misfit0789

[misfit0789]

do it.

The urge to get another tattoo after getting one just yesterday

[misfit0789]

can u believe…there are people…who get loved everyday…..by someone who truly cares about them and their wellbeing…and they dont doubt for one second that they’re loved….amazing

[misfit0789]

No after me

Pairings ◇ Paige Bueckers x arsenal! Reader

Genre ◇ fluff

Warnings ◇ very lightly suggestive

You groaned in boredom as you sat waiting on your girlfriend to get home. It was finally summer and due to an injury you weren't selected for international duties so you decided to make the most of it and travel to the US to be with your girlfriend.

However with her own season now picking up you unfortunately had to share her time with her practices and games. At the moment she was at one of those said practices and you were bored out of your mind so you decided to scroll tiktok mindlessly.

You quickly came across the ‘current partner’ trend and a plan immediately formed the same time your girlfriend walked tiredly back in her apartment, a subtle smirk on your lips at her perfect timing.

“Hey ma” Paige discarded her bag and plopped down the coach, her head in your lap. You smiled softly running your fingers through her slightly damp hair for a few minutes before remembering your plans.

“Is it ok if I go live darling. I'm kind of bored.” Your girlfriend just nodded mindlessly, eyes closed as she buried her face into your stomach.

You tapped into Instagram Live. Comments started rolling in almost immediately — fans excited to see the footballer in the U.S, to know how your recovery was going and of course to know if Paige was around.You smirked. Showtime.

You chatted with everyone for a bit, the sound of your accent almost lowering your girlfriend to sleep. “Yes, my current partner is here and asleep.” you feel your girlfriend's body tense in your lap and her calm breathing coming to a temporary stop.

Paige’s eyes opened immediately, narrowing. She turned her head slowly to look at you. “Current partner?” offense clear in her voice.

The chat exploded:

👀👀

‘OH NO’

‘Paige boutta throw hands’

‘what did she just say?!’

‘NOT “current” 😭’

You tilted her head like she didn’t understand the problem. “What? You are my current partner.” you can see Paige’s eyebrow twice in annoyance before she sits up her face now in the frame for the live to see.

‘Y/n cut the camera rn’

‘Paige’s face rn HELPP’

‘you gon’ die fr’

‘someone save y/n before Paige does something CRAZY’

“Don't play in my face right now, I'm your only partner. There ain't no after me ma.” Paige’s hand slowly wrapped around your neck as she kissed you roughly completely disregarding the phone recording everything and the chat exploding with even more comments.

You're dazed when she finally lets your lips go with pop. “It's… a prank?” You say unsure your mind still reeling itself back in after the heated kiss.

“Paige done broke our brick wall rip to the new season “

“Um, do yall need space?”

‘I'm covering my eyes but also watching harder’

‘Gays we're still here’

Paige smirks deviously, clearly satisfied with her actions before gently taking the phone out of your hands “goodnight kids.” and the live ended.

Paige’s face darkens again once her eyes are back on you. “Don't ever say something stupid shit like that again.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes ma'am.

Bonus:

Paige's story : A dazed Y/N sitting at the kitchen counter, holding a Gatorade with both hands like it’s holy water. Her hoodie is sliding off one shoulder, and she’s still red in the face.

Caption: sorry but this current is forever 🤷‍♀️

[misfit0789]

not naming names but some of you are genuinely really good people and i hope that you get everything your heart wants and needs

[misfit0789]

NWSL after dark loves to provide chaos😫

eight v eleven is freaking wild

[misfit0789]

Shout out to "i wanna socialize with my Internet friends but I don't have anything to talk about", gotta be one of my least favorite predicaments

[misfit0789]

Life and ...

Leah Williamson x Reader

Summary: Life has a fucked up way of working sometimes. The day starts normal only to end in tragedy…

Word Count: 3.3k words

Warnings: I don't want to spoil anything...but there is mentions of blood!

This is fiction. I wanted to try writing something new let me know what you guys think!

Y/n was woken up by soft lips pressing kisses to her cheek. She slowly opens her eyes as they adjust to the sunlight beaming into the room from the open curtains. When her eyes adjust she locks eyes with her favorite defender, who is leaning down so her blonde locks surround them both. Y/n smiles at the woman, moving her hands so they rest on Leah's waist, just above where the blanket rests on her still bare hips from their activities the night prior.

"Good morning." Y/n whispers. Leah smiles at Y/n leaning down to press a kiss to Y/n's lips only for Y/n to move at the last minute. "Morning breath." Y/n supplies. Leah rolls her eyes, taking Y/n's face in her hands and leaning down to press a kiss to Y/n's lips.

"I don't care." Leah whispers when they pull away. Y/n chuckles leaning her head back on her pillow. Leah follows, pressing another kiss to Y/n's lips. The couple continue, hands wandering each other's bodies, almost going farther once more but, just before that can happen a knock sounds on their bedroom door.

The couple pull away breathless. Leah lets out a groan of frustration rolling off Y/n back to her side of the bed. Y/n chuckles standing and grabbing some clothes. Leah watches eyes raking over Y/n's body, sheet pulled up to cover her chest. "Dammit" Leah groans. Y/n chuckles.

"Patience my love." Y/n says walking to open the door to her and Leah's shared bedroom. "Munchkin!" Y/n exclaims as a little body runs into her legs once she opens the door. Y/n bends down to take the child fully into her arms.

"Mama!" the child exclaims wrapping her little arms around Y/n's neck, tucking her face into her mother's neck. Y/n adjusts her hold on the child and stands with her daughter in her arms. Y/n looks up over the child's shoulder smiling at her younger sister and sister-in-law.

"How was she?" Y/n asks her sister, stepping out of her bedroom and shutting the door behind her to allow Leah a chance to get dressed, thankful for teaching Peyton to knock before entering a room that has the door closed. Y/n walks towards her sister who is standing at the end of the hall in the living room, her sister-in-law standing next to her.

"She was an angel. Myle loved having her around." Viv answers sending her sister a smile. Y/n chuckles nodding.

"Sounds about right. She always talks about how much she loves getting to spend time with Myle. She keeps asking for a puppy but that is too much for a six year old to handle." Y/n jokes, holding Peyton with one arm and tickling her with the other. Peyton lets out a giggle squirming in her mothers hold.

"Mama stop!" she laughs. Beth and Viv laugh watching the mother daughter duo.

"Is that my baby I hear?" Leah asks walking into the room. Y/n seizes her tickle attack on her daughter and looks up to see Leah dressed in her Y/n's Arsenal hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

"Mommy!" Peyton exclaims squirming in Y/n's hold to be let down. Y/n chuckles setting her daughter on the ground so that she can greet her other mother.

"How was your night with Auntie Viv and Auntie Beth?" Leah asks, her daughter now in her arms, much like she was with Y/n. Y/n watches as Peyton recounts her adventures with her aunts to her mother. A nudge from Viv pulls Y/n from her thoughts.

"Another one soon, right?" Y/n looks at her sister in confusion as Beth converses with Leah and Peyton. Viv rolls her eyes motioning to Peyton with her head.

"It's about time for another kid, right?" Viv jokes. Y/n chuckles, letting out a breath.

"I mean…" Y/n trails off, brining her hand up to run at the back of her neck. A telltale sign that she is hiding something. Viv lets out a gasp, before slapping her sister on the shoulder.

"You guys already started the process didn't you?!" Viv asks quietly as to not attract the attention of the others. Y/n glances at Leah knowing she wouldn't be happy with Y/n for telling anyone just yet, before nodding.

"Yes," Y/n breathes, "But!" She whisper shouts, stopping Viv from saying anything else just yet. "You cannot say anything." Y/n says placing her hands on her sisters shoulders. Viv goes to nod but Y/n continues. "Not even to Beth. You know I love her but she can't hold water in her mouth." Y/n jokes. Viv sighs but still nods. She loves her wife but knows from experience that she can't keep a secret to save her life.

"Fine, but I want to be the first to know when she's pregnant!" Viv says. Y/n sighs but nods agreeing with her sister.

Y/n and Leah had adopted Peyton when she was six months old. The process was fairly easy for the couple. They were both in their prime with playing and knew neither one could be pregnant at the time but they had talked after Peyton's 6th birthday and decided they wanted another kid. Leah had decided to take a bit of a break from playing so she was happy to offer to be the one to carry. Y/n had no objections already planning on everything she could do to help Leah as she carried their second child. All Y/n had said to her sister was that Leah was willing to carry but had never said when that would be.

"Mama!" Y/n turns towards her wife and daughter at the sound of her name.

"Yes, my loves." Y/n says moving to stand behind Leah, who is still holding Peyton in her arms, placing a hand on her wife's waist. Beth having moved to the kitchen. Viv likely following behind.

"You playing today?" Peyton asks pointing at the Arsenal badge on the hoodie Leah's wearing. Y/n nods running her hands through Peyton's golden locks. Despite not being biologically theirs Peyton holds a striking resemblance to Leah and Y/n from her blonde hair to her mannerisms.

"I am." Y/n nods, "You and Mommy are going to sit in the stands with Auntie Viv who also has a boo-boo like Mommy.." Y/n says. Peyton nods laying her head on Leah's shoulder. Leah smiles rubbing her hand up and down Peyton's back, pressing a soft kiss to her daughter's head.

"Still sleepy my love?" Leah asks walking towards Peyton's room. The child nods, wrapping her arms around her mother tighter.

"Too early." Peyton mumbles. Leah lets out a soft laugh at that, turning slightly to look at Y/n who rolls her eyes having heard what her daughter said.

"Yeah. Yeah. I know she gets it from me. Go let her take a nap before we have to start getting ready to head to the stadium." Y/n says waving Leah away. Leah chuckles continuing on her way to Peyton's room.

"9 am and it's too early for you. You definitely are your Mama's child." Leah whispers when she feels Peyton's breath even out, indicating the child fell asleep. Leah gently opens Peyton's room door and sets her daughter in her bed. Leah pulls the covers over Peyton and presses a soft kiss to her head before leaving the room just as silent as she entered. Leah makes her way into the kitchen seeing her wife laughing with her sister and sister-in-law.

"Babe! I made you your coffee!" Y/n says moving to hand Leah her normal coffee mug. Leah shakes her head taking a seat at the island next to Beth.

"Not today my love." Leah says pressing a kiss to Y/n's cheek. Y/n looks at Leah confused. "I'm just feeling a bit nauseous right now that's all." Leah explains. Y/n nods taking Leah's coffee for herself so it doesn't go to waste. "Anyway are you guys excited to play today? London derby!" Leah exclaims, upset that she's missing the match but excited for the end of it to be able to tell Y/n the news she has.

"A little. Nervous though. It'll be my first start against Chelsea. I've seen you guys all play during these matches but I'm nervous as I've seen how these matches have gone in the past. It could get brutal." Y/n says, moving from the counter to stand near Leah who reaches out and pulls Y/n into her sensing how stressed her wife is.

"You'll be great! You're one of the best keepers in the world. They won't stand a chance to score against you." Beth exclaims, resulting in laughs from the others.

"I guess, but I don't want to get my hopes up." Y/n says fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her nerves fully showing. Leah and Viv share a look knowing that when Y/n gets like this there is little that can calm her down.

"Baby why don't we join Peyton and take a nap before we have to leave." Leah asks. Y/n nods moving to walk towards their bedroom, saying a soft 'bye' to Beth and Viv. Once Y/n is gone Viv looks to Leah.

"First sorry we interrupted your 'moment' earlier" Viv jokes, having seen the grumpy look on Leah's face when she had walked in, Leah jokingly rolls her eyes. "Second, please take care of her. I can tell something is bothering her about today. You and Pey are the only ones I know that can get her out of this funk." Viv explains, Leah lets out a breath nodding.

"I know," she sighs, "I haven't seen her like this since we found out we got the approval for Peyton. I'll keep you updated." Leah says standing to pull Viv into a hug. "We'll see you guys at the match. Drive safe home." Leah says releasing Viv to hug Beth. The other couple nod moving towards the door of the apartment.

"Please do. It's hard to see the normally calm Y/n so stressed over a match," Beth sighs. The other two nod, knowing there must be something more going on. Leah bids the couple goodbye and shuts the door behind them. She takes a deep breath leaning back on the closed door before pushing off and moving towards her bedroom. She peeks at Peyton and smiles seeing her daughter asleep in her bed, on her way before continuing her move to her and Y/n's room. She smiles softly seeing her wife already asleep in the bed. Leah sets an alarm on her phone before joining Y/n, curling herself in Y/n's arms. Y/n shifts wrapping her arms around Leah, her hands resting on Leah's stomach. Leah chuckles shaking her head.

"I haven't even told you yet and you know."

~~~~~~~~~

"Go Mama!" Peyton cheers from her place on Leah's lap. The mother-daughter duo are seated in the friends and family section dressed in their Y/l/n Arsenal gear. Since it was a colder day in London both have their Arsenal beanies on their heads.

The game has been going on for just over 60 minutes, and just as Beth said Y/n has managed to keep a clean sheet so far as Arsenal lead the match 2-0, with goals from Beth and Alessia.

It's the 65th minute when things begin to go downhill. Chelsea had managed to get a corner. The sounds from the crowd cheering and coaches yelling gets drowned out at the loud thunk Leah hears. She is immediately on her feet having a bad feeling but with the blur of red and blue on the field she can't tell what's going on. She sees all Arsenal players surround someone who is down on the pitch as someone, who she recognizes as Kim, waves frantically to the sidelines for the medics. Leah swears she feels her hear stop as through the frantic players she sees a glimpse of the yellow keeper kit, that she knows her wife is wearing, laying flat on the pitch unmoving.

"Viv I-" Leah turns to her sister-in-law, knowing something isn't right. Viv nods, moving to take Peyton from Leah, the child watching in confusion as to what is going on.

"Go, I'll keep Peyton with me. Keep me updated." Viv says Leah nods, carefully handing her daughter over, pressing a kiss to the child's head.

"Mommy? Mama sleeping?" The girl questions. Leah pulls back holding her daughter's face in her hands.

"Mama… Mama may have a boo-boo so Mommy has to go see if she's okay. You're going to stay with Auntie Viv for a little bit." Leah explains. The child nods not fully understanding the situation, but turns into her aunt trying to watch what is going on on the pitch but Viv turns her so she can't when she spots the red staining Y/n's kit as the medics reach her and load her on the stretcher. Viv and Leah share a concerned look before Leah turns and darts off to the spot she knows the medics will be leaving the stadium with Y/n.

Leah gets to the corridor that leads to the door where the ambulance usually sits for matches seeing the medical team and paramedics rushing around Y/n who is lying still on the stretcher. One of the paramedics is straddling Y/n and administering CPR as the others push the stretcher towards the ambulance.

"Leah!" One of the medics calls when they see her standing there. She rushes forward moving to the empty spot next to Y/n, following them as they move towards the door. Steps faltering when she sees the state Y/n is in. Y/n has a large gash on her head that is bleeding through the temporary bandages that were placed on the wound, blood is trickling down Y/n's face and onto her once bright yellow kit that is now stained in red.

"I'm sorry ma'am but-" Leah cuts off one of the paramedics.

"I'm her wife. I'm not leaving her." Leah states leaving no room for argument, her voice sounding much more brave than she truly feels. The paramedics knowing the situation don't argue and allow Leah to enter the ambulance with them once Y/n is loaded inside. Leah sits on the bench next to Y/n as one paramedic hops in the back with them, the other two shut the doors and rush around to get in the front beginning the trek to the hospital.

The paramedic in the back with Leah starts hooking Y/n up to the monitors there. The paramedic looks at the screen before her eyes widen.

"Hurry the hell up!" She yells smacking the wall between the back of the vehicle and the front. Leah feels the ride speed up. She looks to the paramedic in concern.

"What's happening? What's going on?" Leah says, tears falling down her face, not liking the feeling of this situation at all. The paramedic ignores her continuing to work on Y/n. Leah keeps trying to get some kind of information out of the woman but gets nothing. Leah eventually gives up tightening her hold on Y/n's hand. "Please be okay baby," Leah whispers. "You have to meet your second kid." Leah continues quietly. The paramedic gives Leah a sad look, one that Leah misses, knowing things aren't looking good for Y/n.

Shortly after the vehicles comes to a stop. The doors burst open and there is a group of nurses and a doctor that rush to help get Y/n out of the ambulance and into the hospital. Leah rushed behind but is stopped when Y/n s led past the doors to the ICU.

"I can't let you back there ma'am." A nurse says. Leah goes to argue but the doors bursting open behind her stop her. She turns and sees her mother, and father and rushing into the hospital. Her parents had stayed home to watch the match, but when they saw Y/n go down they immediately left for the hospital closest to the stadium knowing Leah would need them. Especially for Peyton.

"Leah!" Her mother calls. Leah lets her emotions take over as she collapses into her mothers arms. Amanda wraps her arms around her daughter in a tight hug, holding her as she cries. David leads his wife and daughter towards open chairs in the waiting room.

"Peyton is with Viv. I rushed to follow them with Y/n to the ambulance. I didn't want to leave Pey but I couldn't leave Y/n alone. I needed to see with my own eyes that she's okay. Mom-" Leahs words stop as she remembers how Y/n looked. Amanda whispers to her daughter that everything will be okay, not once letting go knowing her daughter needs this comfort.

Around an hour later a doctor walks out of the door Y/n disappeared behind. Blood on his scrubs a somber look on his face.

"Family of Y/n Y/l/n." He calls. Leah stands and moves towards the man.

"I'm her wife. Is she okay? Please tell me she's okay." Leah begs the man shakes his head.

"I'm so sorry." Leah's heart breaks even further at the words knowing what they mean.

"No!" She sobs falling to her knees in the hospital waiting room. Her mother falls next to her wrapping her daughter in a hug as her father walks away, clenching and unclenching his fists in anger at the situation the family is now facing.

Leah tunes out everything the doctor says, trying to grasp the fact that her wife is no longer with her. Her wife who won't get to tuck Peyton in to bed. Her wife who won't get to kiss her daughter again. Her wife who won't get to meet their second child. Leah sits there on the hospital waiting room floor sobbing harder as she comes to the realization that Y/n didn't get to hear that Leah is pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~

Five years later…

"Mommy! I can't find my gloves!" eleven year old Peyton calls from the living room where she is rifling through her kit bag.

"They're in my bag Pey! I threw them in there after you left them in the car the other day!" Leah calls back walking into the living room with her five year old son in her arms.

After Y/n had passed Leah went into a dark place. It took Viv, Beth and Alessia to get her back to a semi-normal Leah. She would never be the same as Y/n was such a huge part of her. Without Y/n she has had to learn a lot of things she never thought she would have to. She had to rely on people who weren't her wife to help her with her pregnancy cravings, and anything else that she needed.

Leah had planned on getting to experience that with Y/n and she broke down most nights as she realized this was one thing Y/n was looking forward to with the pregnancy. But as Leah grew closer to the end of the nine months she realized that she would still live on but never let Y/n be forgotten. Especially when Nick was born. He was the spitting image of Y/n from his y/h/c hair to her y/e/c eyes. He reminded Leah of Y/n in all the best ways and she knew that Y/n was there watching her family grow.

Leah never tried to find someone else. She knew Y/n was her soulmate and it wouldn't be fair for her to try and be with someone else when she knew Y/n was it for her. She was perfectly content with her two kids and her family who were there for her in whatever way she needed, knowing losing her wife at such a young age was not going to be easy. Especially with two young kids.

Peyton took after her mother's and started playing football. She had talked about being a defender like her mommy, but she had seen videos of Y/n in goal and decided she wanted to be more like her Mama and asked to be a keeper instead. That brought tears to Leah's eyes but she agreed. Peyton was like Y/n in that she was tall, even at her age and she may only be ten but she is incredibly talented for her age. She's a natural much like her Mama was.

Leah hopes Y/n is watching over them and she can hopes that Y/n is proud of her.

Little does she know that Y/n is always watching over her and that she will always be proud of Leah.

[misfit0789]

Imma need yall to wrap this gay shit up😐

~signed bitter and single.

[misfit0789]

True legend.

[misfit0789]

I do 😒 but I do have something up my sleeve 😏

The machine in Barcelona colours

Pairings ♤ Ex! Alexia Putellas x reader

Genre ♤ angst

Warnings ♤ This fic talks about heavy topics such as self-harm, poor mental health, and excessive alcohol consumption. Please don't read if you're sensitive to these things.

“I don't think this is working anymore.” The words came out like a sigh of relief. There wasn't any cheating, no major fight or betrayal. Just what felt like a huge burden being let go of.

“Ok” You didn't scream, you didn't ask why, and you didn’t cry. You just accepted the decision Alexia made without a fuss and to say the older woman was surprised was an understatement.

It's been weeks in the making between the endless games with little to no rest Alexia felt like your relationship was just another thing that was weighing down her plate. She was prepared for whatever version of anger you would throw at her but the way you stared at her your eyes void of any emotion was unsettling. She would have much preferred you lashed out at her cause your calm made her feel uneasy.

“Is that all?” Alexia scoffed lightly.

“What did you expect? that we cuddle? You're the one that's had enough so can you please leave?” You open the door for Alexia. she had no choice but to walk out and you closed the door softly behind her. She waited for any signs of muffled crying or screaming but all she got was the continued unsettling calm.

From that day on back at barça it was business as usual. It's like you became a machine in barça clothes. You were clinical and precise. You passed with an accuracy your teammates hadn't seen before, timed tackles to a key and even scored goals with surgical precision they didn't expect from a center back. But they weren't blind the locker room noticed the spark that was gone.

“You ok English?” Patri asked one day before training, choosing to be the brave one to brace your unusual calm.

“Sure.” you replied flatly tying your laces even tighter not once looking up at the young midfielder.

The answer had become a popular one. No one on the team can remember the last time you'd even said a full sentence. But they left it alone at the command of Pere who was just soaking in the glory of your recent performance and Alexia the team advocate didn't seem bothered by your behavior so they figured it was better to leave well enough alone.

Alexia did noticed and she was bothered. She watched as the y/n she knew died the day she made her choice now replaced with this one. In meetings, on the pitch and even walking past each in the hallway it looked like you'd traded your soul in exchange for not falling apart.

The worst part was the silence between you and Alexia. Even on the pitch you refused to acknowledge her unless you absolutely had no choice and every now and then the older woman wonders if she maybe made a mistake. You never gave her the chance to find out either. You weren't cruel, just gone protected by buried emotions and a steel wall.

But at night when you were alone you'd sit on the balcony where you sat most nights with Alexia talking about everything and nothing all at once. You'd remember how she'd laughed and it would echo in and mix with the sounds of the buzzing city below.

The memories would take you away to the what ifs until you were up all night into the mornings where you'd turn those memories off just to lace up your boots and head to the locker room not once meeting anyone's eyes.

In your mind love and feelings were useless emotions. They didn't win you trophies so you kept them in a cage. Gone were the day's where you'd crack a joke in the tunnel where everyone was lined up to calm their nerves before big games or the one that would offer comfort after tough losses. The goals kept coming, the tackles and even assists on the pitch you were silent, effective and ruthless. You became a well oiled football machine

No one tried to come close even Jana who you regarded as a younger sister. Not even Alexia. Especially not Alexia. But even machines have points when they break. That's when you reach for things that didn't ask questions or think that you'd change.

First it was because you couldn't sleep because of memories of you and Alexia tormented you.A few sleeping pills nothing too major just something to take the edge off. Nothing major

But as games kept piling up and the pain started to break through the ground from where you worked so hard to bury it you needed something to quiet the buzzing in your head and the ache in your heart. The pills weren't enough so you added alcohol. Just a little drink after games or training until a little drink turned into a bottle or two.

You still showed up to training and games. Gave your all and repeated the cycle. Coaches noticed the effects quickly. The drop in your weight, slower reactions to the ball and the bruises that didn't heal but you quickly dismissed it as stress from the buildup of games. No one pushed too hard because even at your worst you were still winning games.

The team watched you deteriorate but still didn't approach you in fear of the dead look in your eyes. They were too afraid of confirming what they already knew cause many weren't sure what to do after they confirmed the truth or if you even would accept that truth and get help.

“Y/n what's happening to you?” Alexia asked beyond concern at this point pulling you away from prying ears. You didn’t answer though, just looked straight ahead and walked away.

The finals against Arsenal you walked in pale and trembling but the team and medical staff's concern fell on deaf ears as Pere believed you'd bring the trophy back to barça and put you in the starting lineup.

You stumbled around until the final whistle came and signaled Barcelona's defeat. You didn’t have time to process the loss or the sobs of your teammates because the world around you started to spin, the cheers, cries of joy and sadness all blended into one.

Before you know it your body finally gave up and collapsed in the field. Your teammates weren't the first to react wrapped up in their disappointment. It was your former teammate Mariona who was coming to offer comfort that noticed the way your body racked with shakes, your eyes rolled back as you foamed from the mouth.

“Ayuda!” Mariona's voice gets lost in the celebrations as she drops to her knees, turning your seizing body on your side.

“Alexia por favor.” The Spaniard is in full panic now hoping someone would hear her. Alexia's ear caught it barely and her head snapped in your direction quickly, fear and horror overtook her body.

“amor, y/n no no no” Alexia ran to your side gently slapping your cheeks hoping to snap you out of it.

“Someone get a fucking medic out here now.” Katie's voice boomed across the pitch when she noticed her teammate and the Barcelona captain on their knees in fear.

By the time paramedics were on the pitch your body had stopped moving, your eyes closed looking at the most peaceful your team had seen you in a while and while the paramedics couldn't pronounce you they knew the truth. You were gone.

While they loaded your body into the ambulance Alexia kicked and screamed apologies fighting against patris and ingrid's grip. No ears that heard it was the right one because it was said too late.

[misfit0789]

damn you 😭😭

The machine in Barcelona colours

Pairings ♤ Ex! Alexia Putellas x reader

Genre ♤ angst

Warnings ♤ This fic talks about heavy topics such as self-harm, poor mental health, and excessive alcohol consumption. Please don't read if you're sensitive to these things.

“I don't think this is working anymore.” The words came out like a sigh of relief. There wasn't any cheating, no major fight or betrayal. Just what felt like a huge burden being let go of.

“Ok” You didn't scream, you didn't ask why, and you didn’t cry. You just accepted the decision Alexia made without a fuss and to say the older woman was surprised was an understatement.

It's been weeks in the making between the endless games with little to no rest Alexia felt like your relationship was just another thing that was weighing down her plate. She was prepared for whatever version of anger you would throw at her but the way you stared at her your eyes void of any emotion was unsettling. She would have much preferred you lashed out at her cause your calm made her feel uneasy.

“Is that all?” Alexia scoffed lightly.

“What did you expect? that we cuddle? You're the one that's had enough so can you please leave?” You open the door for Alexia. she had no choice but to walk out and you closed the door softly behind her. She waited for any signs of muffled crying or screaming but all she got was the continued unsettling calm.

From that day on back at barça it was business as usual. It's like you became a machine in barça clothes. You were clinical and precise. You passed with an accuracy your teammates hadn't seen before, timed tackles to a key and even scored goals with surgical precision they didn't expect from a center back. But they weren't blind the locker room noticed the spark that was gone.

“You ok English?” Patri asked one day before training, choosing to be the brave one to brace your unusual calm.

“Sure.” you replied flatly tying your laces even tighter not once looking up at the young midfielder.

The answer had become a popular one. No one on the team can remember the last time you'd even said a full sentence. But they left it alone at the command of Pere who was just soaking in the glory of your recent performance and Alexia the team advocate didn't seem bothered by your behavior so they figured it was better to leave well enough alone.

Alexia did noticed and she was bothered. She watched as the y/n she knew died the day she made her choice now replaced with this one. In meetings, on the pitch and even walking past each in the hallway it looked like you'd traded your soul in exchange for not falling apart.

The worst part was the silence between you and Alexia. Even on the pitch you refused to acknowledge her unless you absolutely had no choice and every now and then the older woman wonders if she maybe made a mistake. You never gave her the chance to find out either. You weren't cruel, just gone protected by buried emotions and a steel wall.

But at night when you were alone you'd sit on the balcony where you sat most nights with Alexia talking about everything and nothing all at once. You'd remember how she'd laughed and it would echo in and mix with the sounds of the buzzing city below.

The memories would take you away to the what ifs until you were up all night into the mornings where you'd turn those memories off just to lace up your boots and head to the locker room not once meeting anyone's eyes.

In your mind love and feelings were useless emotions. They didn't win you trophies so you kept them in a cage. Gone were the day's where you'd crack a joke in the tunnel where everyone was lined up to calm their nerves before big games or the one that would offer comfort after tough losses. The goals kept coming, the tackles and even assists on the pitch you were silent, effective and ruthless. You became a well oiled football machine

No one tried to come close even Jana who you regarded as a younger sister. Not even Alexia. Especially not Alexia. But even machines have points when they break. That's when you reach for things that didn't ask questions or think that you'd change.

First it was because you couldn't sleep because of memories of you and Alexia tormented you.A few sleeping pills nothing too major just something to take the edge off. Nothing major

But as games kept piling up and the pain started to break through the ground from where you worked so hard to bury it you needed something to quiet the buzzing in your head and the ache in your heart. The pills weren't enough so you added alcohol. Just a little drink after games or training until a little drink turned into a bottle or two.

You still showed up to training and games. Gave your all and repeated the cycle. Coaches noticed the effects quickly. The drop in your weight, slower reactions to the ball and the bruises that didn't heal but you quickly dismissed it as stress from the buildup of games. No one pushed too hard because even at your worst you were still winning games.

The team watched you deteriorate but still didn't approach you in fear of the dead look in your eyes. They were too afraid of confirming what they already knew cause many weren't sure what to do after they confirmed the truth or if you even would accept that truth and get help.

“Y/n what's happening to you?” Alexia asked beyond concern at this point pulling you away from prying ears. You didn’t answer though, just looked straight ahead and walked away.

The finals against Arsenal you walked in pale and trembling but the team and medical staff's concern fell on deaf ears as Pere believed you'd bring the trophy back to barça and put you in the starting lineup.

You stumbled around until the final whistle came and signaled Barcelona's defeat. You didn’t have time to process the loss or the sobs of your teammates because the world around you started to spin, the cheers, cries of joy and sadness all blended into one.

Before you know it your body finally gave up and collapsed in the field. Your teammates weren't the first to react wrapped up in their disappointment. It was your former teammate Mariona who was coming to offer comfort that noticed the way your body racked with shakes, your eyes rolled back as you foamed from the mouth.

“Ayuda!” Mariona's voice gets lost in the celebrations as she drops to her knees, turning your seizing body on your side.

“Alexia por favor.” The Spaniard is in full panic now hoping someone would hear her. Alexia's ear caught it barely and her head snapped in your direction quickly, fear and horror overtook her body.

“amor, y/n no no no” Alexia ran to your side gently slapping your cheeks hoping to snap you out of it.

“Someone get a fucking medic out here now.” Katie's voice boomed across the pitch when she noticed her teammate and the Barcelona captain on their knees in fear.

By the time paramedics were on the pitch your body had stopped moving, your eyes closed looking at the most peaceful your team had seen you in a while and while the paramedics couldn't pronounce you they knew the truth. You were gone.

While they loaded your body into the ambulance Alexia kicked and screamed apologies fighting against patris and ingrid's grip. No ears that heard it was the right one because it was said too late.

[misfit0789]

My first choice

Pairings ♤ Leila Ouahabi x reader

Genre ♤ fluff

Warnings ♤ none

Your life has always a cycle being the other choices. At school you'd be the last to be selected into teams, the convenient one in her friendships that no one really thought about until they needed something or if the first choice wasn't around.

Relationships were no different. You were always the other choice then just to have the attention shifted immediately the ideal first choice came along. You were used to this rhythm in life and you accepted it because what other choice was there?

Moving to Manchester city after being just another choice at your last club was as you expected. You warmed the bench day in and day out without complaint knowing it wouldn't make much of a difference. You were just happy a club would take you in at this point.But things do tend to get heavy and leila noticed. She noticed and did something about it.

“Do you have partner?” you jump a little but shake your head lightly. Leila clicks her tongue but grabs your hand gently pulling you towards the ball to complete the drill assigned.

“You don't talk much, no?” You pause after little with the ball at your feet before passing it back to her not knowing what to say even though the question was so simple. “That's ok I'll talk for the both of us”

Leila went into detail about her life in Spain and her life in England. You intently listened but still kept your head down not that the older girl minded. The one sided conversation carried on until you eventually heard the whistle bringing the day's session to an end.

You made no move to rush off the way your teammates did as they happily chatted away and leila didn't either, choosing to sit and watch you juggle the ball unaware that she was still there. She just really looked at you for the first time in the months you've been here.

You were truly beautiful yet enigmatic but still she wanted to know what made you..you. and she didn't think she could rest until she broke you down layer by layer.

“Come sit carino.” you jump for the second time that day, barely catching the ball in your hand which you gripped lightly before hesitantly sitting next to the older woman at a distance you thought was safe.

“I talk all day. Tell me something carino. Anything”

You look at leila and your eyes immediately meet. The genuine look of interest in her eyes was suffocating, sucking everything you thought you knew about yourself out of your head and sealing your lips shut. Leila noticed but didn't push; she just moved to sit behind you bringing your body to her chest but leaving room for you to reject the hold if you needed to.

You naturally tensed up for a bit but allowed yourself to be held. Leila smiled slightly at the way your body melted into her but it immediately dropped when she felt your body rack with sobs. She didn't say anything, just held onto you tightly.

“I..my favorite colour is green” you break the silence once you finally calmed down. Leila lights up even though it's such a small and mundane piece of information she felt like it was a step in the right direction.

Another day after another training session both of you fall into the familiar position of your back to leila's chest. After the first time it felt like it was almost second nature.

“I always save the corner pieces when I bake. Everyone always likes it more than I do”

Leila tilted her head to look at your face a bit better “you save the best for others?”

You shrugged. “Just makes sense.”

Do you do that alot? Give people your best in exchange for hoping they'd choose you first?”

You froze at that, not expecting someone to undress your mind in such little time. It was unsettling. Too much vulnerability is exposed for your taste.

“I like the middle part anyways.” The older woman added squeezing your hips lightly.

The sun had set over the pitch and your teammates had long left for their respective homes but the both of you stayed wrapped up in each other on the pitch.

“Wanna grab some food?”

You tilted your head to look up at leila. “Don't you usually go out with laia today.”

“I think I'd rather go out with you today. Laia will be ok.”

There's a pause as you run Leila's words over in your head “no one's ever put me first before this.”

Leila frowns and effortlessly flipped your body so you're not facing her. Your knees on either side of her thighs while you sat in her lap.

“Well they're all how do you say…idiotas.” Leila says with certainty gently running her thumb over your cheeks and in that moment you felt something you haven't felt since you were a child. You felt chosen and not like just another after thought.

“ You'll never be a second choice to me cari. I'll make sure of it.

[misfit0789]

Cold Shoulder

Emily Sonnett x Reader

Summary: The secret Emily's been keeping from Y/n gets revealed.

Word count: 2.9k words

Warnings: None...

This is fiction. This isn't set during a specific time. I have another version of this. Let me know if you want me to post it. I hope you enjoy!

Y/n was in the bedroom she shared with Emily, her girlfriend of a year and a half. Y/n thankfully had the day off from training to surprise Emily for her birthday. Emily had left early that morning for her own training, then she had recovery so Y/n knew she had a bit of time to set everything up.

She had scattered rose petals on the floor of their bedroom, bought Emily's favorite flowers and placed them in the center of the bed. She had gotten the ingredients needed to make Emily's favorite meal. Y/n had it all planned to make the day special.

Emily was Y/n's first real relationship. Y/n had been ghosted way too often in her life but Emily wasn't like that. Emily stayed. When Y/n got comfortable with Emily she told her of her ADHD. Emily wasn't surprised and had embraced Y/n. The care Emily showed broke Y/n's tough exterior she has had to use all of her life, as she fell into Emily's arms in tears.

That had been 7 months ago.

Emily and Y/n have been going strong since. The only thing that concerned Y/n was that in their year and a half of dating, Y/n had always gotten the cold shoulder from Emily's friends. They all seemed to steer clear of Y/n and she wasn't sure why. She was always nice to them but they never really interacted much with her.

Until today.

Y/n had put the final touches on their shared bedroom when she heard the front door open. She went to call out to Emily but stopped at the other voices she heard. She slowly walked to the bedroom doorway and poked her head out the door, surprised with the amount of people she saw walk into her apartment with her girlfriend. Y/n recognized them as Emily's teammates, some national and some club.

Emily leads the group into the living room. Rose, Kelley, Lynn, Trinity, Jenna, and Lindsey following behind. Y/n went to go talk to them but stopped when she heard her name.

"Sonny you’re still with that Y/n chick?" Kelley asks letting out a sigh when she sees a sweater she knows isn't Emily's hanging on the chair. Emily nods as she takes seat on the couch next to Rose and Kelley. Lindsey sitting in the loveseat with Lynn as Trinity and Jenna take a seat on the floor in front of Kelley and Lindsey, leaning back against the couch.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" Emily asks.

"Isn't your PR contract up?" Lindsey asks. Emily shakes her head leaning back in her seat.

"No that's not until next month and besides I asked my manager to rip it up. I actually grew to like this girl. She enjoys partying, she's funny and she's great in bed," Emily smirks at the end causing the others to laugh.

Y/n stands there in shock hearing that her year and a half relationship with the soccer player was all for PR. Y/n was a starting guard for the Liberty and had been for a couple years. She played alongside her sister Sabrina and the two dominated the court together. Sure Y/n had a large following but that was in thanks to her sister. Y/n was the shy kid with the mental health problems that stayed on the side. Sabrina had protected Y/n all their lives from those who tried to put Y/n down or were only with her to meet the 'better sibling'. Sabrina had met Emily and loved her. Hell they had gone on double dates on multiple occasions! Y/n never could have imagined that her relationship was a PR stunt. Y/n stays hidden unlocking her phone and calling her sister as she continues to listen.

"Wait, you and Y/n are a PR thing?" Jenna asks in shock. Emily nods.

"Yea my manager and hers apparently had talked and thought this would help me get more traction. With her sister being so big they both had thought that me getting with the quiet one would be a big benefit to my career." Emily explains. Jenna nods.

"Wait does Y/n know? You know that you guys are PR?" Trinity asks. Emily lets out a sigh shaking her head.

"No, our managers strictly said not to tell her. They said she'd freak and it would cause a big problem for everyone. That's why I told them to rip up the contract. I actually fell for this girl and like her. I know how much this would crush her if she found out. Besides Y/n may be taller than Sabrina but Sabrina is definitely the scarier one." Emily says shivering at the thought of making Sabina mad. She had seen Sabrina when she was mad on the court, but she doesn't want to imagine how much worse she'd be when it comes to someone hurting Y/n.

Little did she know…

"Don't you feel bad? That you'll know this about your relationship and she'll think this was all natural?" Rose asks. Jenna, Kelley and Lynn nodding, all wondering the same thing. Emily shrugs.

"I mean yea, but I'm sure after a few more years together we can look back and laugh on this. We'll be married and happy. Nothing would break us apart." Emily says leaning back in her seat. Rose and Lynn share a look, both seeming to be the only ones with working brains and hearts about how this can impact someone.

"So she'll never know you guys started dating because of a contract?" Lynn asks, starting to feel bad for Y/n as she realizes how bad this could truly get for both Emily and Y/n. She had seen the news stories of how Y/n had been treated in the past. It came out last month that Y/n had ADHD and other mental health issues and the media has been tearing her apart. If she ever found out her and Emily began from a contract Lynn is sure that would crush her. Emily shakes her head.

 "Nope. She will never know." Emily says, oblivious to the fact that Y/n has heard every word. Y/n glances at her phone seeing a message pop up from her sister.

Sabs [5:26 p.m.]: That bitch!

Sabs [5:26 p.m.]: I'll be right over to set her straight!

Y/n chuckles seeing the messages from her sister. No doubt in her mind that Sabrina will bring back up. Y/n decides to make herself known seeing as Sabrina doesn't live that far from where Y/n and Emily live…well lived.

"She will never know what?" Y/n asks. The women in the room freeze at the voice, all knowing exactly who it belongs to. Y/n stands behind the loveseat arms crossed with an unimpressed look on her face. Emily is like a deer in headlights as she stares wide-eyed, jaw dropped at her girlfriend. Kelley is the first to break from shock.

"Hey Y/n…" Kelley starts but immediately stops when she sees the look on Y/n's face. The look mirroring one of Sabrina's that usually has anyone who opposes her backing down. 

"She will never know what Em?" Y/n asks again, a pointed look on her face as she stares at Emily. Emily shrinks in her seat knowing she's screwed. Y/n is to calm right now considering what she just found out.

"Look Y/n !-" Y/n cuts Emily off, stepping further into the room. The others silent watching as the scene unfolds before them.

"No." Emily looks at Y/n a scared look on her face. "You were with me for your damn career." Y/n starts, "You cared more about your career than a living person. It took you a year and a half to realize you actually cared for me. One month before this 'contract' was up. You cared more for a career that will eventually end when you could have had a partner for the rest of your life." Y/n spits out still too calm for Emily's liking.

"I know, I-" Y/n shakes her head not letting Emily explain.

"I think you've said enough." Y/n says shaking her head. Emily looks down. "I loved you." Emily lets out a strangled sob at Y/n's words. Y/n scoffs. "You have no right to be the one crying. You broke me. You knew about my past and you still carried on with that stupid contract." Y/n takes a deep breath, trying to control herself.

Before Y/n can speak again the apartment door bursts open. Sabrina storms in followed by Stewie and Natasha. The soccer players jump from their seats moving to stand with Emily when Sabrina charges towards her. Kelley and Trinity stand in front of Emily separating Sabrina from her.

"Move. I'm going to kill this bitch for playing with my sister." Sabrina seethes trying to get between the two but Kelley and Trinity hold strong against the 5'11" player.

"Sabs." Y/n calls. Sabrina pauses glancing at her sister. The two have a silent conversation before Sabrina sighs and moves to stand with Y/n. Stewie and Natasha next to them. The women all stand there for a few minutes in a silent standoff. Emily stands in the middle of her friends with tears streaming down her cheeks as she realizes how much she has screwed up.

"Y/n…please…" Emily tries again but Y/n shakes her head.

"No. You knew how hard it was for me to open up to people with my past. You knew it was hard for me to trust people and yet you still carried on with this. You have numerous times to come clean and to find out you never planned on telling me hurts worse than if you would have said something." Y/n says starting to lose her composure. Sabrina notices placing a comforting hand on her sisters back. Stewie doing the same as Natasha glares at the girls surrounding Emily.

"You have a lot of nerve. You could have had the best woman as your partner and you threw that away for your career. A career that won't last." Stewie says, glaring at Emily. Emily shrinks behind her friends who have stayed quiet. They know Emily was in the wrong for not coming clean and while they don't agree with her actions she is still their teammate and friend. Emily carefully steps out from behind Trinity and Kelley moving to stand in front of Y/n. Natasha steps in her way shaking her head.

"It's okay Tash." Y/n says placing her hand on Natasha's shoulder. The woman glances at her friend and nods moving to stand back next to Stewie. "There is nothing you could possibly say that would make any of this better. But since you want to speak so badly, please enlighten us." Y/n says throwing her arms up in a sarcastic manner. Emily takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything. You didn't deserve any of this. I was blinded by the thought of finally being something more than some player on the national team and I let it get to my head. When we first were spotted in public, which was staged, and I gained all those followers I got lost in the newfound fame of being with such a star player." Emily admits, looking down at her feet as she fidget with her fingers. Y/n stays quiet knowing Emily has more to say. "As we kept going on dates and getting to know each other better the contract went out of my mind. I didn't even remember it until my manager sent me an email last week saying the contract was almost up. I called him immediately and told him to destroy it. I got to know you. The real you and I fell in love." Emily gets out just as a sob escapes her lips. Y/n looks up blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall, looking back towards Emily when she feels Sabrina rub her back in a comforting manner.

"I get you're sorry, but that doesn't fix the fact that you still did it. Things may have been different if you told me yourself. But you didn’t. I had to hear you talking to your friends about it while you acted all smug… That's when I knew we were done." Y/n whispers at the end. A loud sob escapes Emily at Y/n's words. Y/n shakes her head turning towards Emily's friends.

"Makes sense now why you all avoided me like the plague. You all knew and couldn't even be decent enough to fake being nice to me to help your friend look good. Shows the kind of people you are." Y/n scoffs. The soccer players look down in shame knowing Y/n is right. They had tried to talk to Emily about it but she was set in stone. The newfound fame was getting to her head and there was nothing they could do.

"We're sorry." Rose says. Natasha lets out a dry laugh.

"No, you're sorry you all got caught." She spits. The girls look down. Y/n steps forward grabbing her hoodie from the couch that Kelley had seen earlier.

"I'm leaving. I'll be back next week when you're at camp for my stuff. You can enjoy being single and losing all the fame you treasured so much." Y/n says walking towards the door to the apartment she once called home. Sabrina, Stewie and Natasha following behind. "Goodbye Emily." Y/n says turning towards Emily one last time before walking out.

At the sound of the door closing Emily drops to her knees in tears as she realizes how much she screwed up. Rose and Kelley kneel down next to their friend trying to comfort her in anyway they can but know their efforts will be futile.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Jenna says, helping Emily to her feet and leading her to her bedroom, Rose and Kelley following behind. Rose opens the door but lets out a quiet gasp at the scene. The rose petals. Emily's favorite flowers. The candles. But when her eyes land on the ring box on the nightstand she pauses. Jenna and Kelley look at Rose confused before their eyes glance around the room spotting the same ring box that Rose did.

"Oh no…" Jenna whispers. But she wasn't quiet enough as Emily lifts her head off Kelley's shoulder opening her eyes and seeing the room for the first time.

"Oh my god…" Emily breaths a fresh set of tears pooling behind her eyes as she sees the beautiful set up Y/n had done. She pulls away from her friends and steps into the room taking in all the work Y/n had done. She moves to her side of the bed reaching for the bouquet but stops when she sees the box that had stopped the other three. She reaches for the box instead. She opens it to find a beautiful, simple ring. One that she had showed Y/n a few weeks ago online. One that she didn't know Y/n had purchased later that night while Emily was asleep next to her in their shared bed. Just when she thinks she's out of tears more flow down her cheeks. "Why did I have to be such an idiot?" Emily sobs. Rose and Kelley move to stand with Emily, wrapping their arms around her in a hug.

"I'm sorry Em. I'm so sorry." Rose whispers. Rose was the only one who realized Emily had developed true feelings for Y/n. She had kept pushing Emily to talk to Y/n about it but either Emily never heard or she just brushed Rose off.

"Em…" Jenna trails off. The three look up and see the younger girl holding what looks to be a letter. Emily moves forward, closing the ring box and setting it on the nightstand, reaching for the letter. Jenna hands it over.

"Give me a minute?" Emily asks. The girls nod and slowly exit the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Emily moves to sit on the bed, taking a deep breath before opening the letter and seeing Y/n's messy writing on the page.

Sonny,

Throughout my life there have been times where everything was so loud and overwhelming. But there were the moments where everything would fall silent and I could breathe. Those moments seemed to only happen when I was with you. That's when I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

Loving you is the most natural thing I've done…other than basketball haha. The way you make me feel comfortable, safe, at home. It's the way you make the world seem like a good place. I have become the best version of myself when I'm with you. You've shown me true love and I don't ever want to imagine a life where I wake up and you're not here.

I want to build our life together, starting today. I know you've said how you said it was your dream to be proposed to on your birthday so I am here to make that dream come true.

Emily Ann Sonnett, will you marry me?

Emily lets out a heartbreaking sob as she finishes the letter, watching as the words on the page smear from her tears that fall onto the paper.

"What have I done?" Emily whispers setting the letter on the bed beside her and burying her face in her hands.

She really screwed up this time…

[misfit0789]

Doubt

Jenna Nighswonger x Reader

Summary: Jenna is happy Arsenal won the Champions League but upset that she couldn’t contribute to the win. R does her best to reassure Jenna.

Word count: 1.6k words

Warnings: None

This is pure fiction. Aside from the CL win…

Y/n sits in the stands anxiously awaiting the final whistle. Seven minutes of stoppage seemed excessive when the match was as close as it was. Though once she hears that whistle, she jumps out of her seat, arms thrown in the air as she screams in joy. Viv mirrors her actions from her seat next to Y/n.

"They did it!!" Y/n shouts, watching as the girls run onto the pitch to celebrate. Y/n takes a deep breath watching as Jenna celebrates with her teammates.

"Think this'll be you next year?" Viv asks as the two leave their seats and move to where they can be let onto the pitch once the medal ceremony is over.

"I hope so… I haven't even gotten to tell Jen yet. She's been so busy preparing for this that we haven’t had a chance to talk." Y/n says fidgeting with her fingers.

"I'm sure she'll be excited. The fans on the other hand…" Viv trails off. Y/n laughs thinking of the chaos that will ensure when she announces her transfer.

"Don't remind me. I won’t be looking forward to those matches. The fans will believe I committed a crime, which I guess to them I did…" Y/n says, Viv laughs knowing Y/n is right.

"You'll be fine. The team will back you up. Besides the fans will just be scared to have the Fox twins on the same club team instead of just the same international one." Viv jokes. Y/n laughs agreeing with Viv.

"True. Even Em doesn't know yet. You and the team are the only ones who know. The team only does because Coach had me announce it at our last training." Y/n says rolling her eyes remembering the reaction from a lot of her now ex-teammates. A few understood and were happy for her but some weren't thrilled to lose her to the enemy. Viv wraps her arm around Y/n's shoulders knowing the feeling of leaving a team you once called home. Y/n leans into Viv.

"I know how you feel. It wasn't easy telling the Arsenal girls I wasn't renewing but that was a different situation than yours. Like I said the Arsenal girls will have your back if any of them try something." Viv says.

"Thanks Viv. I'm sad we won't get to play together." Y/n says. Viv chuckles shoving Y/n away lightly.

"Never say never kid." It's Y/n's turn to shove Viv.

"I'm not a kid. You're only two years older." Y/n rolls her eyes, thanking the security guards when they are allowed on the pitch along with other family members. The duo split off as Viv moves to Beth while Y/n makes her way to Jenna who is standing with Emily, Steph and Kyra.

Emily is the first to spot Y/n. The smile on her face growing larger, if possible, at the sight of her sister. Emily breaks into a sprint, as if she hadn't just spent the past hour and a half running on the pitch, wrapping her arms around her sister.

"I'm so proud of you Em." Y/n whispers. Emily squeezes Y/n in her hold not saying anything just yet. Y/n returns the squeeze before pulling back slightly to look Emily in the eye. Y/n laughs softly, as she is overwhelmed with emotion, bringing her hands up to wipe Emily's tears that fell. Y/n glances up seeing Jenna behind Emily a smile on her face watching her girlfriend and best friend. Steph and Kyra having moved to lift the trophy with Caitlin. Sensing who Y/n is looking at Emily nudges her sister.

"Go." Y/n looks to Emily. "She hasn't said it yet, but I know she's having a hard time. She needs you." Emily supplies seeing the questioning look on her twin’s face. Y/n nods having had a feeling this would come up eventually.

"I'm so proud." Y/n whispers pressing a kiss to Emily's head before turning to Jenna.

Y/n opens her arms when she gets close to her girlfriend. Jenna immediately moves forward falling into Y/n's arms, tucking her head into Y/n's chest due to their height difference. Y/n wraps her arms around Jenna holding her close. The feeling of comfort that Y/n provides her causes the dam to break as Jenna lets out a sob. Y/n not entirely surprised bends down slightly to wrap her arms under Jenna and standing with her in her arms. Jenna wraps her legs around Y/n's waist, moving her head to tuck into Y/n's neck, as Y/n moves towards the tunnel away from the eyes of the fans and cameras. As the two move it goes quiet allowing Y/n to hear Jenna's cries, her heart breaking at the sound. Y/n quickly moves them both to a bench outside of the locker room, sitting with Jenna in her lap.

"Oh baby…" Y/n whispers, shifting her hold on Jenna so one arm is around her waist and the other is rubbing a soothing pattern on Jenna's back knowing that calms the girl. "Talk to me my love. What's going through that beautiful head of yours?" Y/n whispers when Jenna's sobs subside.

"We won…" Jenna starts. Y/n stays quiet waiting for Jenna to continue. "We won but I didn't do anything to help." Jenna finishes letting out another sob.

"Oh baby…" Y/n whispers having known this was coming. Jenna hasn't had as much playing time as she would have liked since her transfer to Arsenal. She went from a semi regular starter with Gotham to mostly riding the bench at Arsenal.

"I just don't get it! I signed hoping to be able to play and get to experience the WSL, but I haven't! I heard the stories from you and Em, and it seemed like such a great time. But I get here, and I haven't gotten to experience much of it for myself." Jenna cried.

"I know my love. But listen, yes you may not have been on the pitch contributing to the win, but you are there in training and on the sidelines, cheering is your contribution. You have helped this team win that trophy in more ways than you think. You are there and showing your support even though you weren't on the pitch does a lot for your teammates." Y/n says. Jenna looks down, shaking her head.

"It doesn't feel like enough…I don't feel like enough." she whispers. Y/n's heart breaks even more at how defeated Jenna sounds. Y/n wraps both arms around Jenna holding her tight resting their foreheads together.

"You will always be enough." Y/n whispers, "You are enough for me. For Emily. For this team. You Jenna Gray Nighswonger will always be enough. I can't speak for Renee and her actions, but I can speak to the fact that you will have your chance. And you will be able to prove to everyone that you deserve to be here." Y/n whispers. Jenna pulls back slightly to look Y/n in the eye, seeing nothing but the truth. Jenna leans in pressing a soft kiss to Y/n's lips.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you." Jenna whispers. Y/n smiles pressing another kiss to Jenna's lips.

"You never have to find out. Which reminds me-" Before Y/n can finish she is interrupted by Emily running down the tunnel towards the two.

"Is it true?!?" Emily asks excited. Y/n glances back and sees Viv with a sorry look on her face. Y/n rolls her eyes but nods not moving from her spot with Jenna.

"Yes…it's true." Y/n sighs. Emily screams in joy as Jenna looks between the sisters confused.

"What's true?" She asks.

"Y/n is going to be a Gunner next season!" Emily exclaims running back onto the pitch to continue celebrating, now for an additional reason.

"What?" Jenna asks in shock looking to Y/n once Emily is gone. Y/n nods, brushing her thumb on Jenna's hip.

"I'm transferring to Arsenal next season." Y/n says, "It was approved a couple weeks ago. I hadn't said anything since you were focused on this match. I didn't want to overwhelm you." Y/n explains.

"Oh baby! You're really leaving Chelsea to be a red?!?" Jenna asks excited. Y/n nods.

"It was time for a change. I love the blues don't get me wrong, but my girlfriend of 3 years and my twin happen to play for the reds. I was tired of having to play against them, so I thought why not join them." Y/n shrugs. Jenna laughs playfully pushing Y/n's shoulder before bringing Y/n into a kiss. The two get lost in the kiss for a few minutes before they get covered in champagne. The couple laugh breaking apart to see Katie, Kyra, and Emily standing there with bottles of champagne, some of the other girls behind them laughing.

"Alright love birds. You can be gross later. Right now, we have a Champions League victory to celebrate!" Katie exclaims. The couple laugh but get up and follow them back onto the pitch to continue celebrating with the others. Jenna runs up ahead with Kyra and Katie as Emily stays back with Y/n.

"Did you bring it?" Emily asks. Y/n nods, motioning to where Viv is standing with Beth.

"I asked Viv to hold it when we arrived. I didn't want to risk Jenna finding it when I greeted her after the match." Y/n explains. Emily nods, leaning on her sister.

"We will have one more victory to celebrate later." Emily jokes. Y/n laughs, rolling her eyes.

"Jen will have to say yes first." Emily nudges her sister.

"I know she will. That girl has loved you since you guys first met." Emily says. Y/n chuckles but doesn't argue, knowing she has loved Jenna since they first met.

[misfit0789]

ask game

1. whats your favorite thing in your room?

2. how tall do you wish you were?

3. what color is your hair?

4. whats a rare fear that you have?

5. are you single?

6. has your heart ever been broken?

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

8. favorite coping mechanism?

9. whats your favorite love language?

10. how often do you get nervous?

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them?

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be?

13. where do you wish to live?

14. what’s something surprising about you?

15. when did you last shower?

16. when did you first join tumblr?

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why?

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had?

19. whats your dream job?

20. whats your ideal date?

21. what do you wish you could do better?

22. what country would you live in if you could?

23. whos the best person you know?

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have?

25. whats your favorite holiday?

26. when have you been most embarrassed?

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

28. what are you best at?

29. do you know how to tie your shoes?

30. do you have siblings?

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know?

32. whats a dealbreaker for you?

33. whats your favorite current class?

34. how many people have you dated?

35. how often do you wash your hair?

36. do you daydream? what about?

37. where do you go to be alone?

38. which parent do you like more?

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to?

40. whos voice do you enjoy?

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be?

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet?

43. what do you wish you never did?

44. do you believe in life after death?

45. do you prefer book over movie?

46. whats your favorite season?

47. whats your favorite time of day

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal?

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently?

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought?

51. do you have your own room?

52. whats your favorite book?

53. who’s someone you hate?

54. whats your best hottake?

55. whats your favorite game?

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear?

57. are you a morning person?

58. do you drink enough water?

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

60. do you enjoy tumblr?

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app?

62. whats your least favorite game?

63. were you a markiplier fan?

64. how do you respond to compliments?

65. whats something that would make you fall in love?

66. do you believe in marriage?

67. do you have a crush on someone?

68. do you like tumblr?

69. were you a voltron stan?

70. whats your favorite ship?

71. whats your favorite song?

72. do you like loud crowds?

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose?

74. how do you sleep?

75. do you bite your lips?

76. do you use chapstick?

77. do you have any pets?

78. what color are your eyes?

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

80. have you ever had surgery?

81. whats your least favorite animal?

82. whats something that youre really bad at?

83. do you have an sqishmellows?

84. do you enjoy fast food?

85. do you like soda?

86. what grade are you in?

87. do you wear any jewelry?

88. what socials do you use?

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now?

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till?

91. did you ever have bangs?

92. what trends did you hate?

93. whats your favorite item of clothing?

94. do you like dinosaurs?

95. whats your opinion on body hair?

96. whats your least favorite time?

97. do you make a wish at 11:11?

98. do you have your phone on military or regular?

99. have you ever been to church?

100. are you lgbtq?

[misfit0789]

you have exceeded my expectations like you do most of the time

𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which love never ends

The sun filtered in through the half-closed blinds of Paige’s dorm room, casting soft strips of light across the hardwood floor. The room was half-packed—open boxes lined the bed, shoes spilling over the edge, books stacked in leaning towers by the door. A half-empty closet loomed in the corner like a reminder of all the time that had passed and how little of it was left.

You stood near her desk, folding up a Wings hoodie that had been sent in the mail last week, her name stitched in bold on the sleeve.

“She really said number one pick,” you teased gently, holding it up like a trophy.

Paige, sitting cross-legged on her bed, looked up at you and grinned. “She really did. Can you believe that?”

“No,” you said, smile twitching at the corner of your mouth. “But I’m proud of her anyway.”

She tilted her head, her smile dimming into something quieter, more thoughtful. “I’m scared.”

You didn’t answer right away. You folded the hoodie neatly and placed it in the open suitcase at the edge of her bed, smoothing it down like it was fragile.

“I know,” you said softly.

“It’s not the game,” she clarified, glancing at you like she needed you to understand. “I’m not scared about basketball. I’m scared of going without you.”

You walked over and sat beside her, one foot tucked under your knee, your shoulder brushing hers.

“I’ll be there,” you said, firm, not flinching.

Paige leaned her head against your shoulder. “Six months feels like a long time.”

“It’s really not.”

“It feels like it.”

You rested your hand on her thigh, fingers curling just slightly into the fabric of her sweats. She was wearing your high school tee—old and oversized, faded from too many washes. You had given it to her years ago when she’d stolen it after a sleepover and never gave it back. You never asked her to.

“You have a whole season to get through,” you said gently. “I have students to teach and finals to grade and middle schoolers to keep from launching glue sticks at each other. It’ll go fast.”

Paige let out a small breath of laughter. “You really want to be a teacher, huh?”

“I already am. I’m a TA now, remember?” you bumped your shoulder against hers. “And I’ve already got my offer letter. Same school district my mom used to work in. Orientation’s the week after graduation.”

She turned toward you, eyes soft and serious. “That’s incredible.”

“You’re incredible,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Paige blinked, looking down like she needed to hide how fast she blushed. She always got like that when you said things too directly. Too honestly.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, her voice barely above a whisper, “Are you really gonna come to Dallas?”

You turned toward her fully, one leg sliding off the bed to ground yourself. “Yes.”

“You promise?”

You reached for her hand, threading your fingers together. “I promise.”

Her bottom lip quivered just slightly, and she bit down on it like she could swallow the emotion before it broke the surface.

“You’re not just saying that to make it easier.”

“No, Paige. I mean it.” You squeezed her hand. “Six months from now, I’ll be there. I’ll be in your apartment, probably fighting you for closet space and making you pasta after away games.”

She smiled, even as her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t cook.”

“I’m learning. I made that chicken stir fry last week.”

“That was microwaved chicken stir fry.”

“Still counts.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “God, I love you.”

You closed your eyes. “I love you too.”

There were things you didn’t say—like how terrified you were of her leaving, how the thought of waking up alone in your own dorm made your chest ache. How hard it would be to fall asleep without her cold feet pressing against your calves or her late-night whispered rants about practice drills.

But you also didn’t say how proud you were watching her step into this next chapter. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you kissed her—slow, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t fit into words. When you pulled away, her eyes stayed closed like she was memorizing the shape of your mouth.

“You’ll call?” she whispered.

“Every night,” you said. “Even if it’s just to hear you breathe.”

“That’s weird,” she teased.

“That’s love.”

She leaned into your chest, burying her face in your neck, and you held her. You didn’t move for a long time.

When she left for the airport the next morning, her fingers gripped yours until the last possible moment. You kissed her like you were writing a promise into her mouth. Six months, you told her again. You’ll be there in six months.

And as she stepped through the terminal gate, looking back at you with tears in her eyes and her Wings hoodie pulled tight around her, you smiled through your own heartbreak.

Because you meant it.

And because some promises don’t need reminders.

They just need time.

Dallas felt bigger than it looked on a map.

Everything about it—traffic, heat, even the sky—seemed stretched, like someone had pulled the edges of a familiar world just far enough to make it unrecognizable.

Paige sat alone on the living room floor of her new apartment, a half-unpacked box of plates beside her and a phone balanced on her knee. Her wallpaper was still a photo of you— blurry, mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged in the grass at a park. It was from a late spring picnic, right before you both had to pretend you weren’t about to say goodbye.

She stared at the screen like it might blink and bring you back.

You answered after the third ring, your voice a little breathless. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Paige whispered. It came out softer than she meant. Her chest ached.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you asked.

“No. Just… sitting.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where my couch screws went. I might be living a cushion life for a while.”

You laughed—real, warm, familiar. Paige closed her eyes and let it coat the inside of her ribs.

“That’s kind of poetic,” you said. “Starting your WNBA career on the floor of an empty apartment.”

“Feels more pathetic than poetic.”

“No. I like it. It’s humble.”

Paige exhaled, and her voice cracked just slightly. “I miss you.”

The line was quiet for a second. Then you spoke, your voice gentler. “I miss you too.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I keep forgetting you’re not ten minutes away. Like today, I had a good practice, and my first thought was ‘I’m gonna stop by your place and tell you everything.’ And then I remembered.”

“I know,” you said. “I do that too.”

“I drove past a coffee shop the other day and almost walked in just to see if you’d be there. Even though you’ve never even been to Texas.”

You smiled, she could hear it. “You’re thinking of the one near Gampel, huh?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “The one where you studied and I’d show up pretending I needed help with nutrition class.”

“You did need help.”

“Whatever. It worked.”

She leaned her head back against the wall and looked around at the blank space surrounding her. The moving truck had come and gone. The furniture was in, but the soul of the apartment hadn’t arrived yet.

It was still missing you.

“How’s school?” she asked.

“Chaotic,” you replied. “One of the kids asked me today if people in the ‘old times’ had internet. I said, ‘Define old.’ He said, ‘Like 2005.’”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Rude.”

“I’m ancient now,” you said. “Twenty-two and deteriorating.”

“You better still have the strength to carry all your stuff up three flights when you get here.”

“Oh, I do. I’m saving it all up for the move.”

Her smile faltered. “You’re still coming, right?”

You went quiet again. Not hesitant—just letting it settle, weighty and certain.

“Of course I am.”

Paige closed her eyes. “Promise?”

“I already did.”

“I just…” Her voice trailed. “It’s hard. Not hearing your keys in the door. Not getting to see your face at the end of the day. I love my team, I really do—but they’re not you.”

“I’m not replacing anyone,” you said. “Just adding to it.”

She let that sit with her. “I want you here so bad it hurts sometimes.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”

Her voice shook. “I don’t want us to change.”

“We won’t.”

“But long distance changes people.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But not us. It might make things harder. But not worse.”

She nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. “I just feel like I’m floating through all this without you. The practices, the press, the apartment—it all feels… half real.”

“Paige,” you said, gentle, firm. “I am coming. I’m not drifting away from you. I’m just walking the longer path to the same place.”

She let the silence wrap around her.

“Say something else,” she said softly. “Just talk to me.”

You paused. “Okay… I hung up pictures in my room. There’s one of us from last spring. You’ve got your mouth full of apple slices and you’re giving me the middle finger because I said you looked like a squirrel.”

She laughed. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Paige smiled, small but genuine. She pictured it. You, in your tiny off-campus apartment. Talking about her like she was still part of your day. She was. You were hers, too.

“I love you,” Paige said.

“I love you more,” you answered.

The days ticked by slower than she liked.

Some nights, she fell asleep with the phone still in her hand, your voice still echoing in her ears from a half-finished conversation. Other nights, she'd stay up scrolling through old pictures, rereading texts, listening to voicemails.

Her teammates teased her about being a hopeless romantic. About how she smiled every time your name came up. About how she always checked her phone like she was waiting for someone to come home.

And she was.

Because in six months—five, now—you would.

And when that day came, Paige knew, no amount of missed calls or empty beds would matter. Because you’d be there. You’d walk through the door with a duffel bag and a tired smile, and she'd finally feel whole again.

But until then… she’d wait.

With her phone in her hand. And your promise in her heart.

The calendar on Paige’s fridge had six weeks circled in red.

It was stupid, maybe, using a physical calendar like some suburban mom—but it grounded her. It gave shape to time that otherwise felt endless. Each “X” she scribbled through a square made the space between now and your arrival just a little smaller.

But it didn’t make the missing hurt any less.

Paige sat curled on the apartment couch, legs tucked under her, bowl of cereal in one hand, phone pressed to her cheek with the other. Her hair was still damp from practice. Her whole body ached—but nothing ached more than the space beside her on the couch.

“I got a voicemail from one of my students today,” your voice said through the speaker. “He said, ‘Miss Y/L/N, I hope you feel better because math was boring without you.’ And then he just hung up. No goodbye. Just vibes.”

Paige chuckled, staring out the window at the pink glow bleeding across the Dallas sky. “You’re their favorite.”

“They’re my favorites too. Even when they call me 'mom' by accident and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“You do have teacher-mom energy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a laugh. “You miss my teacher-mom energy.”

“Painfully.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m looking at your sweatshirt right now,” you said after a moment. “You left it in my car before you moved. I wore it to bed last night.”

That pulled a breath from Paige she didn’t know she was holding. “Did it still smell like me?”

“It did. Faintly. Like that vanilla lotion you always forget to pack on road trips.”

She smiled. “I haven’t used it since I left.”

“Save it for me?”

“Always.”

She shifted, curling tighter into herself. “Today was hard.”

“Tell me.”

“Team media stuff,” Paige mumbled. “Photos, press questions, PR meetings. They asked about goals. Stats. Leadership. Playmaking. All I could think was, none of that matters until you’re here.”

You were quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re not present here, Paige.”

“You’re not. You’re the reason I am.” She pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, blinking fast. “I show up every day because I know you’ll be here soon. It’s the only thing keeping me steady.”

You exhaled softly on the other end of the line.

“I’m coming. You know that.”

“I know.”

“But you need to live this part too, babe. Not just wait for me to catch up.”

Paige looked down at the rug. Her socked toe circled the same loop in the fabric she always traced when she was anxious.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

“I know you are,” you said, gentle and true.

She listened to your breathing—steady, familiar, comforting like a lullaby only she ever got to hear.

“I got your letter,” you said after a pause.

Her breath caught. “You did?”

“It was in my mailbox when I got home today. I read it twice. I cried.”

“Yeah?” Her throat tightened. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it.”

“I’m glad you did.” You paused. “The part where you said you wake up sometimes expecting me to be next to you… that broke me.”

“It breaks me too,” she admitted.

You went quiet, and for a second she thought maybe the call had dropped. But then you spoke, voice lower than before.

“I still sleep on my side of the bed.”

Paige’s eyes burned. “Me too.”

More silence. Not awkward—just full. Weighted. Safe.

“I’ve been drafting lesson plans on weekends,” you said eventually. “Every time I write one, I imagine grading papers at your kitchen table. Coffee beside me. You half-asleep, stealing bites of my breakfast.”

“I want that so bad,” Paige whispered. “Just… life with you.”

“You’ll have it.”

“I’m scared something’s gonna change before then.”

You were quiet. “Do you feel me changing?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “No. I feel you more than ever.”

“Then trust that.”

She let her head fall back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. “I trust you.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Even if it feels like I’m not close yet—I am. I’m getting closer every single day.”

Paige exhaled shakily. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

It was the kind of sentence Paige wanted to wrap herself in. Warm. Safe. Whole.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” you replied. “Thirty-nine days.”

She smiled.

Thirty-nine days.

She could wait a little longer.

Paige had never looked at a calendar so obsessively in her life.

Thirteen days.

She’d circled the date in three different colors now. Red, then black, then silver Sharpie because it felt permanent. Final. Like a promise.

Thirteen days until you arrived in Dallas. Thirteen days until she wouldn’t have to fall asleep hugging a pillow that didn’t breathe. Until she wouldn’t have to whisper “I love you” to a lock screen photo anymore.

Her teammates noticed.

“You good, Bueckers?” Arike asked at practice after she botched a layup drill for the third time.

“Yeah. Just… distracted.”

DiJonai raised a brow. “Your girl coming soon?”

Paige glanced down at the court, tried to hide her smile. “Thirteen days.”

Arike let out a low whistle. “We’re about to meet the mysterious teacher girlfriend.”

“She’s real?” Maddy Siegrist joked from the sideline. “I thought y’all made her up for the plot.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, but she was grinning.

That night, her phone buzzed with a picture.

You. In the mirror. Hair still damp from a shower, her oversized Wings hoodie falling off one shoulder. The caption underneath said, “Borrowed this. Sorry, not sorry.”

Paige melted into her mattress.

“That’s the only crime I fully endorse.”

Then she FaceTimed you.

You answered almost immediately, face bright despite the bags under your eyes. “Hey, superstar.”

“Hey, thief.”

You smiled. “Caught me.”

“You look good in that.”

“I better. You left it behind for a reason.”

“I did,” Paige said softly. “So you’d have something to hold until I could do it myself again.”

Your face shifted, tenderness blooming at the edges of your eyes. “Two weeks.”

“Twelve days.”

You sighed, smiling into the phone like she’d pressed a kiss to your cheek through the screen. “I packed up my classroom today. Left a note on the desk for the next TA.”

Paige nodded. “It’s real now, huh?”

“It’s always been real,” you said. “But now it’s here. It’s close.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, breath shaky. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That something will go wrong. That the plane will get canceled. Or your offer will fall through. Or you’ll—”

“I’m coming,” you interrupted, firm, grounding her. “There’s no ‘what if.’ I’m coming. Eleven days and twenty hours. I counted.”

Paige stared at you for a long second.

“Come sleep on the call,” she said quietly.

You blinked. “You want me to fall asleep with you on the phone?”

“I want to hear you breathe,” she whispered. “I want to pretend the distance isn’t real for one night.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

She propped her phone up on the pillow beside her. You did the same. It wasn’t perfect—fuzzy audio, a time delay—but it was yours. You talked about nothing for a while. What you made for dinner (pasta), the paper you were editing (some kid plagiarized a poem about dogs), your grocery list for when you moved in (cereal, way too much oat milk, frozen dumplings).

And then it got quiet.

Your voice came soft in the dark, “Ten days tomorrow.”

“I know,” Paige murmured. “It’s starting to feel real.”

“It is real.”

She reached for the screen, like touching glass could bridge miles. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

You let out a breath. “Don’t make me cry this late.”

“I just miss you,” Paige said, voice cracking.

“I know, baby. I miss you too.”

Seven days before you arrive, a package showed up at her door with your name scribbled across the top.

Inside was a box of school supplies—pens, Post-its, paper clips—and a hand-written note.

“Figured I should bring some of me to you before I physically can. Can’t wait to leave these all over your kitchen table. Love you always, Your favorite teacher.”

She cried for fifteen minutes after opening it

Four days before, she sat at a team dinner scrolling through your texts, tuning out everything else.

Her phone buzzed.

“T-minus 96 hours. Pack extra chapstick. You’re not escaping all the kisses I owe you.”

She nearly choked on her lemonade.

She didn’t sleep.

She lay on the couch in your sweatshirt, staring at the ceiling, heart galloping in her chest like she was waiting for Christmas morning.

The phone rang at 1:08 AM.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

You were quiet together for a while. Then Paige whispered, “Where are you?”

You laughed. “Still in Connecticut. Bags packed. Suitcase by the door. I keep checking my flight time every ten minutes.”

“Me too,” she said. “I keep opening the guest closet to make sure I left you enough space.”

“You didn’t.”

“Guess we’ll be sharing hangers then.” A pause. “Next time I call you,” you said, “it won’t be through a screen.”

Paige closed her eyes. “I’m gonna hold you so tight.”

“I’m gonna let you.”

Two days before.

The sun in Dallas was blinding. Unreasonably bright for a city that had no idea her world was about to tilt.

Paige had just gotten home from practice, keys still in hand, backpack sliding off her shoulder when she grabbed her phone.

One new message from you.

“On the way to my last class now—remind me to tell you about the 8th grader who tried to give me a friendship bracelet today. He said it was for luck on my big move .”

She smiled. She sat on the arm of the couch and typed fast.

“That’s the cutest thing ever.”

Delivered.

No read receipt. That was fine. You were still in class.

An hour passed.

She sent another.

“Dinner’s on me when you land. I bought dumplings. Don’t fight me.”

No response.

She waited.

She called around 9 p.m.

Once. Twice.

Three rings, voicemail.

She left a message.

“Hey, you okay? I know you’ve probably got a million things going on—boxes, checklists, last-minute goodbyes—but… just call me when you get a second, okay? I just want to hear your voice.”

She kept her phone next to her pillow that night, volume up, screen brightness high.

Nothing.

One day before.

The silence clung to her.

She woke with a headache, heart already racing, the cold side of the bed feeling like an accusation.

Still nothing from you.

Paige rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“This is fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re just busy. You’re probably with your family. Maybe your phone died.”

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She texted.

“I’m starting to worry. Just… send me a thumbs up or anything. Please.”

Nothing.

She paced the apartment, uneaten toast still on her plate, coffee gone cold in her mug.

That night, she sat on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge, phone in her lap, eyes red.

“Where are you?” “Baby, please.” “Just tell me you're okay.” “I don’t care if you’re not getting on the plane. I just need to know you're okay.”

She didn’t sleep.

Just stared at the wall.

The day of.

She cleaned the apartment top to bottom.

She couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t cry again.

You were supposed to land at 4:27 p.m.

She stared at the time on her screen—4:00… 4:15… 4:27… 4:40.

No call. No knock at the door. No text.

She scrolled to the airport’s arrival board online. Typed your flight number. Watched it switch from Scheduled to Landed.

Still nothing.

She picked up her phone again. Shaking fingers. Dialed.

Voicemail.

She left one anyway, voice cracking.

“Please don’t do this to me. Please. Just… I need you. I need to know if you’re—if you’re safe. If you changed your mind, I’ll understand. I swear, I’ll understand. Just don’t let it end like this. Not in silence.”

She hung up.

Then slumped down against the front door and broke.

Her body folded over itself. Sobs racked through her like her heart had forgotten how to beat without yours to match it. She stayed there, curled up, whispering your name like a prayer.

She didn’t turn the lights on.

She sat in the dark with your hoodie balled up in her arms and her phone still in her hand.

Her last text read, “I’ll wait by the door.”

But she never heard the knock.

Paige sat on the apartment floor again, back pressed against the kitchen cabinets. The tile was cold beneath her legs. She hadn’t eaten more than toast in 36 hours.

The dumplings were still in the freezer. She hadn’t touched them. Couldn’t.

She refreshed her texts.

Still no read receipts. Still no dots. Still no “Delivered” beneath her messages.

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She whispered into the silence like maybe this time the void would answer her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re ghosting me or if you’re gone. Please—please—just give me something. Let me hate you. Let me worry. Just don’t let me do both.”

She hung up. Laid down. Didn’t move.

She went to practice. No one said anything until the third missed shot in a row.

“Yo,” Arike called out. “You good, Paige?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just wiped sweat from her brow and threw the ball at the nearest rack.

“Fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine,” Paige snapped, sharper than she meant to. Her voice echoed off the gym walls like a slap.

Her teammates exchanged looks.

“Alright,” Nai said as they walked out of the locker room. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

Paige exhaled, shoulders slumped. “She was supposed to be here. Three days ago.”

Nai paused. “Wait—your girl? She didn’t come?”

“No call. No text. No voicemail. Nothing.”

Nai’s face softened. “Shit, Paige…”

“I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“Have you… talked to anyone? Like, her friends, her mom—?”

“She’s private about that. Her family… it’s complicated.”

Nai hesitated. “Did she ever give any signs that she wouldn’t come?”

“No.” Paige blinked hard. “She was excited. We planned everything down to the shelf space. She sent me a letter. She told me she was counting hours. And now it’s just—gone.”

Nai put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

Paige flinched. “What if there’s nothing to figure out?”

Nai didn’t answer that.

The team had an off day.

Paige didn’t leave bed.

She watched your old videos on her phone—the ones you sent her when you used to stay up late decorating your classroom or making grilled cheese while dancing around your kitchen.

She watched them on loop until her phone died.

And then she just laid there, eyes burning.

Maddy brought takeout over.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask.”

They sat in silence on the couch. Paige pushed rice around her plate without lifting the fork once.

Maddy glanced at her. “Is there any chance she—like, she couldn’t call?”

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I’ve thought of everything. Every possibility. Car accident. No service. Anxiety. Cold feet. But it’s been over a week.”

“Have you heard anything?”

Paige shook her head. “Her phone goes straight to voicemail. Her email bounced. Her socials are dark. It’s like she fell off the planet.”

“Bueckers…”

“I keep checking the door,” Paige whispered. “I know she’s not coming, but I can’t help it. I still wake up thinking I’ll hear her keys.”

Maddy’s voice went soft. “You really loved her, huh?”

Paige nodded, eyes shining. “Still do.”

The media started noticing.

Her stats dropped. Her answers got shorter. Smiles didn’t reach her eyes.

In a post-practice interview, someone asked, “Everything okay off the court?”

She blinked, stunned into stillness.

Then nodded once.

But when she got back to the locker room, she cried into her jersey until her shoulders shook and her breath hitched and she didn’t know how to stop.

She texted you again.

“It’s been almost two weeks. Please. I’m not mad. I just need to know if you’re okay. I won’t ask anything else. Just… say something. Anything.”

She stared at the screen for hours.

Nothing.

She scrolled through every old message. Every photo. Every “I love you more.” Every kiss emoji. Every half-finished voice memo you never sent but saved for later.

She played one on loop.

“God, I can’t wait to be there. To be home. With you.”

And then, when her hands couldn’t stop shaking, she recorded one of her own. She didn’t know if it would ever be heard. But she sent it anyway.

“Hey. It’s Paige. I guess this is… my last message. I don’t know if you’re out there, or if you changed your mind, or if something happened and you’re too scared to tell me. But I still love you. And I always will. No matter what.”

She hit send.

And this time, she didn’t wait for the three dots to appear.

There was a new voicemail on Paige’s phone.

Not from you.

Just a spam number, something about her car warranty.

She deleted it without listening.

Your name—your entire thread—was now buried in her messages. She hadn’t opened it in four days. Not because she didn’t care. Because she couldn’t.

Every time she saw it, her stomach clenched. Not from love. From loss.

You had disappeared 25 days ago.

She used to count the days with hope. Now it just felt like proof that people vanish. Even the ones who swore they’d never leave.

Her texts to you had slowed. At first they’d been frantic—ten a day, calls at every hour. Then five a day. Then one. Then every few days.

Now? Nothing in almost a week.

She didn’t even cry anymore.

She just… lived.

Empty. Quiet. Going through the motions.

Practice was quiet. No jokes. No trash talk. Just the dull thud of the ball against hardwood and the squeak of sneakers she barely registered anymore.

Her shooting percentage had dropped 8%.

The coaching staff hadn’t said anything yet, but she could feel it. The stares. The sighs. The weight of eyes tracking her when they thought she wasn’t looking.

After practice, she sat on the locker room bench for ten minutes too long, staring at the wall like it might say something. Like you used to.

She pulled out her phone.

No new messages. No calls.

She scrolled to your contact anyway. Just to see it. Just to remind herself that once, there was a world where your name lit up her screen like sunlight.

She closed the app.

Went home.

Didn’t even shower.

Her phone rang.

She was mid-laundry, a damp towel slung over one arm, the apartment humid from the dryer running too long.

She didn’t check it immediately. Assumed it was Nai or maybe Coach.

It rang again.

She glanced over.

Paused.

Your name.

Your contact photo—the one she took on a lazy spring day, you in her hoodie, your cheeks pink from sun and laughter.

She froze. The call kept ringing. Her thumb hovered. She didn’t move. She just watched it ring. Watched it buzz against the counter like it hadn’t been silent for a month.

Then she let it stop. Didn’t touch it. Didn’t breathe. The screen went dark. She stood still for a long time. It rang again. Same name. Same photo. Same ringtone she hadn’t changed since the day you set it for yourself.

But this time, something cracked in her chest—not a sob, not panic. Just anger. Cold, bitter, exhausted anger.

You didn’t get to vanish for four weeks and come back like nothing happened. You didn’t get to disappear and then dial her number like it was safe to do so. You didn’t get to decide when she hurt. She watched it ring again. Didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

She whispered into the silence, voice flat, “You don’t get to do this to me.”

Then the call ended. And the phone was quiet again. And she sat down on the kitchen floor like she had the first night you didn’t show up. But this time, she didn’t cry. This time, she just turned the phone over, face down.

Let the silence reclaim the room.

The lights at Target Center always made Paige feel electric.

It was different being back here—being home. But nothing about tonight felt comforting.

She was sharp in warmups. Crisp. Clean. Cold. Her jumper was falling like clockwork. Her footwork flawless. Her body obeyed in a way her heart hadn’t for weeks.

She was pissed.

And she was going to take it out on the court.

Fans were already filling in as she paced the baseline, headphones slung around her neck, eyes unfocused as she dribbled through sets.

And then—she saw her.

Your mom.

Sitting alone. Courtside. Seat 3A. The one you said was your favorite seat cause you could watch her without getting blocked by other people.

She was smaller than Paige remembered. Or maybe just older. Her coat was folded neatly in her lap, hands clutching it like it could keep her together.

Paige’s heart stuttered.

She looked away.

Kept warming up.

Refused to let herself feel anything.

Not now. Not after four weeks of unanswered calls. Not after those two rings she let pass without lifting a finger.

She buried the sight of her behind a wall of rage. Let her heartbeat sync with the squeak of shoes, the thud of the ball, the echo of her name being announced with fire in the intro video.

And when the game started?

She was unreal.

Floaters. Crossovers. Mid-range pull-ups that never touched the rim.

By halftime, she had 18 points and 5 assists.

By the end of the third quarter, 27 points, 3 steals, and the crowd was roaring every time she touched the ball.

She didn’t crack. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Not until the final buzzer sounded.

Not until she saw your mom again.

Still there. Still alone.

Waiting.

She pulled her warmup jacket on and started walking toward the tunnel, jaw tight, jaw locked.

“Paige.” She didn’t stop. “Paige, please.”

No.

No.

She kept walking. One foot in front of the other.

“She didn’t break her promise to you.”

That made her pause.

Your mom’s voice cracked through the noise like a crack in glass.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Paige’s breath caught.

She turned—slow, deliberate.

Your mom was standing now, gripping the railing, eyes already shining with tears.

“She was coming to you,” she whispered. “She never stopped loving you.”

“What did you just say?” Paige’s voice was a whisper.

The older woman’s lips trembled. “Can we… Can we talk somewhere else?”

Paige didn’t respond.

Just reached for her, fingers numb, and pulled her through the tunnel, past a stunned PR intern, down the hallway.

Into the locker room.

Empty.

Silent.

She shut the door behind them. Locked it.

Turned around.

“Say it again,” she said. Not a request. A plea.

Your mother stared at her, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her voice was barely there.

“She was on her way to Dallas,” she said. “She left two days early. Wanted to surprise you.”

Paige didn’t move.

“She was so excited. She couldn’t stop smiling. Said she wanted to be there when you got home from practice, said she couldn’t wait another day. She didn’t even tell me. I found the note on the kitchen table.”

Paige’s knees buckled.

She caught herself on the edge of a bench. “No,” she whispered.

“She got in the car that morning. Early. She never made it to the airport.”

Her heart stopped.

“She was hit by a semi on I-95. Fog was thick. The driver didn’t see her. She died on impact.”

Paige didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

Your mother’s eyes filled again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know—how to reach you. I didn’t have your number, not anymore. I tried social media, but…”

“You didn’t call the team?” Paige’s voice was raw.

“I tried, but they didn’t believe me.”

Paige’s hands were shaking.

Your mother took a slow step forward. “She had gifts in the car. Her famous dumplings. Your favorite lotion. And a sweatshirt she swore would make you cry. She had this whole plan. She wanted to sneak in and wait on your couch.”

Paige let out a broken laugh. “That sounds like her.”

“She loved you so much.”

“I know,” Paige whispered, the first tear falling. “I know.”

And then she couldn’t stop them.

They came all at once—weeks of confusion, silence, fury, grief—crashing over her like a wave she never saw coming.

She sobbed into her hands, whole body trembling.

“She said she was coming,” Paige cried. “I waited. I waited so long.”

Your mother stepped forward, slowly, and sat beside her. She didn’t speak. Just reached for Paige’s hand.

It was cold. Small. Familiar.

“She tried,” she said.

That was all.

And it was everything.

That night, Paige didn’t go out with the team. Didn’t talk to media. Didn’t even turn on the lights when she got back to her hotel room.

She laid in bed, clutching her phone.

Opened your last message—the one with the bracelet story.

She read it over and over until her eyes blurred.

Then she opened her voicemails. The one you never got to hear.

She hit play.

And for the first time, she let herself believe you heard it after all.

The rest of the Wings flew back to Dallas the next morning.

Paige didn’t.

She sent a text to her coach. “I need a few more days. I’ll explain when I can.” She didn’t get a reply, just three dots. “Take your time. We’ve got you.”

Your mother offered her the guest room without hesitation.

But Paige couldn’t sleep.

She sat in your driveway for almost half an hour before walking inside, her duffel bag untouched in the trunk. The porch creaked the same way it had in high school. The air smelled like cinnamon and old books. The light in the hallway still flickered if you walked too fast.

The house felt like it had been paused mid-laugh.

Your mother gave her a quiet smile. “You can go up if you want.”

Paige hesitated at the stairs.

“I haven’t changed a thing,” she added.

Paige nodded.

And climbed.

Each step was an echo.

Your bedroom door was half-closed.

She pushed it open slowly, like the room might wake up.

It looked exactly the same.

The posters. The scuffed desk. The stack of books under your windowsill. The UConn flag pinned above your bed from the day you got your acceptance letter.

It felt like walking into a snow globe—perfectly preserved, terrifyingly still.

Her legs moved without permission. She stood in the center of the room, eyes darting from corner to corner.

There was the dent in the wall where you’d knocked your chair back too far trying to recreate a TikTok dance.

There was the blanket she gave you senior year—navy blue, your name and hers stitched into the corner like some inside joke you never explained to anyone else.

There was your old lanyard, still hanging from the doorknob.

And then her eyes landed on it.

The photo frame on your nightstand.

It was them.

Her and you.

From sophomore year.

Both in hoodies, half-asleep on your porch swing. She was leaning into you, your arm around her, eyes closed. You were laughing—head tilted, light spilling from you like a secret the world didn’t deserve.

She staggered forward.

Knees hit the side of the bed.

She picked up the frame with trembling hands. Traced your face with her thumb. Pressed it to her chest like it was the only part of you left.

That’s when it broke.

All of it.

The strength. The waiting. The hope. The disbelief.

She collapsed onto your bed in sobs that felt like thunder.

Big, gasping, shoulder-racking sobs.

“Why,” she cried into your pillow, voice muffled, raw. “Why didn’t I pick you up myself? Why didn’t I call more? Send someone? Why wasn’t I there?”

The pillow soaked beneath her. Your scent still faint.

She curled into it like it could answer her.

“God, you were right there. You were coming to me—early. And I didn’t—I didn’t even get to see you.”

The photo dropped from her hand and landed face-up beside her.

Her tears made the glass shimmer.

She pressed her cheek to it.

“Come back,” she whispered. “Please, baby. I don’t know how to live without you.”

She stayed there for what felt like hours.

Maybe it was.

No one came to check. Your mother didn’t knock. She must’ve known—must’ve felt it.

Paige eventually sat up, wiped her eyes on your sweatshirt still folded at the foot of your bed.

Her voice was wrecked when she finally whispered, “I never stopped waiting for you.”

And maybe she never would.

The cemetery was quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you feel like time had paused just long enough for the earth to breathe.

It was a cool, overcast morning—no sun, no shadows. Just that still, aching gray that matched the way Paige’s heart had felt since the moment she heard the words "she was on her way to surprise you."

Your mother had told her where to go.

Plot 47. Near the far oak. The one that turns red the first in fall.

The walk from the parking lot was long.

Paige carried a bouquet in one hand—sunflowers and dahlias, wrapped in twine. You always said they looked like fireworks made out of joy. She never forgot that.

Her other hand stayed tucked in her jacket pocket, fingers curled tight like she might fall apart if she let them open.

When she reached your grave, she just stood.

Still.

Frozen.

Your name was etched in marble now. Sharp, clean lettering. Birth year. Dash. End year.

Too soon. So unfairly soon.

Beneath it, a line she recognized.

She loved loudly. She laughed often. She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She knelt slowly. Placed the flowers at the base. Adjusted them twice, even though they were already perfect.

And then she sat.

Cross-legged on the grass.

Facing you.

“I thought I’d have more time,” she said quietly.

The breeze stirred the petals.

“I thought you’d walk into my apartment two days early and I’d laugh and tell you you were crazy for not telling me. I thought we’d fight about cabinet space. I thought I’d kiss you every night for the rest of my life.”

She swallowed hard.

“But instead… I’m sitting here. And this is the first time I’ve seen your name in stone.”

A pause.

“I was angry. Your mom called me after a month of silence and I was angry. I didn’t know you were on your way to me. I didn’t know you never made it.”

She looked down, hands clenched in her lap.

“I thought you left me.”

Her breath trembled.

“I didn’t know you were trying to come home.”

She looked up at the sky.

“I would’ve waited at the airport all day if I had known. I would’ve driven to Minnesota and brought you myself. I would’ve done anything, anything, to see you one more time.”

Her jaw tensed. Eyes shined with fresh tears.

“I still talk to you. Every night. I sleep in your hoodie. I make coffee and pour two mugs like an idiot.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“The team doesn’t ask anymore. I think they’re scared of breaking me. But I’ve already been broken.”

She took a breath.

“But I’m still here.”

The wind picked up. Rustled the oak leaves above.

“I went back to your bedroom,” Paige said. “It looked exactly the same. Like you were just at school and would be home by dinner.”

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small laminated photo—the same one that had sat on your nightstand. The one of the two of you from sophomore year. She laid it gently between the flowers and the stone.

“I wanted to leave this with you,” she said. “Because even if I have to move forward, I’m not leaving you. You’re still the best part of me.”

A gust of wind blew through the grass. Paige looked down.

Her voice dropped, barely audible.

“I love you,” she whispered. “And I always will.”

She sat there for a long time.

Telling you about her next game. About the dumplings she finally cooked. About the song that made her think of you last week and how she cried in the car on the way to practice.

She stayed until the sun started peeking out again. Until the clouds began to thin and the shadows returned.

Then she stood. Pressed two fingers to her lips. Then to your name.

And walked away.

The flowers swayed in the breeze behind her.

The picture stayed.

You stayed.

The cheers were deafening.

It was the second round of the playoffs. Dallas had clawed their way in, and now they were clawing their way forward. The whole arena stood as Paige walked toward center court, Rookie of the Year graphic blazing behind her.

Bright lights. Brighter smile.

But behind that smile, a tremor.

She hadn’t slept much the night before. Not because of nerves. But because the one person she wanted to share this with wasn’t there.

Would never be there again.

She stepped forward, hands steady despite the storm inside her. Her name echoed from the speakers. “2025 WNBA Rookie of the Year… Paige Bueckers!”

Applause.

Spotlights.

Cameras flashing.

A league rep handed her the trophy—sleek, metallic, engraved. Her fingers curled around it automatically. Like she was on autopilot.

She turned to the mic.

The crowd quieted.

Her voice started strong.

“Um… wow. This means the world. First of all, thank you to the league, my teammates, my coaches. The Dallas Wings believed in me the second they drafted me, and I hope I’ve made them proud.”

More cheers.

She smiled faintly.

“I want to thank my family. My friends. The fans. And my hometown—Hopkins, I love you.”

More applause.

Then a pause.

She glanced down at the trophy in her hand. Her fingers tightened.

Her voice softened.

“But… there’s someone else I need to thank.”

The arena stilled.

Paige’s throat bobbed.

“She… she should’ve been here. And she almost was.”

The crowd hushed.

Paige blinked up at the rafters like she was asking for strength from a sky that still felt too far away.

“She was the first person who told me I was going to make it here. She saw this moment before I did. She believed in me when I was tired. She reminded me why I loved this game when I couldn’t feel it.”

She looked directly into the camera.

“Thank you for loving me. For believing in me. For being the kindest, brightest part of my life. This award… I share it with you. I dedicate it to you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek.

“You didn’t make it to the game. But you made me. Every piece of me. So I carry you every time I step on this court.”

The crowd began clapping—slow, quiet. Then stronger. Louder.

Rising like a wave.

Paige stepped back from the mic.

She raised the trophy once. Small, solemn.

And whispered, not into the microphone, but just to the air.

“I hope you’re proud of me.”

The cemetery was quiet again.

Autumn had arrived. The oak tree beside your grave had started to turn—flaming reds and soft oranges bleeding down through the branches like a slow goodbye.

Paige walked the familiar path in silence.

No cameras. No team. No PR handlers. No trophy case.

Just her.

And the small velvet-lined box tucked under her arm.

She wore your hoodie. It still smelled faintly like your shampoo. It was a little too worn now, the cuffs fraying. But it was hers. And it had been yours. And that made it holy.

When she reached your grave, she knelt.

The headstone hadn’t changed. Still your name. Still that cruel little dash between two years that weren’t enough. Still that line.

She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige set the box down beside the sunflowers and dahlias she’d brought. The same flowers she always did.

She didn’t open the box right away.

Just stared at your name. Let the wind brush over her face. Let the silence wrap around her like a question with no answer.

“I said I’d bring it to you,” she whispered eventually.

Her fingers found the edges of the velvet. She lifted the lid.

Inside was her Rookie of the Year trophy—well, a replica. The league had sent a second version when they needed to display the original. She didn’t correct them. She was glad for it.

Because this one was for you.

She picked it up gently. Placed it against the stone.

“This was yours before it was mine,” she said. “You trained me in the off-seasons. You studied game tape with me. You kept me grounded when I got caught in my own head.”

She exhaled. It sounded like surrender.

“I know I said the words in my speech. But I needed to say them here.”

A leaf drifted down between them.

She smiled faintly.

“I miss you every day. I talk to you before every game. I look for your face in every crowd. I still text you sometimes. Even though I know the only place I can send anything now… is here.”

She touched the trophy. Then the top edge of your headstone.

“I hope wherever you are, you’re still loud. Still laughing. Still correcting my form from the sidelines and making fun of how dramatic I get during interviews.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

“I won, baby,” she whispered. “And it should’ve been us holding this together.”

Her voice dropped to something barely audible.

“But I’m still holding it for both of us.”

She leaned forward. Pressed a kiss to the marble.

And then sat beside your grave. Not in mourning.

But in memory.

She stayed until the sky turned pink behind the trees.

Then stood.

One last look at the trophy. At the stone. At the name she loved more than her own.

“I’ll be back,” she said. “That’s a promise.”

And when she walked away, the wind rustled the leaves—gentle, soft, as if the trees themselves whispered back.

I know.

[misfit0789]

I knew it was coming and it still surprised me. damn you and your ability to make me cry 😭😫😒

𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which love never ends

The sun filtered in through the half-closed blinds of Paige’s dorm room, casting soft strips of light across the hardwood floor. The room was half-packed—open boxes lined the bed, shoes spilling over the edge, books stacked in leaning towers by the door. A half-empty closet loomed in the corner like a reminder of all the time that had passed and how little of it was left.

You stood near her desk, folding up a Wings hoodie that had been sent in the mail last week, her name stitched in bold on the sleeve.

“She really said number one pick,” you teased gently, holding it up like a trophy.

Paige, sitting cross-legged on her bed, looked up at you and grinned. “She really did. Can you believe that?”

“No,” you said, smile twitching at the corner of your mouth. “But I’m proud of her anyway.”

She tilted her head, her smile dimming into something quieter, more thoughtful. “I’m scared.”

You didn’t answer right away. You folded the hoodie neatly and placed it in the open suitcase at the edge of her bed, smoothing it down like it was fragile.

“I know,” you said softly.

“It’s not the game,” she clarified, glancing at you like she needed you to understand. “I’m not scared about basketball. I’m scared of going without you.”

You walked over and sat beside her, one foot tucked under your knee, your shoulder brushing hers.

“I’ll be there,” you said, firm, not flinching.

Paige leaned her head against your shoulder. “Six months feels like a long time.”

“It’s really not.”

“It feels like it.”

You rested your hand on her thigh, fingers curling just slightly into the fabric of her sweats. She was wearing your high school tee—old and oversized, faded from too many washes. You had given it to her years ago when she’d stolen it after a sleepover and never gave it back. You never asked her to.

“You have a whole season to get through,” you said gently. “I have students to teach and finals to grade and middle schoolers to keep from launching glue sticks at each other. It’ll go fast.”

Paige let out a small breath of laughter. “You really want to be a teacher, huh?”

“I already am. I’m a TA now, remember?” you bumped your shoulder against hers. “And I’ve already got my offer letter. Same school district my mom used to work in. Orientation’s the week after graduation.”

She turned toward you, eyes soft and serious. “That’s incredible.”

“You’re incredible,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Paige blinked, looking down like she needed to hide how fast she blushed. She always got like that when you said things too directly. Too honestly.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, her voice barely above a whisper, “Are you really gonna come to Dallas?”

You turned toward her fully, one leg sliding off the bed to ground yourself. “Yes.”

“You promise?”

You reached for her hand, threading your fingers together. “I promise.”

Her bottom lip quivered just slightly, and she bit down on it like she could swallow the emotion before it broke the surface.

“You’re not just saying that to make it easier.”

“No, Paige. I mean it.” You squeezed her hand. “Six months from now, I’ll be there. I’ll be in your apartment, probably fighting you for closet space and making you pasta after away games.”

She smiled, even as her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t cook.”

“I’m learning. I made that chicken stir fry last week.”

“That was microwaved chicken stir fry.”

“Still counts.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “God, I love you.”

You closed your eyes. “I love you too.”

There were things you didn’t say—like how terrified you were of her leaving, how the thought of waking up alone in your own dorm made your chest ache. How hard it would be to fall asleep without her cold feet pressing against your calves or her late-night whispered rants about practice drills.

But you also didn’t say how proud you were watching her step into this next chapter. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you kissed her—slow, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t fit into words. When you pulled away, her eyes stayed closed like she was memorizing the shape of your mouth.

“You’ll call?” she whispered.

“Every night,” you said. “Even if it’s just to hear you breathe.”

“That’s weird,” she teased.

“That’s love.”

She leaned into your chest, burying her face in your neck, and you held her. You didn’t move for a long time.

When she left for the airport the next morning, her fingers gripped yours until the last possible moment. You kissed her like you were writing a promise into her mouth. Six months, you told her again. You’ll be there in six months.

And as she stepped through the terminal gate, looking back at you with tears in her eyes and her Wings hoodie pulled tight around her, you smiled through your own heartbreak.

Because you meant it.

And because some promises don’t need reminders.

They just need time.

Dallas felt bigger than it looked on a map.

Everything about it—traffic, heat, even the sky—seemed stretched, like someone had pulled the edges of a familiar world just far enough to make it unrecognizable.

Paige sat alone on the living room floor of her new apartment, a half-unpacked box of plates beside her and a phone balanced on her knee. Her wallpaper was still a photo of you— blurry, mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged in the grass at a park. It was from a late spring picnic, right before you both had to pretend you weren’t about to say goodbye.

She stared at the screen like it might blink and bring you back.

You answered after the third ring, your voice a little breathless. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Paige whispered. It came out softer than she meant. Her chest ached.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you asked.

“No. Just… sitting.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where my couch screws went. I might be living a cushion life for a while.”

You laughed—real, warm, familiar. Paige closed her eyes and let it coat the inside of her ribs.

“That’s kind of poetic,” you said. “Starting your WNBA career on the floor of an empty apartment.”

“Feels more pathetic than poetic.”

“No. I like it. It’s humble.”

Paige exhaled, and her voice cracked just slightly. “I miss you.”

The line was quiet for a second. Then you spoke, your voice gentler. “I miss you too.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I keep forgetting you’re not ten minutes away. Like today, I had a good practice, and my first thought was ‘I’m gonna stop by your place and tell you everything.’ And then I remembered.”

“I know,” you said. “I do that too.”

“I drove past a coffee shop the other day and almost walked in just to see if you’d be there. Even though you’ve never even been to Texas.”

You smiled, she could hear it. “You’re thinking of the one near Gampel, huh?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “The one where you studied and I’d show up pretending I needed help with nutrition class.”

“You did need help.”

“Whatever. It worked.”

She leaned her head back against the wall and looked around at the blank space surrounding her. The moving truck had come and gone. The furniture was in, but the soul of the apartment hadn’t arrived yet.

It was still missing you.

“How’s school?” she asked.

“Chaotic,” you replied. “One of the kids asked me today if people in the ‘old times’ had internet. I said, ‘Define old.’ He said, ‘Like 2005.’”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Rude.”

“I’m ancient now,” you said. “Twenty-two and deteriorating.”

“You better still have the strength to carry all your stuff up three flights when you get here.”

“Oh, I do. I’m saving it all up for the move.”

Her smile faltered. “You’re still coming, right?”

You went quiet again. Not hesitant—just letting it settle, weighty and certain.

“Of course I am.”

Paige closed her eyes. “Promise?”

“I already did.”

“I just…” Her voice trailed. “It’s hard. Not hearing your keys in the door. Not getting to see your face at the end of the day. I love my team, I really do—but they’re not you.”

“I’m not replacing anyone,” you said. “Just adding to it.”

She let that sit with her. “I want you here so bad it hurts sometimes.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”

Her voice shook. “I don’t want us to change.”

“We won’t.”

“But long distance changes people.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But not us. It might make things harder. But not worse.”

She nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. “I just feel like I’m floating through all this without you. The practices, the press, the apartment—it all feels… half real.”

“Paige,” you said, gentle, firm. “I am coming. I’m not drifting away from you. I’m just walking the longer path to the same place.”

She let the silence wrap around her.

“Say something else,” she said softly. “Just talk to me.”

You paused. “Okay… I hung up pictures in my room. There’s one of us from last spring. You’ve got your mouth full of apple slices and you’re giving me the middle finger because I said you looked like a squirrel.”

She laughed. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Paige smiled, small but genuine. She pictured it. You, in your tiny off-campus apartment. Talking about her like she was still part of your day. She was. You were hers, too.

“I love you,” Paige said.

“I love you more,” you answered.

The days ticked by slower than she liked.

Some nights, she fell asleep with the phone still in her hand, your voice still echoing in her ears from a half-finished conversation. Other nights, she'd stay up scrolling through old pictures, rereading texts, listening to voicemails.

Her teammates teased her about being a hopeless romantic. About how she smiled every time your name came up. About how she always checked her phone like she was waiting for someone to come home.

And she was.

Because in six months—five, now—you would.

And when that day came, Paige knew, no amount of missed calls or empty beds would matter. Because you’d be there. You’d walk through the door with a duffel bag and a tired smile, and she'd finally feel whole again.

But until then… she’d wait.

With her phone in her hand. And your promise in her heart.

The calendar on Paige’s fridge had six weeks circled in red.

It was stupid, maybe, using a physical calendar like some suburban mom—but it grounded her. It gave shape to time that otherwise felt endless. Each “X” she scribbled through a square made the space between now and your arrival just a little smaller.

But it didn’t make the missing hurt any less.

Paige sat curled on the apartment couch, legs tucked under her, bowl of cereal in one hand, phone pressed to her cheek with the other. Her hair was still damp from practice. Her whole body ached—but nothing ached more than the space beside her on the couch.

“I got a voicemail from one of my students today,” your voice said through the speaker. “He said, ‘Miss Y/L/N, I hope you feel better because math was boring without you.’ And then he just hung up. No goodbye. Just vibes.”

Paige chuckled, staring out the window at the pink glow bleeding across the Dallas sky. “You’re their favorite.”

“They’re my favorites too. Even when they call me 'mom' by accident and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“You do have teacher-mom energy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a laugh. “You miss my teacher-mom energy.”

“Painfully.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m looking at your sweatshirt right now,” you said after a moment. “You left it in my car before you moved. I wore it to bed last night.”

That pulled a breath from Paige she didn’t know she was holding. “Did it still smell like me?”

“It did. Faintly. Like that vanilla lotion you always forget to pack on road trips.”

She smiled. “I haven’t used it since I left.”

“Save it for me?”

“Always.”

She shifted, curling tighter into herself. “Today was hard.”

“Tell me.”

“Team media stuff,” Paige mumbled. “Photos, press questions, PR meetings. They asked about goals. Stats. Leadership. Playmaking. All I could think was, none of that matters until you’re here.”

You were quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re not present here, Paige.”

“You’re not. You’re the reason I am.” She pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, blinking fast. “I show up every day because I know you’ll be here soon. It’s the only thing keeping me steady.”

You exhaled softly on the other end of the line.

“I’m coming. You know that.”

“I know.”

“But you need to live this part too, babe. Not just wait for me to catch up.”

Paige looked down at the rug. Her socked toe circled the same loop in the fabric she always traced when she was anxious.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

“I know you are,” you said, gentle and true.

She listened to your breathing—steady, familiar, comforting like a lullaby only she ever got to hear.

“I got your letter,” you said after a pause.

Her breath caught. “You did?”

“It was in my mailbox when I got home today. I read it twice. I cried.”

“Yeah?” Her throat tightened. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it.”

“I’m glad you did.” You paused. “The part where you said you wake up sometimes expecting me to be next to you… that broke me.”

“It breaks me too,” she admitted.

You went quiet, and for a second she thought maybe the call had dropped. But then you spoke, voice lower than before.

“I still sleep on my side of the bed.”

Paige’s eyes burned. “Me too.”

More silence. Not awkward—just full. Weighted. Safe.

“I’ve been drafting lesson plans on weekends,” you said eventually. “Every time I write one, I imagine grading papers at your kitchen table. Coffee beside me. You half-asleep, stealing bites of my breakfast.”

“I want that so bad,” Paige whispered. “Just… life with you.”

“You’ll have it.”

“I’m scared something’s gonna change before then.”

You were quiet. “Do you feel me changing?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “No. I feel you more than ever.”

“Then trust that.”

She let her head fall back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. “I trust you.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Even if it feels like I’m not close yet—I am. I’m getting closer every single day.”

Paige exhaled shakily. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

It was the kind of sentence Paige wanted to wrap herself in. Warm. Safe. Whole.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” you replied. “Thirty-nine days.”

She smiled.

Thirty-nine days.

She could wait a little longer.

Paige had never looked at a calendar so obsessively in her life.

Thirteen days.

She’d circled the date in three different colors now. Red, then black, then silver Sharpie because it felt permanent. Final. Like a promise.

Thirteen days until you arrived in Dallas. Thirteen days until she wouldn’t have to fall asleep hugging a pillow that didn’t breathe. Until she wouldn’t have to whisper “I love you” to a lock screen photo anymore.

Her teammates noticed.

“You good, Bueckers?” Arike asked at practice after she botched a layup drill for the third time.

“Yeah. Just… distracted.”

DiJonai raised a brow. “Your girl coming soon?”

Paige glanced down at the court, tried to hide her smile. “Thirteen days.”

Arike let out a low whistle. “We’re about to meet the mysterious teacher girlfriend.”

“She’s real?” Maddy Siegrist joked from the sideline. “I thought y’all made her up for the plot.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, but she was grinning.

That night, her phone buzzed with a picture.

You. In the mirror. Hair still damp from a shower, her oversized Wings hoodie falling off one shoulder. The caption underneath said, “Borrowed this. Sorry, not sorry.”

Paige melted into her mattress.

“That’s the only crime I fully endorse.”

Then she FaceTimed you.

You answered almost immediately, face bright despite the bags under your eyes. “Hey, superstar.”

“Hey, thief.”

You smiled. “Caught me.”

“You look good in that.”

“I better. You left it behind for a reason.”

“I did,” Paige said softly. “So you’d have something to hold until I could do it myself again.”

Your face shifted, tenderness blooming at the edges of your eyes. “Two weeks.”

“Twelve days.”

You sighed, smiling into the phone like she’d pressed a kiss to your cheek through the screen. “I packed up my classroom today. Left a note on the desk for the next TA.”

Paige nodded. “It’s real now, huh?”

“It’s always been real,” you said. “But now it’s here. It’s close.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, breath shaky. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That something will go wrong. That the plane will get canceled. Or your offer will fall through. Or you’ll—”

“I’m coming,” you interrupted, firm, grounding her. “There’s no ‘what if.’ I’m coming. Eleven days and twenty hours. I counted.”

Paige stared at you for a long second.

“Come sleep on the call,” she said quietly.

You blinked. “You want me to fall asleep with you on the phone?”

“I want to hear you breathe,” she whispered. “I want to pretend the distance isn’t real for one night.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

She propped her phone up on the pillow beside her. You did the same. It wasn’t perfect—fuzzy audio, a time delay—but it was yours. You talked about nothing for a while. What you made for dinner (pasta), the paper you were editing (some kid plagiarized a poem about dogs), your grocery list for when you moved in (cereal, way too much oat milk, frozen dumplings).

And then it got quiet.

Your voice came soft in the dark, “Ten days tomorrow.”

“I know,” Paige murmured. “It’s starting to feel real.”

“It is real.”

She reached for the screen, like touching glass could bridge miles. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

You let out a breath. “Don’t make me cry this late.”

“I just miss you,” Paige said, voice cracking.

“I know, baby. I miss you too.”

Seven days before you arrive, a package showed up at her door with your name scribbled across the top.

Inside was a box of school supplies—pens, Post-its, paper clips—and a hand-written note.

“Figured I should bring some of me to you before I physically can. Can’t wait to leave these all over your kitchen table. Love you always, Your favorite teacher.”

She cried for fifteen minutes after opening it

Four days before, she sat at a team dinner scrolling through your texts, tuning out everything else.

Her phone buzzed.

“T-minus 96 hours. Pack extra chapstick. You’re not escaping all the kisses I owe you.”

She nearly choked on her lemonade.

She didn’t sleep.

She lay on the couch in your sweatshirt, staring at the ceiling, heart galloping in her chest like she was waiting for Christmas morning.

The phone rang at 1:08 AM.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

You were quiet together for a while. Then Paige whispered, “Where are you?”

You laughed. “Still in Connecticut. Bags packed. Suitcase by the door. I keep checking my flight time every ten minutes.”

“Me too,” she said. “I keep opening the guest closet to make sure I left you enough space.”

“You didn’t.”

“Guess we’ll be sharing hangers then.” A pause. “Next time I call you,” you said, “it won’t be through a screen.”

Paige closed her eyes. “I’m gonna hold you so tight.”

“I’m gonna let you.”

Two days before.

The sun in Dallas was blinding. Unreasonably bright for a city that had no idea her world was about to tilt.

Paige had just gotten home from practice, keys still in hand, backpack sliding off her shoulder when she grabbed her phone.

One new message from you.

“On the way to my last class now—remind me to tell you about the 8th grader who tried to give me a friendship bracelet today. He said it was for luck on my big move .”

She smiled. She sat on the arm of the couch and typed fast.

“That’s the cutest thing ever.”

Delivered.

No read receipt. That was fine. You were still in class.

An hour passed.

She sent another.

“Dinner’s on me when you land. I bought dumplings. Don’t fight me.”

No response.

She waited.

She called around 9 p.m.

Once. Twice.

Three rings, voicemail.

She left a message.

“Hey, you okay? I know you’ve probably got a million things going on—boxes, checklists, last-minute goodbyes—but… just call me when you get a second, okay? I just want to hear your voice.”

She kept her phone next to her pillow that night, volume up, screen brightness high.

Nothing.

One day before.

The silence clung to her.

She woke with a headache, heart already racing, the cold side of the bed feeling like an accusation.

Still nothing from you.

Paige rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“This is fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re just busy. You’re probably with your family. Maybe your phone died.”

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She texted.

“I’m starting to worry. Just… send me a thumbs up or anything. Please.”

Nothing.

She paced the apartment, uneaten toast still on her plate, coffee gone cold in her mug.

That night, she sat on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge, phone in her lap, eyes red.

“Where are you?” “Baby, please.” “Just tell me you're okay.” “I don’t care if you’re not getting on the plane. I just need to know you're okay.”

She didn’t sleep.

Just stared at the wall.

The day of.

She cleaned the apartment top to bottom.

She couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t cry again.

You were supposed to land at 4:27 p.m.

She stared at the time on her screen—4:00… 4:15… 4:27… 4:40.

No call. No knock at the door. No text.

She scrolled to the airport’s arrival board online. Typed your flight number. Watched it switch from Scheduled to Landed.

Still nothing.

She picked up her phone again. Shaking fingers. Dialed.

Voicemail.

She left one anyway, voice cracking.

“Please don’t do this to me. Please. Just… I need you. I need to know if you’re—if you’re safe. If you changed your mind, I’ll understand. I swear, I’ll understand. Just don’t let it end like this. Not in silence.”

She hung up.

Then slumped down against the front door and broke.

Her body folded over itself. Sobs racked through her like her heart had forgotten how to beat without yours to match it. She stayed there, curled up, whispering your name like a prayer.

She didn’t turn the lights on.

She sat in the dark with your hoodie balled up in her arms and her phone still in her hand.

Her last text read, “I’ll wait by the door.”

But she never heard the knock.

Paige sat on the apartment floor again, back pressed against the kitchen cabinets. The tile was cold beneath her legs. She hadn’t eaten more than toast in 36 hours.

The dumplings were still in the freezer. She hadn’t touched them. Couldn’t.

She refreshed her texts.

Still no read receipts. Still no dots. Still no “Delivered” beneath her messages.

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She whispered into the silence like maybe this time the void would answer her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re ghosting me or if you’re gone. Please—please—just give me something. Let me hate you. Let me worry. Just don’t let me do both.”

She hung up. Laid down. Didn’t move.

She went to practice. No one said anything until the third missed shot in a row.

“Yo,” Arike called out. “You good, Paige?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just wiped sweat from her brow and threw the ball at the nearest rack.

“Fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine,” Paige snapped, sharper than she meant to. Her voice echoed off the gym walls like a slap.

Her teammates exchanged looks.

“Alright,” Nai said as they walked out of the locker room. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

Paige exhaled, shoulders slumped. “She was supposed to be here. Three days ago.”

Nai paused. “Wait—your girl? She didn’t come?”

“No call. No text. No voicemail. Nothing.”

Nai’s face softened. “Shit, Paige…”

“I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“Have you… talked to anyone? Like, her friends, her mom—?”

“She’s private about that. Her family… it’s complicated.”

Nai hesitated. “Did she ever give any signs that she wouldn’t come?”

“No.” Paige blinked hard. “She was excited. We planned everything down to the shelf space. She sent me a letter. She told me she was counting hours. And now it’s just—gone.”

Nai put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

Paige flinched. “What if there’s nothing to figure out?”

Nai didn’t answer that.

The team had an off day.

Paige didn’t leave bed.

She watched your old videos on her phone—the ones you sent her when you used to stay up late decorating your classroom or making grilled cheese while dancing around your kitchen.

She watched them on loop until her phone died.

And then she just laid there, eyes burning.

Maddy brought takeout over.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask.”

They sat in silence on the couch. Paige pushed rice around her plate without lifting the fork once.

Maddy glanced at her. “Is there any chance she—like, she couldn’t call?”

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I’ve thought of everything. Every possibility. Car accident. No service. Anxiety. Cold feet. But it’s been over a week.”

“Have you heard anything?”

Paige shook her head. “Her phone goes straight to voicemail. Her email bounced. Her socials are dark. It’s like she fell off the planet.”

“Bueckers…”

“I keep checking the door,” Paige whispered. “I know she’s not coming, but I can’t help it. I still wake up thinking I’ll hear her keys.”

Maddy’s voice went soft. “You really loved her, huh?”

Paige nodded, eyes shining. “Still do.”

The media started noticing.

Her stats dropped. Her answers got shorter. Smiles didn’t reach her eyes.

In a post-practice interview, someone asked, “Everything okay off the court?”

She blinked, stunned into stillness.

Then nodded once.

But when she got back to the locker room, she cried into her jersey until her shoulders shook and her breath hitched and she didn’t know how to stop.

She texted you again.

“It’s been almost two weeks. Please. I’m not mad. I just need to know if you’re okay. I won’t ask anything else. Just… say something. Anything.”

She stared at the screen for hours.

Nothing.

She scrolled through every old message. Every photo. Every “I love you more.” Every kiss emoji. Every half-finished voice memo you never sent but saved for later.

She played one on loop.

“God, I can’t wait to be there. To be home. With you.”

And then, when her hands couldn’t stop shaking, she recorded one of her own. She didn’t know if it would ever be heard. But she sent it anyway.

“Hey. It’s Paige. I guess this is… my last message. I don’t know if you’re out there, or if you changed your mind, or if something happened and you’re too scared to tell me. But I still love you. And I always will. No matter what.”

She hit send.

And this time, she didn’t wait for the three dots to appear.

There was a new voicemail on Paige’s phone.

Not from you.

Just a spam number, something about her car warranty.

She deleted it without listening.

Your name—your entire thread—was now buried in her messages. She hadn’t opened it in four days. Not because she didn’t care. Because she couldn’t.

Every time she saw it, her stomach clenched. Not from love. From loss.

You had disappeared 25 days ago.

She used to count the days with hope. Now it just felt like proof that people vanish. Even the ones who swore they’d never leave.

Her texts to you had slowed. At first they’d been frantic—ten a day, calls at every hour. Then five a day. Then one. Then every few days.

Now? Nothing in almost a week.

She didn’t even cry anymore.

She just… lived.

Empty. Quiet. Going through the motions.

Practice was quiet. No jokes. No trash talk. Just the dull thud of the ball against hardwood and the squeak of sneakers she barely registered anymore.

Her shooting percentage had dropped 8%.

The coaching staff hadn’t said anything yet, but she could feel it. The stares. The sighs. The weight of eyes tracking her when they thought she wasn’t looking.

After practice, she sat on the locker room bench for ten minutes too long, staring at the wall like it might say something. Like you used to.

She pulled out her phone.

No new messages. No calls.

She scrolled to your contact anyway. Just to see it. Just to remind herself that once, there was a world where your name lit up her screen like sunlight.

She closed the app.

Went home.

Didn’t even shower.

Her phone rang.

She was mid-laundry, a damp towel slung over one arm, the apartment humid from the dryer running too long.

She didn’t check it immediately. Assumed it was Nai or maybe Coach.

It rang again.

She glanced over.

Paused.

Your name.

Your contact photo—the one she took on a lazy spring day, you in her hoodie, your cheeks pink from sun and laughter.

She froze. The call kept ringing. Her thumb hovered. She didn’t move. She just watched it ring. Watched it buzz against the counter like it hadn’t been silent for a month.

Then she let it stop. Didn’t touch it. Didn’t breathe. The screen went dark. She stood still for a long time. It rang again. Same name. Same photo. Same ringtone she hadn’t changed since the day you set it for yourself.

But this time, something cracked in her chest—not a sob, not panic. Just anger. Cold, bitter, exhausted anger.

You didn’t get to vanish for four weeks and come back like nothing happened. You didn’t get to disappear and then dial her number like it was safe to do so. You didn’t get to decide when she hurt. She watched it ring again. Didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

She whispered into the silence, voice flat, “You don’t get to do this to me.”

Then the call ended. And the phone was quiet again. And she sat down on the kitchen floor like she had the first night you didn’t show up. But this time, she didn’t cry. This time, she just turned the phone over, face down.

Let the silence reclaim the room.

The lights at Target Center always made Paige feel electric.

It was different being back here—being home. But nothing about tonight felt comforting.

She was sharp in warmups. Crisp. Clean. Cold. Her jumper was falling like clockwork. Her footwork flawless. Her body obeyed in a way her heart hadn’t for weeks.

She was pissed.

And she was going to take it out on the court.

Fans were already filling in as she paced the baseline, headphones slung around her neck, eyes unfocused as she dribbled through sets.

And then—she saw her.

Your mom.

Sitting alone. Courtside. Seat 3A. The one you said was your favorite seat cause you could watch her without getting blocked by other people.

She was smaller than Paige remembered. Or maybe just older. Her coat was folded neatly in her lap, hands clutching it like it could keep her together.

Paige’s heart stuttered.

She looked away.

Kept warming up.

Refused to let herself feel anything.

Not now. Not after four weeks of unanswered calls. Not after those two rings she let pass without lifting a finger.

She buried the sight of her behind a wall of rage. Let her heartbeat sync with the squeak of shoes, the thud of the ball, the echo of her name being announced with fire in the intro video.

And when the game started?

She was unreal.

Floaters. Crossovers. Mid-range pull-ups that never touched the rim.

By halftime, she had 18 points and 5 assists.

By the end of the third quarter, 27 points, 3 steals, and the crowd was roaring every time she touched the ball.

She didn’t crack. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Not until the final buzzer sounded.

Not until she saw your mom again.

Still there. Still alone.

Waiting.

She pulled her warmup jacket on and started walking toward the tunnel, jaw tight, jaw locked.

“Paige.” She didn’t stop. “Paige, please.”

No.

No.

She kept walking. One foot in front of the other.

“She didn’t break her promise to you.”

That made her pause.

Your mom’s voice cracked through the noise like a crack in glass.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Paige’s breath caught.

She turned—slow, deliberate.

Your mom was standing now, gripping the railing, eyes already shining with tears.

“She was coming to you,” she whispered. “She never stopped loving you.”

“What did you just say?” Paige’s voice was a whisper.

The older woman’s lips trembled. “Can we… Can we talk somewhere else?”

Paige didn’t respond.

Just reached for her, fingers numb, and pulled her through the tunnel, past a stunned PR intern, down the hallway.

Into the locker room.

Empty.

Silent.

She shut the door behind them. Locked it.

Turned around.

“Say it again,” she said. Not a request. A plea.

Your mother stared at her, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her voice was barely there.

“She was on her way to Dallas,” she said. “She left two days early. Wanted to surprise you.”

Paige didn’t move.

“She was so excited. She couldn’t stop smiling. Said she wanted to be there when you got home from practice, said she couldn’t wait another day. She didn’t even tell me. I found the note on the kitchen table.”

Paige’s knees buckled.

She caught herself on the edge of a bench. “No,” she whispered.

“She got in the car that morning. Early. She never made it to the airport.”

Her heart stopped.

“She was hit by a semi on I-95. Fog was thick. The driver didn’t see her. She died on impact.”

Paige didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

Your mother’s eyes filled again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know—how to reach you. I didn’t have your number, not anymore. I tried social media, but…”

“You didn’t call the team?” Paige’s voice was raw.

“I tried, but they didn’t believe me.”

Paige’s hands were shaking.

Your mother took a slow step forward. “She had gifts in the car. Her famous dumplings. Your favorite lotion. And a sweatshirt she swore would make you cry. She had this whole plan. She wanted to sneak in and wait on your couch.”

Paige let out a broken laugh. “That sounds like her.”

“She loved you so much.”

“I know,” Paige whispered, the first tear falling. “I know.”

And then she couldn’t stop them.

They came all at once—weeks of confusion, silence, fury, grief—crashing over her like a wave she never saw coming.

She sobbed into her hands, whole body trembling.

“She said she was coming,” Paige cried. “I waited. I waited so long.”

Your mother stepped forward, slowly, and sat beside her. She didn’t speak. Just reached for Paige’s hand.

It was cold. Small. Familiar.

“She tried,” she said.

That was all.

And it was everything.

That night, Paige didn’t go out with the team. Didn’t talk to media. Didn’t even turn on the lights when she got back to her hotel room.

She laid in bed, clutching her phone.

Opened your last message—the one with the bracelet story.

She read it over and over until her eyes blurred.

Then she opened her voicemails. The one you never got to hear.

She hit play.

And for the first time, she let herself believe you heard it after all.

The rest of the Wings flew back to Dallas the next morning.

Paige didn’t.

She sent a text to her coach. “I need a few more days. I’ll explain when I can.” She didn’t get a reply, just three dots. “Take your time. We’ve got you.”

Your mother offered her the guest room without hesitation.

But Paige couldn’t sleep.

She sat in your driveway for almost half an hour before walking inside, her duffel bag untouched in the trunk. The porch creaked the same way it had in high school. The air smelled like cinnamon and old books. The light in the hallway still flickered if you walked too fast.

The house felt like it had been paused mid-laugh.

Your mother gave her a quiet smile. “You can go up if you want.”

Paige hesitated at the stairs.

“I haven’t changed a thing,” she added.

Paige nodded.

And climbed.

Each step was an echo.

Your bedroom door was half-closed.

She pushed it open slowly, like the room might wake up.

It looked exactly the same.

The posters. The scuffed desk. The stack of books under your windowsill. The UConn flag pinned above your bed from the day you got your acceptance letter.

It felt like walking into a snow globe—perfectly preserved, terrifyingly still.

Her legs moved without permission. She stood in the center of the room, eyes darting from corner to corner.

There was the dent in the wall where you’d knocked your chair back too far trying to recreate a TikTok dance.

There was the blanket she gave you senior year—navy blue, your name and hers stitched into the corner like some inside joke you never explained to anyone else.

There was your old lanyard, still hanging from the doorknob.

And then her eyes landed on it.

The photo frame on your nightstand.

It was them.

Her and you.

From sophomore year.

Both in hoodies, half-asleep on your porch swing. She was leaning into you, your arm around her, eyes closed. You were laughing—head tilted, light spilling from you like a secret the world didn’t deserve.

She staggered forward.

Knees hit the side of the bed.

She picked up the frame with trembling hands. Traced your face with her thumb. Pressed it to her chest like it was the only part of you left.

That’s when it broke.

All of it.

The strength. The waiting. The hope. The disbelief.

She collapsed onto your bed in sobs that felt like thunder.

Big, gasping, shoulder-racking sobs.

“Why,” she cried into your pillow, voice muffled, raw. “Why didn’t I pick you up myself? Why didn’t I call more? Send someone? Why wasn’t I there?”

The pillow soaked beneath her. Your scent still faint.

She curled into it like it could answer her.

“God, you were right there. You were coming to me—early. And I didn’t—I didn’t even get to see you.”

The photo dropped from her hand and landed face-up beside her.

Her tears made the glass shimmer.

She pressed her cheek to it.

“Come back,” she whispered. “Please, baby. I don’t know how to live without you.”

She stayed there for what felt like hours.

Maybe it was.

No one came to check. Your mother didn’t knock. She must’ve known—must’ve felt it.

Paige eventually sat up, wiped her eyes on your sweatshirt still folded at the foot of your bed.

Her voice was wrecked when she finally whispered, “I never stopped waiting for you.”

And maybe she never would.

The cemetery was quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you feel like time had paused just long enough for the earth to breathe.

It was a cool, overcast morning—no sun, no shadows. Just that still, aching gray that matched the way Paige’s heart had felt since the moment she heard the words "she was on her way to surprise you."

Your mother had told her where to go.

Plot 47. Near the far oak. The one that turns red the first in fall.

The walk from the parking lot was long.

Paige carried a bouquet in one hand—sunflowers and dahlias, wrapped in twine. You always said they looked like fireworks made out of joy. She never forgot that.

Her other hand stayed tucked in her jacket pocket, fingers curled tight like she might fall apart if she let them open.

When she reached your grave, she just stood.

Still.

Frozen.

Your name was etched in marble now. Sharp, clean lettering. Birth year. Dash. End year.

Too soon. So unfairly soon.

Beneath it, a line she recognized.

She loved loudly. She laughed often. She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She knelt slowly. Placed the flowers at the base. Adjusted them twice, even though they were already perfect.

And then she sat.

Cross-legged on the grass.

Facing you.

“I thought I’d have more time,” she said quietly.

The breeze stirred the petals.

“I thought you’d walk into my apartment two days early and I’d laugh and tell you you were crazy for not telling me. I thought we’d fight about cabinet space. I thought I’d kiss you every night for the rest of my life.”

She swallowed hard.

“But instead… I’m sitting here. And this is the first time I’ve seen your name in stone.”

A pause.

“I was angry. Your mom called me after a month of silence and I was angry. I didn’t know you were on your way to me. I didn’t know you never made it.”

She looked down, hands clenched in her lap.

“I thought you left me.”

Her breath trembled.

“I didn’t know you were trying to come home.”

She looked up at the sky.

“I would’ve waited at the airport all day if I had known. I would’ve driven to Minnesota and brought you myself. I would’ve done anything, anything, to see you one more time.”

Her jaw tensed. Eyes shined with fresh tears.

“I still talk to you. Every night. I sleep in your hoodie. I make coffee and pour two mugs like an idiot.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“The team doesn’t ask anymore. I think they’re scared of breaking me. But I’ve already been broken.”

She took a breath.

“But I’m still here.”

The wind picked up. Rustled the oak leaves above.

“I went back to your bedroom,” Paige said. “It looked exactly the same. Like you were just at school and would be home by dinner.”

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small laminated photo—the same one that had sat on your nightstand. The one of the two of you from sophomore year. She laid it gently between the flowers and the stone.

“I wanted to leave this with you,” she said. “Because even if I have to move forward, I’m not leaving you. You’re still the best part of me.”

A gust of wind blew through the grass. Paige looked down.

Her voice dropped, barely audible.

“I love you,” she whispered. “And I always will.”

She sat there for a long time.

Telling you about her next game. About the dumplings she finally cooked. About the song that made her think of you last week and how she cried in the car on the way to practice.

She stayed until the sun started peeking out again. Until the clouds began to thin and the shadows returned.

Then she stood. Pressed two fingers to her lips. Then to your name.

And walked away.

The flowers swayed in the breeze behind her.

The picture stayed.

You stayed.

The cheers were deafening.

It was the second round of the playoffs. Dallas had clawed their way in, and now they were clawing their way forward. The whole arena stood as Paige walked toward center court, Rookie of the Year graphic blazing behind her.

Bright lights. Brighter smile.

But behind that smile, a tremor.

She hadn’t slept much the night before. Not because of nerves. But because the one person she wanted to share this with wasn’t there.

Would never be there again.

She stepped forward, hands steady despite the storm inside her. Her name echoed from the speakers. “2025 WNBA Rookie of the Year… Paige Bueckers!”

Applause.

Spotlights.

Cameras flashing.

A league rep handed her the trophy—sleek, metallic, engraved. Her fingers curled around it automatically. Like she was on autopilot.

She turned to the mic.

The crowd quieted.

Her voice started strong.

“Um… wow. This means the world. First of all, thank you to the league, my teammates, my coaches. The Dallas Wings believed in me the second they drafted me, and I hope I’ve made them proud.”

More cheers.

She smiled faintly.

“I want to thank my family. My friends. The fans. And my hometown—Hopkins, I love you.”

More applause.

Then a pause.

She glanced down at the trophy in her hand. Her fingers tightened.

Her voice softened.

“But… there’s someone else I need to thank.”

The arena stilled.

Paige’s throat bobbed.

“She… she should’ve been here. And she almost was.”

The crowd hushed.

Paige blinked up at the rafters like she was asking for strength from a sky that still felt too far away.

“She was the first person who told me I was going to make it here. She saw this moment before I did. She believed in me when I was tired. She reminded me why I loved this game when I couldn’t feel it.”

She looked directly into the camera.

“Thank you for loving me. For believing in me. For being the kindest, brightest part of my life. This award… I share it with you. I dedicate it to you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek.

“You didn’t make it to the game. But you made me. Every piece of me. So I carry you every time I step on this court.”

The crowd began clapping—slow, quiet. Then stronger. Louder.

Rising like a wave.

Paige stepped back from the mic.

She raised the trophy once. Small, solemn.

And whispered, not into the microphone, but just to the air.

“I hope you’re proud of me.”

The cemetery was quiet again.

Autumn had arrived. The oak tree beside your grave had started to turn—flaming reds and soft oranges bleeding down through the branches like a slow goodbye.

Paige walked the familiar path in silence.

No cameras. No team. No PR handlers. No trophy case.

Just her.

And the small velvet-lined box tucked under her arm.

She wore your hoodie. It still smelled faintly like your shampoo. It was a little too worn now, the cuffs fraying. But it was hers. And it had been yours. And that made it holy.

When she reached your grave, she knelt.

The headstone hadn’t changed. Still your name. Still that cruel little dash between two years that weren’t enough. Still that line.

She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige set the box down beside the sunflowers and dahlias she’d brought. The same flowers she always did.

She didn’t open the box right away.

Just stared at your name. Let the wind brush over her face. Let the silence wrap around her like a question with no answer.

“I said I’d bring it to you,” she whispered eventually.

Her fingers found the edges of the velvet. She lifted the lid.

Inside was her Rookie of the Year trophy—well, a replica. The league had sent a second version when they needed to display the original. She didn’t correct them. She was glad for it.

Because this one was for you.

She picked it up gently. Placed it against the stone.

“This was yours before it was mine,” she said. “You trained me in the off-seasons. You studied game tape with me. You kept me grounded when I got caught in my own head.”

She exhaled. It sounded like surrender.

“I know I said the words in my speech. But I needed to say them here.”

A leaf drifted down between them.

She smiled faintly.

“I miss you every day. I talk to you before every game. I look for your face in every crowd. I still text you sometimes. Even though I know the only place I can send anything now… is here.”

She touched the trophy. Then the top edge of your headstone.

“I hope wherever you are, you’re still loud. Still laughing. Still correcting my form from the sidelines and making fun of how dramatic I get during interviews.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

“I won, baby,” she whispered. “And it should’ve been us holding this together.”

Her voice dropped to something barely audible.

“But I’m still holding it for both of us.”

She leaned forward. Pressed a kiss to the marble.

And then sat beside your grave. Not in mourning.

But in memory.

She stayed until the sky turned pink behind the trees.

Then stood.

One last look at the trophy. At the stone. At the name she loved more than her own.

“I’ll be back,” she said. “That’s a promise.”

And when she walked away, the wind rustled the leaves—gentle, soft, as if the trees themselves whispered back.

I know.