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ssa-dado · 6 months ago

Note

I could totally see Aaron being jealous. Maybe a oneshot of her meeting Sean Hotchner for the first time.

Covering Up - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff Summary: You’re late, and while Gideon’s passive-aggressive remarks are expected, it’s Hotch who really has you on edge. But it’s not just his authority; it’s the way you inadvertently caught the attention of Hotch’s brother, Sean. Warnings: None, just wanted to clarify the story is set around late 1998 or early 1999, before Hotch became Unit Chief (Gideon was in charge instead). Word Count: 3k Dado's Corner: You didn't see this coming, did you? Something cute to celebrate the end of the year. Sorry it took so much to respond, I totally forgot about this ask... hope you like itttttt. Again, HOTCH IN LOOOOOOOVE but doesn't want to admit hahaha what a fool.

masterlist

You were late today. Remarkably late.

For the first time ever in your life.

And while the idea of Gideon giving you one of his passive-aggressive “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speeches wasn’t exactly fun, there was one person who truly terrified you in this situation.

Hotch.

How ironic: it wasn’t your boss you were afraid of - it was your fussy coworker. The same coworker whose desk, unfortunately, happened to sit right in front of yours.

Perfect.

You were still trying to salvage your dignity in the elevator, jabbing at the elevator button, fumbling with your hair as the doors closed. Maybe an updo would make you look less… late. But by the time you reached your floor, the mess you’d made felt more “distressed damsel” than “competent federal agent.”

So, naturally, you made the split-second decision to undo the whole thing, pulling your hair loose halfway to your desk.

You winced.

Not because anyone was watching - everyone seemed too absorbed in their own work - but because if someone had been looking, you’d have perfectly executed that clichéd, overly dramatic hair flip straight out of a low-budget action movie.

The kind made by men, for men.

The ones where the femme fatale struts into the room, stiletto heels clicking, hair whipping in slow motion, cleavage doing all the talking, her entire existence engineered for the male gaze.

And here you were. No stilettos. No slow motion. Just… the hair flip.

Fantastic.

You shook it off, hoping to slink to your desk unnoticed, now more focused to brace yourself for the silent judgement of-

A man.

Not the man you expected - Hotch.

An actual man, a somehow handsome man.

Oh God. He’d definitely seen you do the dramatic hair flip.

His smirk confirmed it - no need for a profiler to figure that one out.

A man, sitting comfortably in Hotch’s chair. And, notably, no Hotch in sight.

“Are you here for a consultation with Agent Hotchner?” you asked, doing your best to sound at least professional as you set your bag down.

He chuckled – like you were the punchline of some inside joke you weren’t in on. “Actually, yes.”

Though you couldn’t help but study him... it was in your nature afterall.

He was about Hotch’s height, blond, blue-eyed, and generically good-looking in a way that probably gave him the nerve to sit at an agent’s desk without any kind of second thought.

But what really stood out? He looked about your age.

Very early twenties - which, mathematically speaking, made him way too young to be here asking for a consultation.

Not that you were one to talk. You were constantly reminded you were “too young” to be working for the FBI. So, at least you had that in common.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he read from your badge, dragging out the syllables for some of his twisted reasons you chose to ignore. Then he smirked. “You’re young.”

“She is.” Hotch’s voice cut through the air before you could form a response, making you startle slightly. He was suddenly there, right behind you, like he’d materialized out of thin air.

“Sean,” he said, his tone clipped in that uniquely Hotch way that made you feel guilty even if you’d done nothing wrong, “I told you to wait for me outside.”

“And why are you so late?” Hotch added, his focus snapping to you with laser precision, his brows drawing together in that way that made your stomach twist in both irritation and… something else.

Classic Aaron Hotchner.

Two seconds on the scene, already cataloging what annoyed him. Efficiency at its finest.

“Damn, Aaron, relax. It’s barely been a minute,” Sean said, standing up finally, though not without flinching slightly under the weight of Hotch’s glare.

He stepped closer to you, extending a hand like he wasn’t about to be vaporized by the man’s disapproval. “I’m Sean, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Before you could decide whether to shake his hand or politely tell him to run for cover, Hotch’s voice sliced through the air, as sharp and unyielding as ever. “No, you haven’t. Y/N, this is Sean, my brother. Sean, this is Agent Y/L/N, my partner.”

It took approximately two seconds after those words left his mouth for Hotch to realize he’d made not one but two rookie mistakes.

The first? The fact that, for some reason, you got to be “Y/N” while Sean - his brother - was firmly stuck with Agent Y/L/N.

A seemingly innocuous choice, but an interesting one.

Almost as if Hotch didn’t want Sean to forget who you were. Or worse, as if he wanted to keep that small, intimate privilege - using your first name - exclusively for himself.

And why?

Perhaps because, whether he admitted it or not, you’d managed to take up residence in his overworked brain. You weren’t just his colleague - you were his very own walking, talking paradox.

Equal parts intellect and quick wit, you could quote anything from your beloved dead philosophers as easily as you could dismantle someone’s argument with a single sarcastic comment.

You lingered, persistently, in his thoughts - too vividly, too often - so much so that you’d even started showing up in his dreams.

That might explain why his tongue betrayed him now - a slip you would undoubtedly label as ‘textbook Freudian.’

Somehow, through the cracks in the armor of the man who prided himself on control and precision, a truth he had no business acknowledging had leaked out.

Because, inexplicably and irreversibly, he’d just let his younger brother - of all people - catch the faintest glimpse of something he refused to admit even to himself: that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you.

Not that Sean picked up on it - yet.

No, Sean’s focus was already drifting toward his second mistake, the one Hotch really hoped would keep Sean too distracted to notice the first. And, to Hotch’s silent horror, it worked like a charm.

“Partner?” Sean repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are the two of you…?” He let the insinuation hang, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Because here’s the thing - thanks to the way Hotch had worded it, Sean wasn’t just thinking that his big brother was casually sleeping with you. Oh no, this was way bigger.

This was Sean, standing here wide-eyed and completely convinced that his older, emotionally constipated, miserably single brother - who’d spent years brooding after his breakup Haley - had somehow not only managed to get a girlfriend but had kept it a secret.

And worse? That this whole scenario meant Hotch was maybe, just maybe, a little happy these days.

That alone was enough to blow Sean’s mind.

But before his imagination could run too far, you stepped in, your voice sharp and immediate. “God, no,” you blurted, practically recoiling from the suggestion.

“No,” Hotch said at the same time, though in stark contrast to your reaction, his was flat and unbothered.

Sean chuckled at your synchronized denial, which only prompted Hotch to fix you with one of his looks - the kind that felt like it could peel layers off your soul. Judgy, silent, but impossibly loud at the same time.

The kind of look that made you curious.

“Was he like this as a kid,” you asked Sean, “or was he ever actually a normal person?”

Sean’s smirk widened. “The only difference between then and now is that now they pay him to act like this.”

You laughed, loud and genuine, and Sean joined in - a perfect snapshot of solidarity between two survivors of Hotch’s relentless Hotch-ness. “Though I have to wonder… maybe he misunderstood the government’s contributions as a green light to act this way. It’s kind of like when you teach a dog to stand on two legs for a treat, and then he just keeps doing it.” You commented.

You and Sean burst into laughter, your voices echoing through the bullpen, while Hotch just stood there.

Watching. Seething.

But not entirely for the reasons he’d expect.

Sure, he was irritated that you had the audacity to make fun of him within perfect earshot - a clear, deliberate payback for all the grief and micromanagement he’d put you through.

But there was something deeper beneath his discomfort, something far more unsettling.

It wasn’t just that you were laughing at him - it was that you were laughing with Sean.

That easy, effortless kind of laughter, the kind he so rarely managed to coax out of you. Sean, his little brother, was already pulling it out of you like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he’d cracked some code Hotch didn’t even know existed.

And that stung. More than it should’ve.

Because as much as he told himself it was ridiculous - childish, even - he couldn’t shake the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest.

A low, unwelcome burn.

It wasn’t just about the laughter. It was the way you looked at Sean. The way you seemed curious, intrigued by him in a way that made Hotch feel like an outsider in his own space. Like he was standing just outside the circle, close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

And he hated that.

He hated how much it bothered him.

Hated that he cared at all.

Hated the fact that, for all his discipline and carefully crafted walls, you always managed to slip through the cracks.

Unnoticed until it was too late.

Though you weren’t quite as unnoticed by everyone else.

Standing on the mezzanine, there was Gideon, watching you with that unshakeable calm of his. His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could even catch your breath, he called you over to his office.

It was probably for showing up two full hours late, but who could say?

Panic was all over you, though you were certain you kept it well-hidden - at least, you hoped so.

But before you could second-guess yourself, Hotch, who had been silently observing everything, grabbed a file from his desk and walked toward you at a precise angle that turned his back to Gideon.

Then, in a blur of words, he started speaking faster than you thought possible.

“I covered for you,” he said, voice low and hurried. “Tell him you went to see your mom yesterday. You took the 5:07 a.m. train. It broke down in Baltimore - stuck for an hour and forty-two minutes. That’s why you’re late. It’s all fact checked. If he asks - and he probably won’t - you don’t have the ticket because after a 90-minute delay, the company offers a full reimbursement if you send in the original.”

Before you could process what he was saying, he thrust the file into your hands.

“I filled out all the interrogatory statements for the Arlington case. If he asks why I had them, say I’m an idiot and that you cracked the unsub before I did, so the paperwork fell to me.” His dark eyes bore into yours, and for the first time since you’d met him, he sounded almost…desperate. “Don’t panic.”

Your brain short-circuited. The only thing you managed was a breathless, “Thanks.”

He watched you go, tracking every step you took until you disappeared into Gideon’s office. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his side like he was bracing himself to pull you out of trouble if it came to that.

Though Sean, ever the opportunist, broke the silence. “Since when do you cover for people?” he asked.

Hotch didn’t bother looking at him, his focus firmly fixed on the files in his hands, though his grip had tightened ever so slightly. “Since her boss called her in for something unfair. She’s the first - well, second - person to arrive every day and the last to leave. She works harder than anyone here, including me, and she never complains about it. It’s not fair to punish her for being late once when she’s the one who picks up everyone else’s slack. This is a one-time thing, and frankly, it’s probably for the best - at least she got some sleep for once.”

Was that an over-articulated answer to what was likely more of an exclamation than an actual question? Yes. But better to be thorough than shallow - or at least, that’s what Hotch told himself.

Sean, on the other hand, had no qualms about being a bit shallow.

“You’re sure that’s the reason she was late?” Sean asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Not because she, you know…” He trailed off, tilting his head, the mischievous grin practically begging Hotch to take the bait.

No. Of course not.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with it. Not because he wanted to come off as paternalistic or prudish about it.

Hell, if you really did, he hoped it was… fine.

Great, even.

But then, there was that annoying, traitorous part of him whispering - shouting, really - that he hoped it wasn’t too good.

Or serious.

Or anything worth bringing up more than once.

Damn it, Hotchner, could he not just be a normal, well-adjusted adult and be happy for someone else’s happiness without making it weird? Apparently not.

Still, he needed to give an actual response. Out of the 600,000 words available in the English language, what did he choose? The most original, expressive, and earth-shattering one of all: “No.”

Of course, it probably came out sounding way too sharp, betraying every tightly-coiled emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

Luckily - or unluckily - Sean was too busy zeroing in on something else to even notice.

“So,” Sean began, dragging out the word, “she’s single.”

…it wasn’t even a question.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, his patience already wearing thin. “Yes.” He admitted. “But don’t think about it.” He stopped him, already knowing where this conversation would eventually go.

“Why not?” Sean asked, his smirk practically carved into his face now. “You like her?” The teasing lilt in his voice was impossible to miss, but beneath it, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Yes. Absolutely.

More than liked.

Liked in a way that he thought about you far too often, in places he shouldn’t, and at times he didn’t have the luxury of indulging.

Liked in a way that made him occasionally catch himself smiling in the middle of a meeting because some stray thought of you had slipped past his defenses.

Liked in a way that he imagined you during his early-morning runs, wondering if you’d find the sunrise as breathtaking as he did - or if you’d roll your eyes at his choice of music.

You probably would, because it was either the original cast recording of whatever Broadway musical he’d recently become obsessed with, or something from The Beatles.

Not just their classics, but the deeper cuts - the kind his mom had played on repeat during her own Beatlemania phase back in the ’60s, which was, admittedly, a phenomenon he’d inherited in his own way.

He liked you in a way that felt ridiculous, really.

Like the time he caught himself wondering if you’d like the tie he was wearing, not that he’d ever admit he chose it with you in mind.

Or when he stayed up too late re-reading one of your old case reports, pretending it was for work when it was really just to admire how sharp and thoughtful your insights were.

But admitting that? Out loud?

To Sean, of all people?

He’d rather reorganize the mountain of case files sitting on your desk alphabetically and chronologically - twice.

“No,” Hotch said instead, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. “I work with her, Sean.”

Sean wasn’t one to let things go easily - especially when he sensed he was onto something. “Okay, so you work with her,” he said, dragging out the words like they were some kind of weak excuse. “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t take a shot. What’s stopping me?”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he shifted his attention back to the windows of Gideon’s office. He didn’t want to say it, but he also didn’t trust his brother to let the subject drop without some kind of deflection. “You’re not her type,” he said flatly.

Sean blinked, caught off guard for a moment before recovering with an incredulous laugh. “Not her type? How do you know what her type is?”

Hotch didn’t respond right away.

He didn’t need to.

The deadpan look he shot Sean over his shoulder was enough to say ‘I know her type because I know her’.

Sean, however, wasn’t deterred. “Okay, genius, enlighten me. What exactly is her type, then? Because I’m charming, good-looking, and - let’s not forget - single.” He motioned to himself like he was presenting the world’s greatest catch.

Hotch sighed. “Her type,” he began almost whispering, now suddenly afraid that someone would hear him, “is someone more serious. Someone who knows how to respect her work ethic, her intelligence, and the fact that she’s earned her place here. Someone who doesn’t think he can waltz in and-” He cut himself off, realizing he was veering dangerously close to sounding personal.

Too personal.

Too bad he stopped talking before he could drop the one crucial piece of information Sean probably needed to know: as far as Hotch knew, you only dated older... much older.

And him being the same age as you? Yeah, that definitely didn’t work in his favor.

Sean tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So… basically, someone who isn’t me. But someone who is… maybe a little more like you?” He watched the way Hotch’s shoulders stiffened at the suggestion.

Hotch turned fully to face his brother, his expression dark. “Sean,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.

But Sean wasn’t fazed. “I’m just saying, Aaron. You’re standing here, going on about how she deserves someone serious and respectful and all that, but you’re practically describing yourself. So maybe the reason you don’t want me going after her is because-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through any further teasing. “It’s not appropriate, and it’s not happening. End of discussion.”

Sean held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “Alright, alright. But for the record, you didn’t deny it.”

Hotch didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he turned back toward the windows of Gideon’s office, his gaze locking on your profile once more.

Sean followed his brother’s line of sight, leaning closer “She really does have you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

Hotch ignored him.

But as much as he wanted to pretend Sean was wrong, the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Because 'twisted up' was probably an understatement for what you were doing to him.

---

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #symposiumff #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #1k notes wooooooooooooooo

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flowersforthemachines · 6 months ago

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Some facts about Lucanis (and also Spite and the Crows) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Lucanis:

Family and the past:

Lucanis learnt to cook while helping the kitchen staff at the villa when he was a little boy. One of his motivations was learning how to make churros

Side note: Lucanis mentions that cioccolata calda was his favourite drink when he was a baby, and he serves churros to a romanced Rook who picks cioccolata calda as their favourite drink. It’s all coming together!

Lucanis wanted to be a Crow when he was a child (at least most of the time)

All of Lucanis's relatives were Crows as well, and all of them were killed by a rival Crow house

Lucanis says Caterina would be proud of Illario hiding his plans well, as well as killing her

Lucanis says that the hard part about setting Illario free would be convincing Caterina

Lucanis says that nightlife was more of Illario's thing, and he never got out as much

On Crows and Antiva:

Viago still stares daggers at Lucanis for throwing his (Viago's) pet snake out of the window in a dream

Lucanis doesn't like it when people confuse murder and assassination ("Murderers are hobbyists, we are professionals")

Lucanis has taken contracts in Orlais

Lucanis doesn’t know Treviso as well as he once used to

Heir didn’t train Lucanis

Lucanis says he has never killed an innocent “by his count” (other people may disagree)

Lucanis doesn’t think of the Crows as a “big organisation” (unlike the Inquisition) because they stab each other too much

Lucanis became a mage-killer at Caterina’s behest (she wanted to tap into new markets)

The nickname “The Demon of Vyrantium” came from Tevinter news-sheets, though Lucanis thinks Viago started it

Lucanis says that there aren't any special tricks to killing mages. Though, if nothing else works, you can try pissing them off, as that could attract a demon that would eat the mage

Lucanis once killed half a dozen venatori while stuck inside an elevator

Lucanis doesn’t consider himself a gentleman assassin, manners are less important than getting the job done

Lucanis sometimes spares his targets. He mentioned letting go of a servant who killed her master, as well as a 14-year-old boy. He thinks it’s wrong to kill people so young because they still have time to change

Lucanis doesn’t accept contracts without merit, and the merit is decided by the talon of the house

General:

Lucanis can make bread

Lucanis has never been to Ferelden

Lucanis isn’t interested in killing wyverns, just looking at them :)

Lucanis has a pet snake

Lucanis stays awake at night by cleaning his gear, exercising, studying Orlesian and knitting ("it’s just another kind of blade work")

Lucanis doesn’t understand a lot of things people find attractive

(In a conversation with Harding) Thinking about cooking was one of the things that helped Lucanis stay sane in the Ossuary (the other was thinking about killing his enemies)

(In a conversation with Davrin) Lucanis survived the Ossuary by shutting down and not thinking about anything except escaping

These two points sort of contradict each other. Either an inconsistency or Lucanis describing his experience differently to different people.

The Wetlands ruined at least one pair of Lucanis’s boots

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Lucanis offers to pay for any supplies the Shadow Dragons may need

Lucanis doesn't get a better bed because he's afraid of accidentally falling asleep

Lucanis can identify the killer’s weapon and the height difference between them and the target just through the blood splatter left at the scene

Lucanis considers Grey Wardens dangerous

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, because bringing people back to life is a waste of hard work

Lucanis finds the ice coffee from Minrathous offensive (Harding describes it as “snow, but made of coffee, sweet, and with cream and toffee sauce on top”)

Lucanis had never been in a romantic relationship before Rook/Neve

Relationships with other companions:

Lucanis gets into reading Bellara’s serials (very passionately - they chat about it a bunch)

Lucanis is outraged that the Veil Jumpers don’t get paid for their work and offers Bellara his contract negotiator

Lucanis made biscuits for Assan

Lucanis is sceptical that the griffons will be safe with the Wardens

Lucanis think that Assan shouldn’t go soft (referring to the time he took care of a halla) because he is a predator at heart

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Lucanis offers to hold a funeral for Manfred

Lucanis and Harding talk a lot about dreams (mostly silly things like showing up naked for the job, getting chased by someone/something etc.)

Lucanis thinks Harding is deadly with her bow

Lucanis offers to pay Harding for being his lookout/aide at the rate of 6000 gold per contract

Lucanis offers the help of his contract negotiator to Neve after he finds out she doesn't have one

Lucanis made deep-fried peppers for Taash

About Spite:

Emmrich can hear Spite even when he doesn’t take over Lucanis’s body (at least from a close distance)

Spite is impartial to Emmrich, believing him more than Lucanis

Emmrich says it’s impossible to separate Spite and Lucanis without killing them

Emmrich encourages Lucanis to read to Spite to bring them closer. Lucanis agrees to let Spite pick a book

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Spite asks if he and Lucanis can get rid of their skin too

(If Manfred is revived at the Necropolis) Spite asks Emmrich to teach him how to use fire magic. Lucanis isn’t thrilled by the idea

Emmrich sets up wards to prevent Spite from leaving the room when Lucanis is asleep

Spite no longer sleepwalks after “Inner Demons” because he apparently understood the concept of space

By the end of the game, Spite has agreed to stop sleepwalking completely

Spite controls the wings (confirmed in banter with Harding)

Spite wants to try swinging off the astrolabe at the Lighthouse

Spite is very excited about Manfred having hands and feet (Curiosity. Has. Feet!)

Spite finds the wisps in Neve’s room unnerving (as do Lucanis and Neve)

Spite likes to play with whetstones Bellara got for Lucanis (Bellara got them from the Irelin who supposedly got them from somewhere in Arlathan)

Spite wants to try eating self-lightning candles at Blackthorne Manor

About the Crows:

Crows frequently visit Nevarra and have received 20 contacts to assassinate the king. The King has been poisoned 7 times

Crows get a lot of contracts for Divine Victoria

Some seers in Rivain are powerful enough that there are contracts on them as well

Caterina once killed a man with a thimble

When Crows kill someone, most of the time they want others to know it was them (rather than presenting the death as an accident)

The crows buried six different Eight Talons and rarely take contracts in Ferelden after the Zevran fiasco

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus #caterina dellamorte #emmrich volkarin #spite #lace harding #datv banters #meta #references #flowers.txt #flowers blogs

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anigdha · 2 years ago

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Sector -18, Noida - 201301

Call us / Whatsapp

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General Enquiries

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astrolook · 29 days ago

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🏦🌐9th Lord Through The Houses🚀🗺️

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

9th lord in 1st house - Natives with this placement may not like their birth name in some cases. They may change their name for professional, religious, or marital reasons. They can speak more than one language or are inclined to learn and follow other cultures. This is a good placement for studying abroad or working abroad. They may be attracted to people of different cultures and can easily pass as a native if they settle abroad. Fame in foreign lands. Father will have a major influence on these natives, positive or negative. If negative, they may change their last name as well and do things to not associate with him. Born lucky and these natives would end up becoming the highest earner in their family and their family would be lucky to have them; their children would be lucky to have them as their parent, spouse would feel lucky to have them in their life. The tricky thing is that these natives can either manifest more or screw it up. Their luck is totally in their hands.

9th lord in 2nd house - These natives may have a strict father figure. Buying things = affection for these fathers in some cases. These natives want a philosophical partner and one that expands their knowledge and travels with them. Their partner should add value to their life. Might marry people outside of their community/ religion/ country. Good placement for earning in foreign currencies. Working with international clients can bring fortune. Can gain through writing/ vlogging/ modeling, etc. After marriage, they can be spoiled by their spouse, like a kingly/queenly treatment. Spouse will buy them whatever they ask.

9th lord in 3rd house - These natives can learn a foreign language or attend classes for that. Father can control your life, good or bad, in some cases. These natives gain freedom once they're free of their father's hold or move away from home. Gains through business and marriage. Father might travel a lot for work. Writing, blogging, singing, etc can bring profits. These natives may struggle with speaking and handwriting in childhood. Good placement for a salesman, a TV show host/ reporter, or any communication-related career etc. Spouse can be of a different cultural background or someone whose mother language is different from the native.

9th lord in 4th house - These natives are law-abiding citizens. Mother is of great influence in life, shaping their worldviews or supporting them in their life in general. Can get maternal property or support from the maternal side when they least expect it. High standards and would have certain traits or genetics from their mother, good or bad. These natives are usually lucky when it comes to marriage, as their spouse would treat them with comfort and luxury and would take good care of them and their family. Spouse can even tell them to stay at home after marriage, as they don't wanna see the native go through "hardships". The spouse can be protective and would be the main breadwinner of the family.

9th lord in 5th house - These natives have the blessings of their ancestors and guru from their past life. Their children will be old souls and blessed with good health and luck. Spiritual connection with their children. These natives gain fortune and luck through children. Their children would achieve a lot in life, and it points to a parent who is good at teaching their kids about right and wrong. These natives are proud of their heritage and will pass it on to their future generations as well. These natives might even talk or behave like their ancestors, especially their paternal side. These natives love history, watch Discovery Channel, dream of becoming a teacher/professor, paleontologist, archaeologist, etc, as they love the ancient era so much. They might even incorporate that by collecting ancient/ antique objects at home or traveling to ancient ruins, etc.

9th lord in 6th house - Great placement. These people are good at winning over people, whether in work or with the justice system. These natives can pursue careers in the army or government-related jobs, as they are lucky enough to gain the upper hand over their opponents. Father could have been competitive in his career and wouldn't take NO for an answer. Father could have been egoistical or dominating at home, in some cases. These natives might even be indebted because of their father. Arguments/clashes with father.

9th lord in 7th house - Father can be a self-employed person or could have changed his career in his 30s. Gains through the father/paternal side. Luck activates in their 30s. Can take over father's business, in some cases. If 9th lord is afflicted, the father might not approve of the spouse these natives wanna marry, resulting in a strained relationship with the father. Lucky enough to have mentors or good partnerships in their lives.

9th lord in 8th house - For example, these natives can be an atheist and still be afraid of ghosts, lol. These natives possess higher intelligence when it comes to the occult and understanding certain things better than others but won't share it with others. They don't wanna be seen as a crazy or weirdo. These natives go through experiences that can't be expressed in words. If they shared it, society might even lock them up in a mental institution. A placement where one can get famous overnight. In some cases, these natives would buy herbal oils or herbal products to detox their body and mind. Can worship a certain god/goddess or do rituals secretly without letting others know about it, in some cases. Can find success through research, occult, as a surgeon, tattoo artist, therapist, nude modeling, etc. Death of father at a young age or being distant from father, in some cases.

9th lord in 9th house - Can feel anxious about what would happen next in their life or worries about future a lot. These natives are really lucky as security and divine protection follow them wherever they go. These natives, for example, can be held at gunpoint and will be saved at the last minute somehow. They don't believe in luck or can be pessimistic about things not happening for them in their own way. These natives will learn that their luck comes through surrendering and letting go of their negative thinking. Longevity for the father and paternal side can be more established or financially well-off than their maternal side.

9th lord in 10th house - These natives can follow their father's footsteps in career or advice and support from father figures as long as the 9th lord isn't afflicted. If afflicted, they can even change their last name or their name itself to not associate with their paternal side. Can change their names for professional reasons, in some cases. Wealth increases by following the advice of their mentors or well-wishers. Donating or volunteering in retirement homes or senior living facility or in hospice can increase their luck.

9th lord in 11th house - If they have an elder sibling, the father can be closer to them than these natives or favor them a lot. These natives want to earn money fast and accumulate wealth through smart work. In some cases, might daydream about being a millionaire or a billionaire or watch those finance-related podcasts, online courses or documentaries to earn fast. If they focused on their passion, it could actually lead them to gain a lot of profit. Can receive obstacles from their own family/sibling, or these natives dig their own downfall in some cases.

9th lord in 12th house - These natives might have longed for the affection from their father and might not have gotten it. The father could have been distant either due to work or divorcing their mom, etc. These natives look for affection and validation elsewhere, leaving them hurt and disappointed. They can seek a partner who would shower them with affection and be a parent to them at times. If they desire for something or someone, they either get it late...or not at all. These natives might look like their maternal grandma/ grandpa or someone from their maternal side. These natives leave home at some point and might settle far away from home. The more they donate to causes or the unfortunate of society the more they gain wealth. Example: Donating to cancer patients/research, the homeless, foster care, any type of illness, etc. Investment in faraway lands can bring fortune over time. These natives can be surrounded by people and can feel lonely AF.

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priya24rani · 9 months ago

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#Affordable General Studies Courses #Best General Studies Coaching #General Studies for Working Professionals #UPSC Courses for Working Professionals #General Studies UPSC #General Studies for Civil Services #Online GS Coaching #Affordable UPSC Coaching

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cosmicpuzzle · 5 months ago

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Random Astro Notes 🎀🎀🎀

✮If your 2nd ruler is in 4th house, you are likely to invest in properties.

✮Mars in 7th house are going to attract Aries big 3.

✮Venus in Capricorn men prefer a working spouse. They don’t like homebodies and like their spouse contributing economically.

✮South node in 6th can mean you get caught for someone else’s mistakes. This is due to your past life karma of enemies.

✮If your 9th ruler is connected to 6th, you may take a big loan for your college/university studies.

✮Most counsellors have a strong connection of Moon to 8th or 12th house.

✮Sun is indicator of father in general but if you were born after Sunset and before sunrise, Saturn can indicate your father.

✮Moon is indicator of mother, but Mars is another indicator because Mars is the body you get from your mother’s womb.

✮Jupiter in Gemini people open around 10 tabs while browsing the internet.

✮Planets in 6th house can affect your digestion. Malefics in 6th house can give digestive issues. Mars in 6th can give ulcers.

✮Libra risings are super workaholics because Moon rules their 10th. They really invest all their emotions into their work. They are super responsible, and their professional image is important to them.

✮Scorpio rising can stay in gated communities because Aquarius on their 4th.

For Birth Chart Readings DM

#astrology #astrology observations #zodiac #zodiac signs #astro community #astro observations #astrology community #vedic astrology #astro notes #vedic astro notes

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bucketbueckers · 2 months ago

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HEY GOAT! so ik you have finals rn so just ignore this until ur done BUT i have a long (as usual) paige x reader request for you this time👅 for some backround paige and reader went to uconn together and have been dating for a bit like 3 years and they both get drafted by the wings (reader being 12th pick) and they are super excited whatever. OKAY SO basically reader is like the first person in her family to graduate college and it was really important for her to be there in person and walk with her family watching but she didn’t expect to be drafted in the first round let alone so far away. so she goes to ask the head of whatever at dallas if she can go to her graduation and they say prolly not so she gets super upset and paige decides to plan something with the team and flys her parents out and stuff like that one video with mika and the storm last year. ykwimmm like something super fluffy and just a littttlleee bit angsty.

-⬇️

LOVE IS THE WAY

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, 1% angst (like there's more fat content in some milk than there is angst in this story), unfathomable plot

wc: 5.4k

synopsis: As a first generation college student, graduation meant everything to you and your family. Your entire high school career was spent studying through the night, devoting yourself to academics, extracurriculars, and basketball, and reminding yourself that college was the goal. But basketball was your passion – your home away from test prep and the rigor of your courses, and the athletic scholarship from UConn saved your life in more ways than one. When you’re drafted 12th overall alongside your girlfriend of three years, it devastates you to find out that you wouldn’t be able to make it back to campus in time to walk across the stage. Luckily for you, Paige was more than willing to move mountains just to see you smile.

notes: HAPPY GAMEDAY CHAT (i deleted twitter this morning in honor of it) and HAPPY PB5 HOOPS DAY!!!! everyone lock in. this is generational. but real talk, as a first gen student, this request actually means the world to me 🤞 hoping i did this justice for u ⬇️ and i cannot thank u enough for these banger requests 😛 as alwaysss lmk what we're thinking and i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

Basketball wasn’t always the goal.

Anyone who sees you might not believe that at first glance. Your game is clinical – smooth, effortless. Your jump shot is perfect, technical in a way analysts have described as academically precise. You play like you were destined for the professional leagues, like you dribbled a basketball for the first time at three years old instead of in the sixth grade.

Growing up, you didn’t have a lot. Your parents weren’t well off but they worked hard to give you a good life. You excelled in school, got exceptional grades, and by eight you knew you would do anything to get into college after touring the local university on a field trip. Your parents weren’t able to go to college, coming from families where they had to prioritize working. College, while impossible for them, became something that was within reach for you. College – an education – was the goal.

When you first started middle school, you knew you needed an outlet, something more than your grades and wit. You tried a few things. Art, while pretty, wasn’t for you. You were a little too restless for it, too much of a perfectionist to fully appreciate the abstract. You briefly considered band but your parents had to make the decision for you when they looked at the cost to rent an instrument from the school.

Sports was your last option. You liked the discipline, the structure, and how you could get all of your energy out. You showed up to softball tryouts, but again – the price tag attached to the glove, the cleats, and the gear was too much. It was the same story for soccer. You arrived at basketball tryouts, not really having much of an interest in it, but figuring you could suck it up if there was any option you could play.

As soon as you picked up the ball for the first time, dribbling it a little clumsily around your body, and following the coach’s instructions on how to shoot it, it was like something ignited in you. You put a little too much spin on the ball and it clanked off the rim, but you knew you could perfect it with a few more shots.

So you tried again. And again. And again. Until you finally sunk the shot from the three point line. That was satisfying.

“It’s not a lot,” you remember Coach Kerrigan telling your parents – clearly in what he thought was a hushed tone of voice. “Just $50 for the entire season. It covers the uniform and tournament fees.”

Your parents had paused, clearly contemplating – and selfishly, you’d hoped they’d give just this once. You had done everything right. You kept your grades up, your room clean, and you’d exhausted all other options.

“I don’t know,” your dad admitted. Your heart sunk to your stomach.

Even years later, you recall the weight of your coach’s stare, how his eyes traced the arc of the basketball as it left your hands. The accompanying swish of the net, how you chased after the rebound, settling in to shoot again. “She has so much potential,” he’d said. “I’ve never seen anything like her.”

Your parents remained silent. You shot the ball, hoping, praying that just this once – you could try to find who you were outside of academics. Then, Coach Kerrigan spoke up. “Actually, I think we’ve got a little extra funding this year. So if you’d let her play…you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Your parents let you play. It took you years to realize the girl’s basketball team at your middle school hadn’t actually gotten any extra funding and that Coach Kerrigan paid the season fee out of his own pocket. And the next season’s. And when the high school coach approached you during your eighth grade year and asked if you’d be willing to give varsity a shot, Coach Kerrigan paid for that one, too.

High school basketball is where you truly flourished. It was a simple agreement with your parents – you could continue playing ball as long as you didn’t put college on the backburner. You pointed out that if you got recruited, you would be on scholarship and you truly didn’t have to worry about money anymore. Your parents believed in you. They’d seen what you were capable of, but when you grow up with so little, it’s hard to lose that worry that it could all slip away if you weren’t careful.

You upheld your end of the bargain. You kept your grades up, enrolled in AP courses, joined student government to round out your application. High achieving student. Honored athlete, Team USA gold medalist averaging 26.4 points a season and improving. Student body president. With a resume like that, you were sure you had a solid chance, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t keep working.

Geno Auriemma showed up to one of your games in sophomore year. So did Dawn Staley and several other college basketball coaches. Coach Auriemma kept showing up, though. After an electric win against a conference opponent, he’d pulled you aside and glanced at you like he was unimpressed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that reminded you of Coach Kerrigan’s unwavering confidence. Then, Coach Auriemma said, “You play like you’ve got something to prove.”

It wasn’t unkind. Just an observation. Your face was slick with sweat, your feet hurt, and you had a paper due for AP Lang that night. Your teammates were celebrating the win, but your job was far from finished. Isn’t that how it always is, though? Having to work a little extra harder now so you wouldn’t have to in the future. Sacrificing every day to prove to your parents that everything they poured into basketball wasn’t for nothing. Success was hard, exhausting, but God did it taste good.

Simply, you responded, “Don’t we all?”

Coach Auriemma paused. A slow smile spread across his face. He wished you a goodnight.

In junior year, you committed officially to UConn. Full ride athletic scholarship. Your mother cried and your father grinned proudly when the three of you got off the phone with Coach Auriemma.

Being a Husky didn’t mean you could rest easy. The draft was competitive and there was so much talent in the country. This time, there was no “agreement” between you and your parents. You were an adult, but they did have one simple request to get a degree in something versatile. A just in case.

So here you were – a biology major and student athlete. When you weren’t in lab, you were in practice. When you weren’t in practice, you were studying for calculus. And when you weren’t studying for calculus, you were a little busy falling in love with the sophomore point guard from Minnesota who made you realize that there’s a little more to life than ball and school. You had plenty of room for her – for Paige Bueckers – even though you didn’t make it official until your sophomore year at UConn.

It was her junior season. She’d suffered an ACL tear in August, right before classes started. It was a huge blow for morale – she was the heart and soul of the team, the leader on and off the court. But you were the glue who held everything together. Coach shifted you into a more traditional point guard role. You brought a quiet efficiency to the court and confident play-calling. You weren’t there to replace her. That wasn’t possible.

The feelings between the two of you had been growing since your freshman season although neither of you acted on anything. You were close friends but her injury, somehow, pushed you even closer. She texted you reminders to eat when she knew you had a gap in your schedule. You warmed up her heating pad and let her choose the movie on the nights you gave up the textbooks to stay in with her. You and Paige worked so well together and it became harder and harder to deny what you felt for her.

But when she kissed you for “good luck” before the first game of the season? You dropped a casual 23 points with 11 assists to take home the win and made her ask you out for real after the press conference.

That year, the early Sweet 16 exit in the NCAA tournament stung. So did the Final Four exit in your junior year. Paige was staying for a fifth year and you knew that the both of you had one more chance to reel it in for the last time.

And you did. Your senior season was hard but you loved (almost) every second of it anyways. When Azzi was cleared to return from injury. When Aubrey and Carol did, too. When Paige and Azzi tested every bit of your patience by spraining their knees at different parts of the season. When you lost to USC, Notre Dame, and Tennessee but blew out South Carolina – twice, once in the regular season and the second when it mattered the most. When your teammates had your back, unconditionally, just as you had theirs.

Your name started creeping into the mock draft predictions. Third round. Then second. Then first. You were hard to place – nobody could ever agree on whether or not you were a Sun, a Sky, or a Mystic. The only thing that was guaranteed was the fact your girlfriend would be a Wing and you’d cheer her on from wherever the draft took you.

Getting invited to the draft was a different feeling entirely. You had a shot. You were going to be selected, and for once, you truly allowed yourself to reflect – through thick and thin, for worse or for better, you’d made it here. Not just to the draft, but you made it through college, too, which had seemed so out of the picture. Everything your parents had ever sacrificed for you, you’d be able to give it back with interest. You got your degree, your education. You have your career in basketball. You have Paige. That was more than enough for you.

You flew your parents out for the draft in New York. They were ecstatic for you, nearly in tears when you showed them your dress for the first time – styled by Brittany Hampton, of course, because Paige was so keen on matching. It was made of a dark, lace material that glimmered under the lighting in the room, the bodice fitting you just right, and the skirt billowing out around your ankles, cut at the side to reveal one of your legs.

Paige nearly fell out the moment she saw you. You weren’t any better, either. Your eyes lingered (she was wearing her hair down – you might have fallen in love for a second time if you weren’t so drawn to the way her suit sparkled, too) while her hands traveled, linking her fingers at the small of your back and pulling you in. “You’re unreal,” she’d murmured as you wrapped your arms around her neck, smoothing out some of the baby hairs at her nape.

You just grinned, self-satisfied at her obvious speechlessness. Knowing you couldn’t ruin your makeup without your respective teams losing their mind, you press your temple to hers, relishing in the closeness before you’d be pulled away for interviews and to sit at your separate tables. “I could pinch you, if you’d like,” you offered. “Just to make sure you’re not dreaming.”

“Hands to yourself, aight?” she grumbled. “Sum’ about that biology degree makes you evil.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” you cooed softly. “Like at all.”

Paige just squeezed you around your waist, not saying much else, and the two of you made your way to the draft venue. Interviews were quick – pictures, not so much, especially when your entire team was in attendance to watch you, Paige, Aubrey, and Kaitlyn get drafted. You and Paige go your separate ways after the photo on the draft stage. She had a second outfit and you had to find your family – which leads you to now.

Your parents, CD, and Coach Kerrigan are waiting for you and you hug each of them one by one, although you linger on Coach Kerrigan. He doesn’t say much other than a “Proud of you, kid,” and you don’t either – not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down. You’re not sure if he knows the kind of impact he made on your life by welcoming you onto his team when he did, but he grins at you like he understands it just the same.

When Paige makes her way through the crowd, having changed into her second outfit, you almost fall out again. Somehow, you manage to keep it together, even as your jaw hangs slack in near awe while you’re examining the rings on her fingers, the fact that this suit sparkles too, and the devastating lack of an undershirt that has you ready to give up on the draft completely so you can run a few laps around the block to control yourself.

Obviously, she’s the first pick overall. She hugs everyone at her table before finding you and your family. You tell her that you love her and that you’re proud of you. She winks at you and asks you to keep an extra draft hat for her.

The next few picks go by agonizingly slow. You don’t think it should take this long for teams to settle on their next pick and the way the cameras linger on you makes your skin prickle. The Sky have the two picks late in the first round followed by the Wings with the last first round selection. When Hailey Van Lith is taken at #11, you deflate a little, thinking you’ve fallen to the second round. Truly – it’s not the end of the world. It just means you’d have to fight a little harder for a roster spot. That’s a challenge you’d be willing to take head on.

But when the commissioner steps up to the podium again to announce the 12th pick in the draft, you freeze when it’s your name that is called. You, to the Dallas Wings, the same organization that selected Paige only moments ago. Stunned, you hug everyone at your table, then your girlfriend’s family, before making your way up to pose with the Wings jersey. You’re only half-listening to the interview with Holly Rowe, too concerned about making it to the back for media and seeing Paige.

When you finally do, Paige’s expression is one of disbelief and awe and you fall into each other with breathless giggles. Your hat jostles from the force of her body against yours, but she reaches up to steady it, her hands cupping your jaw as she looks at you with something like wonder. Her eyes are the most disarming shade of blue you think you’ve ever seen – and this right here, this feeling of contentment, of knowing that you get to live out your professional dreams with your girlfriend? You want to live in it forever.

“Guess you didn’t need to save an extra hat for me,” she comments coyly.

You laugh, not even bothering with a response as you grab her face and kiss her. Paige sinks into you like you’re the only thing she’s ever been sure about. For a moment, you think that may be true. In a world full of ACL injuries, of never really knowing if you’ll be able to make it unless you work for it, the relationship the two of you have is something steady. Constant. You’ll always have space for each other, just like you’ll always know that loving each other is the easiest part of living.

After the draft, you and Paige don’t immediately fly out to Dallas. You have a final exam or two, shared victory tours and talk show appearances, rallies and loose ends to tie up. You’re booked and busy until the very last minute. Packing is difficult – you’re not quite sure how you’re supposed to fit the last four years of your life into a box and tape it shut. You just have to remind yourself that you’re not closing this door. Maybe you leave it cracked, because you’re not the type of person to abandon your past in search of your future.

But you do come across your graduation gown while you’re packing away your closet. It’s neatly ironed, ready for the big day – May 10th. There’s something about that day that gives you pause, so you pull out your phone to scan the email sent to you by the Wings front office. Your first preseason game was on May 2nd against the Aces.

The second preseason game? May 10th. In Dallas.

Your face falls. Your phone screen goes dark from disuse while you stare in silent disbelief at your graduation gown.

Basketball wasn’t always the goal.

It was a reprieve before it was your passion before it was the best part of your life. You didn’t know if you’d be able to play in middle school, didn’t think you’d get recruited to the best basketball college fresh out of high school. You didn’t know if you’d win a national championship or meet some of your best friends ever. You didn’t know that you’d get drafted.

College was the goal. The goal was beating the odds, of getting a degree and an experience that your family wasn’t lucky enough to put time away for. The goal was succeeding despite every barrier and obstacle that made it difficult for you. The goal was walking across the stage after four years, officially becoming a college graduate, making your family – and yourself – proud, to be able to say that you did. And, sure, walking across the stage doesn’t take away the fact that you did the time. That you excelled. That you sacrificed so much to be a student athlete and a STEM major. Whether or not you walk across that stage has no impact on whether or not you get the degree in the mail certifying that you did everything you wanted to and got something special out of it.

But walking across that stage was a physical reminder that you refused to quit – that you held out hope even when you missed out on so many opportunities because you lacked things out of your control. It’s a reminder for you, for your parents and your family who would fill the stands, a reminder that this is possibly the most important thing you’ve ever done in your life. No one would ever understand it if they haven’t lived it.

You knew you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You couldn’t miss graduation – you didn’t want to. You knew that you couldn’t miss the preseason game, either. Not if you wanted to keep your roster spot. Not if you wanted to prove you had more determination than the other hopeful rookies on the team. Not if you wanted to prove you were an invaluable piece to the Dallas Wings roster. The most devastating part of the situation is that you truly don’t have a choice at all.

You’re still when Paige walks in, her voice startling you. “Hey, baby. You got another roll of tape? I completely fucked up and used like, half of it on one box, but it just wouldn’t shut–” She falters, her gaze meeting yours when she realizes that you’re barely listening and you’re staring catatonically. “You okay? What’s going on?”

“Graduation is May 10th,” you tell her, and she nods – because she’d had that date saved in her calendar the moment you submitted the documentation stating that you had all requirements and would be participating in the ceremony. “And so is our second preseason game.”

Paige’s body softens with regret and understanding all at once. You swear you see something curiously like guilt as if it’s her fault at all. Like she feels bad that she got the opportunity to graduate and walk across the stage when that was the one thing you’d set out to do with your life.

She doesn’t say anything. She just wraps her arms around you, letting you sink into her embrace while you try not to fall apart. Paige knows how important this is to you.

“I don’t think I can miss the game,” you confess, not having to look up to know Paige is listening as you rest your chin on her shoulder. “Not when I’m competing for a roster spot with Aziaha and Madison and JJ and everyone who’s not you, Arike, Ty, Dijonai, NaLyssa–” Your voice breaks, and you inhale sharply, feeling the familiar sting of tears. Paige runs a soothing hand down your back, comforting you enough to keep talking. “But my parents were supposed to see me walk.”

“They will, okay?” she murmurs, like she’s never been more confident than anything in her life. “It’s not over. You’re you. You wouldn’t make it this far just to give up now. Have you called Curt?”

“Well, I was a little busy having a mental breakdown before you walked in complaining about tape, so no, I did not call Curt,” you say dramatically.

“I’m so sorry I interrupted your spiraling,” Paige deadpans, which makes you laugh a little. She gives you one more squeeze before you extract yourself from her body, turning your phone on again as you take a seat on your bed. She follows suit as you scroll through your contacts for Curt’s number.

The line rings for a few moments. Paige, as if sensing your nerves, rests her hand over your knee for encouragement before Curt’s voice clicks through, greeting you. You remember your manners before you explain the situation to him. Graduation on May 10th. Preseason game too. Can I please miss the game so I can walk the stage and not crash the fuck out? You don’t say all of that – you use your professional voice, but the sentiment is the same.

Curt doesn’t respond for a moment. And when he doesn’t, you already have your answer. You deflate as he says, not unkindly, but clearly remorseful, “I’m sorry, I don’t think you’ll be able to miss it. The coaching staff needs you there for evaluation and your contract–”

You stop listening when he starts talking about contracts and roster spots and how he’s really sorry, but he just can’t make an exception right now. You can tell he genuinely feels terrible that it’s happened this way, but the league is competitive. You need to be there if you want to play basketball in May. Knowing doesn’t make the feeling go away, though, so you thank him for his time when he’s done explaining it to you and you hang up.

Paige doesn’t make you say anything, already reaching for your phone and turning it off. She pulls you into her arms again, her mood dampened as she murmurs an apology in your ear, pressing a consoling kiss to the crown of your head.

It does make you feel a little bit better, and maybe, one day, you won’t feel as bitter and as disappointed about missing your graduation as you are now, but you just can’t push the hurt to the side.

You let Paige hold you for a little longer, her hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as you curl up against her, your head tucked into her neck.

But she’s quiet – maybe a little too quiet, and you wholeheartedly miss the expression of sheer determination on her face like she’s plotting something that you’ll never know about until the time comes.

The move to Dallas goes better than expected. You and Paige lease an apartment not too far away from the facilities, but decently away from the bustle of the city. You spend a huge chunk of your time between Target and Costco and building furniture together – Paige has always been handy although a little…creative, when it comes to the instruction manuals, so you have to force her to follow them exactly. The last thing you want is your coffee table crumbling.

Between practice, shopping, and getting used to being in a completely different city, you hardly have the time to think too hard about how you have to miss graduation. You try to let yourself be happy, too. The Wings vets are incredibly kind and helpful, although they love to tease you and Paige, which is probably something you should have known was going to happen as soon as Cathy called your name at the draft. Despite the ache of missing Storrs, your teammates, and what you still consider home, you can see yourself loving it in Dallas, too. You can see the Wings becoming your family, too.

The first preseason game goes as well as it could have. Not wanting to risk injury, neither the Wings nor the Aces do anything too crazy, just wanting to get the rookies acclimated to playing professional basketball. Your coach runs different rotations, evaluating how everyone plays. It’s sad to know that by the beginning of the regular season, a few of your new teammates will be waived, even if you have to work extra hard just to make sure it’s not you.

Ultimately, the Aces take the win. Losing wasn’t something that you were used to in Connecticut, so you try not to take it to heart. You sleep on Paige’s shoulder the entire flight back to Dallas, blissfully unaware of the plans she’s making on her phone.

A few days after the first preseason game, you’re making your way through the tunnel in the Wings facility to get ready for another grueling day of practice. Before you can enter the locker room, Paige catches your wrist at the door, taking your bag gingerly as you stare at her in confusion.

“Do you trust me?” she asks you in a tone of voice that is screaming Don’t trust me!

“Under most circumstances, yes,” you respond. “What–”

“Wait here,” she says softly. “And close your eyes, please.” You sigh, but you do as she asks, even placing your hands over your eyes for good measure. You hear shuffling inside of the locker room before she comes out again. “Keep ‘em closed, but hold out your arms.”

You do, and she helps you into what feels like a large coat. You hear the sound of a zipper and then she’s carefully fitting a hat over your head. “You comfy?” she checks in.

“Just hoping my girlfriend didn’t team up with the vets for some weird rookie hazing ritual,” you mutter, listening to her laugh.

“Something a little better than that, I promise,” Paige swears. She links her fingers with yours, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Don’t open your eyes. Just follow me.”

You let her lead you through the facility, hoping that she remembers she’s an athlete with coordination and that she doesn’t run you into a wall accidentally. Before you know it, she comes to a stop, and nervously, she says, her voice echoing, “Okay. Open your eyes.”

When you do, your breath catches in your throat. You’re dressed in your cap and gown and you’re in the practice gym, but what truly captures your attention is the makeshift stage that’s been assembled at the center of the court. There’s a podium, where one of the coordinators from UConn’s Department of Biology stands – you’d worked with her a lot when it came to your academics since you were always booked and busy with class, studying, practice, and games. Your entire team sits in neat little rows in front of the stage dressed in their practice jerseys, but most of all, your parents are front and center, too.

“Paige,” you whisper, your voice catching, and she takes your hands in hers.

“Surprise!” she says, her tone soft. Despite yourself, you give a watery laugh, trying not to cry in front of everyone. “You weren’t able to go back to Storrs to walk across the stage. So…I pulled some strings and brought Storrs to you.” You take the scene in again, your heart full. You lock eyes with Arike, who’s holding a laptop. She lifts it slightly to show you the Zoom call she’s on. The screen is full of your teammates – KK, Morgan, Ice, Sarah – and you can hear their cheers through the computer speakers.

“Dr. Snyder agreed to speak and present your diploma,” Paige continues. “And I flew out your parents for the weekend.” She lowers her voice, ensuring that only you can hear her. Your lip trembles, the love you feel for your girlfriend almost overwhelming. “I know this means a lot to you. Graduating. I’m sorry we couldn’t be in Storrs to do this, but…you deserve to be honored. You deserve to do this.” Her eyes shine a little brighter, the affection almost stifling. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you. I hope you like it.”

“Like it?” you echo, disbelief lacing your tone as you laugh again. “Paige, I love this.” Her features relax a little, her grin widening as she pulls you into a tight hug. “This means everything to me.”

“Then let’s graduate.”

You pull away and your teammates, coaching staff, and trainers all clap for you as you make your way to the lone seat reserved for you in front of everyone else. You grin a little, shaking your head as Dr. Snyder steps up to the podium fully, taking her job incredibly seriously. She clears her throat.

“Esteemed graduate, friends, family, teammates old and new,” she begins, winking at you, and you let your smile grow without a care in the world. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate an extremely special individual who was unable to make it back to Storrs to receive her degree. But unconventional does not mean undeserving, and I certainly can’t name one other student who deserves this more than she does.

“I’ve guided many students in my career,” Dr. Snyder continues. “None of them are ever the same, yet she stands a caliber above the rest. She juggled a rigorous course load, a taxing athletic schedule, and she did this for four years with determination, wit, and unyielding perseverance. She has made such a profound impact on our university, on the basketball program, as well as in the lives of many people around her. I am proud to have advised her, but even more proud to stand here today to see her achieve her dreams. On behalf of everyone at the University of Connecticut, we are so excited to see you write this next chapter of your life.”

If there weren’t tears in your eyes during Dr. Snyder’s speech, then there are when she reaches for the degree cover and says your name. It feels like getting drafted all over again – but it’s even better than being drafted, because this has been your dream longer than basketball has been a reality. It was difficult, and most days it felt damn near impossible, but you did it.

You rise to the raucous applause in the gym, a beaming smile on your face as you make your way to the stage. Before you reach for your hard-earned degree, you give Dr. Snyder a crushing hug, thanking her profusely. Together, you hold onto your degree, smiling for the pictures that your parents, Paige, and the Dallas Wings media team take all at once. Even Arike is angling the computer towards you and you can vaguely hear KK over the computer screaming, “Screenshot it!” – which makes you laugh, because you know they’d have your back. Always.

You step down, degree in hand, and Paige grins at you with that soft, cheeky, scrunchy look of hers. You roll your eyes, the tears surging forward again and you wrap your arms around her tightly, burying your face in her neck and letting it all out. And when your parents step forward, too, wrapping the both of you in a large, crushing hug, you weren’t too sure how you were supposed to keep it together at all.

Graduation wasn’t how you thought it would be, but the knowledge that your family got to see you walk across the stage means everything to you.

You’ve accomplished one dream, and now, it’s time for the next.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #dallas wings #wnba

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