Hi!! Can I Just Possibly Request A Quick Blurb About Stella And Her Brothers Cuddling?? The Plot Would

lost cause | leah williamson x reader

it’s a little blurb for my hurt girlies

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts n discussions.

“Would you let me die?”

You looked deep into Leah’s eyes, the both of you trying your very hardest to fight back tears as her eyes shot open towards you. She flipped you over in your shared bed, switching you from your position as her little spoon so you were face to face with her.

“What?”

Leah’s words were laced with sleepiness, her body had been mere seconds away from sleep but your words had stopped her exhaustive haze, her eyes blinking furiously as they adjusted to the lack of light in the room, trying to gauge your facial expression.

“Would you let me die?”

Your words were murmured into the room, quiet that Leah was sure she stood a higher chance of hearing a mouse running across the floorboards then your words.

“What are you talking about?”

Leah’s voice waivered, trying to figure out exactly what you werte referring to.

“Would you?”

The conversation had been on your mind for days, the thoughts that had been humming steadily in your brain finally coming to surface in the moment.

“No shit I wouldn’t.”

Leah’s voice was as strong as it could be, her Milton Keynes accent coming on strong as she tried to decipher what exactly was playing in you brain at 3am in the morning that had led you to this point.

“Could you?”

Once again Leah struggled to understand the words and meaning of what you were saying. You’d had a impossible month, becoming the fifth arsenal player to be plagued with the acl disease. You’d had surgery two months ago, and revelry wise you were doing great, mentally you were struggling more than you ever had. Leah was working on it with you, trying her very hardest to keep you happy, to keep you alive. It was hard, there were days where you refused to leave bed, days where she found scars on your wrists that made her feel sick for not being there for you how she had to be.

“I just told you no.”

Leah’s voice held strong in the room, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the two of you breathing. It had been a rough night to some extent, you were being weaned off the pain meds and it sucked, Leah was trying her hardest but she wasn’t a doctor, nor instant pain relief.

“What if I asked you to?”

Your words hung heavy in the space between you, like a weighted medicine ball falling directly between you on the bed.

It had been a thoguht that had been at the forefront of your brain for weeks, but for you, it felt like an obligation to talk to Leah about it, to prepare her for something that was very quickly beginning to feel inevitable to you.

“Why would you ask me that?l

Leah’s hand managed to travel its way down to your stomach, her fingers clutching onto your sharp stomach muscles, the lines were strong and deft, a map across your torso.

“Do you love me enough to just let me die?”

Leah looked directly into your eyes. Did she love you to death? Did she love you to your grave? It was a question that hurt Leah from the inside out. Was it selfish of her to say no, to say that it was stupid of you to leave her for the rest of her life, when you’d promised her forever.

“I know it’s selfish but-.”

“That’s a fucked up thing to say.”

Leahs voice harshly cut you off, the older woman try her hardest to stay composed as she kept her eye contact with you, it was the only glimpse she had into your thoughts, what exactly you were feeling in this moment.

“I know and I’m sorry Lee, but I had to ask.”

Leah shook her head, no you didn’t. There was a billion worlds where you never should have had to ask, to ask permission to live, to ask permission from her about whether or not she loved you enough to let you go.

“Do you want to die?”

Leah’s words struck a deep frown onto your face, like it had been plastered on with sticky tape and glue. It looked wrong on your face, nights like these were normally spent with you being the happiest you ever were, cuddled up in the arms thay you loved more than anything in the world.

“Are you planning on dying, could you?”

There was no illness, no surgery, no life threatening circumstance that could lead to the end of your life, so it was either planned or paranoia and Leah was leaning to believe it was the first one.

“Could I die?”

Her words twisted around in your brain, your heart racing furiously against Leah’s Arsenal hoodie as you tried to digest what she was saying to you, it wasn’t a meal that was agreeing with your stomach, you could feel the word vomit rising already.

“Could you love me enough to live for me?”

The rephrasing of her words made you feel even sicker, like the nausea you got after eating lactose when you definitely were not supposed to.

“You know I love you Leah.”

Leah’s brow furrowed, because yes, she knew you loved her, you reminded her at least once a day. But what about loving her made you want to die, enough to seek permission.

“So could you live for me, it might be selfish, but please.”

Leah’s words invoked an i necessary amount of uncomfortable silence that spread out like a blanket across your shared bedroom, even the dogs lying at the base of your bed seemed to understand the memo, their snores silencing for a second whilst you and Leah just stared at eachother.

“Leah, I can’t do this anymore.”

She knew that, knew that more than anyone this acl injury had been hell for you. Her once energetic and happy girl had changed, into a person that was completely unrecognisable, it hurt her heart and soul, wondering if she’d ever get her girl back, or if that version of you had died out in the pitch with your injury.

“I know your struggling bunny, but I need you to do this for me, I need you to try. If you can’t keep yourself alive then I will fight every single day for you. Suicide is not the answer for you, you have too good of a life ahead for suicide to be your last chapter.”

Leah often reflected, often prayed that maybe, for whatever reason some things were just meant to be, even when they sucked. Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t supposed to be easy for you. Maybe you were one of the rare few who could handle tough times and still come out on the other end as a loving person. Maybe it was all falling into place because you are a strong person, you are having this experience for the good of yourself. Maybe it’s gods twisted way of loving you, pushing you through the hard times so you can see the good in life. Maybe for you, this is growth, pain is becoming the new normal. Maybe just giving your all was enough, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Leah made up things to make her life easier.

She reached her hands up to the loose hair strands that had fallen in front of your eyes, pushing them back behind your ears so you were forced to look at her dead on.

“How bad is it bunny, is it bad enough that you can’t just try your hardest for me?”

You bit down hard on your lip, contemplating the question silently in your head as Leah awaited your response. You stayed silent for a little while, the only sign you were still alive being your eyes blinking every once a while and your chest rising steadily.

“I’ll try.”

The words were pieces, like chunks of oranges sliced up and scattered across a chopping board, and whilst Leah didn’t exactly hear them she managed to put all the pieces together in her brain.

“I love you.”

Her words came out as one big breath. To Leah, you were as important as oxygen, without you she died as well, your contagious laugh and sparkly eyes were what got her through the rough days and nights and she couldn’t even imagine what life would look like waking up without you.

“I love you more.”

Leah smiled at you gently, coaxingly, how you’d look at a injured puppy.

“You could never.”

Leah pulled your body flush against hers, her hand coming up and under your hoodie and coming to rest on top of your heart, the feeling of your organ pumping against her was pure comfort, a luxury that she allowed herself to be granted. She exhaled deeply as she felt the feeling of your blood being pumped all over your body, to your little toes and your tiny hands.

She knew life right now sucked for you, knew just how much a acl injury made you question every single part of your life, but that didn’t matter to her, what mattered was that you weee slive, and in her arms, finding solace in her gentle touches and broad body.

You intertwined your legs with hers, wrapping her warm ones around your cold ones and slowly beginning to relax against her, as your emotional revelation began to fade from your brain, your promise to Leah breaking every single thought that had been marinating in your head.

“Go to sleep bunny, I’ve got you, nobody is harming you in my arms, even yourself.”

Spoiled: Bratty Princess x TF141 Bodyguards AU

Our bratty princess navigates a new world with four new brooding bodyguards ...

Always accepting asks and ideas on this AU!

Part One

Background

Part Two

There was this tiktok trend where kids and their mums would pull a prank on their dads by telling their mums to shut up...141 with a teenage son who tries it?

Anon, I am very aware of this prank. If mom is in on it, I consider it all in good fun, but omg, these guys would be absolutely stressed if they heard their teenage son tell mom to "shut up." Heads would absolutely roll over that!

Price is certainly old enough to have a teenage son on the older side. I would even say the same for Ghost. Gaz is old enough for a younger teenage son. With Soap's age...that's stretching it. BUT SUSPEND DISBELIEF Y'ALL. I'm aging Gaz and Soap up a bit for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in two double drabbles and two triple drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader (w/ children)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, pranks, domestic, dad!141, brief suggestive themes, marriage

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Ugh. Shut up, Mum.”

There is a brief pause between mum and when the television remote hurtles across the room. Your son doesn’t duck in time, the hard plastic hitting his shoulder before bouncing onto the kitchen island with a loud clack.

Before your son turns, Kyle’s baseball cap with the Union Jack, soars through the air like a frisbee. This one your son manages to avoid, but it’s quickly followed by a slipper. It flies past his head, and you catch it out of the air before it makes contact with the front of the microwave.

You and your eldest son turn in Kyle’s direction as he manifests in the kitchen entryway, the other slipper in hand, poised to launch it at the first sign of any movement.

“Wanna repeat yourself, mate?” Kyle appears calm and poised, but you notice the subtle tension in his jaw.

“It was a joke, Dad! Promise!”

Kyle’s arm holding the slipper starts to rise.

“Kyle,” you say. His gaze flicks to you. “Just a joke. No harm. I was in on it.”

His shoulders immediately sag. Kyle shakes his head. Rolls his eyes. Heading for the fridge, he opens it up, grabbing a can of his favorite beer.

Kyle sets the beer down on the island, pointing the slipper at you and then his son. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just an exasperated huff.

Kyle snatches up the television remote and sticks it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Keeping hold of the shoe in one hand, and his beer in the other, he gives the two of you his back, heading into the living room.

“No one bother me until the game is over,” he says over his shoulder. “And someone bring me my bloody slipper!”

John Price

"Fucking hell, Mum. Shut it."

John is up and out of his seat so fast you hardly see him move. He strides over to his son, yanking him off the stool by the scruff of his shirt.

"John! It's a prank!" you say quickly, reaching for his arm.

The boy is dangling in the air, toes just shy of touching the ground. "A prank?" asks John skeptically.

"Mum is in on it. Promise."

John sighs heavily and slowly lowers his son to the ground. The moment his feet touch ground, he tries to step away, but John holds firm, keeping his eldest child immobile. He leans forward a bit. Lowers his voice.

"Prank or no, you never talk to your mother, your sisters, or any woman in that manner again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy." John releases his son. "The lawn needs trimmed."

"Yes, sir."

Your son scurries away. It isn't until the door to the garage opens and shuts that John moves toward you. His arm drapes over your waist, hand landing firmly on your ass, squeezing hard.

"You're coming with me."

"To do what?"

He presses his lips to your ear. "For a different sort of punishment."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"You’re off your head, lad.”

With Johnny’s cold tone comes a tension to your son’s shoulders. He becomes rigid, sliding down into his chair like he can escape from his father by cowering underneath the table. Johnny comes around the corner, a bit of sweat on his brow. He's been building furniture all day for the nursery.

"Want to repeat that for me?" asks Johnny.

Your son’s voice cracks. "It was just a prank, Dad."

"It was what?" Johnny strides forward.

"It's a prank. I'm in on it. Promise," you say, attempting to soothe Johnny’s anger.

Johnny crosses his arms over your chest. "Is it?" He glances between the two of you and sighs, muttering, “Am pure done in.”

He disappears down the hall, returning with a stack of instructional manuals, dropping them into his son’s lap. "You're building furniture."

"But I—"

“You right scunner. C’mon.” Johnny yanks his son out of the chair, the stack of instructional manuals goes flying. Your son reaches for them all, desperately clasping them against his chest.

“Johnny," you call out, walking around the counter to intervene.

He glances over his shoulder, frown gown, sly smirk on his face. “Deal with you later."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Oi, Mum. Shut it.”

Your son is a wonderful actor. You’ll give him that. Even you almost believe him. Not that he would—he’d never—but his delivery reminds you of a completely pissed football fan ready to throw a punch at a member of the rival team.

He should consider theater.

Simon, your husband, is watching a rugby match in the living room. The television is on but at a low volume.

Within seconds of the words leaving your son’s mouth, Simon appears like a phantom guardian in the entryway. In one he holds the remote like a weapon. The other arm cradles his infant daughter. She looks like a small bean. Slightly curved as she snuggles closer against Simon’s chest as she sleeps.

He's not looking at you. He's staring at his son, gaze intense and full of fire.

You’ve seen that look before.

Mission abort.

"He's joking, Simon. It's just a prank,” you soothe, knowing you need to get ahead of this.

Not that Simon would hurt you or his son, but he rarely takes any shit. This prank was a gamble, and you’re completely regretting it.

"Don't mean it, Dad."

Simon just stares for a long minute. His daughter squirms and that is when he glances down, severing the connection. Observing her must change something in him, because his gaze returns to the two of you, and there is a calmness now.

Sighing heavily, Simon shakes his head, completely exasperated. The eye roll is so apparent it’s like a shout.

In the moment he was pissed—livid. But now he’s over it, more annoyed and unamused than actually mad.

Turning on his heel, daughter still cradled in one arm, Simon returns to his recliner, settling back into the soft cushions to finish watching his rugby match.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm

@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @spookyscaryspoon @enarien

Masterlist

On The Run Series :

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

OTR Drabbles:

Breeding Season

Bed Warmer

Knock First

Clothing Preference

NEIGHBOR SIMON:

I do not care if the players wanted to win a World Cup, they’ve enabled this man to get his hands on that trophy and now their team mates might never play for Spain again. Selfish undeserving players that have allowed an abuser to win the World Cup.

Winning the Ballon D’or and the World Cup is more important to you than your team mates and fighting for what’s right ?? FUCK every single player that came back.

Hii love your fics btw💗 and also could you please do an Eminem x Reader where his friends laugh at him and call him “whipped” but also lowkey happy for him

AN: Hi, I hope you like this! Thanks for the kind words x

“Have you not seen them together?” Porter called over to Fifty when he moved into the studio for the day’s session. He tapped away at his phone, scrolling through social media as he passed a confused look to him. “What are you on about?” Fifty hummed. “Marshall and Y/N.” Porter offered as he looked over to the clock as it ticked away. “No, I don't think I’ve met her yet.” Fifty hummed, placing his phone down as he turned his whole attention to him. “Oh, right, she’s coming here anyway.” Porter hummed, moving to play with his phone some more to pass the time.

~

“You okay?” Marshall whispered into your ear as he placed his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close from the harsh Detroit coldness. His cuddling nature easily returned when you were near. “Yes, baby.” You giggled, snuggling into his side. Marshall pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and you happily leaned into it. Your hand moved to capture him as you played with his fingers. “Are you sure I’m fine to stay at the studio with you?” You couldn’t help but shyly ask. “Yeah, it’s my studio.” Marshall chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. A soft giggle escaped you at his answer as you both moved towards the building with him opening the door like a gentleman he was for you.

“Thank you.” You hummed, cheekily brushing against him as you moved inside. Those blues of his darkened slightly as you smirked. He tapped your arse as you both moved through the corridor and you couldn’t help but giggle some more. You could hear voices coming in through the studio and grew shy once more. Marshall played with your fingers as he opened the door for you once more and you ducked inside. You softly stroked his hand for comfort. “Yo, Em.” Fifty waved as soon as Marshall wandered into the room. Marshall moved from your side if only for a moment to wrap his arms around his friend. You smiled over at Porter before being engulfed by Fifty.

“Oh..hi.” You giggled as he tightened his hold before leaning away. “It’s nice to meet you.” Fifty smiled brightly. “You too.” You smiled, shyly as Marshall hovered over you as the two of them caught up with each other. You waved at Porter once more before moving to settle down on one of the many sofas dotted around the room. “Do you want anything?” Marshall softly called to you as he watched you settle whilst moving towards the booth. “I’m good,” You hummed, ducking your head as you noticed his friend’s look and you pulled your phone out. “Isn’t this cute.” Fifty muttered and threw a wink to Marshall who only gave him the middle finger.

You could only blush some more as you picked up the water bottle and began to sip whilst watching Marshall work. His voice was comforting even when he was rapping and swearing in every other line. You could listen to him, forever. You didn’t notice your eyes become heavier as your lashes fluttered and you rested your head in your hand. A soft yawn escaped you before sleep engulfed you. Your head moved to rest on the sofa as you curled on it. As you slept, Marshall’s eyes kept moving to you as he read from the lyrics before deciding to break as you rested. “Dude, we never get breaks.” Porter complained, silently as he watched Marshall move from the booth.

“Shut up.” Marshall hummed, reaching for a blanket as he gently placed it over you. His eyes softened completely as his finger moved over your cheek. “God, you are so whipped.” Fifty muttered from the opposite couch as he watched the display. “Shut up.” Marshall mumbled, but didn’t deny it as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Marshall missed the looks his two friends gave each other. A soft smile came over them as they witnessed Marshall so happy. And all because of you. Their friend really deserved some happiness in his life and finally he had found it. It was a long time coming, they thought to themselves whilst enjoying the sight in front of them, no matter how much they teased.

Marshall sat at the end of the sofa and gently placed your legs in his lap as he continued writing some lyrics. His hand stroked up and down your leg as he continued to work and enjoy your company, even like this. Time slowly ticked by with Marshall moving from you once again to record some more music as you slept away. “I’m glad you found her.” Fifty commented when it was time to leave. You had woken up just a couple of minutes ago and blushed sweetly as you realised you’d fallen asleep. Marshall looked up at his friend as his smile spread across his face, “Thanks man.” He looked back at you as you rubbed your eyes for a moment and fought against your yawn.

“You ready to go?” Marshall asked as your eyes moved to Porter and Fifty as they waved goodbye. “Yeah..” You whispered, leaning into his side. “How was it?” You asked as he leaned in to softly capture your sweet lips. “Got a bit of work done.” He hummed as you looped your arms around his neck with a soft smile playing on your face. You softly stroked the back of his neck whilst staying in his arms for a moment. “Sorry I fell asleep.” You whispered, blushing whilst ducking your head for a moment. “I’m glad you feel that comfortable.” Marshall pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head as he answered. His hands moving up and down your sides and keeping you close.

“How about we get home..work on something else?” He purred, beard brushing against your soft cheek as he hotly kissed down to mouth at your neck. “Oh, like what?” You teased, knowing full well what he meant. “Didn’t you want a baby before the end of the year?” Marshall nibbled on your earlobe as a flood of pleasure came over you.

Alyssa Naeher secures USA the gold

quinny boy🌷💐💗🎀

he looks like a real person in this picture😧

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • PAIGE BUECKERS

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

🎵: Do I Wanna Know? covered by Hozier

TW: suggestive, angst, reader is an alcoholic, usage of Y/N, mentions of nausea and vomiting

SUMMARY: you get drunk to avoid running back to your ex…but tonight it brought you right to her.

A/N: I went to a UConn game the other day!

How many times were you going to find yourself in this situation? You were strolling around the crowded house, searching for anyone that would have you. You were drunk again, like you were most nights.

You did this a lot now; get wasted and hookup with strangers. The alcohol allowed you to loosen up, finally find some peace, and the hookups kept you feeling useful and pleasured.

The two of those things also kept you from groveling at the knees of UConn’s best female guard.

You and Paige had been in a serious relationship. You loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But you’d fucked up. Your love for booze had scared her off. She got sick of attending parties every weekend, sick of having to take away the bottle, sick of dragging you from parties, sick of pushing you off at home when your drunk self tried to start something, sick of nursing your nasty hangovers. She had told you to chill, promised you movie nights and dates instead of parties.

You never listened, so eventually she sat you down and, with a lot of difficulty, ended things. It had become too much for her. She needed to focus on school and basketball. It was her last year in college, after all. She wanted to make it count.

Without Paige, your need for alcohol only grew, which is how you found yourself in the middle of a frat party. Things had been usual, until someone screamed and everyone started fleeing. You knew what this meant; cops. You started running, too. If the police got you, you were screwed. Chugging drink after drink was fun, until the idea of getting caught came up.

You stumbled through the woods behind the house. This was where people typically ran, but you were alone. Maybe you were going the wrong way? You could see lights up ahead, so you went towards those. If there was civilization, you could find your way home. Once you made it through the trees, you found yourself in a campus that you quickly recognized…UConn.

Well, you thought, at least you knew your way around.

You started wandering, your phone in hand, waiting until you had good enough WiFi to get an Uber.

When you first heard the sound, you thought you were imagining it. Surely it was just the sound you associated with the school.

Nope…when the small, outdoor court came into view, you realized there was someone dribbling a basketball.

That someone was Paige Bueckers.

What were the chances?! You needed to go, before she saw you. You turned around fast, and tripped over your own feet. Your body hit the grass with a small “oof” sound escaping your lips.

“Y/N?!” Paige called when she saw you.

She was at your side within a second, immediately trying to get you up.

“Hi, Paige…” You said awkwardly, trying not to slur.

“The hell are you doing here?” She asked as she pulled you to your feet easily.

“I was…in town.” You shrugged.

She was gonna say something else, when her nose wrinkled. “Jesus…you smell like beer.”

It clicked in her brain just then. You opened your mouth to lie again, but all that came out was a shaky, alcohol scented breath.

“Ar you drunk?” She asked quietly.

“Just…a little bit.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed abruptly. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?!”

“I didn’t mean to be!” You yelped.

“Sure.” She scoffed. “You accidentally took a few shots? Chugged some beer? Drank some soda that you didn’t know had vodka in it?!”

You huffed, not knowing what to say. She was always right when it came to this.

“I just need to get home…” You whispered shakily.

“Where were you?” She whispered back.

“Party.”

“Hm. It’s early for you to leave a party.”

“Cops.”

An awkward silence passed. She watched you fight intoxicated tears.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” She sighed.

“Could you…get me a ride?” You said. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Where are you going? Home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“What if you go out again, huh? The bar? The club?”

“I’m super tired, Paige.” You shook your head. “I’m not going out.”

“You think I’m gonna believe you?” She scoffed. “You’ve pulled that shit before.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” You said, frustrated.

She sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

“You’ll stay with me.” She announced. “Just for tonight.”

You froze. Really? Your ex would be the one taking you home?

“Come on.” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

She led you back to her apartment. You were a bit unsteady, starting to feel the negative effects of the alcohol.

“Don’t you have roommates?” You asked once you were inside her building.

“They don’t mind.” She waved that off. “Just be quiet and they won’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this…” You said.

Usually when you got drunk, you were all over her, insisting she go home with you.

You knew better by now.

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige said softly. “I just…I can’t let you go home alone right now.”

The both of you went up to her dorm. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, inviting you in. When you struggled to slip your shoes off, feeling unsteady, she knelt down to get them off for you.

“You feeling sick?” She whispered.

“Uh…not really.” You replied, despite that fact that your head was spinning.

Paige saw right through the lie.

“Go in my room.” She told you. “I’ll be right there.”

You quietly went to her bedroom, remembering where it was, of course. You perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, waiting.

Paige came in a few minutes later, after convincing her roommates they they wouldn’t be hearing any grotesque noises. She carried a small trash bag and a glass of water.

“Drink up.” She instructed, giving you the cup. She then placed the bag in your lap. “And if you have to puke, do it in there.”

“Thanks.” You muttered.

She knelt down in front of you, looking at you with those insanely blue eyes. “C’mon…drink.”

You took a few sips of the water. You knew she was being helpful, but the water kind of made you want to throw up.

“Just hold onto that bag.” Paige said when she noticed your facial expression.

She stood up, and walked over to her closet. After digging around for a moment, she came back with a t-shirt and comfy shorts. The shirt looked so familiar…you suddenly realized why.

You would always steal her clothes when you were a couple. She often found her hoodies in your bedroom, her sweatpants (which were actually ginormous on you because she was so tall), mixed with your laundry. You rarely hid it well. Sometimes you’d just show up at her place in her clothes.

Your favorite thing to steal was one of her March Madness shirts. It was very comfy, and a reminder of how amazing Paige and her team were. So when she gave you the shirt that drunken night? You quickly burst into tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asked worriedly.

“You…you remembered.” You sniffled.

She didn’t know what to say. She felt sort of caught. She muttered a quick “Of course I did” and took the water from you.

Her bedroom was dark, only slightly lit by the moon shining through the window, so she didn’t see much when she helped you out of your party clothes. Not like she’d never seen you naked. Once you were in the comfortable clothes, she pulled the blankets on her bed back, allowing you to slip in.

“I’m gonna stop, Paige.” You whispered, still crying as she tucked you in. “I’m gonna stop drinking.”

She sighed. She’d heard you say this before, but never so seriously.

“Good.” She said. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this point.”

“I know…” You whimpered. “I don’t want to die…”

You were quick to put your head in your hands so she wouldn’t see you cry even more. She bit her lip at this. She was angry at you, for continuing to abuse alcohol, but…she hated that she was. She just wanted to comfort you. She never liked seeing you cry.

“Let’s just try to sleep, alright?” She said softly, climbing over you to lie down.

She got in the bed, keeping a safe distance. Neither of you were very comfortable. You were too tense. You hadn’t been in bed together in ages. It would’ve been nice if you weren’t so awkward.

You really tried to pull yourself together. You wiped your eyes, took deep breaths, focused on good thoughts. But your drunken tears kept coming.

Suddenly, Paige was shifting, and she was getting closer. She laid on her side, facing you. Then you felt her hand carding through your hair, gently scratching your scalp.

“What’re you doing…?” You whispered.

“When I used to do this, you’d be out cold within minutes.” She whispered back.

She kept doing the soothing motion. Your eyes were getting heavy, like she’d hoped.

“I’m really gonna stop.” You muttered.

“I know…just sleep.” She murmured.

“I miss you.” You whispered. In your half asleep, intoxicated state, you didn’t think twice about saying that.

She swallowed hard, her hand faltering for only a second. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I just wanted you to know.” You answered.

“I know.” She repeated, smiling a little at the small amount of sass in your voice. “You don’t have to miss me, though. I’m right here.”

Exhaustion was finally getting to you, so you were falling into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be right here.” She whispered a few seconds before you fully sank into unconsciousness. “We’ll figure this out…we always do."

Two different people/players that need different things and react differently to tough situations. All is good, all reactions are valid 🫶

some of us need to fight while others need a hug and that’s ok.