed my lips onto hers. we made out for what seemed like hours, basking in the warmth that we brought each other.

azzi smiled at the sight of us making up, proud of her idiot best friends who didn’t know how to deal with their feelings.

we finally headed back to our place together. we went straight to our room and laid down, limbs tangled together.

my head rested on her chest as she gently played with the ends of my hair, curling them with her fingers.

the world had stopped spinning. paige and i were girlfriends. not best friends. everything aligned.