#I'm adding a lot more to the plot this time

[murderbot-moodboard]

Episode 7 of Murderbot, plus recently discovering some new songs to love, has inspired me to assemble the two Murderbot TV playlists I'd started—one for Murderbot, and one for Gurathin—so they're now ready for listening.

First, four notes:

1) These playlists are "living documents" and subject to further tweaks. Season 1 obviously isn't finished yet, and regardless, I still edit my "finished" playlists as I discover new songs, find ones that fit better, decide one doesn't actually work well, etc. I also do my best to make them generally enjoyable for most people, but I am but one person with one person's music taste, so take that as you will.

2) Since the plot for 'Murderbot' Season 1 overlaps with the plot for 'All Systems Red,' my TV playlist for Murderbot has most of the same songs as the beginning of my Murderbot Diaries playlist, "Murderbot Mood." (That one is linked in my pinned post if you want to check it out.) However, I've also added and changed a couple songs in both playlists, so there's something new even if you've listened before. Some of the songs are based on things that will probably happen by the end of Season 1 based on All Systems Red, so spoilerish alert?

3) Much of the Gurathin playlist is Twenty One Pilots songs. This is on purpose, and partly because "Jumpsuit" was the song that inspired the playlist. (It has a line in the middle that— well, I'll let you listen and find out *grins evilly*.) It's also partly because when I was getting my latest autoimmune flare under control, there were a few days when I was in too much pain to do anything besides lie in bed and listen to comfortable music, and I ended up listening to Twenty One Pilots' "Blurryface" album on repeat. During that time, I realized their music is punk as hell, I relate to it on a deep level, and a lot of it also sounded like Gurathin and/or Murderbot.

(We could also discuss the fact that I "discovered" most of their music fairly recently, because "Blurryface" came out while I was attending a hyperconservative religious college that severely restricted the music we could listen to (and restricted when women students and teachers were allowed to wear pants). But that's a whole other post about "things I laugh about now because looking back they were kinda fucked up.")

4) I've seen a few fun-looking Murderbot song recs and playlists come across my dashboard which I didn't have the energy to check out at the time (see above autoimmune flare and moving). I'm absolutely open to suggestions and recommendations for my playlists, as long as your feelings won't be hurt if I decide not to include them. I was given really good suggestions which I added to my Murderbot Mood playlist last time, and at least one song on there I discovered through another fan playlist. So feel free to comment on this post if you have any songs you'd like to suggest. You're also more than welcome to add any songs from my playlists to your playlists (this might be a given but I'll say it just to be sure).

Okay, I think that's it! Now for the playlists!

Murderbot Season 1 Mood:

Gurathin Mood:

[marq-lynch]

On one hand I get the caution of 'nothing happens until the first official women's tag match for the belts actually happens on live tv' from a lifetime of being burned. But looking at this one in particular I think it's a safe bet to say this is something that is going to happen in the next six months based on the following:

AEW major storylines are at least loosely plotted a lot more than a year in advance, with additional contingencies for things like dealing with injuries and other changes now that Tony has (4? 6?) people helping him with it full time.

The number of women's tag matches and women's multi-matches has skyrocketed in recent months along with slowly introducing more mixed tags and tornado tags, around the time Megan Bayne debuted and was paired with Penelope Ford. I'd say this is definitely a softening up/prepping of the audience for what's to come.

Actually ordering a pair of women's tag belts is a huge commitment to being serious about this direction, not only in terms of investing thousands of dollars financially but because the belts do a lot to represent AEW as a company. Not to mention the global supply chain is still Absolutely Fucked and any kind of order for something custom is likely to take three times longer than anticipated even in 2025, trust me.

Speaking of belts and representation of the company, there's been a lot of focus on reinvention of the belts for the company lately, and a refocusing on elevating and redefining their importance. The continued elevation of the Owen Hart belts. The unification of the Continental and International titles into the Unified Championship. The push for the TNT title to move away from its roots on Collision to be a more stable midcard title across the promotion.

And of course: The AEW Men's World Championship (as Hangman makes sure we remember to call it), which has been missing for 8 months and counting, hidden in a briefcase. Mox has taken it out of the public eye and refused to let the world remember what it looks like other than Toni's larger twin, by design. Some complain this has reduced its value. Mox insists the point is that the bauble should not matter. The crown is not the reason you fight to rule.

This is why Swerve failed at Dynasty. For all he was a magnificent champion, he was a champion in love with being champion and the trappings it came with, and he wanted to win to secure his legacy and the trinket that legitimized it. Mox, for all his faults, is honest in his Spartan mentalities that a leader is needed to dethrone him that will not give a shit about the actual belt itself, but about the good of AEW and representing the company to maintain its stability. Any respect for the belt must come from the fact it shows you are AEW.

And finally, the fact that AEW has always been a Tag-Heavy promotion, co-founded by tag team wrestlers and vocally in support of maintaining tag team wrestling. Stories like FTR talking about how they left WWE because tag team wrestling was not respected and the tag belts were diminished by terrible runs of just having a couple guys thrown together for a couple runs over and over have been popping up on interviews and social media again lately, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

So adding all of these elements together? Yeah, I think this is something that's been in the works for a while, and given the quality of the product for the last year I think they've earned a bit of grace for me to make the assumption that this is them introducing women's tag wrestling to America with as much gravitas, seriousness, and hype as they can provide.

I'm excited to see where it goes.

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[katboykirby]

The game itself is NOT what is being crowdfunded. The goal of the Kickstarter is NOT "to fund the new game/app"

This has been stated very clearly by the OM Team, and has been re-explained on the official OM accounts multiple times now. The crowdfunding campaign has NEVER been to fund the development of the game itself, the new OM game has already been in development since long before the announcement back in May.

The Kickstarter is purely for bonus rewards, extra content, and celebratory merch. This is very clearly explained on both the official OM accounts and on the Kickstarter page itself. They go into great detail breaking down exactly what the crowdfunding is paying for. Absolutely 0% of it is being used to make the game itself. It's so very easy to just...go onto the Kickstarter page and see it all spelled out for you.

It is a completely separate, independent thing.

As for the expensive Reward Tiers, particularly the newer ones that were added a few days ago - yes, they are very expensive. No, not everyone will be able to afford them. I definitely can't afford them. Neither can any of my friends/mutuals. Does that suck? Sure. I think everybody on earth wishes that they had more money to spend on the things they like.

But the reason those expensive Reward Tiers exist? People were absolutely clamoring for them. It's important to understand that when the Kickstarter first went live, all of the limited-quantity Rewards instantly sold out in less than a minute. The OM Team absolutely obliterated their donation goal and blew right past it in a matter of minutes. And quite literally hundreds of people were already begging them to add more Reward Tiers. Within ten minutes of the initial Kickstarter completely selling out.

They added more Reward Tiers because it is just simply what hundreds of people were begging them for. It's not any more insidious or complicated than that. There's no secret plot to extort players out of their money just for fun. They are quite literally meeting fan demand by giving players exactly what they were asking for.

And again, yes, the newest Rewards are very expensive. That's objectively true. It's a damn shame for anybody who wants them and can't afford them. But the thing to remember is that not only can crowdfunding Rewards very commonly cost several thousand or even tens of thousands of dollars (this is a normal thing that happens often, it's not unusual or unique at all) but OM's Rewards are targeting a very specific and wealthy demographic. If you're unaware, it's a very well-known phenomenon that there are a LOT of exceedingly rich single men and women in places like JP/CN/KR, etc, who regularly spend (the equivalent of) hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of dollars on host clubs/hostess clubs, girlfriend bars, and in more recent years, gacha games. Just look at all the fabulously wealthy single women in CN who are spending obscene amounts of money on Love and Deepspace every single month. This is an entire demographic/audience in and of itself, and those are the people who are going to be buying OM's expensive Reward Tiers.

And in the end, I'm extremely happy that those Tiers exist, and I'm glad that rich fans will buy them. Because that is literally putting more money into supporting the game. They are the ones paying to make sure the dev team meet their stretch goals and add more and more free content into the game. It is OBJECTIVELY making the game better for absolutely every single other player. If you don't spend a single penny on the Kickstarter or on the game at all, you will still be getting 100% of the benefits that the crowdfunders are paying for. It is a complete win-win scenario.

Seen right here:

The next goal they want to meet? Having full, proper voice acting in the main story. THAT'S why those super expensive Reward Tiers exist. The funding costs for that much VA work, especially when it's a huge amount of voicework that wasn't originally planned for, will be incredibly high. It's going to be EXPENSIVE to make that happen. But it's something that literally EVERY SINGLE PLAYER will get to enjoy, completely for free, entirely thanks to the people paying for those high-tier Rewards.

And so will the production of a completely new Image Song. And so will the development of new game content like in-app cameras and photo modes. These all cost a LOT of money - especially when you remember that the OM Team is not getting the same level of funding from NTT Corp that they used to.

THIS is why those Reward Tiers exist. Do I wish I could afford them? Absolutely. Am I mad that they exist? Definitely not.

I have been bitting my tongue because I don't want to be a party popper or anything (not that It matter because this has always been a vent blog to me, not a fandom blog) but since they released new tiers that aré ridiculously expensive on Kickstarter AND we have less than two weeks for the crownfunding to end I can't anymore:

I just don't understand how succesfull this campaign currently Is when we know basically nothing about the game, I was waiting for AX for them to say anything but they decided to expand the tiers Instead of y'know... Promote what the game Is actually about...

Everything about this Is so... Vague... The goal of the Kickstarter Is to fund the new game/app... But we know basically nothing about it

[yyoon5]

Yearly Resolutions (?)

purple = in progress

Rewatch old anime I used to like & get into very obscure anime

Try to advance in Mandarin and Korean (and actually buy lessons this time, I'll find the money somewhere)

Devote more time to my creative endeavors

Get another internship? Potentially?

Strive for straight As?

Sell off some of my CD collection & start selling art this summer

Make use of some of my many blank notebooks

Rewrite (IN FULL) at least 9 novels/novellas this year.

Learn to study?? And actually set a studying routine?

Set writing deadlines again and learn to meet them

[themagical1sa]

"i like you and i blame you for making me feel this way" he said

i still think about it

[non-un-topo]

The plot for this fic is getting WAY out of hand but we keep chugging along

[kangaracha]

wouldn't expect a lot of queenmaker until ~christmas time, which is not what i would like to say but my body is just telling me to ease up after november and i'm hitting that pre-holiday slump so we're just chillin. we're playing a game for the first time in six months. we're doing a puzzle. my eyes are really blurry rn so i think i'll go to bed.

[abyssembraced]

I'm hesitant to outright promise anything, but I'm hoping to get to my owed replies sometime soon? At least the ones I owe for Ghost, anyway.

I'm also open to plot new threads for either Ghost or Rouxls! Admittedly, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to sit down and Discuss things this week, mind you, but I'm willing to give it a shot! Finishing my currently owed replies will have to take priority over writing any new starters or replies for new threads, though, since I've owed them for a frankly ridiculous amount of time and I feel really bad for putting them off for so long, but plotting and planning stuff is good!

[eternalsams]

My Taste ↠ Robert 'Bob' Reynolds

pairing: Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

warning/content: fluff, anxiety, non-established relationship, Bob's a cute puppy in love, might contain spoilers if you look into it, it's giving Avengers fanfic with Clint in the vent and Thor eating pop-tarts.

summary: You take Bob out but his anxiety gets the best of him and he's scared he might ruin everything.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. This is my first time writing for Bob, I saw the movie so I know the way I'm writing for him isn't the same as in the comics.

marvel masterlist main masterlist

You grabbed your bag and walked in the common room when something caught your attention. Bob had just turned a page of his book, his lips parted in concentration as his eyes read word after word on the paper. You smiled softly to yourself, he just seemed so relaxed after a couple of months with you guys.

The first few weeks were the hardest, he'd stay mostly silent, only speaking when talked to. His relationship with Yelena was the strongest, the two connected very quickly and she was the one he talked the most to. But he eventually opened up to the others, including you. He once found you reading a book and sat down next to you on the couch, sometimes stealing glances at you and your book as you flipped pages. "What's it about?" He asked quietly and if he'd said it any lower, you wouldn't have heard him. You looked up at him, surprised he was interested in what you were doing. You looked back down at the words you were reading and mentally marked your progression before looking back at Bob. "It's uhm... it's a romance." You noticed his cheeks flush a little as he smiled sheepishly. "Is it any good?" He then asked and you smiled at him, pitching him the plot of the romance you were reading.

And so the next time you went to the library for yourself, you looked for a book you could get for Bob. During your previous conversation on your own reading, he quickly told you what he liked in the plot and what he disliked, so you had a vague idea of what to get him. And when you came back home, the new recruit was getting coffee in the kitchen. He added a cube of sugar as you noticed he always did in every hot drink he had. "Hey, Bob!" You called him and he jumped a bit, holding his cup extra-carefully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." You chuckled and pushed his new book on the counter towards him. "What's this?" He frowned as he sipped on his coffee, the hot drink warming up his tired body and numb muscles. "It's for you! If you don't like it, you can still give it back, I kept the receipt." You explained as you pulled the think piece of paper out of your bag. He put down his cup of coffee and reached for the book, his fingers caressing the hard cover. "You really shouldn't have, thank you. It means a lot to me." He smiled and you could've swore you saw his eyes shine with tears before he looked down at the book and opened it.

Since that day, you'd exchange about your last readings and more. He opened up to you and sometimes asked you to get him particular books when he knew you'd pass by the library. Leading to today. He was so focused on the fictional story he was reading about he almost missed you but he eventually looked up and smiled at you.

Bob liked you, he liked how passionate you were about what you loved, he liked how patient you were with him. When you first met, he was apologizing for every breath he was taking a bit too close to everyone and every time he did so, you'd smile at him with kindness and tell him he was fine. You never told him the things he felt were senseless, you acknowledged his feelings and accepted them. And he liked your smile, how small wrinkles appeared beside your eyes when you laughed at one of Alexei's bad jokes. And he couldn't not notice how much work you put in your body and strength. He knew you were waking up early to go work out with Bucky, the two of you showing up sweaty and tired in the kitchen when he was having his umpteenth coffee after a long night staring at the ceiling of his room.

Bob noticed how you were dressed and holding your bag in your hand, he frowned. "Are you going somewhere?" He was confused, you didn't have anything coming up in your agenda, so maybe a last minute trip to the store or something. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go grab a coffee somewhere. But I see you're deep in your book so I don't want to disturb you." You chuckled sheepishly and put down your bag next to the couch. Bob parted his lips and looked down at his book, the plot was getting really interesting and he was almost done with his chapter. He didn't really like putting down his books in the middle of a chapter but he also really wanted to go out, and especially with you. "I can finish reading my chapter and then I'm all yours. I mean... not all yours, I mean yeah but-" He stuttered, warmth flooding his face as he tried to crawl out of this embarrassing slip of the tongue. "Of course! Finish your chapter, I'll be waiting." You smiled at him and pulled out your phone before sitting down on the couch and staying busy until Bob was ready for you. The young man stared at you for a little longer, surprised with how comprehensive you were, but also not shocked at all. And before you could catch him staring, he focused once more on his book. He quickly finished the chapter, snapped the book shut and almost run to his room to change into something else than his usual sweatpants.

When he came back, you were waiting for him by the door and held it open for him. You locked behind the two of you since the others were out on different missions and Bob followed you in the street. Even after a few months in New York, he was still amazed by the tall buildings and how loud the city was. There were so many people in the streets that he almost wanted to grab your hand not to lose you in the crowd but he stopped himself because that'd be weird if he did. You eventually turned into a quieter street and he noticed the small café with the tables on the pavement. You went to sit in the sun and he followed you silently. A waitress came to bring you the menu and Bob politely smiled at her as you thanked her. "So... tell me, Bob." You caught his attention and he looked up at you above his menu. "Did you talk with Bucky like I told you to?" Bob once told you he wanted to learn how to fight but was still too scared to go out and find a gym. So you convinced him to think about telling Bucky because you knew the ex-soldier would be very attentive and caring with Bob. "Uhm, no... Not yet. But I think I'll talk to him when he'll be back home tomorrow." He nodded as if to convince himself he could do it. "He actually offered to help me if I ever wanted to get into... that." He explained a little shyly. "That's great! See? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you're taking his offer."

The waitress came back to take your orders and you simply asked for two coffees and a piece of pie to share. You and Bob kept talking about what he's been doing while you were out on missions, sharing funny stories about Yelena's guinea pig or how thrilling the last movie he saw was. The lady brought you your drinks and food and you thanked her. You took a sip of your coffee and closed your eyes as the bitterness of coffee burned you tongue. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed Bob was fidgeting and not touching his cup. "Something's wrong?" He looked up at you and quickly shook his head before forcing a smile. "No. Everything's fine." He shrugged awkwardly and grabbed his cup before taking a sip and hiding a grimace. "Bob. What's wrong?" You put down your coffee and reached out for his hand. He stared at your hand as he felt the softness of your fingers rub his knuckles. How can someone who might've taken lives have hands this soft? "It's nothing, they just... Aren't they supposed to give a cube of sugar? You know, just in case..." He asked quietly, not really knowing what he was getting at. He hasn't been out in society for so long, he couldn't even remember the last time he went to a fast-food.

"They forgot your sugar?" You asked as you moved to stand up and go ask for some. Bob squeezed your hand to stop you from doing so with panicked eyes. "No, don't! It's fine, really. I can drink it without sugar." To make his point, he took another sip and did a better job at hiding his grimace, but still not perfect. "Bob... You never take your coffee without sugar." You sat back down, your second hand joining the first one holding his. He could feel his heart beating faster at the contact but ignored it. "How do you- Never mind, it's okay, I promise." He anxiously glanced at the waiters inside, they might've forgotten because they're busy or maybe they're having a bad or long day.

"I always notice things about you Bob." You admitted, drawing back his attention on you. He almost spilled his coffee on his shirt when he looked into your eyes and saw the softest of them. He couldn't remember when was the last time someone looked at him that way. It made him think, hope, that what he was starting to feel could be reciprocated. He smiled and felt his cheeks flush. You let go of his hand and stood up, but before he could ask you where you were going, you told him. "I'm going to the bathroom, will you be alright by yourself for a minute?" You asked him jokingly, a teasing smile on your lips. He nodded and smiled as you left the table and he watched you go inside. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized his gaze was dropping and punished himself mentally. He was supposed to be your friend, not a pervert who checked you out every time you turned your back to him. True to your words, you came back a minute later at your table and dropped a cube of sugar in his cup of coffee.

Bob's eyes snapped at you and back to the waiters inside. Before he could fully panic, you grabbed his hand and rubbed his knuckles once more. "I said I wanted more sugar for my coffee, I didn't tell them it was for you." You explained and noticed his shoulders drop in relief. You knew Bob never wanted to be a burden, even more after what happened when you all first met. He felt guilty over everything and anything. But you could work with that, half your friends were that way. One more or one less wouldn't change how you'd handle things. "Thank you." He said quietly before taking a new sip and smiling softly. "Better huh?" You chuckled and he nodded, enjoying the feeling of coffee waking up his body and your hand still in his, keeping him out of his thoughts and in the present. But he was way more surprised when you lifted his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, timidly smiling at him, not knowing if he would accept the gesture. But the look of pure adoration in his eyes gave you an answer and your smile widened.

tag list (people who interacted (comments or reposts) when i asked who wanted Bob in my characters list): @leavemeoutofitkay @adaobiiii @sennasiempre @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @gumdropgirl

@woniwontons @hailey-laufeyson @ineverusethisaccount @nopopculturereferenceinthetrip @crashingout136789

@autumnsymphony @smiley-roos @fandomficsobsession @rummikubcube @girxwrp @books4ever03 @firebeverly @xprloki

@spideybatsy @mvcg-oo @devils-blackrose @wandalfnation @foreverchangingmind

[hanthecannibal]

i only have like 4 eps left of love sick and i'm so fucking excited to finally be done with this show, i got so used to these thai shows only having 12-16 eps that starting season 2 of love sick with it's THIRTY SIX (36) episodes felt like an uphill battle

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 4 :)

[iluvbuckets]

game time decision

concussion protocol part 2

paige bueckers x fem!reader 

summary: after the wings vs sky game where paige took a hard hit to the head from an opponent, she is placed under concussion protocol. you had a particularly intense reaction to the hit, and it does not go unnoticed by the women's basketball fans. now, there was already speculation that you two had a romantic relationship on social media, but this only added fuel to the fire. the overwhelming concern and worry for the possibility of her having a serious head injury has new, deeper feelings you had never considered before bringing themselves to the front of your mind, and you begin to wonder if maybe those comments were right all along.

warnings: fluff!!, friends to lovers, slow burn, just you two being cutesy besties, hurt/comfort, idiots in love!, talk of philosophy/mythology/doctor who bc i'm nerdy like dat (but it's romantic, i swear!!), talk of the kendrick/drake beef (it relates to u being the #1 koclanes hater), lots!! of!! plot!!, eye contact, quite a bit of teasing (no one is surprised), sub!paige, you're a giver fs, both are stubborn af, you're a lil whiny for a second, u luv paige's biceps, choking kinda, thigh grindinggg, oral (of courseee), begging obviously

word count: 27k

notes:  i hope this was worth the wait <3 & i rlly hope y'all don't mind the references in this but i am just a girl with niche knowledge to share with the world and this is my outlet :( everyone thank my psychiatrist who prescribes me 70mg of vyvanse for the word count :)

✷✷✷

you couldn’t contain your nervousness sitting at the table, trying to do post-game media availability without making it too obvious how pissed and antsy you were.

much to her dismay, paige reluctantly told the trainers that she had a headache immediately following your team’s post-game locker room talk. she knew that if she didn’t say anything, you would, so it was probably better if she just did it herself so you didn’t make it sound worse than it was.

since paige wasn’t available, the media team had asked you to step in for the media availability, especially after your little outburst on the court. but you didn’t want to be sitting there next to your coach who was useless and stupid for that stunt he pulled, keeping her in the game. apparently it was obvious to everyone but him that paige was the type of player to pretend nothing was wrong in those instances, needing the coach to step in and take her away.

“can you talk about what happened on the court today? we’ve never seen you so fired up like that before,” one of the reporters asks.

you almost laugh from bitterness, but you manage to keep your expressions pretty contained. 

“uh,” you started, staring down at the table and not making eye contact, “emotions were high. it was an intense game, no doubt about that, and i was definitely feeling it.”

the answer was vague and honestly, didn’t answer the question at all, but you hoped that would be good enough. that it would be a sign that you didn’t want to talk about it right now out of fear that you may say something you regret. it wasn’t.

“right, but you’re not usually the type to yell like that. what caused it?” the same person asked. 

“you know, sometimes we all just get a little frustrated and it comes off more fiery than intended,” you answered, your tone just barely dripping in sass. it was intended, though. maybe not when you were speaking to paige, but definitely to coach.

“it looked like you were frustrated with paige,” someone else started. “during the third quarter, you seemed to have a moment and hugged it out, though. can you talk about that?”

you glanced up at the reporter asking the question, then at chris, then trained your gaze back down onto the table, your leg shaking violently while you did so.

“yeah, i just had to remind her that i still love her despite being frustrated with the way things were going. just mid-game intensity, no big deal,” you replied as you looked up again and gave a tight-lipped smile.

and media couldn’t get over fast enough. after what felt like years, you were able to finally get back to the locker room for a quick shower and to change.

when you got on the bus that was taking the team to the airport, you sat in the front, not even bothering to see where she was sitting. not that it really mattered though, there were enough rows that you wouldn’t have sat in the same one anyway. 

it was the same thing on the plane too, but it really wasn’t intentional. you weren’t even mad at her either, you were mad at everyone else who handled the situation poorly and the reporters trying to get a rise out of you. sure, she could’ve spoken up, but everyone else on staff should’ve stepped up when they noticed she didn’t–no matter if it was really a concussion or not. getting hit in the head isn’t something to play about.

“hey,” you heard her voice from beside you. 

you and the team were standing on the tarmac, waiting for your luggage to be unloaded so you could get back to your cars. your eyes were trained on the plane, trying to distract yourself from how truly annoyed you were and thinking about how you needed to get away for a little bit to defuse it. 

“hey,” you replied quietly. 

“i’m in concussion protocol.”

you whipped your head to the side to look at her. she looked innocent and vulnerable, like one wrong sentence could set her off into a crying fit. the annoyance and anger quickly melted away at the sight. your shoulders sagged from their tense position as you turned to wrap her into another hug, putting a hand on the back of her head comfortingly. 

“i’m sorry, paige,” you murmured softly into her ear.

“you can say i told you so,” she tried to joke when she finally pulled away after a few moments. “i can’t play the next two games. can’t travel either. they said i’ll be reevaluated on tuesday. i can do limited practice on monday if i feel better, though.”

a sympathetic smile rose to your lips at words. you knew that she might not have a concussion, it was just a precaution, but it didn’t stop the worry from flowing like nobody’s business. and even worse, you knew this was devastating for paige. she was holding it together externally so no one would worry, but she was cracking internally from it. 

you pinched her cheek jokingly making her smile. “i’m not going to tell you i told you so. i was just angry because i care and i worry about you. i don’t care to prove a point.”

as you were talking, the cart with your bags was brought around for the team to take. before paige could even argue or try to grab it herself, you grabbed both of your duffle bags. luckily, neither of you were heavy packers–and this wasn't a long trip anyway–so they were pretty light and easy to carry. you nodded your head in the direction of the building of the airport in a wordless gesture to start walking back with you, which she did.

“thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “could you–um, can i ride home with you? i just–i’m not allowed to drive myself until i’m cleared and we live in the same building. otherwise, one of the trainers has to drive me so–” she cut herself off before finishing her sentence.

honestly, you didn’t know why she was nervous to ask. maybe she thinks you’re still mad at her after not talking to her on the bus and plane, maybe she’s embarrassed of having to be taken care of, or maybe she’s embarrassed to even be in this situation. still, you had driven her so many places and definitely to practice a few times a week, so she shouldn’t be that nervous to ask. not to mention, you had already planned to offer because you assumed she would still try to drive herself home despite the protocol. 

“of course, p,” you replied with a smile. you considered making a joke about how it was a dumb question or something similar, but you assumed this wasn’t the right time for that. sure, paige has a childlike energy and is always cracking jokes, but still. you did think of one joke that would still lighten the mood, though. “i always have room for my favorite passenger princess.”

“i am not a passenger princess,” she protested. her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance at the claim because she thought it was ridiculous (even if it was true), and gave you a side eye. 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at her weak argument–or lack of argument–but still keeping the smile on your face out of amusement. “yeah, you drive so much,” your tone dripping in sarcasm.

“i do!” she cried defensively. she threw her hands in the air in confusion, like this was genuinely the most surprising thing you had ever said, and she seemed genuine too. which is crazy because she definitely did not drive often enough for her to try to defend herself.

“maybe by yourself, but not with me,” you chuckled. she pressed her lips together in a thin line at your words. “you don’t even offer most of the time. you just walk straight to my car.” 

“okay, fine. maybe you do drive all the time, but you know dallas better than me! it’s easier if you just drive,” she admitted, grabbing the door to the airport and holding it open for you. that surprised you, too. usually, she was too stubborn to admit you were right and would argue until you either agreed with her to make it easier or dropped it all together. even though it was annoying that she would do this, you also thought it was cute how dedicated she would be over things that are stupid.

“you’re saying i’m right?” you contorted your face into a shocked expression to sell the joke you were about to make. if your hands were free, you would probably put them over your heart. instead, you changed your shocked expression into a concerned one, shaking your head in fake disbelief. “that’s not like you. the concussion must be really bad. i better take you to the hospital right now.”

she knocked her shoulder with yours lightly, not trying to push you over, but enough for you to take a stabilizing step to the side. you didn’t realize how fast you two were walking until you were approaching the doors that led to the parking lot, but you weren’t that far from them anyway. this time, they were automatic doors, so you walked through them side by side instead of her grabbing it for you.

“you’re so funny,” she replied sarcastically. 

you chose not to reply, so you both walked across the parking lot in a comfortable silence. though, it was abnormal for paige. she usually was running her mouth about anything and everything that possibly came to her mind, so you knew that meant she wasn’t feeling that great. not that you were surprised.

once you finally approached your car, you set your bag down on the concrete behind the trunk, fishing in your pockets for your keys. despite being in pain, she still felt the need to be helpful, so she opened your trunk and put your bag in it once you unlocked it. she reached for her bag in your hand, too. 

“i can do it,” you said as you moved the bag backwards out of her reach.  “i’m the healthy one here. get in the car.” 

she threw her hands up in defense, but did as you said anyway, which you appreciated. you closed the trunk hard, making sure it actually closed, then walked to the driver’s side door to get in. when you finally sat down and shut the door, you paused for a moment to look at paige. she was staring forward like she was zoned out, chewing on both her lips absentmindedly. 

when you didn’t start the car after a few moments, she looked over at you with confused expression filling her features. you tilted your head at her, shooting her a look of sympathy back. her mind was probably running wild with all kinds of thoughts that she would stress about until she could come back, but would also probably still stress about even when she was back. 

“it’ll be okay,” you said, reaching over the console to grab her hand and intertwining your fingers. “hopefully they are being cautious over nothing. you’ll just sit out these next two games, then you’ll be cleared and ready to get back to work.” 

“yeah, i hope so. it would really suck to add my brain to my extensive list of injuries,” she attempted to joke with a laugh, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. she looked down at your hands to try to hide it from you. of course, it didn’t work–you could see right through it.

she was a touchy person–her love language definitely was physical touch, so she was glad that you allowed her to show her appreciation in that way and even did things like holding her hand when she was feeling upset or sad. you made her feel seen and appreciated, especially when she needed it most at this big life transition. you were just glad that she was comfortable enough to express herself like that, even if it meant she was always touching you when she was near you no matter what. 

the comfortability didn’t happen immediately, though. at first, when she would talk to you, her hand lingered in the air between you instead. then, she gradually started patting your arm when she wanted your attention, resting her hands on your shoulders when she talked to you, and resting a hand lightly on your back when you were talking to her. then progressed to things like hugs when she did something well at practice, poking your waist from behind to distract you while you were trying to get shots up, and grabbing your shoulders while you were standing in huddles.

you definitely did not share that love language with her, but if it made her happy, you didn’t mind it. and you definitely weren’t nearly as touchy as her, so it took some getting used to. you would just initiate it by tapping her arm to get her attention every now and then, but would always reciprocate her touch without fail. she didn’t seem to notice that you barely initiated, or if she did, she didn’t mind. it probably helped that you never shook her off either (unless it was as a joke after she was making fun of you, of course).

“i know it’s easier said than done, but please, try not to stress about it too much. give yourself some grace and focus on finally being able to let yourself rest,” you said. you knew you were stating the obvious, but it didn’t hurt to remind her of it to really drill it in her head.

she only nodded her head in reply, keeping her gaze trained on your head to keep her emotions from flowing out of her too forcefully. you definitely could’ve continued the conversation with more things to say about it, but you decided to keep quiet. instead, you pulled your hand away from hers to turn the key and put the car in reverse so you could finally leave.

her grip wasn’t tight enough to prevent you from pulling away, but she kept her hand on her leg with her palm facing up as a hint that she wanted you to grab her hand again. after you backed out of the parking spot and put your car in drive, you reached over the console. 

the ride back to your apartment building was silent except the faint sound of paige’s playlist playing in the background–her phone automatically connected to your carplay every time she got in it. she had turned her head to the side to keep her eyes trained outside the window, either deep in thought or trying to distract herself. you stared ahead, thinking about how worried you were and what people would say.

now that you had calmed down, you could admit that maybe you had overreacted a little. you were never one to yell at all, so you knew that your teammates were definitely surprised. your coach definitely was. paige definitely was. but you couldn’t help it. seeing her go down on the floor and holding her head in pain ignited a whole new type of worry that you don’t know if you had ever experienced before. something that made you want to drop everything and take care of her–nurse her to health. and when she lied about feeling fine? god, you don’t even know if you could even describe how deep the pit in your stomach was–the angry, knowing feeling that she was not okay.

you loved paige. she was your best friend and you would do anything for her, she knew that. you hated when she got hurt in anyway. but you couldn’t help but think about how you were the only person who acted that way about it. sure, your teammates were concerned, but not like you. not enough to cause a scene in the middle of the game yelling at their coach–which would probably end up on espn, or at least be the talk of women’s sports social media pages for a few weeks. they didn’t even say anything about how she should be taken out like you did. 

did you overreact? 

maybe you were just angry about your coach dangerously under-reacting and not her getting hurt in itself. would you have been just as concerned if she was taken out by your coach or the trainers? would it have eaten you up the whole rest of the game in the way? was it really as big of a deal as you made it?

well, yeah, head injuries or potential head injuries are a huge deal, but you still couldn’t help but stress about it.

the stressful thoughts seemed to make time fly by because before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment building. you found your assigned parking spot which was in the corner of the ground floor, pulled in, and put your car in park. you let your free hand fall to your lap as you leaned back in your seat instead of turning it off though.

“will you stay at mine tonight?” you asked suddenly but quietly. 

among the other thoughts swirling in your head, that was another one you had been thinking over asking. there wasn’t any reason for her to need company other than your own peace of mind. this wasn’t necessarily the kind of injury that she needed help moving around with or really any type of assistance at all, but you knew that she was having a hard time. even if she didn’t admit it. not that you didn’t trust her to be alone, but you would still feel better anyway. then she could get some real rest. 

“i mean,” she started hesitantly, looking in your eyes. her unreadable expression softened into something else, something more fond and understanding. “yeah. yeah, that would be good.”

you almost expected her to argue. something about how she’s okay and you have better things to do than take care of her while she sits on her ass, because that’s the way she was. she didn’t want to be burden, and she would nurse herself back to health instead of feeling like one (even if you tried to reassure her that it was okay).

maybe her decision was influenced by the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had stayed over either, so she knew she would be in the guest room instead of on the couch. not that you would’ve offered if the best you could give her was a couch, though. or maybe that didn’t influence her decision at all. maybe she was purely doing it for you, because honestly, it really was more for your sake than hers–to make you feel better about her recovery.

once again, you grabbed your bags from the trunk and carried them inside yourself. she used her key to let you two in the building and held the door open for you after doing so. you gave her a nod of appreciation as you walked through. she pressed the elevator button for your floor, which opened immediately, much to your surprise. when you got in and the door closed, you dropped her bag on the floor and playfully covered her eyes with your hand.

“just putting in my contribution to helping you adhere to protocol,” you said as you raised your hand. “too many bright lights.” 

she blew a laugh out of her nose, shaking her head, and pushing your hand down. you stiffened your arm to fight her for a few seconds, but ultimately let her push it down. “bruh, we literally just played in an arena. be so for real.”

“exactly. you’ve reached your limit for today,” you replied, picking up her bag off the floor again. 

the elevator dinged, indicating you had finally reached your floor, and you shuffled out first with her following close behind. luckily, you were only a few doors down from the elevator so it wasn’t too far of a walk. 

before she could insist to open it for you, you dropped her bag again to grab your keys from your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly. though, she swiped her bag up before you could reach for it again with a goofy grin on her face. you didn’t argue, though, you knew she could’ve been carrying it this whole time because it wasn’t that heavy. 

“the room is still set up from the last time you stayed,” you said casually, throwing your bag haphazardly in the living room to grab later, shrugging your backpack off your back and throwing it in the same direction too.

“ew, you’re making me sleep on dirty sheets?” she replied, scrunching her nose like that was the most disgusting thing she had ever heard.

“you literally only slept on them once since i last washed them. are you saying you’re dirty?” you shot back, raising your eyebrows in a challenge. you knew that had been an argument between her and azzi at uconn–who was messier or dirtier–and they argued about it more often than you would think. honestly, you would say she wasn’t that messy, but maybe she’s cleaned up her act since then. 

“nah,” she said, shaking her head. “i’m clean as hell.” 

“then what did you do on those sheets to make them dirty?” you asked innocently, tilting your head slightly. 

her cheeks flushed at the implication in your words, suggesting that she had done something sexual in your guest bed. it definitely was not the case, but her physical reaction wasn’t pleading her innocence very well. her hands shot up in defense before she replied.

“nothing! i just–i slept on them! nothing else. i didn’t do anything. that’s weird,” she said quickly. maybe it was a little too quickly, but the sudden awkwardness of the subject was making her nervous. 

“yeah, okay,” you replied sarcastically like you didn’t believe her, your lips forming into a tight smile and your eyes widening. “doesn’t really sound like you didn’t do anything, but i guess the law i have to follow is innocent until proven guilty. i can’t really prove you’re guilty.” 

“you’re mean to me,” she pouted, her lip jutting out slightly. 

“you love it,” you said with a grin. 

“because i have to.”

the rest of the night was no different than any usual hangout between the two of you. you ordered in food from doordash; normally, you would’ve insisted that it was your treat, but she was a partner. obviously, you were going to use her account for the good deals that came along with that. and of course, she insisted that she get to pick because it was her account, even throwing the extra argument of her having a concussion. not that you minded, you were going to let her pick anyway for that very reason.

she managed to convince you to watch a movie while you ate despite needing to limit her screen time, but she said either you watched it on television or she would watch it on her ipad. you decided to pick your battles because having the ipad close to her face would definitely be worse, but you made her promise that she would put the screens away after it finished. she agreed, but you knew that it was just to shut you up and she would still try. 

almost immediately following the movie, you both excused yourself to bed. you followed behind her in the hallway, stopping at the guest room because it came first before your bedroom. before she could put her hand on the knob to open it, you tapped her shoulder to grab her attention. once she turned to face you, you wrapped your arms around her waist in a hug. she melted into your touch, wrapping her arms around your shoulders without any hesitation and burying her face in your neck. 

“everything will be okay,” you whispered, rubbing circles into her back slowly. “get some rest, p.”

she sighed as you pulled away, her expression looking significantly more defeated than it did five minutes ago. she didn’t verbally reply, though, just nodded and opened the door to the room. you didn’t wait for it to close before you were walking to your own room, closing the door softly behind you. 

you rubbed your hands over your face once it closed, exhausted from the physically and mentally tiring day. after peeling off your travel clothes to replace them with pajamas, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants now in a pile on the floor and crawled into your soft, comfy bed–not even bothering to throw the clothes in the hamper where they belong. you hoped that paige still had leftover pajamas in the dresser of that room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to check and make sure.

instead, you opened twitter. this was something you never did immediately following a game in fear of the hate comments about how bad you played and how you need to be kicked off, because there would always be those no matter how well you played–how many points you scored, or steals you got, or rebounds, or free throws made. this time, you couldn’t help it because of the events of the game.

and the very first one you spot when you look up your name in the search bar, then clicked latest, was a photo of you and paige hugging during that free-throw. the actual tweet attached to it?

do they know it’s legal

you blew a laugh out of your nose in amusement at the joke. admittedly, the hug did look pretty intimate without context, but you two were close off the court. so was it really that surprising? you clicked the back button to keep scrolling. 

unprofessional af who yells at their coach like that

you didn’t disagree for sure, but it was unprofessional the way they handled her getting hit in the head, so you didn’t really care. and there were comments under it defending you for that.

it was justified imo the coach should’ve taken paige off immediately

well the was unprofessional so who cares

someone who is pissed that their coach doesn’t gaf?

there were all kinds of tweets criticizing the way coach chris handled the situation, talking about how he clearly doesn’t care about his players, and more stuff like that. you definitely didn’t think they were wrong, but you were careful not to accidentally like any of those tweets to keep yourself from being involved in drama. 

you didn’t really know what you were expecting from scrolling besides maybe some criticism over how you handled it, and criticism how the coach handled it, but you didn’t expect the tweets you saw. there were many, many tweets speculating about how you two were definitely more than just friends or teammates because you reacted to so strongly.

the way y/n looks at paige like she’s the only girl in the world

wherever y/n is, paige is #noticing

i have a theory that they’re in love 

yeah idk if her yelling at the coach like that was something u would do for just a friend

i’ve been thinking they’re in love but this just solidified it

there were hundreds more of them, too. and they went beyond just that game. people were pulling footage from earlier games, pictures and videos from practice, and pictures and videos from when you two were out in public, and the footage from the few times you two did your tunnel entrance together to find any detail they could use to prove that it was more than a friendship. 

you scrolled for a while, getting way too deep in theories about yourself, giggling at particularly funny ones and ignoring the hate, trying not to think about why everyone thought you and paige were together. sure, she had definitely earned the title of your best friend, but you had never really thought of her as anything more. right?

you definitely thought she was pretty, but that was obvious. anyone with eyes could see that she was a gorgeous girl. and she was definitely the full package–funny, caring, sweet, kind, loving. there were a lot of things you loved and admired about her, but you had never thought of it as more than just platonic love. was paige seeing these tweets? you figured maybe it was better to not mention it.

after one particularly mean tweet, you slammed your phone down on your bed and pulled up your sheets to finally go to sleep.

though, you didn’t fall asleep. instead, you tossed and turned for hours trying to get your racing thoughts to slow down. 

you couldn’t stop stressing about the way your coach handled the situation. if paige weren’t stuck on that team for the next three years, you probably would request a trade. well, you definitely could, but you didn’t want to leave her. who else would advocate for her? definitely not the coach. but you also just wanted to stay near her. you would miss her too much if you were on different teams. 

you couldn’t help but wonder if that was a thought that someone who was more than a friend would have. it was definitely the tweets making you consider, because that would never be in the front of your mind otherwise–or the back, or, like, in your mind at all. and would someone who was just a friend even be stressing about it like this? you had to say probably not. 

at around two in the morning, you crawled out of bed to grab a glass of water. you weren’t thirsty, but you hoped it would reset your mind and allow you to sleep. on your way to the kitchen, though, when you passed by paige’s door, you heard soft crying coming from the inside. 

you stood in front of it for a moment, debating whether or not you should say something–if you should knock or just leave it. despite your judgement telling you to leave it because she probably wanted to be left alone, you slowly turned the knob and opened the door. 

she was lying on her side, facing away from the door with her hair sprawled out behind her, but you could see her shoulders shaking slightly still. she didn’t turn around or acknowledge you, but you knew she heard the door open. you softly closed it, making sure it wasn’t too loud, then walked over to the bed. without any hesitation, you lifted the comforter up and crawled under. she was near the end of the bed, so you didn’t have to move much before you were right next to her. you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against your front.

she took a deep breath, and didn’t move except for her body relaxing in your touch. you waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, not letting any sobs escape either. 

“paige?” you whispered into her hair. you chose your next words carefully, wanting to refrain from asking if she was okay because it was pretty obvious that she was not. “what’s going on?”

she sniffed, shaking her head just barely as a reply. that wasn’t surprising, though, because she had a bad habit of internalizing her emotions–especially the hard ones. she always felt like she needed to be the strong leader who shouldn’t show weakness in front of the people who count on her. unfortunately, sometimes it even extended into her life off the court too–getting her to talk about how she’s feeling if she’s anything but good can feel like untangling a necklace in the dark. 

“you can talk to me, you know?” you tried again, tightening your arm around her slightly. “i’m not here to be anything but what you need.” 

usually, you would probably start rambling some reassurance despite a lack of reply, but you weren’t sure what direction to take here. there were several things she could be upset about–getting injured, the coaching staff, sitting out of games, all of the above. and depending on what the issue was, she may not want to hear ramblings about something else.

“are you happy i was drafted here?” she asked finally, her voice laced with insecurity. 

you were taken aback by that question, honestly. if there was one thing you were sure of about paige, it was that she moved with an unfaltering confidence in her accomplishments and hardly ever expressed anything other than that with them. it was refreshing and motivating to see someone so sure in their hard work, and it inspired you every day. this was much different than her usual mindset.

“what?” you asked, your tone maybe a little more snappy than you intended from the shock. you managed to recover before she could answer. “why do you ask that?”

“are you?” she pressed. 

“of course i am,” you said, still confused. “before i even knew you, i was so happy you were drafted to us because you’re paige bueckers. now that i do, i’m so grateful that we got the first pick because i love having you in my life. it’s great to have page bueckers on my team, but it’s even better that i get the privilege to know paige,” you answered honestly, tracing small circles into her side with your finger. “you know i love you though, so seriously, what’s going on?” 

she sucked in a breath, seemingly hesitant to give the true answer for her intense. for what reason, you weren’t sure. she should know you would never judge her no matter how silly anything she said seemed. and if she didn’t ask that question, you might’ve wondered if it was just the head injury talking.

“i don’t know. i just–this wasn’t how i expected my rookie season to go,” she almost mumbled. 

you sighed, disappointed that she was beating herself up so much over it, but not disappointed in her. and to be honest, you didn’t really know what to say to her. you could sing so many praises over her name from her character off the court to her game, but this territory was different. obviously, no one could predict this happening, especially so early, but there’s nothing she can do to reverse it. 

“i was supposed to be this player who came in, broke all these crazy records, and led the team to all these wins. instead, we’re losing all the time and i’m missing at least two games already because i slammed my fucking head into someone else,” she laughed bitterly.

“you are breaking records, at least,” you replied with an attempt at some humor to cheer her up a little bit.

“yeah, but that’s not good enough, apparently,” she said.

“according to who, paige? not according to me, your team, and the coaches. or your past teammates and coaches. so who cares what anyone else thinks? especially miserable people on the internet who could never do anything close to what you do in their lifetime.” 

“you’re gassing me up,” she mumbled to try to lighten the mood, attempting to bite back the smile threatening to rise to her face at the praise. receiving compliments from you always made her feel better, no matter how down she was, and made her feel more accomplished than from anyone else.

“i’m just telling the truth,” you chuckled.

she shifted slightly, causing you to loosen your grip you had on your waist. she used the opportunity of movement to turn around so she was facing you, your arm not moving from around her and her arms loosely crossed in front of her chest. 

suddenly, the thoughts about whether or not you truly were just friends or if you felt a little more came rushing to the front of your mind because of the proximity. your noses weren’t touching, but if you leaned forward ever so slightly, you could brush them together. not only that, but she was holding intense eye contact. but that’s just paige–she has insane eye contact no matter who she’s talking to. 

you wondered if she was thinking about the closeness, too. if her heart was pounding against her ribcage right now, if she was too aware of her breathing. if you weren’t so close, you probably would be struggling to hold eye contact, but it was a little difficult not to now. there wasn’t much else to look at unless you awkwardly craned your neck. 

your heart sank as your eyes scanned over her face to take in her appearance. in the moonlight glistening in through the window, you could see the tear streaks on her cheeks and her red rimmed, glassy eyes. her nose looked a little red where she had been wiping away snot, too.

“i messed it all up,” she said softly, her voice shaking a little. “i was supposed to come in and fix everything, to take the team out of the losing streak and keep it from staying at the bottom. we’re still losing no matter what we do, so i’m not sure i’m proving why i was the number one pick.” 

you reached up to brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ear, then let your hand drift back down to her waist. you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts, too. she put way too much pressure on herself from the get-go, and you just didn’t know how to take it off her shoulders so she could finally feel relief. it was too much for one person. 

“how are you not? weren’t you the first rookie to have a 20-piece this season? didn’t you set the record for the fastest player to get 60 points and 30 assists? aren’t you the second fastest rookie to get a points-assists double-double?”

“yeah, but we’re not winning,” she replied stubbornly, her voice lowering on the last word. 

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head a little. “so what? win or lose, your stats speak for themselves. i don’t care if people thought you were going to come in and we suddenly would be this unbeatable force. we’re a brand new team, it’s not something that can just rebuild overnight,” you explained. you knew that paige knew all of this, she had made that clear in her interviews, but apparently, she wasn’t listening when she said it. “i know it’s hard to lose so much after coming from uconn and off a national championship on top of that, but that’s way too much pressure to put on yourself.” 

“i know, i know,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “but i was expected to make all these changes and instead, i had to get injured. again. i just wanted one season where i’m healthy for the whole thing.”

“that’s just not realistic, paige. you barely had any time between college and pro season. there was no rest for your body to recharge so you’re bound to get injured,” you said, stating the obvious yet again. but clearly she needed to hear it from someone else for it to really click. “this is your chance to rest.” 

“i don’t want to rest. i want to play,” she complained, her voice a little whiny. 

“too bad,” you said with raised eyebrows, indicating you were just messing with her by your tone. “but now you can relax, rest up, and come back in demon mode with a point to prove.”

she laughed. that intoxicating, adorable, genuine laugh that you loved to hear so much, the one that always brought a smile to your face and made butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound. 

“demon mode?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow, and poking the spot between your collarbones with her finger. “you spend too much time on online.” 

“this would be better if you didn’t make fun of me for the methods i’m using to comfort you in your time of need,” you smiled fondly. 

you couldn’t deny the sudden urge to lean forward, to change everything about your relationship right there by pressing your lips together in a kiss. it was almost too much for your brain to compute, though, because you had never felt that before. paige had always just been your little sister on the team, the girl who annoys you to the ends of the earth but you love her regardless. she wasn’t supposed to be the girl who made you feel like a teenager with a high school crush again. 

did she feel it too? did she feel the same electricity that you did? or was there even any? were the comments just getting into your head?

“you make it too easy,” she smiled back. 

“you’re so annoying,” you groaned, rolling over so you were lying on your back next to her and staring at the ceiling instead of at her. hopefully it would take some of the tension out of the air that was suffocating you. but then she giggled at your reaction. you tried to pretend it didn’t tug at your heartstrings.

you expected her to stay where she was, to keep the distance you had made between you two, but apparently she was full of surprises tonight. instead, she scooted toward you and wiggled her body down the bed so she could lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming up to sling over your waist, tangling your feet together. instinctively, you wrapped the arm on that side around her body, resting on her back just above her hip. 

“i really appreciate you trying to cheer me up, you know,” she said quietly. “and, like, i’m also glad i have you in my life.” 

after she finished speaking, you had a serious internal debate on whether or not to reply in a serious manner. you knew she was trying to be serious and express genuine gratitude, but you had the perfect comeback after she just made fun of you. of course, you decided that nothing in life has to be too serious all the time. 

“yeah?” you asked smugly. “well, i’m not sure if i am anymore. all you do is bully me.” 

you could imagine she was smiling at your words. the classic paige smile that made you and everyone around her smile too, the contagious happiness that radiated from her like she was the sun. 

“i’m here to keep you humble,” she replied. one of the things you loved most about her is her ability to not take things so seriously just like you, that she loved to joke around and try to put a smile on people’s faces, no matter what. “your head is already big, can’t let it get bigger than that. not on my watch.”

you gasped dramatically, your mouth dropping open in shock, tilting your head down to look at her to see if she really just had the audacity to say that. “what?!”

she tilted her head to look at you too, biting her lip to hold back the cackles she wanted to spill but it didn’t stop the smile. 

“big head?!” you cried, your face a mix of confusion and annoyance at her words. “bitch, you better be joking with me right now.” 

this time, she definitely cackled. the sound was loud compared to the quiet room, but you didn’t mind. you were just glad you were able to make her laugh this hard. it felt like you won an award every time you did, especially while on camera during media because then there was proof (and you could watch it back).

“it’s okay i still love you,” she replied, still somewhat laughing, reaching her hand up to pat you on the top of your head. “big head and all.” 

“nah, get off me,” you said. you gave her a lethal side eye before pushing her off you somewhat roughly–only because you knew she wouldn’t move if you didn’t add a little force to it. she laughed loudly again, not even trying to latch on so you couldn’t push her off like you assumed she would. 

instead, she rolled on her back, clutching her stomach from her inability to contain her laughter at your reaction. this time, the tears in her eyes were from joy instead of the endless pressure of expectations that come with being the number one pick on the worst team in the league. 

you managed to hold in your laughter to not give her the satisfaction, instead sporting an annoyed expression as you stared at her and waited for her to finish. however, when she opened her eyes and saw your face, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. 

“i regret coming in here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest. “if i had just kept walking, i could live peacefully in ignorance under the assumption that you thought i had a regular-sized head. life would've been better that way.”

she let her laughter die down while you were speaking, allowing her to be able to give a coherent reply, but she still couldn’t stop the giggles. “okay, okay. ‘m sorry.” 

you stared at her, narrowing your eyes. “yeah, that wasn’t genuine. i’m going back to my own bed where there’s peace and quiet.” 

before you can stand, or move at all really, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward her in protest. her face instantly dropped from her big, goofy grin into a sad expression paired with puppy dog eyes. 

“wait,” she said, then used her free hand to touch her head and put an expression on her face like she was in pain. “ah, my head. it hurts so bad. i think i need you to stay here with me tonight. you know, to make sure i live to see the morning.” 

you rolled your eyes at her antics, but it made you a little nervous. sure, you two were touchy, but it had never gone further into this territory. you had never shared a bed. that was a whole new game that you weren’t sure if you were ready to play. that was something so intimate, so trusting of one another–it felt a little more than friendly. maybe it was just you who thought that. you had shared a bed with so many friends before, especially as a teen, but this time felt different.

“you’re so dramatic,” you laughed, gently shoving her arm. 

she didn’t reply. instead, she boldly rolled her body over so she was lying on top of you with her full weight, her head resting on your collarbone, and her arms thrown lazily above both of your heads. obviously, she wasn’t that heavy, so it didn’t bother you–she felt like a warm weighted blanket since she was pretty skinny for how tall she was. it definitely helped that you were the same height but actually had a little more meat on your bones than her, though.

you stayed still for a few moments, though, your brain glitching at the sudden contact of your bodies pressing together. your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides for a little too long, but then you slowly let them wrap around her body. she hummed in content at that, shifting slightly to get comfortable, her head seemed to nestle even further into your collarbone. 

you tried to steady your breathing to slow your heart rate, not wanting her to notice how it was beating embarrassingly fast. hers was slow, like it didn’t bother her. it bothered you, though. not in a bad way, but in a down bad way. the weight of her body, the feeling of her heartbeat beating against your chest, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck–god, you were in trouble. 

“i’m feeling better already,” she said softly, breathing out a deep sigh. 

“maybe i should’ve gone into nursing instead,” you joked, reaching up to brush all of her hair one side so it didn’t get in your face. 

she shook her head against you as best as she could, tensing her body like she was squeezing you tighter even though her arms weren’t necessarily in the position to do so. 

“then you would’ve never met me,” she argued, her tone dripping in the implication of what a ridiculous thing to say. 

“darn, i’d have to live my life still thinking i have a regular-sized head,” you deadpanned, not allowing your tone to falter to anything but serious–not even letting a little giggle slip through the cracks. you were good at that kind of humor, though, and sometimes it made it impossible for your teammates to tell if you were being for real. 

“somebody would’ve told you the truth eventually,” she giggled.

even though you had done it a million times tonight at her silliness, you didn’t roll your eyes. of course, if she was looking, you definitely would’ve, but there was no point if she couldn’t see it. instead, you paused, taking your bottom lip between your teeth in thought as you debated saying the words that were sitting heavy in the front of your mind, staring at the ceiling like you would find the answer for what you should do.

“you know, paige,” you started, your voice barely a whisper, sucking in a quick breath to ease your nerves. “i would’ve met you whether i went into nursing, you were drafted to a different team, or neither of us even played basketball. it doesn’t matter what could’ve happened because i would’ve always found you.”  

she didn’t respond right away. the vulnerable words hung between you two heavily, yet it didn’t feel suffocatingly tense like you thought it would. instead, you were just glad you were able to get them out in the open to let her decide which direction to steer them in. she let them sink in before she opened her mouth, not wanting to say the wrong thing and mess up the moment. 

you didn’t really know what you were expecting her to say, or even what you were hoping her reply would be. on one hand, you wanted her to say something equally as sappy so you didn’t feel alone in being emotional, and to know she felt the same way without needing to read between the lines. on the other hand, you wanted her to say something unserious, to diffuse the emotionally charged energy that was making the hair on your arms stand straight up–something that would imply that she felt the same, but didn’t straight up say it to leave a bit of wonder and make your heart flutter.

“for real?” she finally asked, her voice cracking like she didn’t fully trust that the words actually came out of her mouth. you could imagine she had a smile on her face and red, flushed cheeks, too. 

you should’ve known she would’ve said something like that. no matter how many awards she won, how many compliments she received on social media from fans, and how many veterans treated her like she was a force to be reckoned with, she was still as humble as ever–still getting flustered when someone (particularly someone close to her) gives her praise about anything, especially when it wasn’t related to basketball. 

“for real,” you replied, smiling to yourself. 

she turned her head slightly to shyly rub her forehead against your collarbone like she was trying to hide from your gaze, even though she wasn’t in your line of sight. still, she felt warm and electric sitting there, like if she didn’t move she would be jolted. like your gaze was the one sending the electricity through the air even though it was trained on the ceiling instead of her. like she couldn’t believe you had said that to her and meant it. 

“like…” she paused, picking at the sheet a little bit as she gathered her thoughts, “even if i lived in the woods off the grid with no way to contact the outside world?”

you huffed out a laugh at the question, not even surprised by her saying something ridiculous and stupid like that as a way to ask for reassurance without actually asking for it. you tightened your arms around her middle so you could shift slightly without moving her, but didn’t loosen them too much after. 

“hm,” you hummed like you were unsure. then paused, pretending to seriously consider that it was a possibility and the solution to that problem. “yeah, i’d find a way. maybe one day i really felt the need to go hiking in those specific woods, and i just can’t shake the urge. so i go, then i accidentally run into your camp along the way. boom, i found you in that timeline. easy money.”

she laughed softly, a fondness laced into the sound, too. “you don’t even like hiking.” 

“exactly, so if i suddenly have the urge to do something i hate, i better listen because it’s probably for a good reason,” you stated matter-of-factly, like you had already considered that. you were quiet for a few moments to give her a chance to reply, but she didn’t immediately give you one, so you spoke again. “have you ever heard of those philosophical theories of the universe or the ones in mythology?”

“no,” she answered. of course, the question was extremely vague so you expected to have to explain anyway. plus, you kind of figured, given her christian faith, that she didn’t read too far into that kind of stuff. you did though, just because it was interesting as the philosophy and history nerd you were.

“well, in philosophy, there’s the inevitability theory. it basically says that certain things in our life are predetermined and will unavoidably happen, no matter the choices we make. even if you could go back in time to do something totally different than the way you originally did–like if i had decided to take dance serious instead of basketball when i was eight–it would still cause those certain things to happen,” you explained, confidence dripping in your tone because this was definitely your niche. after all, you graduated college summa cum laude with a bachelor's of arts degree in philosophy with a double minor in history and mythology and theology. 

again, you paused to let her reply or maybe ask a question to clarify. or even tell you she didn’t care–which she was too nice to say that to you out loud–but you were always worried that someone would tell you that while you were rambling about this kind of stuff since it can be boring to most people. but it didn’t matter, because she always cared when you talked to her about this stuff. not because she personally found it interesting enough to research on her own, but because she loved to listen to you speak about things you were passionate about. she wanted to hear about it purely because it was something you loved. 

“in norse mythology, there’s the norns. they are three female beings who are said to be the most powerful beings in the universe because they control what happens to everyone in the universe, mortal and god, by weaving together the threads of fate,” you continued, running your fingertips gently up and down her spine. 

her breathing was starting to slow like she was getting sleepy, but you continued talking anyway. “or, you might know this one from, like, tiktok or something; the red string of fate from east asian mythology. it’s been adapted from the original ancient theory to be more modernized to apply to more than just a romantic relationship between a man and a woman, though. basically, it says that two people are tied together with a red string that will eventually bring them together. the thread can be pulled and tangled, but it won’t break–to symbolize regardless of what happens or how far away they are from each other, they are destined to have a meaningful relationship together.” 

“yeah, i’ve heard that one,” she mumbled, her voice having a trace of sleepiness when she spoke.

“or, like, in christian theology, there’s predestination–god has already chosen certain outcomes for us, but theologists think it’s supposed to be referring to being predestined for salvation. you could definitely interpret it to be about certain events being predestinated to happen, though. but it’s a calvinist theory, and kind of contradicts the premise of free will in the bible so it’s really debatable,” you said, lowering your voice slightly to hopefully aid in putting her to sleep instead of keeping her awake. you just hoped it was taking her mind away from the dark place it had wandered earlier. 

again, you pause, waiting to see if she wanted to reply. she doesn’t, but you know she’s still awake because of the way her foot is shaking against yours. you had just thrown a lot of information (irrelevant information, at that) at her, so she could just be processing, but you hoped that she wasn’t shaking her foot to force herself to stay awake for your ramblings like this. 

“if we want to get real unserious, i could tell you what they say about it in doctor who,” you said with amusement, testing to see if she was bored of you talking yet. 

“doctor who?” she echoed, laughing afterwards. “you’re such a nerd.”

“basketball is just how i maintained my cool status. it’s not reflective of my true spirit,” you joked. 

though, you were kind of serious. you definitely would’ve been considered one of those weird kids that people make fun of online if you weren’t so good at basketball. and, you hate to say it, if you weren’t conventionally attractive–both in your facial features and your tall stature and athletic build. at first glance, someone probably wouldn’t assume that you spent your free time reading history textbooks and nonfiction books at the library after practice, giving yourself unnecessary homework. or that you had a life-sized cutout of matt smith facing your bed. 

not that your actual friends would’ve cared because they knew (of course, you had many sleepovers so it was hard to avoid them finding out) and didn’t mind hearing about your interests, but there were always those select few insecure, mean girls who hated when other people experienced joy–especially if the joy came from something they deemed to be cringe.

“tell me about it,” she replied gently. her finger moved down from where it was rested against the sheet by your head to trace over the neckline of your t-shirt, her fingertip occasionally brushing over your skin. 

you tried not to let it distract you as you cleared your throat, desperately trying to will the information that had suddenly gone out the window to come back to your mind so you didn’t look suspicious. luckily, you managed not be too outwardly obvious that her touch was playing tricks on your mind. 

“um, well, the doctor called the idea the burden of the time lords when he told donna that he couldn’t save everyone in pompeii eruption, even if he wanted to because it was a fixed point. it’s, like, an event that is so pivotal that even time lords can’t tamper with it because it has to happen or it would fracture time. it doesn’t have to happen exactly the way it originally did, but, like, the basic concept has to remain in tact. like how they ended up saving some people from pompeii but not all of them.”

with closed eyes, she moved the finger that was tracing over your neckline to tap you gently in the middle of your forehead a couple times. “big brain,” she chuckled sleepily, then returned her finger to its previous action. “it’s cool that you know so many things.” 

you couldn’t fight the small smile that rose to your lips at her words of praise, feeling accomplished that she thought you were smart. her breathing started to slow again, though slower and deeper than before–indicating that this time she really was falling asleep. you switched from tracing over her spine to rubbing slow, gentle circles into her back with your palms. 

though, before she could drift off into a peaceful sleep after her stressful day, she broke the silence once more. 

“this is my fixed point,” she said, her voice quiet and breathy from her sleep quickly approaching to take her away. 

you sucked in a deep, sharp breath in surprise, your hands stalling their movement on her back for a moment before recovering. though, you didn’t reply, knowing she probably wasn’t even still awake to hear it. 

of all the things you assumed she would say, that was not one of them. it wouldn’t have been surprising if she agreed with you that meeting you would always happen no matter what, or even if she didn’t say anything at all. but that was probably the last thing you expected to hear. 

it slapped you in the face with emotions you were not ready to confront, suddenly making you aware of how fast your heart was beating underneath her–it felt like it could burst out of your ribcage and run away. and you almost felt a little nauseated, too, just because of the overwhelming feeling. 

this is my fixed point.

this moment. after hitting her head, being placed under concussion protocol, and told she would have to miss at least two games of her rookie season. after she had been bawling her eyes out over the expectations that people were pushing on her, the ones she was pushing on herself, and feeling more insecure over her game than she ever has. yet despite all of those things, she didn’t want this moment to be tampered with.

if you separated the moment of you two cuddling while she listened to you ramble about things she would’ve never known if it wasn’t for you–because she didn’t care about that stuff–from the reason you were even lying there with her in the first place (and only considered that part), you would understand. but when you considered everything that had taken place today, you figured she would’ve rather forget. even at the expense of forgetting this emotional moment.

you wanted to shake her awake, to demand an answer on what she meant by that. if it was a friendly statement or if she was feeling the same way you were–if it came from a place of unspoken feelings and doubts of ruining something that was already good. 

but you didn’t, you let her sleep because you knew she needed it. so you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, too.

the following morning, it was difficult to get up. it was probably the most difficulty you’ve ever had trying to pull yourself out of bed, actually. not because her entire body weight was still on top of you, because it wasn’t. she had rolled in her sleep so she was half on you and pressed against your side, her hand still placed where it was on the collar of your shirt last night. her mouth was dropped halfway open, and you could see a little puddle of drool on the pillow. if you hadn’t left your phone in your room, you probably would’ve taken a picture.

but despite how adorable and peaceful she looked, you had to get to the gym for practice. 

you slowly and carefully peeled your body away from hers. instead of leaving her empty-handed, though, you grabbed one of the pillows she wasn’t using and slid it underneath her arm, gently setting down her hand on top of it like it was on you. she didn’t stir at all, clearly getting some much-needed deep sleep. after quietly closing the door behind you when you left, you covered your face with your hands and sighed deeply. even though you wished more than anything that paige could come to practice, you were glad to get some separation so you could think over not just what happen last night, but the way you were feeling after. 

you tried to push it to the back of your mind while you got changed, put your hair in a ponytail, and grabbed your keys off the island where they were. you glanced at where she had thrown her bag last night when you first walked in, noticing that the space was now empty. she probably walked out and grabbed it after you were already lying in bed.

and you managed to drown out the thoughts on your drive to the arena, turning the volume up in your car to fifty and playing songs that you knew couldn’t possibly relate to the situation, even if you squint. though, you didn’t sing along like usual, just stared ahead at the road with a tense grip on the steering wheel. 

practice was a great distraction. despite the comments about paige not being there from the coaches and teammates, and your teammates asking if she was doing okay, you managed to keep your mind pretty fixed on the task at hand. you channeled all those feelings into the defensive drills, knocking down your teammates and practice players with the same aggressiveness as usual–only subtly turned up just a notch. you would have to really know your game to know that you were playing different than usual. paige definitely would’ve known. 

you didn’t even think about it as you moved across the floor swiftly, executing the drills effortlessly. that is, until it was time for the usual end-of-practice shoot-around. there were no team drills, no team activities, just working on your shots in your own (or with a partner or small group, if you wanted) with one of the assistant coaches. this would usually be the time that the media team was able to capture the most amount of footage of you and paige messing around for the instagram page, whether it was a candid shot or something organized. 

and that made it impossible not to think about her and your feelings for her.

you were so confused, rightfully so, about what exactly was going on. did you even feel anything more than friendly for her or are you just letting the comments play tricks on you? had the thought of being more than friends ever crossed her mind, even if it was just once? did she feel the energy shift between you last night? 

she had to have. it felt so obvious. the air in that room was so thick, you’re not sure that a chainsaw was powerful enough to cut it.

is her feeling that energy why she said what she said? did she even realize she said it or was she speaking in a half-asleep daze? would she stress about it like you are right now? was she trying to convince herself it meant nothing? did it mean nothing?

god, there were so many thoughts racing through your mind all at once, you genuinely considered slamming your head against the brick wall of the gym to get them to quiet down. but that wouldn’t do you any good, you’d be placed in concussion protocol too. and that would definitely look a little suspicious on your part if you got them so close together, and if they published the reason you were placed in it.

even though you had only been shooting for five minutes, you decided to take a water break try to calm down a little bit after missing three mid-range jumpers in a row. it wasn’t even that shots weren’t landing like they were supposed and generally having a bad shooting day, you were just barely paying attention to what your body was doing, what your form looked like, and if they were going to go in–your mind somewhere else entirely. 

you sat on one of the folding chairs, reaching under it to grab your water bottle. your phone was sitting next to it on the floor and for some reason, you hesitated–debating on if you should grab it or not. it was common for you to bring your phone on the floor like this, just because it made you feel less anxious having it close in case something were to happen, but you, pretty much, never checked it until practice was over. you didn’t really have a reason to. 

the only person you wanted to talk to was standing right there on the court with you.

and maybe the unusual, overwhelming urge you had to check your phone while practice was still running because she wasn’t there. you snatched it from it’s position on the wood, quickly tapping the screen to see the notifications you had missed. you tried to bite back the smile when you saw paige’s name at the top from imessage. 

boogie 

y’all miss me yet or what

once, after practice was over and the team was still hanging around waiting for one of the coaches to grab something from the locker room so you could have your post-practice meeting, you all got in a group discussion about nicknames that they were given by your respective high school and college teams. after she said the important ones like p and paige buckets, she mentioned one of her lesser known nicknames, p boogers, that was used a lot during the 2023-2024 season by her teammates at uconn, specifically kk–who was the one who came up with it–but it was only used periodically after that. 

of course, you were determined to give it a comeback because it was hilarious. even though when you were verbally speaking to someone, you didn’t use nicknames that much, you decided to utilize it other ways. like changing her contact name to that, and you had used it in a few instagram captions and comments. and between those captions and comments, it had somehow evolved from p boogers to boogie. you don’t even remember how, but you don’t think you’ve ever actually called her either of those names when speaking to her. unless someone introduced themselves with a nickname when you met them, you mainly just used their name. whatever name they introduced themselves with, whether it was their full first name or a nickname, was the one you stuck with and you rarely ever didn’t follow this unspoken rule you had made for yourself.

your fingers moved quickly across the screen to type in your passcode after your face id denied and opened the imessage app, trying to remind yourself that you couldn’t sit here for too long and needed to get back to shooting. not that it mattered too much because the coaches wouldn’t say anything, you’re a professional. they don’t babysit you anymore like in high school and college.

you

nah

we actually don’t need u anymore sorry

boogie

you’re supposed to be miserable without me

you

why would i be 

i can actually get shots up without this random annoying girl trying to distract me

boogie

don’t know why you’re complaining

i’m just simulating real game situations

it’s important to practice how u play

you

real situations huh

nobody is gonna try to pants me in the middle of a game

boogie

u never know

now i’m gonna do it to prove to u that it can happen

you

bruh we’re on the same team

u just want to see me without pants sooo bad

boogie

maybe i do 👀

you nearly choked on your own spit as the clearly flirty message came in. you and paige didn’t really have the type of friendship for you to brush it off as nothing, too. you two were often physically close, complimented each other, and said that you loved each other often (often being everyday, of course), but never straight up flirted with one another, even as a joke. you only “flirted” if an outside observer perceived a conversation as flirty while listening in, like when you would compliment each other on the court or hug in the tunnel, but it was never like that on purpose. and you don’t think that really counted anyway.

you

gonna start tying my shit extra tight

and avoiding u at all costs

if u need to talk to me, you’ll have to yell across the court bc that’s as close as i’m getting

boogie

☹️

i’m never coming back

you

thank god

get off ur phone concussed ass

as soon as you pressed send on the second message, you threw your phone back under the chair and shot out of your seat to get back to working on your shots. the short break definitely didn’t help because your shot accuracy is just about the same as when you started, if not worse. not that you were surprised, because now you had all new material for this situation to stress over that was fresh in your mind.

that message could’ve meant nothing. she could’ve been playing around, flirting as a joke, not really meaning for you to take it so seriously and stress about it. but that wasn’t really like her, her humor wasn’t like that–at least, with you. you had to wonder if she was being bolder after sharing a bed, which she was, for sure, that was obvious. but was it because you shared a bed, and cuddled all night on top of that? was she also battling with the same internal struggle as you were, trying to decipher hidden meanings behind everything that probably weren’t even there in the first place? 

“have you talked to paige today?” a voice broke you from your trance. 

you froze in place at her name. you tried your best to be nonchalant about, though, as you shifted the ball you were holding to rest on your hip, turning your body to the culprit. it was maddy, of course. you had been fairly close with her ever since you got drafted together. you knew of each other in college, following each other on instagram, but you never talked to her before that. obviously not as close as you were with paige, but you were still good friends. 

“uh,” you started, scrambling to rack your mind for a good answer that wasn’t literally oh yeah, she stayed the night and we slept in the same bed, no biggie, she’s as good as she can be. but you were overthinking that anyway. would it really be that weird to say she slept over? probably not, it wasn’t a secret that you two were close outside of work, and you both had mentioned sleeping over at each others’ apartments multiple times. it felt different to admit it this time though, like you were talking to someone new and trying to keep it quiet in case it doesn’t work out. instead of being honest about the sleepover, you just went with your safest option while still maintaining honesty. “yeah, she was just texting me.”

“is she doing okay?” maddy asked genuinely. she didn’t seem to be suspicious of your behavior. yet, anyway. “i feel so bad for her.”

“yeah, um, she’s okay. pretty bummed about missing so much, but what can you do, you know? she was just asking me if we missed her yet,” you replied, sliding in the last part to ease the tension you had worked up. 

maddy laughed. “i’ll check in on her later. my phone is in my locker and i assumed you had spoken to her since i last saw her anyway, so i figured i could ask you for now in case she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

“i know she’d love to hear from you,” you said genuinely, shooting her a reassuring smile. 

“i’ll let you get back to shooting,” she said as she walked down the court to the other hoop where she had come from. 

you shook your head to try to shake some of the awkwardness out of you from that interaction because there was no reason for you to feel awkward. it didn’t mean anything that she had asked you about paige instead of just texting her herself, especially because she probably knows that concussion protocol says to limit screen time. 

you managed to get through the rest of the shoot-around without a problem, though it passed by way faster than you hoped it would. to make up for it, you decided to shower here at the arena instead of at home which was a rarity. and you didn’t even check your phone either.

yes, you were literally only doing it to prolong seeing paige again. she probably wasn’t even still in your apartment unit, though, so you don’t know why you felt the need to do it. you loved her, seeing her, spending time with her. yet, today it felt like the last thing you wanted to do. it wasn’t her fault, either, it was you and your stupid feelings. you didn’t need to complicate things like this when she’s recovering from a potential injury, especially one that could be as serious as that. 

but that was the other thing, it wasn’t even complicated. you were just making things up in your head to justify your avoidant behavior at this point. 

your heart pounded the entire drive home in anticipation, your palms getting more and more sweaty the closer you got to the building. you found yourself subconsciously looking to see if her car was there, and it was, parked in her assigned spot. duh, she can’t drive by herself, you muttered to yourself.

when you walked through the front door of your apartment, not even bothering to turn the light on, you were greeted with the sound of silence rather than paige’s voice. the couch was empty and the tv switched off, but she could still be in the bedroom? she is supposed to be sitting in the dark. before you could turn to go down the hallway and check, you noticed a paper sitting on the counter of the kitchen. 

of course, you couldn’t ignore the curiosity bubbling up inside you, so you walked over to it somewhat cautiously. you’re not sure why, because who else would’ve written it besides paige? it’s not like someone is going to break in your house and leave you a convenient little note to apologize before leaving, or that a murderer would wait for you to read it before they killed you. 

when you picked up the paper and got a good look, you would’ve recognized that handwriting anywhere.

i would say i hope you had a good practice but i know you didn’t because i wasn’t there

went back to my apartment to shower and change 

please text me when you’re back!!!

– love,

your favorite basketball player of all time

the funniest person you know 

the best part of your day 

the reason the sun rises every morning 

the source of your happiness

the reason you haven’t requested a trade yet

you laughed when you saw all the names she added to her signature, not at all surprised by any of them. you did as the note said, pulling out your phone to shoot her a text to let her know you’re back. she had replied back from earlier, too, when you were texting her during practice.

boogie

yes m’am 

it was simple and casual, but it still made your stomach flip a little bit. it shouldn't have, but goddamn, you were down atrocious over this girl. 

you

my fav player is a’ja but i love the confidence!

boogie

so you’re rooting for the enemy?

you

be fr

boogie

i’m just saying 

that’s like betrayal

i’m ur fav wing at least right

you

in ur dreams

boogie

😥

open the door

you immediately glanced toward the front door, then back at your phone, debating whether it was necessary to answer. ultimately, you decided to just walk over and open it rather than put in the effort to reply and open it. it’s been a long day, what can you say?

when you swung it open, you were met with the sight of paige, her purple glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back into a messy low bun, dressed in a random team hoodie, black nike sweatpants, white socks, and slides on her feet, and her lips pulled in a grin when she saw you. 

you stepped to the side to let her in, closing the door as she sat herself on the couch like she had done so many times before. however, it felt like the first time. it felt like an awkward first date with someone you matched with on a dating app where you’re so nervous you can hardly catch your breath, but they seem as cool as can be. 

just like the night before, you ordered food off of her doordash account, putting on a movie to watch while you enjoyed it. you told her what you did in practice, conveniently leaving out any parts that would involve confessing that you really did miss her being there, even if it had only been one day. you could tell she was already really missing being there too by the sad glint in her eyes and the way her smile didn’t quite reach them. 

you knew that paige hated missing training, especially for injuries. she had spent so much of her time at uconn injured, that she wanted to have a clean slate and start her professional career off right with a completely healthy season for once. but that goal was over almost as quickly as it began. she barely even had a chance to prove why she really was the number one pick, the girl everyone was raving about, the girl everyone said was on the same level on the greats. you just wished you could take that pain away that you knew was eating her up. 

for the rest of the evening, you sat on the couch with her in your dark living room. as you were sitting on opposite ends, your feet were tangled together in the middle under the giant blanket you were sharing. you had the tv going, though it was softly playing some medical show, mostly for you as she took periodic naps. you had figured out how to turn the brightness of the screen down, too, hoping to reduce any strain in case she wanted to watch when she was awake. 

you were growing more and more anxious over the possibility of her sleeping over again as each minute ticked by. you definitely wouldn’t mind if she did, but there was a game tomorrow. before she was put in protocol, she made sure to always be in bed by 8pm the night before a game to prioritize her rest, for recovery purposes, and try to keep her body as healthy as possible. 

you definitely weren’t as strict with yourself as she was, but she always tried to impose her pre-game rules on you. even though you weren’t worried about that kind of stuff like she was, you always followed along. because if a girl with a player bio that extensive was telling you that doing something would make you a better player, you’re obviously going to do what she says. though, you have yet to notice a big jump in your stats and you never felt much different either, you always assured her that it was definitely helping and you definitely felt much better than before. just a little white lie to make her happy and put a smile on her face, of course.

to no surprise, once the clock read seven-thirty, she jumped to her feet. 

“time for you to get ready for bed,” she said with a smirk, holding out her hand to help you up off the couch. “big game tomorrow. you gotta avenge me.” 

you rolled your eyes while shaking your head to feign annoyance, but took her hand anyway. she yanked you up easily, but put too much momentum into it, causing you to stumble forward and crash into her chest. 

“woah,” she said, the word slipping out without permission. 

your hands landed on her waist in a subconscious effort to stay upright, but you quickly pushed yourself away from her, putting a little more distance than necessary between the two of you. when her face contorted a little in confusion, you mentally cursed at yourself for the insane reaction. there was literally no reason for you to do that, to make it a bigger deal than it was. you were just trying to not make it awkward–which, of course, made it a hundred times more awkward than it would've been. 

after a few moments of observing you, she broke the silence. “um, are you good?” she asked slowly, seemingly unsure of where to tread. 

“yeah, i–um–” you started, then paused, pointing your finger towards nothing as you searched for an excuse somewhere, anywhere in your brain that would make even a little bit of sense. you came up with nothing, though, because there really was no good excuse for that. “i just wasn’t expecting to fall was all.” 

you avoided eye contact as you waited for a reply, hoping that she would believe it. if she couldn’t see you right now, you would drop on your knees and plead to whatever god–or entity or whatever else people worship–was listening that she believed it and didn’t question you further, maybe you would even offer your firstborn child to get out of it. or maybe selling your soul would be better?

apparently, no one was listening. 

“yeah,” she said, clearly not at all convinced. “you’ve been weird since you got home. was it that text i sent you at practice? because i swear i was just–”

before she could finish her sentence, you cut her off. “no, no. it’s not that. i’m just–” you paused, once again looking for any excuse that you could possibly latch onto and run with. “–nervous about the game tomorrow.”

“right,” she replied slowly, furrowing her brows in confusion. you couldn’t tell if she straight up didn’t believe you or if she was trying to decide whether or not she did, but this time, she didn’t press it. she threw her hand up before she opened her mouth, using her thumb to point at the door. “i’m gonna head out. text me when you wake up so we can get breakfast before you have to be there?”

“of course,” you nodded, watching as she started walking toward the door. “rest up, paige.” 

she didn’t reply, but stuck her hand and the air and pointed up as acknowledgement as she grabbed the doorknob, pulled it open, then shut it softly behind her. 

you blew out a breath of relief, grateful for that terribly awkward interaction to be over so you don’t have to be drowning in it anymore. you wanted to punch yourself in the throat for acting like this, but you had been spiraling all day about whether or not you had feelings for paige, romantic feelings so now everything felt so much more emotionally loaded than before. but was it different than before?

you made an attempt to collect yourself as you stood there, contemplating whether or not you should just crawl in a hole and die to avoid having to reflect on that interaction again. the decision was that maybe it wasn’t the best idea the night before a game, or just in the middle of the season in general. maybe once the season ends, you’ll find a nice wooded area somewhere in the middle of nowhere when you can dig a hole to spend the rest of your days in. maybe in appalachia? no one goes in those woods because they’re afraid to see something supernatural. or maybe the mountains of utah? though, you weren’t the biggest fan of snow so the winters would be hard. god, this could've been avoided if you just approached these situations like a normal person instead of making them ten times worse than they had to be.

you slapped your palms against your forehead, both as a punishment and to get yourself out of your head. after taking a few calming breaths, you moved toward your bedroom to do as paige said–get ready for bed. you could only hope to get even five minutes of sleep tonight though, knowing the interaction, the sleepover last night, the new feelings, and the flirty texts she had sent would haunt you every time you closed your eyes. well, they were haunting you even with your eyes open, so there wasn’t much hope there. damn, you were going to play like shit the next day if you couldn’t chill out. 

without thinking twice or even allowing yourself to consider skipping, you pushed open the door to the bedroom and then the one to your en suite bathroom as well to turn on the shower. the water was hot against your skin, turning it red on contact, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. it’s not like it hurt anyway, it just looked like it did.

your eyes stared intensely at the water going down the drain, wishing you could wash away with it. at this point, your thoughts were racing through your mind so quickly, you couldn’t even settle on just one to stress over, so you felt a little fuzzy–or maybe disconnected was the better word. you barely even blinked too, meaning you were in a classic state of dissociation. 

you didn’t know how long you stood there just staring, barely blinking, unmoving, but the water running cold snapped you back into reality. you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt it, quickly reaching to turn off the water. you grabbed a towel of the hook and wrapped it around your body, turning to face the mirror above the sink. 

“chill the fuck out,” you whispered, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror. “you’re working yourself up over nothing.” 

the night goes by in a blur, mostly because you actually managed to fall asleep fairly quickly. you had not expected to until at least three or four in the morning because you didn’t feel tired at all, not even a little bit, even when your head hit the pillow. still, you closed your eyes to try to will your stress away, and they didn’t open back up until you heard your morning alarm going off on the nightstand next to you. 

unfortunately, the new day is no different than the one before. 

you decided to skip the breakfast with paige, feeling too nauseous to eat.

the stress was eating away at you at the pre-game practice–your legs were jiggling every time you found yourself sitting on the bench, your fingers constantly fidgeting with each other, shifting your weight from one leg to the other every couple of seconds while you were standing restlessly.

your mind was plagued with thoughts about paige. about how she felt laying in your arms or how she seemed to fit so perfectly into your side like a puzzle piece. the way she listened to you ramble about your stupid history shit she didn’t care about like it was the most interesting movie she had ever watched, and how she would smile to herself when you would watch a sporting event with her that she knew you didn’t care for, like a football game. the way your minds felt connected while you were on the court together, like she knew what your next four moves would be before you could even compute them yourself, or the way you always knew if her shot was going to go in before it even left her hand. 

how you felt sick to your stomach watching her collide with vandersloot and tumble to the floor. the sense of dread that washed over you when you realized she was lying about not having a headache after. how you couldn’t even stop yourself to think things through and calm down before you were screaming at your coach, the worry taking over you like a demon controlling every action.

the way her voice sounded as she asked you for reassurance later that night, as she let you see how truly buried in insecurity she felt. the way she blamed herself for the losses of your team rather than pointing a finger at anyone else. how puffed up her eyes were the following morning after how much she cried over it. 

how if she were there in that gym with your team, she would be passing around compliments to everyone for every little thing without a second thought. how she would be dancing to the music playing over the speakers while standing in place like a dork. how she would look towards you immediately every time she did something well–even before looking toward the coaches, or would shoot you a tight-lipped smile when she didn’t. how she would be smiling like an idiot when she effortlessly made the half-court shots, throwing her hands up like it was all in a day’s work. because it was, to her. 

she was the ray of sunshine you desperately needed. that the teamandorganization desperately needed. 

if paige had been texting you as pre-game practice went on, then as you were getting ready for the game, or as you were arriving to arena again, you didn’t know. you didn’t even look at your phone, but had put it on do not disturb so she didn’t think you were seeing them and ignoring her. it wasn’t even on purpose either, your mind was just too occupied to even think about picking it up. you contemplated turning it off completely before the game, but you didn’t want to do that without telling her first so she wouldn’t assume you blocked her. 

well, she probably wouldn’t, but things were a little too out of the ordinary right now for you to be considered mentally stable enough to be making rational assumptions. 

when they called the starting lineup, you didn’t even want to hear them say someone else instead of hers, watching them high-five the line instead of her. and when you were standing around the circle waiting for the tip-off, you barely managed to hide the disappointment when it was nalyssa standing across from you instead of paige, who would be nodding at you as her silent way of saying lock in if she was there.

and to make the game, that was bad before it even started, worse, you played like shit, throwing out any possibility of joking about getting your lick back from the team who sidelined your best player. you tried not to think about the fact that you could pretty much guarantee she was sitting on the edge of her couch in her apartment, watching you play probably the worst game you had played since getting drafted (or maybe even in general over your entire career), and how obvious it was that she carried your team on her back like a seasoned veteran despite being a rookie. 

you felt like a hot mess on the floor, and you probably looked like one to all the spectators and even those watching on the livestream too. like you had never played basketball in your life and just casually threw on a jersey before walking onto the court. like you were playing a video game for the first time ever as a kid, trying to navigate the controls while pretending you knew what you were doing, as if they didn’t seem like a foreign language to you. if you didn’t have a coach who believed in peace, harmony, and togetherness, he probably would’ve said the same things–or worse. if you were still playing for your college coach, you most likely would’ve left crying. instead, this coach just tossed out some empty statements: it’s okay, we’re learning, we’ll get ‘em next time, let’s focus on working together.

and goddamn, you were genuinely thinking about sprinting home to print your trade request paperwork and fill them out tonight to keep in preparation for the absolute shit show this season would turn out to be. so they are ready for you to turn in the second the season ends, and you don’t have to endure more of this hell than you are contractually obligated to. especially if paige doesn’t clear protocol after the seattle game. 

well, if the organization didn’t trade you before you had the chance to do so. after your outburst in the last game and your god awful stat line–so shitty a fifth grader on a recreation team probably has better numbers–from this one, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if they tried to rush you out the door and didn’t look back before you could finish out your season.

but really, you wouldn’t be that mad if they did. you couldn’t stand this laid-back coaching style of this new coach one bit, and the fact that the new general manager supported it and continued to ignore the concerned comments from dedicated fans? like it actually irritated you to a point you didn’t know was possible to see this guy stay calm and collected during intense moments instead of getting loud. or when he would stand by the bench quietly, staring like that would do anything, instead of standing on the court arguing with the refs like he didn’t care that he could get a technical foul or two, or even be ejected. 

if you had told your college self that you missed being yelled and cussed at just for dumb little mistakes even if they were unavoidable, or watching your coach throw chairs (mind you, it was never in the direction of the players and most often because of bad ref calls), or getting automatically ejected because he got t’d up twice for being on the court, you would’ve laughed in your face and begged to trade places for someone more chill. 

guess it’s true when they say you don’t know what you got until it’s gone. 

admittedly, it got you so heated, you had created two burner, anonymous accounts on different platforms to scroll through tweets and comments on reddit threads criticizing coach chris. not that you weren’t doing it before they were created, but then you didn’t have to worry about accidentally liking one and that getting spread around tea pages. it was just better if you kept the hatred internal and keep the assumptions that you weren’t a fan of his as assumptions rather than making it obvious publicly by being messy like that. it was already unprofessional enough that you were doing it in the first place, but you had to reassure yourself that you–and your team, of course–weren’t the only ones noticing these things.

maybe at some point in the season there would be something so diabolical that it would be the turning point for you to like the hate posts publicly with your name and profile picture and all. something that would make it hard for everyone to tell the difference between you and kendrick lamar. something that would have you tapping into your full hater potential, dropping diss tracks that name-dropped him and criticized everything you could possibly criticize with nothing safe from being mentioned–starting with that dumb man bun that he feels the need to clutch onto. maybe it would even extend to the general manager too since he was an enabler for the shitty coaching, like how kendrick mentioned j. cole just once in like that, but didn’t do it again. or maybe something like his verse on big sean’s control.

you didn’t know the general manager personally so you didn’t hate him in the same way as your coach, with the same amount of passion pulled from deep inside your core that could be felt burning throughout your entire body from the top of your scalp to the tips of your toes. but it was enough that he was encouraging the shitty coaching by staying passive instead of intervening and firing the coach that isn’t delivering results to have a strong distaste for him. and not only that, he chose this guy who looks like he owns one of those overpriced trendy burger restaurants where they give you mason jars instead of cups and metal trays instead of plates for $30, fries not included–or like a temu version of jesus, as paige’s fans would say–instead of someone like the lisa leslie, a legend in women’s basketball. 

but even with how early you were in season, you definitely felt like you had collected enough material on the coach to embody the lethal, poisonous spirit of the world-destroyer atomic bomb that is meet the grahams. if he hasn’t figured this shit out by now–that something just isn’t working, isn’t clicking–then you’re not sure he ever will. and it’s obvious the problem isn’t with the players on team.

maybe before nobody wanted to really get into his faults since this was his first season in the league, they wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you just couldn’t sit there quietly and hope things would get better anymore. you couldn’t excuse his behavior. not after he watched paige slam her head hard into someone else’s, fall to the ground, then see his entire lineup circle around her to make sure she was okay, just to keep her in the game without even briefly (at the absolute bare minimum) checking on her before it resumed. not after he claimed in an interview that he didn’t see it happen. even though when you watch the livestream back, you can clearly see him standing there next to the score table watching it all go down like it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

you tried to understand his thought process behind that so many times, to try to understand why he handled that the way he did, but you just couldn’t. 

god, the anger burning up had your fingers itching to pick up a pen and write your own version of kendrick’s euphoria. it was so fitting for this situation too–the title referencing drake’s overconfidence in his ability to win the battle, and that fits because chris was overconfident in his ability to coach. but you digress.

it was so hard to bottle in your frustration with how your professional career was moving, but that was all you could do to keep the image you had built for yourself. the level headed player who rarely got in fights with other players and refs, and was often diffusing the tension between other players on the court whether they were on your team or not. you never found yourself on the cusp of bursting like this in college so it was easier to keep your composure, but this organization was really testing your patience. 

after the game, you had wandered into a side hallway immediately following the post-game locker room talk, needing some quiet time to collect your thoughts and chill the fuck out before you headed home–before you got behind the wheel. you pressed your forehead against the cool brick, rubbing your hands roughly over your cheeks, your breath coming out a lot shakier than you thought it would.

you felt yourself spiraling. was feeling like this really worth being able to say you played professional basketball? was pushing through really worth it at the expense of your mental wellbeing? was it really worth it to stay and lose any love left you had for the sport instead of leaving it on a high note before it got too bad?

maybe you were being dramatic, because it really wasn’t even that bad. there were many players who had it significantly worse than you, issues with their organizations that were personal, beyond the game of basketball. and it wasn’t that you were losing. you were used to losing considering last year’s season was rough enough to land you with the number one pick, but not like this. and this was one extra shitty game, so what? you’re supposed to brush it off and come back even better at the next one; you used to be able to do that just fine.

but you didn’t know how you would do that when it was like this coach just did not give a fuck. nothing ever changed, corrections were never made, and every play felt like a free-for-all instead of a cohesive play, and then he wondered why you could never hold onto a lead to save your life.

you tried to think of any reason to stay for the rest of the season. to at least stay in dallas until october instead of requesting a midseason trade or taking the rest of it off for personal reasons. anything that could even influence your decision to leave just a little bit. and there was one.

paige. 

she was your reason. she made it tolerable even when it felt like you couldn’t last another day. she made you remember why you loved the game so much, why you had dedicated your entire life to it. 

you scrambled to grab your phone from where it was tucked into the waistband of your shorts, giving yourself silent praise for grabbing it from your locker before leaving the locker room. when you tapped the screen and the while in do not disturb tab, you had quite a few missed texts from paige and you immediately felt terrible for ignoring her all day.

boogie

good luck today bestie boo

you’re the best ever so i know u don’t need it

i’ll be watching from the couch seething with jealousy but i’m happy i can put my full attention into watching u do ur thing out there

i’ll try to sit still and not get a noise complaint but no promises

you smiled, wondering how you ever got so lucky to have someone like her in your life. you wish that everyone could experience someone as supportive as her, whether it was a friend or partner. 

boogie

wait you’re on dnd

okayyyy miss locked in

triple double watch baby‼️

damn i wish i was there

um ty to whoever approved the rebel uniforms 

u look so good girl

jealous of everyone who gets to see it in person tonight

you felt heat rush to your cheeks reading the compliments from her. again, it wasn’t something that was abnormal for you two, but it hit you harder this time. you glanced down at your uniform, wondering if she intended it the way you were taking it. there were more messages, but they started to get into commentary about the gameplay, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to get into that while it was so fresh in your mind. 

instead, you tapped her contact photo and pressed call, raising your phone to your ear with a shaky hand. 

“hello?” she asked, her voice instantly making you feel better. 

“paige,” you breathed, an unexpected choked sob leaving your lips and tears welling in your eyes. you hadn’t expected to cry, you would’ve expected to punch wall before you cried tonight. this must’ve been the point where it became too much, finally spilling over. 

“hey,” she said, her voice softening in a way that you had never heard before, “it’s okay.” 

“i wish you were here,” you replied, ignoring her attempt at being reassuring. you appreciated it, but it wasn’t what you needed to hear to start feeling better. 

“i know,” her voice was small, like she was trying to be careful about the words she used to keep your emotions from spilling again. “i know. i wish i was there too. i miss playing with you already.” 

“i played like shit today,” you blurted. it came off a little snappy, but you hoped she understood that it was just because you were frustrated with yourself. 

she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she wanted to be reassuring or lighten the mood. “you said it not me,” she said finally, her tone playful while still trying to be careful. you were grateful for it though, because you knew she was only trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. and it was the truth, anyway, so her denying it would be a lie.

“asshole,” you muttered, but with a fond smile on your face. “i’m bawling my eyes out over here and you’re just kicking me while i’m down.” 

it wasn’t actually the truth, you weren’t crying, tears hadn’t fallen yet, but you felt like you could. you honestly felt like you could sob until your throat was raw and you lost your voice–until you didn’t have any tears left. but the sob when you answered the phone and the shakiness in your voice as you spoke probably gave her the impression that you were. 

“you want me to lie to you?” she asked seriously, but you could hear the smile on her face despite her tone. “because i can. i can pull all kinds of sweet things out of my ass for you right now, if that will make you feel better.” 

you laughed, shaking your head at her in amusement even though she couldn’t see it. “that would probably make me feel worse. you’re not very good at lying.”

“a blessing and a curse,” she replied. 

“how is it a blessing?”

“bruh, i don’t know. it just felt like the right phrase to use,” she said defensively. you could imagine she threw her hands in the air like she usually did when you were actually speaking to each other.

“you’re dumb,” you giggled. she laughed with you, just happy that you shifted to a much happier tone compared to when you first called, even if it meant you were making fun of her. not that she would ever take it too seriously from you, anyway, because you would never mean it maliciously.

there were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. “are you still at the arena?” 

you glanced around like she had caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been, like you were trespassing despite being in your own facility. when you remembered she couldn’t see you, you lowered your voice sheepishly. “um, no.” 

“i would offer to come get you, but,” she said, drawing out the u in the last word a little, “there’s a pretty big chance that someone will see me and i’ll get my ass chewed for not following protocol.” 

“i don’t think getting caught should be the part you’re concerned about here,” you replied, your tone a little sassy as you said it. “maybe we should be worrying about the fact that you would get in trouble because you might have a brain injury. knowing what happens if it doesn’t heal correctly should be enough motivation to keep you from getting behind the wheel, dipshit.” 

you threw in the name at the end to ease the tension of your words, because you were serious. you didn’t want her to brush it off like was just broken nail or something.

“you’re no fun,” she grumbled. 

“you know what else isn’t fun?” you asked, pausing like you were waiting for an answer, but you continued before she could. “post concussion syndrome, second impact syndrome, chronic traumatic encephalopathy–”

“okay, okay,” she interrupted, her tone mildly exasperated. “i hear you, damn. i’m trying to make you feel better and you’re turning it into a lecture.” 

“i would feel better if you took this seriously,” you said sternly.

“i am taking it seriously. it’s just–the possibilities for how this could turn out are really scary and i don’t want to actually think about what happens if i don’t get cleared,” she confessed. “but we’re not talking about me right now, we’re supposed to be focusing on you.” 

you blew a breath of your nose. “has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, a pro at deflecting?” 

“yes, quite a few times actually, all from the same person,” she said. “but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” 

your lips parted in surprise at her words. “you’re mean.” 

“well, can you blame me? i’m getting impatient waiting for you here,” she stated like it was obvious. you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, biting your lip to try to hide the smile threatening to rise.

“waiting for me, huh?” you teased. 

she paused to debate if she wanted to say the joke that instantly came to her mind, and ultimately decided that life is too short to keep her best material to herself. “yep, just naked and oiled up on the couch right now, feeling a little bit like a raw french fry before it goes into the deep fryer.”

your face scrunched in amusement at her joke, trying not to cackle loudly and attract anyone’s attention to figure out where it was coming from. you covered one side of face with your hand, shaking your head, deciding to play along.

“why didn’t you say so? i would’ve been out of here so fast that you wouldn’t have had the chance to hang up before i was knocking on your door,” you replied, trying to hold back the laughter. 

“too much talking, not enough driving,” she simply said in reply, barely even waiting for you to finish your sentence. 

“you know, the more you rush me, the slower i want to move,” you sassed. still, you pushed yourself away from the wall to start walking down the hallway towards the locker room. it wasn't too far of a trip, either.

“okay, fine. what do i have to do to get you to hurry up?” she asked. your heart rate quickened at her words, feeling the flirtatious tone in her words. you weren’t sure if it was intentional or if you were just hearing things, but you swear you heard it.

you hummed in thought as you threw open the door roughly, rushing over to your locker as soon as you got through the frame. “good question,” you finally said after a few seconds of silence, trying to stall for some more time for a funny answer. you couldn’t think of anything though, so you decided to flip it back onto her. “i don't know. what did you have in mind?” 

“i was really banking on you having an idea,” she admitted sheepishly.

“nice. all i get are empty promises,” you pretended to sound disappointed, falling effortlessly into the banter. you pressed the phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed your bag and dug around for your clothes, letting it rest on the bench for support. “let me guess, you being naked and oiled up was another one?” when you didn’t get a reply from her, you nodded your head. “of course, can’t trust anyone these days.” 

then, you grabbed your phone and tapped the speaker button, setting it down in your locker so you could clumsily strip out of your uniform. you’re not sure if you had ever gotten undressed so fast in your life, and the quickness caused you to fumble to get your sports bra over your head–of course, that would happen when you were trying to rush.

“i can do that for you, if you really want. you would have to be okay with extra virigin olive oil, though,” she chuckled. she furrowed her eyebrows when she heard the faint rustling from your end, but decided not to mention it.

“um,” you started. you were feeling a little distracted as you threw your uniform lazily in your locker, not bothering to fold it as you struggled to pull off your sweaty underwear and nike pros. luckily it was easier than the bra, so you were able to throw those in your locker quickly as well and yank your sweatpants up your legs and t-shirt over your head. “yeah, i think i’ll pass.”

immediately after you finished your sentence, you snatched your phone out of the locker, slammed the door, and grabbed your backpack so you could finally head out. 

“finally,” she muttered when she heard the sound of the door. “i was starting to think you were planning on sleeping there tonight.” 

“yeah, yeah, i’ll see you in a few,” you didn’t wait for her to reply before hitting the end call button.

you were definitely the only person left besides the janitors, so the walk to the parking lot was a little dark, but not dark enough to pull out a flash out. not that it mattered, because you practically ran even though you had just played 34 minutes of a game.

anything that could possibly slow you down on your drive happened, too. you tried to remain calm by playing sza over your car speakers, but you seemed to hit every single red light and get stuck behind every slow driver. you gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white to keep yourself from screaming obscenities at the fellow drivers.

you barely waited turn your car off before you were opening the door, too, running toward the door like you had done in the arena. you didn’t really know why you were running either. earlier you had dreaded seeing paige, now all you wanted to do was be in her company. maybe talking to her had eased your mind a little bit.

when you finally got to her door, you didn’t even get the chance to knock before she swung it open, your hand hovering in the air like you were about to knock.

“were you staring through the peephole like a weirdo?” you asked with a light chuckle, dropping your hand to your side. you expected her to deny it a little too fast to not be suspicious. 

“yeah, i was. so?” she shrugged. “didn’t realize it was a crime to be excited to see you.” 

you rolled your eyes at her, shoving past to enter the apartment. she just shook her head with a fond smile, closing the door softly to keep it from slamming. you threw your backpack off to the side somewhere, plopping down on the couch and leaning back like you owned the place. this was good, normal even. it was a post-home game tradition at this point to order a big dinner to her apartment as a treat–to make yourselves feel better after losing.

she didn’t sit down immediately like you thought she would. instead, she stood with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised expectantly. you raised an eyebrow at her in return, confused. 

“why did you take so long after the game?” she blurted.

your eyes widened slightly in shock at the abruptness. “um, i don’t know,” you answered, your voice quiet because it felt like you were in trouble. so you decided to make an attempt at a joke to try to ease the mood. “just needed to gather my bearings after that absolute shit show.”

her expression didn’t change so you knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “well, you ignored me all day and then took as long as humanly possible to get here.”

you hesitated, then slowly extended your arms out to her in a silent invitation. she also hesitated, shifting her weight from one leg to another, then sagged her shoulders in defeat and walked over to your spot on the couch. she dropped down next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as yours wrapped around her body and letting her head fall to rest on your chest. 

“i’m sorry,” you said, not elaborating any further in hopes that she understood. 

“i thought you were being weird because of my texts,” she confessed. “you know, the, like, flirty ones.”

“no,” you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. “it wasn’t because of your texts.”

“then what is it?” 

it wasn’t shocking that she wanted an answer, that she would push until she got it, but you wished she was okay with not knowing. this was a dangerous conversation to have with your confusing feelings, and it could tread into a territory you weren’t ready to enter yet if you weren’t careful. but you had hope that she had those same feelings and that was why she wanted an answer.

you fiddled with the hem of her hoodie, trying to work up the courage to speak. luckily, she didn’t make you feel rushed, like it was urgent, but you still felt that pressure from yourself.

you sucked in a breath, staring down at your lap. “when you went to the ground, i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes. i’ve never been that worried in my life.” to encourage you to continue, she grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together. “i didn’t mean to get so angry with everyone, to lose my cool like that, especially on live tv, but i was so scared.”

“i know,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

you pinched your eyes shut in mild frustration, shaking your head. “no one else reacted like that, paige. no one else screamed at coach like you were dying or something. i think i care about you more than i’m supposed to.”

you opened your eyes slightly, but still made sure to keep your gaze trained away from her to avoid eye contact. you really hoped that she understood what you meant by that–what you were trying to confess to her without actually saying it.

there was a beat of silence. and then another. 

and on the third one, you fully expected her to pull away from you, to put a little distance between your bodies. to tell you that she didn’t feel the same way, that maybe you needed some space for a little bit. once again, making things up to excuse your avoidant behavior. 

finally, her tongue clicks absentmindedly. “more than you’re supposed to?” she questioned.

you couldn’t tell if she genuinely didn’t understand or just wanted you to say what you meant with your chest, but you should’ve known she wouldn’t let you skate by with a vague, cryptic answer, whether she did or not. you attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was unsuccessful.

“like,” you echoed before hesitating, trying to convince yourself that you were already knee deep in this, so you might as well just fully dive in because there was no turning back now. she already had your half-confession. but you chickened out and panicked. “i don’t want things to change between us.”

her body stiffened against you like that wasn’t what she was expecting, like you had said something she was afraid of hearing. she didn’t pull away, though, and after about a minute, she somewhat relaxed. it was a little reassuring that her hand never left yours, so you tried to cling onto to that as a motivator for working up the courage to say it.

“um, okay,” she said awkwardly quiet, a little afraid of the answer that you were avoiding by saying that. the last thing she wanted was to lose you, especially because she was assuming it was her fault–that she had done something wrong, something to make you uncomfortable.

“can i ask you something?” you whispered. though, you continued before getting confirmation. “you know last night, when we were talking about doctor who and stuff. you said that, um, you said that moment was your fixed point.” she nodded slowly. “why that one?” 

she slowly pulled her body away, even her hand, shifting to sit next to you, so you leaned forward to mirror her position. not because she felt awkward or weird or wanted to exit the conversation, but because she wanted to look you in the eyes when she spoke to reassure you that she meant every word she said. and maybe so she could read your reactions to her words too–to see if what you were saying matched how you were feeling. there wasn’t much distance between your bodies, your knees brushing in front of you, but you still felt disappointed by the lack of contact. 

“because,” she started, sucking in a deep breath like she was about shoot free-throws. “i felt…safe lying there with you, like nothing could hurt me. it felt like all of the expectations, and the pressure, and the negative comments–they didn’t exist. nothing else mattered as long as you were there.”

you felt like you were going to throw up from anxiety. you did your best to choke it down so you could speak. “yeah, but i was there because you were upset. i don’t understand why you would want to mark that as something that has to happen, i guess. especially because it followed all the concussion stuff.” 

she smiled, looking down at her lap. “it doesn’t matter.” 

“but there aren’t happier moments you’d prefer?” you asked, trying to understand her thought process. 

“that was a happy moment,” she argued.

you shot her a confused look, your eyebrows furrowed, still not understanding. sure it was eventually happy, but still.

“i was so upset, and you made me feel better almost instantly. it’s like being around you feels like taking a deep breath,” she said, glancing back up to meet your eyes. “and i just–i guess i realized that i wouldn’t change anything if it meant that i could keep that moment and that feeling of safety. i wouldn’t change banging my head against sloot's or overthinking about the comments being posted about me. hell, i wouldn’t even change tearing my acl however many years ago if it meant all of that led me to you, no matter how hard it was for me.”

honestly, you didn’t even know what to say and you weren’t usually one to be left speechless. luckily, she seemed to be on a roll with her confessions tonight.

“you’re my best friend, but i don’t see you as just that. you’re like my other half. better half, maybe,” she chuckled with a casual shrug. 

against your better judgement, you allowed a joke slip past your lips before you could think it through, but you couldn’t help it. the emotionally loaded tension was making you feel a little awkward and clumsy with your intentions and actions, rather than your usual certainty. and yet again, your avoidant behavior was coming to the surface again.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were confessing your love for me.” it wasn’t meant to be anything but a light-hearted statement, a comment about the intensity of the moment, but you knew that it much more than that when she just stared at you with a blank expression. you threw your hands in the air defensively for a few seconds before throwing them back down into your lap. “woah, i was kidding.”

she licked her lips, suddenly feeling more confident than she did five seconds ago. “what if i am?” you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but she leaned forward slightly like there was a magnet pulling her closer to you. “and what if i’m not kidding?”

your eyes darted across her face, trying to fight to urge to run away from this sudden confrontation of very real emotions like you usually would. you swallowed again, but it was uncomfortably dry and the urge to throw up suddenly significantly stronger than before.

“yeah, um, cool,” you scrunched your eyes together at the painfully awkward response, feeling that one hit deep in your soul. that would definitely be the subject of your nightmares for the next few years and cause lasting damage that would carry over into your next lifetime, and maybe even the one after that.

you expected her to pull away at that, to assume it’s a rejection, but she knows you. instead, she glanced down at your lips for a brief moment, then smiled. once you noticed how close she really was–like the tips of your noses were probably only a centimeter apart–you swear you stopped breathing. not only that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere except in her eyes out of nervousness.

“cool?” she nodded, shifting her gaze down to your mouth and keeping it there. 

you didn’t trust your voice to remain steady, so you just nodded in agreement.

“yeah?” she whispered this time, clearly mirroring your words and actions. 

your lips parted without permission in anticipation, but you didn’t nod again, expecting her to lean forward and close the gap between you. much to your surprise, she stayed still.

“still don’t want things to change?” she asked quietly, her eyes flicking back to yours to watch your reaction. 

the action caused you to close your mouth so you could wet your bottom lip with your tongue. you didn’t really intend for it to be something suggestive or flirty, or add to the moment at all, just a nervous habit but she swallowed nervously when she saw it. she hoped you didn’t notice the way she squirmed a little in her seat.

“depends,” you answered, tilting your head just barely. maybe it was just a natural shift by your body that didn’t mean anything, maybe it was a challenge. you didn’t really have an answer for what it depended on, though, you were just saying that to be annoying–to keep her tiptoeing on this line for fun, have her wondering what she has to do to win you over.

“on…” she trailed off as a signal for you to finish her sentence. you expected her to ask that, of course; you shrugged gently.

“i dunno,” you whispered noncommittally, a smug smirk making its way onto your lips.

“you don’t know, huh?” she challenged, her smile never faltering. it felt threatening, like she was about to ruin your life and she knew it.

she tilted her head, breaking this unwavering stand-off you were in to lean forward. she was stubborn and competitive, you knew that, so you didn’t expect her to give in so easily. her lips barely brushed against yours, offering nothing for you to imagine what they would feel like on yours, except a feathery light touch. it wasn’t surprising; she was trying to get you to break. unlucky for her, you were just as competitive and even more determined.

“easy, rookie,” you said, adding a breathy laugh to the end. 

her mouth fell open slightly in surprise and her cheeks flushed, obviously not expecting you to call her that–especially when you were off the court. 

“what?” she giggled, a little more high-pitched than her usual ones. you didn’t know if it was because she was trying to keep them quiet or if it was because she was nervous, but it was adorable. she hung her head for a moment out of embarrassment, letting her forehead touch your shoulder, but quickly picked it back up so your noses were just barely touching again.

“you heard me,” you replied stubbornly. then, you let your smirk turn into a mischievous smile, “this is fun.”

“you think so?” she cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“mhm,” you hummed. you had to admit, the sound had come out much closer to a moan than you had intended, but it only made it even better. especially when you saw her swallow again.

“so,” she started, her voice soft, dragging out the o. “do you wanna tell me what more than you’re supposed to means?”

you laughed, boldly reaching forward to place your hands on her hips. your reach decreased the distance between your lips to the point that you could feel her breath against yours, but you didn’t close the gap. instead, you glanced up at her eyes to search for any signs of discomfort as you tugged her toward you. at first, she looked at you with a glint of confusion, trying to figure out what you were asking, but she quickly understood. 

she climbed into your lap like you wanted her to, though, judging by the way you were tugging on her, she didn’t have much of a choice. her legs straddled the sides of each of your thighs because of your upright position. you let your back rest against the back of the couch. her cheeks were a little flushed as she sat there, her hands awkwardly hanging between you two like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“does this answer your question?” you asked, looking up at her innocently. 

she nodded awkwardly, not meeting eye contact as she tucked her hair behind her ears. you could tell that she clearly wasn’t used to being the one in this position. it was the way her legs tensed because she was too afraid to put all of her weight down, and the way she was keeping her hands to herself. it was kinda cute though–the way you could take away her confidence just like that and get her all flustered.

your hands slowly moved from her hips to gently grab her hands, her gaze flying from her hands to your eyes at the change of touch. you stopped your movement for a second to gauge her reaction before placing her hands on your shoulders. then, you placed your hands back on her hips and pushed down slightly, trying to tell her that she can sit all the way down. 

“it’s okay. you can sit,” you whispered, realizing she might be interpreting it as something different–something sexual. your verbal instructions helped her fully sit down and relax, though.

when you glanced down and noticed how close the waistband of her shorts was to you, you tried to ignore the thoughts of how easy it would be to stick a hand down her shorts right now–to touch her until she’s gasping and begging for more. or how if she leaned back a little bit you could use your mouth–jeez, you needed to distract yourself. you hadn’t even kissed yet and you were already thinking about this.

“about that confession we discussed earlier…” you said to try to shake your attention away from those thoughts, trailing off. 

“what about it?” she mumbled, still not meeting your eyes. 

“you want to tell me about it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

she tore her gaze away from her lap to look off to the side at nothing in particular, chewing her lip nervously, then looked back–finally making eye contact. you couldn’t read her expression as she stared at you. then, she sucked in a breath and raised her eyebrows.

“do i?” she challenged. 

a lazy smile rose to your lips at her attempt to gain back control. one of your hands moved from where it rested on her hip to wrap around her throat, not tight like you were squeezing, but enough that you could pull her face closer to yours. your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your nose against hers teasingly, having no intention to press your lips together–just like what she was doing earlier.

“i think you do,” you whispered, brushing your bottom lip against hers intentionally, “and i want you to.”

you could feel the way her pulse raced under your fingertips, beating at a speed that didn’t seem possible, and you tried not to laugh about how nervous you were making her. you couldn’t say too much though, because yours was probably beating at a similar speed too. why wouldn’t it be with this beautiful girl in your lap?

paige let out a shaky breath to try to pull herself together, the hot air fanning over your mouth. her mouth opened like she was about to speak, but she couldn’t think straight like this. with your mouth in such close proximity while you keep denying her of the kiss she so desperately wants. she knew she could lean forward and close the gap herself, but there was an unspoken game of chicken going on now–she was determined to win.

“you don’t have to tell me, baby,” you said gently, tracing your thumb up and down the side of her throat. “but then you’re not going to get what you want.” 

“you already know what i’m going to say,” she mumbled, attitude soaking into her tone.

you smoothed your hand over her thigh absentmindedly, above her shorts as much as possible of course, from her knee all the way up to where her thigh met her hips, your thumb running over her bikini line. she just hoped you couldn’t tell how worked up the motion of your thumb was making her feel–that you couldn’t feel her pulsing through her shorts.

“i don’t think i do,” you replied innocently, shaking your head.

she groaned in a mixture of annoyance and impatience, and would definitely dramatically throw her head back to go along with it if you weren’t holding her neck in place. not that she was complaining about that, of course. she stuck her lip out slightly in a pout, staring at you with pleading puppy dog eyes–like that was going to help her case. 

“you were so bold before i pulled you into my lap. what happened?” you teased, using your thumb to trace circles into her bikini line. honestly, you were just touching her because you wanted to in the most innocent sense, you didn’t even realize that you were that close until you glanced down. 

when you looked back up, paige was still looking at you with those eyes. suddenly, you had an idea, something that could hopefully speed this process along by making her so desperate that she caves. 

this was definitely not how you thought this night was going to go. 

without breaking eye contact, you slowly slid your thumb to the side. not all the way over, just enough that if she didn’t want to keep going, she could easily slap you away. she didn’t, though, so you did it again, but this time you moved far enough that it was on top of her clit through her shorts–and she was already pulsing. you figured she would try to act like it didn’t effect her, but when she broke eye contact to look down at your thumb as a quiet gasp left her throat and her hips jolted forward, it was hard to deny.

“i want to touch you so bad, baby, i do. i want to make you feel so good,” you said, your tone a little more whiny than you intended, “and i will–” you paused, moving your thumb in achingly slow circles. she sighed at the touch, obviously thinking she got away with it. you leaned forward a little like you were going to kiss her, but moved to whisper in her ear instead, “if you tell me what you were going to say.”

you stopped abruptly, moving your hand away altogether to rest on her back instead. she whimpered at the loss, shifting her hips a little, but it wasn't enough contact for her to be chasing the feeling anyway–just enough to be disappointed that you stopped.

“i wasn’t going to say anything you don’t already know,” she said, trying her best to keep her tone under control but some attitude definitely still slipped in.

“then why are you being so stubborn?” you asked, squeezing her throat for a second but loosening your grip almost immediately.

she clenched her jaw, the frustration visibly bubbling up inside her. she didn’t know why she didn’t want to say it. and her confidence from earlier had subsided, so it felt even more difficult. maybe it was because if she admitted, spoke it aloud, everything would change. you wouldn’t be able to proudly wear the title of friends anymore–you’d be more. it wasn’t that she didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do her dirty, it was the potential risks of what she was losing, no matter the outcome. the reality check for why people say not to get involved with your teammates was a tough one to get smacked in the face with. 

“i–” she started, but cut herself off before anything meaningful could come out of her mouth, looking anywhere but at you.

you decided to let your hand drop from her throat, instead resting that one on her back as well, tracing comforting circles with your fingers in an attempt to be encouraging. 

“it’s okay,” you said softly, trying be reassuring while still standing your ground. “i won’t hurt you, okay? you know that. and you know i feel the same way. i just want you to say it.” 

“i know,” she whispered, picking at the skin around her fingernails. immediately after she started, you grabbed her hands and laced your fingers so she couldn’t, so she couldn’t tear them apart and make herself bleed from the anxiety. “i just–i don’t know.”

you waited a few moments before responding, taking a deep breath to calm your own nerves. “paige, you know the feelings i have for you are more than just friendly,” you paused to use your intertwined hands to tilt her chin up to force her look at you. “and i think you know that i’m falling in love with you. and i know you feel the same, right?”

she bit her lip, glancing down before bringing her eyes back up. “you do want to kiss me?” she asked, her voice was both serious and unserious when she asked, like she knew but was making sure.

you blew a laugh out of your nose, smiling fondly at her. “yes. goddammit, i really do,” you untangled your hands to rest them on her legs, so high on her thighs you had to slide them under her shorts. “i just want you to say it first.”

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. there were other things you wanted to say, too, like how you would finger her until she came, eat her out until she cried–whatever she wanted–if she just said it, but it felt like too much for the vulnerable moment. you didn’t want her to feel like you were using her while she’s trying to be open about her feelings. 

“okay,” she said, like she was just now mustering up the courage after dancing in circles around it for this entire time. she blew out a breath, “i love you.”

“i know that,” you replied, nodding your head for her to go on. that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, and she knew that. that was something that you two had said to each other as friends, so it didn’t really hold the same weight. sure, it had a whole different meaning now, but you had heard her say it a thousand times before.

she sagged her shoulders in disappointment for that not being enough. yet still nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her lips–her visibly shaking fingers. 

“damn, you’re acting like you’re taking free throws in a close game right now,” you said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“shut up,” she said, shaking her head with a smile, lightly smacking your chest with the back of her hand. she breathed out again, making eye contact with you. “i think i’m falling in love with you,” she said with confidence, pausing like she was contemplating if she had enough courage to add to it, “and i have had feelings for you since the day we met. i never wanted to be your friend.”

you were taken aback by the newfound information, your face contorted into a surprised expression while you jerked your head back slightly. “what?”

she covered her mouth with her hands and widened her eyes, but you didn’t know if she was shocked that she actually had the courage to say it or if she was shocked that she said it–if she didn’t want you to know that part. but it looked like she was smiling under her hands, judging by the way her under-eyes were a little scrunched, so you would have to assume that she was shocked by her sudden courage to just start admitting things.

her hands fell from her face, revealing she really was smiling under them like you predicted. “i’ve been plotting on you since day one.”

you shook your head in disbelief, closing your eyes for a moment and opening them to check if you were dreaming. you squeezed her legs a little too, then used your thumbs to rub circles into her bikini line–similar to earlier, but you hoped she was feeling it a little more than just some tracing. “you’re lying,” you said definitively. 

“nah,” she giggled, her hands coming up to rest on your chest, her fingers rubbing your collarbone delicately. “i remember when i walked into my first ever practice. you were, like, standing under the basket talking to someone and i literally could not stop looking at you because you were so pretty.” 

you grinned at her, not her words, but at her excitement. she looked like a kid in the candy store while smiling and giggling like that. you couldn’t help but reach up to pinch her cheek lightly, which you honestly did often, so she wasn’t phased

“and then,” she started again, “later in that practice, we were doing defensive drills or whatever. i went to go shoot this layup and you blocked the shit out of me. you fell on top of me and all i can remember thinking is damn, it’s a great day to be a dallas wing.”

you squeezed her hips, not super tight but not gently either, enough to grab her attention. she shifted her gaze back to yours, her smile staying put. 

“you wanna know what i thought of you?” you asked softly, maybe even a little suggestively. 

she nodded her head in reply, so you slid one of your hands back around her throat. you squeezed a little, but only for a few seconds and not very hard, causing her to let out a shaky breath. you pulled her towards you gently. “when i first met you, i thought…” you whispered, trailing off. you brushed your noses together like you had done earlier, her pulse, yet again, pounding beneath your fingertips. “…that you were…” you glanced at her eyes to see where she was looking, only to see that she had closed them in anticipation. you brushed your top lip against her bottom lip, feeling accomplished when you heard her suck in a breath. “…really fucking annoying.”

before she even had time to react to what you said, you captured her lips in a kiss. she kissed you back effortlessly, matching your slow and soft rhythm, hands subconsciously fisting your shirt. it was so easy for your first kiss together, like you had been waiting a lifetime to do this. her lips were warm and soft against yours. maybe even a little familiar–like coming home after being away for so long. you slid your hand down, away from throat down to rest it on her hip.

paige pulled back sharply, her hands on your chest pushing you away. “annoying?” she asked like she couldn’t believe you said it. “that’s what you thought of me?” 

you laughed, keeping your eyes trained on her lips, desperate to lean in and kiss her again. and you tried, you really did, but she kept her hands and arms stiff so you couldn’t move. “well no, it wasn’t just that day. i definitely do still think that,” you teased.

she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. maybe any other time you would’ve had a little more self-control and acknowledged that she was trying to make you feel bad for her, not horny, but your mind was already swirling with arousal from having a pretty girl sitting in your lap–your pretty girl. you couldn’t help but let your gaze shamelessly wander over her exposed arms, her muscles popping so deliciously that you could probably go feral over it. if you weren’t throbbing before, you definitely were now goddamn. and if she was talking, you couldn’t hear her.

your hands subconsciously tightened on her hips as you bit your bottom lip. maybe you should take pictures of them, just like this, to put in a frame. maybe even print out a poster to hang on your ceiling so you can fall asleep happy every night. 

“jesus,” you muttered when she moved her arm a little because it showed a little bit of the definition. it almost under your breath but not quite, not even realizing you said it out loud.

“you’re not even listening,” she stated. honestly, it felt like a movie scene–her voice fading in after a dream sequence. and it was, those arms were definitely what dreams are made of. you would probably let her put you to rest in a chokehold because at least you’d go out with the one thing you loved the most.

“hm?” you hummed, flicking your gaze back to her eyes after much, much difficulty. “you were talking?” you asked jokingly, trying to keep a serious face.

she didn’t say anything, just rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. she shifted her body a little bit, like she was going to get off of you, but you used the grip you had on her hips to pull her back down and still her. her lips thinned into a tight-lipped smile from annoyance, but it didn’t linger on her face for very long.

you held eye contact with her as you shifted one of your thighs inwards under her body, until it was pressing against her through her shorts. her breathing stuttered subtly, so slight that you could’ve been imagining it. after waiting for a few seconds to see if she was okay with this, you used your hands to guide her hips, rolling her forward to grind against your thigh. she broke eye contact to look down at your leg between hers, her lips parting.

you kept your eyes trained on her face though, watching her reaction to the feeling. your own lips were parted too, and you were surprised there wasn’t drool coming out of your mouth at the sight of her. you rolled her hips again, extra slow so you could feel the way she was pulsing against the muscle. her hands flew to grip your shoulders as a result, fingertips digging into your skin. 

after that, she didn’t need any extra guidance. you let your hands fall onto the couch on either side of you, watching as she rolled her hips at a teasing pace against the muscle of your thigh, whimpering as she did so. it wasn’t quite fast enough to chase an orgasm, but it wasn’t slow enough to be considered teasing either. 

you already knew you were soaking through your underwear from this–watching her get herself off like this. you had the urge to kiss her, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away. and there were so many things you could say, too, but you were just too mesmerized to form a word.

one of her hands loosened the grip on your shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, her thumb touching the side of your jaw. after a few seconds, she tore her eyes away from watching herself, shifting her gaze to your eyes. you noticed her pupils were blown with pleasure, making you clench your thighs a little involuntarily to try to find some friction.

her eyes flickered down for a split second, making it obvious she noticed. you didn’t expect her to do anything about it because she was busy working on herself, and you were more than happy to just watch. yet she smiled, sliding her hand from your neck down your body. without hesitation, she used her thumb to rub circles over your clothed clit. 

“fuck, paige,” you said, your voice strangled in surprise. the barrier between her thumb and your clit provided the right amount of teasing that was making your brain short circuit.

then as soon as it began, she suddenly stopped, stilling her thumb and slowly lifting herself off your leg. you watched with a curious expression, trying to figure out what she was doing without directly asking her. but she stood there awkwardly like she didn’t know what to do, her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her shorts at her hips, her eyes trained on you.

it didn’t take you too long to catch on.

“do you, um,” you paused to swallow nervously, “do you want to take those off?”

she nodded slowly in reply. you scooted to the edge of the couch, holding your hands out for her, and spread your knees as an invitation for her to stand between them, which she did immediately. you looked up at her through your lashes as you leaned forward to press a kiss against the waistband, snaking your hands up the back of her thighs under her shorts to cup her ass.

she placed a hand on your head, weaving her fingers through the strands–meant to be comforting more than anything else. 

you ran your hands back down, stopping halfway to use her legs as leverage. once again, you leaned forward. only this time, you mouthed over her clothed clit a few times, holding eye contact with her while you did. she blew out a shallow, shaky breath of both pleasure and nervousness. then, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down her legs achingly slow. when they were halfway down her thighs, you leaned forward to flick your tongue against her clit, feeling too impatient to wait any longer.

her body jolted at the contact, eyes closing and mouth dropping open, not expecting it so soon. you pulled away slightly to watch her reaction, breath hot against her as you watched to make sure she was okay–that she didn’t want to stop. after a few seconds, she opened her eyes to stare down at you because what the fuck was taking so long? 

she whimpered, using her hand to lightly push your head back to where she wanted it. you smiled at the feeling, loving how desperate she was for you, how impatient she was for your touch after getting just a tiny little taste. 

“keep going,” she borderline cried after about a minute of not touching her.

“please?” you said as a reminder, smiling innocently. 

“please, keep going,” she corrected herself. she couldn’t even bring herself to be stubborn or fight about it at that point, she just wanted you to touch her already.

you nodded like you understood, leaning closer to her like you were about to give her what she wanted, then jumped to your feet. her eyes flew open, wildly searching the room for a reason why you weren’t literally on your knees eating her pussy right now. you couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. she grabbed your wrist, tugging on it like she was going to throw a tantrum. 

who knows, maybe she would if she didn’t get what she wanted.

but you weren’t really in the mood to wait either, so you would let it slide this time. you used the arm she was hanging onto to pull her toward the couch, pushing her down on it as you sank to your knees on the floor. she watched you nervously, her breathing almost as rapid as her heart rate. and she didn’t know what to do with hands, so they were next to her in the couch like yours were just a few minutes ago.

you cupped the back of her knees with your hands, yanking her towards you so if you dropped her, she would only be halfway on the couch. and threw her legs over your shoulders so she didn’t fall, catching a glimpse of how wet she was.

there was barely any hesitation before you licked a flat stripe up her center and took her clit in your mouth to alternate between sucking gently and swirling your tongue around it.

“oh my god,” she moaned. she tangled both of her hands in your hair, already grinding against your face and tongue.

“i’ve barely touched you,” you commented, using the opportunity to come up for air.

“don’t care. i don’t care,” she said. “i just want you to fuck me. don’t care about anything else.”

“nothing?” you spoke against her so she could feel your lips move, a little amused by the way she was acting. 

“no,” she shook her head quickly, her back arching off the bed involuntarily.

you kept your eyes trained on her, watching the way every circle, every flick would effect her. the way they would make her face contort and force moans from the back of her throat. how she was struggling to keep it together. the way her stomach would flex and hips would buck. 

you touched your finger to her entrance, swirling it through her folds, the teasing making her whine. “so needy for me, paige. i’ve wanted to see this for so long. to watch you fall apart in front of me,” you said, your voice low with desire. 

the desire wasn’t even because you wanted to come though, you just wanted to please her.

without warning, you pushed your finger inside her, curling like you had done it a million times before, like this wasn’t the first time you were getting to explore her body. you added a second finger, watching her gasp and throw her head back at the intrusion, but grind her hips up to try to meet your rhythm still–like she didn't even realize she was doing it.

“fuck, fuck,” she moaned, her voice going up an octave. “i’m a fucking mess for you. shit, let you ruin me whenever you want.”

you sped up your pace at her words, wanting to see how whiny and need she could really get if you got her close to the edge–the things she would say. you definitely would have to try other things with her just to see.

“mhm,” you hummed against her. “you have no idea what you do to me. i’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

and then her hips started uncontrollably bucking, stomach flexing against her will, but she was still trying so hard to hold off her orgasm despite that.

“paige, it’s okay,” you tried to reassure, unsure why she was doing that. you hadn’t told her she had to ask permission or anything. “you can come, it’s okay.”

“no, no, it’s too good. don’t want to yet,” she whined, her legs clenching together hard around your head. “want you to keep fucking me.”

the words shocked you a little bit. you weren’t sure if you had ever heard say something anything like that. that they didn’t want to come? that sounded crazy, you couldn’t even get on board with that yourself.

but of course, you did what she said. who were you to deny a pretty lady of the pleasures in life?

even though she didn’t ask you to, you turned your head to nip at the skin of her thighs, just to lessen the stimulation and give her a little more time like she wanted. you kept pumping your fingers though, pumping them as deep as you could and then curling them until you hit the spot that had her crying out in a borderline scream.

“no, don’t stop, please,” she said almost immediately. 

you did as you were told, moving your mouth back to her clit. you were still hesitant, though. this was uncharted territory for you and you didn’t really know what to do here. you maintained a slow pace, trying to do what she said while honoring her other wishes of wanting to last longer. 

as you expected, it only took a few more pumps of your fingers before her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and back arching off the couch in an orgasm. you worked her through it, slowing your pace a little bit. you could only assume it was a hard-hitting one, because the only sound you heard was a chant of thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

you kept pumping your fingers achingly slowly as she came down, making her body twitch underneath you, but you weren’t even sure if she noticed. 

when she was finally mostly still, her chest heaving, you pulled them out just as slow. she opened her eyes slowly, immediately smiling when she focused on you. 

you smiled back, using the hand the wasn’t just inside her to pinch her cheek. "how did i get so lucky?"

[wayward-dreamer]

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Harry Castillo x F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Harry thought he was incapable of love before you, but one morning with you in his shirt, taking you on the dining table and seeing the way you looked at him, has him confessing exactly how he feels about you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, *NO SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE*, the middle photo is just for the vibes. Swearing, smut: brief dirty talk, dry humping, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), sex on the dining table, hair pulling, biting, I think that's it. Lots of fluff. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n. Just the smallest hint of plot here, but it's mostly just smutty, fluffy (smuffy?) times.

A/N: I'm jumping on the Harry Castillo train and honestly I don't wanna get off (unless he's getting me off *clears throat* what?) This was just something I thought of when I was thinking back on the film, so I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading everyone! <3

Main Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how comfortable you were.

As you cracked an eye open and looked around the room from your position on the bed, you almost didn’t want to leave it. You had practically sunk into the mattress, the sheets were silky soft compared to the ones you had at your own apartment, and the pillows were as light as air as you snuggled further into them. You turned onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, your hands running over the smooth fabric as you frowned, missing the person who had been there all night next to you. You sat up slowly, bringing your legs up as you held the sheet close to your body, a smile instantly spreading across your face when you saw a light blue shirt your boyfriend had left on the chair across from his bed for you. It had become more and more rare for him not to wake up next to you, a feeling you had gotten used to and which added to that comfort you had always craved, something that neither of you had really had before you started seeing each other.

Clearly there was something important to do with work that he had to take care of, but you also knew he could never resist you in his clothes.

Stretching your limbs, you dropped the sheet and got up from the bed, crossing the room and picking up the shirt. You brought the material up to your nose, humming softly as you could still smell a hint of his cologne under the detergent. You placed your arms through the sleeves and slipped your panties on underneath, buttoning the shirt as you walked out of the bedroom. The warm morning light greeted you as you walked down the hallway, blinking against the brightness as you reached the open plan living area. You heard Harry’s voice echo from the kitchen and through the hall, before he was behind you at the dining table, already set with breakfast for you. It was a sight you had gotten used to, but you did wish there was another place set next to yours which had become more of a regular occurrence in your relationship.

You bit your lip as he winked at you while on the phone, the steel coffee pot in hand as he poured some out in a glass mug for you. He placed the pot down and slowly made his way to you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Your hands slid up the front of his perfectly tailored navy blue suit, tugging at his tie as you stared up into his brown eyes. You gave him a pointed look, one that made him raise an eyebrow in question as he muttered something about some new partnership with a company. You slowly pushed yourself into him, lightly nipping along his jaw with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips as you saw his eyes flutter slightly.

He tried to give you his best stern look, a hint of annoyance behind his arousal as he shook his head in warning but he couldn’t hold it for long as you pecked his lips once, twice. Your fingers played with the knot of his tie, giving him a suggestive nod as you moved back towards the opposite end of the table, pushing yourself up onto it. You pulled him in by his tie, your other hand roaming down and unbuttoning his suit, going straight for his crisp, white shirt before you saw him close his eyes, throwing his head back in frustration.

“Let me call you back,” he groaned, hanging up on whoever he was talking to. He dropped the phone on the table, pulling your thighs around him and making you squeal as your arms wrapped around his neck. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You just look really sexy when you’re all serious,” you replied, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders and untucking his shirt, an urgency to your actions now that he was so close to you.

“And you…” he breathed, cupping your face in his large hands, his plump lips hovering over yours. “Look far too tempting like this, right before I have to leave.”

“I guess you’ll just have to stay,” you muttered before pulling him in for a searing kiss.

He growled into your mouth as you moaned softly, both of you slowly grinding against each other and feeling the bulge of his pants shift over your covered mound. You made quick work of pulling his tie free, opening the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off to join his jacket on the floor. You felt the familiar tug in your core, one that wrapped around your spine and radiated through your whole body as he pulled you close, his hips rocking against yours and making you gasp as you felt how hard he already was. He flicked open the first few buttons of the shirt you were wearing, his head instantly dipping down to kiss along the exposed skin of your chest. His touch ignited a fire through every cell of your being, your hand combing into his dark but greying curls and softly tugging him further into you. You moaned softly as his plush lips sealed around your nipple, licking and gently sucking before releasing with a wet pop.

“You’re going to have to explain to my mother why I’m late,” he stated, as he lifted each of your calves around his hips.

“Well, if we move this along then maybe I won’t have to,” you jested, wiggling your eyebrows.

You squealed with a giggle as he bit a little harder into your neck, a deep chuckle escaping him before he shifted closer and pressed up against you, thrusting down as your own hips lifted up to meet his. You could feel your wetness growing along the seam of your sex, with no doubt in your mind that it would seep through your panties and onto his slacks. Neither of you seemed to care however as you continued to grind against each other, your lips fused together in a fervent kiss.

“Harry, please,” you pleaded as you pulled away, your breathy timbre close to his ear.

“I know, gorgeous, I know,” he reassured you, kissing you once more.

His hands slid up your smooth thighs as he reached for your black, lace panties and pulled them aside to expose your glistening heat. He wasted no time with the belt, unbuckling it before unzipping his pants and freeing his hard shaft from the confines of his boxers. He took hold of it and tapped the head against your swollen nub a few times, eliciting a breathy whimper from you as you gripped his shoulders tight and waited for that inevitable, pleasurable breach. He lined himself to your entrance, your mouth falling open in a choked moan as he pressed into you, completely sheathed by your walls. A husky groan left him as he felt you stretch around him, almost as if you had become accustomed to the girth of him, like he was always meant to be there. He rolled his hips back and forth slowly, knowing that you were still getting used to his size, however, but you had to admit you enjoyed the slight twinge that came with taking all of him. With a press of your foot into the back of his thigh and a whine into his mouth, it spurred him on to pick up the pace. His pelvis undulated in long, hard thrusts which were enough to satisfy how deep you wanted him, while still keeping you on the edge from the leisured rhythm.

You moaned wantonly, your fingernails biting into his skin as you shifted up to meet his hips, but as one hand landed on your left and the other wrapped around your back to hold you close, you gave into him. He kissed along your jaw, your neck, your exposed shoulder from where his shirt had drooped down, before coming back up to your lips, kissing you roughly. The table shook beneath you, the part of your mind that wasn’t being clouded by him took in the sound of rattling cutlery, and you hoped that nothing was about to fly off the surface, but you couldn’t even really care, either. Not when this man, this man who you were head over heels for, was making you feel things no other man ever had.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he husked against your mouth. “Taking me so deep, fuck…”

“Harry, oh god you-” you whimpered, fingers slipping into his hair once again and pulling him even closer. “You feel so good inside me, shit…”

You threw your head back, offering him the column of your neck and letting out a loud, almost guttural moan as he bit down on your throat. Between the sounds pouring out of both of you and the slap of his skin against yours with each thrust, he invaded every one of your senses as your eyes futtered closed, relishing in the feel of him and the pleasure he was giving you. Before you could completely lose yourself, however, his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled at the strands of your hair, lifting your gaze up to meet his.

“Look at me,” he groaned, staring deep into your eyes. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He rested his forehead against yours, keeping the same rhythm of his hips pounding into you, wanting you to be teetering on the edge of bliss. You couldn’t form words, your mouth hanging open as a string of breathless whimpers escaped you. His brown eyes peered into yours, but as you stayed pressed tight into each other, it was as if he was looking deeper, reaching the furthest depths of your soul in a way no one ever had before.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” he grunted, his lips ghosting against yours.

A hard thrust had you humming, shaking your head frantically. “I-I t-think I have a feeling.”

“No,” his forehead creased as he pulled back slightly, wanting to see every one of your features. “No, you have no clue what you do to me, what you mean to me…”

“Then tell me,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his curls, staring back at him. “Tell me, Harry.”

You knew that opening up and exposing parts of himself was difficult for a man like him. Someone who was so used to being closed off because of his lifestyle, committing himself to his work and unable to give himself to someone completely because of it. His vulnerabilities and insecurities had kept him from living a life he truly desired, his inability to see past them and let people in without the fear of judgement was something he couldn’t do… before you. Before you, he had thought love to be the hardest thing in the world, finding that treating a relationship or the prospect of marriage as a business deal was much easier. Before you, he had believed himself to be incapable of love, incapable of feeling it because that meant he was letting something unfamiliar into his life and that was terrifying. Before you, he was so sure he knew who he was and how the world worked, but he didn’t.

He had never been more glad to be so wrong.

He had learnt everything he needed to know about investments, joined his family in business and made a whole career out of it. It wasn’t until meeting you at a random charity dinner, asking you out and spending every spare moment with you since, that he realized love was the greatest investment of all. And luckily, he had found the courage to trade in it with you, rather than against you.

If everything in his Tribeca apartment disappeared tomorrow, he wouldn’t care. Now with you in his arms looking back at him with a flicker of something new and thrilling in your eye, something that could only be described as love, that was all that mattered to him.

“You changed me… you changed everything,” he whispered back, his gaze unwavering. “You’re my world now.”

“Harry,” you gasped, completely overwhelmed by not only how he was making you feel, but his words too.

He uttered your name in a hushed breath, following with the three words you had heard so many times by many lovers, but never from someone who truly understood the weight of them.

“I love you.”

A raspy giggle fell from your lips as your eyes blurred from the tears collecting at your waterline, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in, consumed by him completely. He pulled you flush against his body as his lips rested against your temple, whispering the words over and over as his hips slammed into you faster, taking everything from you that you would happily give to him for as long as you could. A loud moan from you muffled against the skin of his neck as you clenched tight around him, the familiar sign that told him how close you were to that blissful release.

His lips captured yours once more as he felt your walls grip around his length like a vice, the last few harsh thrusts being both your undoing as well as his. WIth a shuddered groan from him and a sharp cry from you, you contracted around him and felt waves of the euphoria only he could bring crashing over you. His cock throbbed deep inside you before spurts of his seed spilled into you, mingling with your arousal as it coated his shaft.

You both breathed heavily as you came down from the rapturous high you had just experienced, a shiver running down your spine as he found your lips and pressed a passionate, searing kiss against them. You blinked away the tears that were on the brink of rolling down your cheeks, pulling away to look up at him.

“All that before I even took a sip of coffee,” you beamed, giving his hair a playful tug.

“You started it,” he teased, chuckling.

“I know,” you shrugged, fine with taking the blame.

With another peck to your lips, Harry separated himself from you, a hiss leaving you at the loss of him inside you. You smiled softly as you could see a hint of pride in his eye from your reaction as he pulled his boxers and pants back into place. You fixed your panties and buttoned your shirt, well his shirt, back up. He had disappeared into the bedroom with his clothes, coming back a few minutes later in a fresh shirt and suit, still navy blue but with his collar popped up. He fiddled around with his tie, rolling his eyes as he was about to step up to the mirror in the hallway before you approached him.

You took both sides in your hands, twisting it around and briefly looking up into his eyes as they met yours. You couldn’t help but think that putting a man’s tie on was sexier than taking it off, as you created the perfect knot and tightened it, turning his collar down.

“Perfect,” you breathed, beaming up at him.

He shook his head, leaning down and running his curved nose along yours. “That’s you, baby.”

“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, peering up at him through your lashes.

“You really can’t just let me leave for work, can you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’ playfully.

He sighed dramatically as he dropped his head to your shoulder. “I guess they’ll just have to handle things without me.”

You cackled as he pulled you close and dragged you towards the bedroom, his plump lips kissing along the length of your neck, your laughter echoing down the halls where your breakfast grew cold, but neither of you cared.

You could eat later.

Together.

Follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I update.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[kiwriteswords]

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit. 

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him. 

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved. 

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him. 

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure. 

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass. 

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good. 

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much. 

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly. 

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible. 

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest. 

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.” 

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right. 

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you. 

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared. 

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap. 

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again.