#NEED FOR SPEED II | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eowynstwin · 2 months ago

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anatidae - conception, ii.

After several happy years together, Ghost and Soap finally convince you to have their child. - ghoap x reader. audhd reader. reader has a nickname. established relationship. polyamory. baby fever. manipulative Soap. manipulative Ghost. smut. breeding kink. double penetration. sex as manipulation. - Masterlist. Ao3

The temperature changes.

Mary gives birth in the fall of that year. Four children—she now has four children, only a year or two separating each, and just the thought of that many loud, unpredictable kids in one house is enough to make your head hurt and your heart speed up.

You don’t dislike children, not in the slightest—often, you’ve found them to be better company than many adults, much smarter than usually given credit for and often much kinder.

The trick of it is simply in being honest with them, and giving them the space to be honest with you too. Most people your age are uncomfortable with such directness; but kids, you’ve learned, not only need it, but crave it, in a world that usually dismisses their hunger for understanding.

It’s not difficult to realize that you relate to them, more than just a little. The world around you has never not felt inscrutable. To feel that way, and to also not be able to pick your own bedtime? You feel more sorry for them than you expect most everyone else does.

It’s just that…well, they’re also children.

Loud, grabby, demanding black holes of need for care and feeding on a constant basis, with ever-evolving desires that are impossible to keep up with. Sticky nearly all the time, and impossible to reason with when they get a notion in their head that they won’t let go of. Irrational, unreasonable, hypersensitive to the slightest discomfort, and once you think you’ve figured them out the day changes, and they become different beasts entirely, based seemingly on no rationale whatsoever.

More trouble than they’re worth, you think, no matter how much you may relate to them.

You and your men arrive at the hospital just a few hours after the delivery, and are ushered into a room in the maternity ward that’s already stuffed to the brim. Soap’s mother, Mary’s husband and children, and a few other members MacTavish clan, cousins or second cousins or something, along with balloons and flowers in as many corners as will hold them.

Mary, on the bed, is wan, sweaty, and gently smiling. Her arms encircle a tiny bundle against her chest, swaddled in pink blankets.

“Well done, Mar,” Soap enthuses, going to her bedside to kiss her cheek. He gazes down at his new niece, eyes soft. “Looks just like you.”

“Thank god,” his younger sister Beth enthuses, elbowing Mary’s husband with a teasing grin. Ian gives a sheepish smile; he’s almost as haggard as his wife, having spent the entirety of her labor at her bedside.

Conversation ebbs and flows around the room; you let it wash over you without trying to participate. The lights are fluorescent overhead, and the hospital is busy outside the door. There’ll be an angry buzz in your head when you get home.

Simon, who understands, keeps a heavy arm around you, huge hand curled over your hip and gently rubbing. You focus on Johnny, still smiling, eyes sparkling, as he nudges into the bundle with one index finger.

Simon’s hand tightens. He pulls you tighter into his body.

A little spark. Something tickling the back of your neck.

Johnny, with gentle, steady hands, lifts the bundle from Mary’s arms and draws it into his own. It’s tiny, even with the blanket corners spilling over his broad forearms, light pastel against hirsute sun-brown. The corners of his eyes crinkle, mouth curling, and then—he looks up at you with a diamond-bright gaze.

Simon speaks, with an odd, soft quality to his voice, charged like a sweater from a tumble dryer. “Well, let’s get a look, sergeant.”

Johnny approaches, and brings the baby into view.

Small. So small. A little face, squished by nine months of tight development, and even smaller hands, slight fingers curled up by round, red cheeks. It isn’t pretty, not in the slightest, but it looks as fragile as spun glass. You’re struck with a sudden relief at the full swell of Soap’s biceps, one pillowing the baby’s head; you’d trust very few people without his strength to keep such a delicate little life safe.

And it is a life, isn’t it? Even so small. You reach out to touch the tips of your fingers to the baby’s hands, and find them as warm and soft as Mary’s belly had been, the one time she invited you to feel the baby kick inside her.

“Mary, was it very hard?” you find yourself asking. Even small—this came out of her body. “Do you feel alright?”

Mary laughs. “I’m alright, Duck.” Everyone in Soap’s family uses the nickname they’d given you, rather than your actual name. “And as she’s my fourth, no, it wasnae so bad.”

Soap recaptures your attention with glowing eyes. “Hold her, Duckie.”

“What?” you say. Heat rushes to your face. “No, I—I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, y’do,” he murmurs. He rumbles with a low brogue, accent stronger with some strange intensity. “Come oan, it’s alrigh’.”

“Hold her,” echoes Ghost. “We won’t let you drop her.”

With tentative arms, you reach out, and Soap carefully shifts the baby into your hold.

So small. Warm, from the heat of Soap’s chest and from the baby’s own body. Heavier than you expect, even despite weighing almost nothing at all. You crane your head down to look closer at the baby’s face; her tiny nostrils flare, just the slightest, with every whisper of breath she takes, and before your eyes, her little mouth suddenly opens wide in a yawn, fists curling and relaxing, as she shifts and settles.

Soap in front of you, hands cupping your elbows, toes of his shoes touching yours; Ghost a crescent around you, making you a shield of his body. You, headache forgotten, the rest of the room suddenly fallen away.

The baby in your arms, at the very epicenter of you and your partners.

Some line of tension connects between Simon and Johnny; you feel it pull taut, though you don’t know why.

“Hello,” you say to Mary’s daughter, something moving inside you. “Hello, baby.”

Back at home, they pull you into the bedroom. Something spools around the three of you, drawing tighter, narrowing the space between your bodies. Their hands splay around the curves of your body, slipping beneath your clothes and gently easing them off, as you trade warm, wet kisses between the three of you.

“Want you t’take both of us, alright?” Soap murmurs in your ear, on your heels as Ghost tugs you toward the bed.

You nod, already lightheaded. You’re dizzy with unexpected want for them, keyed up from Soap climbing into the backseat for the drive home to tongue your neck and squeeze your breasts over your shirt. The both of them have been oddly intense since the hospital, barely speaking, and if you didn’t know them as well as you do now, you might have been afraid they were angry.

But no—you recognize it for the single-minded pursuit that it is. The undivided focus on their objective that they have honed on the whetstone of constant deployment.

The energy of that focus buzzes between them as Ghost pulls you over him to straddle his hips, and Soap works both hands between your legs to get you ready to take him. Keyed up as you are, it takes very little time before Ghost is sliding into you without a whisper of resistance, his girth stretching you tight and snug enough to take what little remains of your breath away.

It culminates with Soap working a plug into you from behind while you ride Ghost, your front flush to his, with heavy tattooed arms banded around you to hold you down. Their combined body heat swelters the room, dewing your skin with perspiration that pearls up every place their skin meets yours.

“Breathe out for me, Duckie,” Soap croons, massaging the fat of one cheek, and circling the rim of your ass with the plug’s tip. “Push out for me a little—that’s it, what a good girl.”

A high, strangled noise escapes you, muffled by your face pressed into Ghost’s chest, one huge hand of his spread over the back of your head. Slick with warm lube, the toy stretches you, stretches you, wider and wider until it pops in and seats itself—and then you feel the weight of Soap’s cock land over it.

Neither of them say anything. Ghost’s girth draws you even tighter with the addition of the toy, sliding slowly in and out of you as he rolls his hips between your thighs. All that populate the bedroom are the shared moans and groans coming from the three of you as Ghost fucks you at a languid pace and Soap presses your cheeks together to frot between them.

You don’t have to do anything; they manipulate you as they please, hands greedy for your bare skin, bodies moving against yours with no hurry to get anywhere very fast.

Ghost’s breath is steady and strong in his chest, wiry chest hair prickling against your cheek as you rub your face on it. His skin is hot beneath your spread palms. Humidity gathers between the three of you, sheening your skin, warm and cloying and sticky.

Soap’s hands slide from your ass up your flanks, and then he’s lifting you away from Ghost’s chest to bring your back to his front—trapping his cock against the small of your back as his arms wrap around you, and his chin nestles in the crook of your neck and shoulder. Ghost’s hands descend along your hips to sink into the fat of your thighs.

Slowly, decadently, Soap cups your breasts with spread hands, caressing around them, pressing them up against your chest and playing the tips of his fingers along the hard beads of your nipples. He lowers them slowly and skims his hands down your ribcage to cup underneath the softest part of your belly, pressing divots just above your mons, massaging, up and down, over your hips and back to your stomach.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs into your shoulder, as one hand falls to nestle around your clitoris, which pulses hard and hot with arousal. He moves his hips idly against your back, the hot line of his cock a slow piston from cleft to sacrum.

“Gorgeous,” Ghost agrees. “Our girl.”

You seize your bottom lip with your teeth, breath stuttering in your lungs, and turn your head aside—you can never look directly at them when they praise you, even though whenever they do it feels as though the sun is rising in your chest.

“So good to us,” Johnny says, wrapping a brawny arm around your shoulders, resting his head against yours to murmur the words directly into your ear.

His voice is low and husky, purring. A predator to its mate. He rests your full weight against him as Ghost moves in and out of you, unhurried, languid; slow enough to let you feel every inch of him entering, and leaving, and entering you again, cockhead reaching so far into you with every thrust that he brushes lightly against the plug of your womb.

Their eyes hadn’t left you the moment you’d accepted the baby into your arms—electric. So intense you could feel the tingle of it everywhere their gazes landed.

“Even when we don’t deserve it,” says Simon, thumbs drawing little circles into the insides of your thighs. “Love you, Duck.”

“So much,” Johnny echoes. “You give us so much, bonnie girl.”

Heat suffuses your entire body, gathering where one of Johnny’s fingers taps against your clit. Simon lifts his hips to push into you, all the way to the wide base of his cock, so deep and so tight that your first orgasm of the night spills out and floods you, lighting up every nerve, fireworks popping between every place your body meets theirs. You squirm in Soap’s arms, ecstasy hijacking your control as scratch your nails across his thighs.

Soap gives you a moment to catch your breath, still caressing your belly, and then purrs, “You think you can take me now?”

“Y—” you stammer, voice lost to the ebbing climax, “y-yes.”

“Come here,” Ghost says, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and Soap lets you go to lay back down on top of Ghost’s chest.

The bigger man cups your jaw with one broad hand and tilts your face up to his, pressing his mouth to yours, open and hot with his labored breaths. He licks between your teeth, messy and wet as Soap eases the plug out, and you hear behind you the sound of a cap popping open.

Warm lube dripping between your cheeks, and Soap pushing it in with the blunt end of his thumb. He slides in to his first knuckle, digging his fingertips into the swell. Then, withdrawing, the slick sound of his hand around his cock, up and down, right before he presses the head into the tight furl of your hole.

“Push out for me again, aye?” he murmurs, laying a lube-sticky hand on your lower back.

You mindlessly comply, still distracted with Ghost’s mouth, and slowly, so slowly, Soap works himself in, easing his way with shallow, testing thrusts, soothing you when you whine at the burn by wedging his hand between your and Ghost’s body’s to pet at your clit.

He finds the right angle, and then in one, smooth, easy motion, Soap slides in to the base, filling you up so swiftly you gasp high and sharp, and they both shush you, four hands sweeping up and down your body to calm even the spark of any tension. Your heart thrums in your chest, in your neck, all the way down in your clitoris, and you pant as Soap leans over you to paint kisses on your shoulders and along the knobs of your spine.

Soap drops his weight over you and cages you in with his arms on either side of you, rocking his hips, moving his cock against Ghost’s with only the slightest membrane separating them. Ghost holds still, letting you acclimate, distracting you with soft, warm kisses, tongue curling around yours as he reaches over you to fit his hands around Soap’s ass.

You’re so…full. If you thought the plug had stretched you out before, it’s nothing compared to this—your partners claim every bit of empty space inside you and make more for them to fit. Neither of them are small men, and they fill you so tightly you wonder how you don’t simply burst from it. You can barely breathe; you can barely think with the both of them inside you.

But it feels right. It always feels right. Soap, and Ghost, with you between them. You, filling in the mismatched spaces where they don’t quite fit together—them, slotting right into every place you need them.

More together than simply the sum of all three—

“You want one just like it?” Soap murmurs, moving against you, thighs flexing behind yours.

“Want…one…?” you repeat, dizzy, breathless, flattened by his weight pressing you down into Ghost’s body.

“Want us to put a baby in you, Duckie?” Ghost asks. He gives a smooth roll of his hips up into you, punching the remaining air from your lungs. “Give you something back, for all you give us?”

Hands tighten on you; then their thrusting quickens, uncoordinated, their huge bodies corrading you between them.

“I—I—” you stammer, as Ghost finds your hand and wedges his fingers between yours—the other sliding up to cup the back of Soap’s neck.

“Cannae stop thinkin’ abou’ it,” Johnny says, hot breath in your ear, pressing kisses along the back of your neck. “Our baby in your belly, Duckie, ours.”

“It wouldn’t—” you pant, “it couldn’t—”

“Don’t try to figure it out, Duck,” Ghost says, soothing, but firm. “You don’t need to. He’s just talkin.’ Let ‘im talk.”

“Would be so grand,” Soap slurs. “Jesus, it’s all I think abou’ now. Wan’ to fuck you every day, fill you up with us, ‘til it’s leaking out of you all the time, Duckie, every minute, ‘til somethin’ takes, an’ then we’re always in you. And then you’re so big and full of us it’s got to come out—”

Heat bolts through you, searing your face. Fire in your belly heats your breath, burns your esophagus as you pant against Ghost’s chest. You squirm between them, chasing the spark dancing just in the vicinity of your clitoris, but there’s no room for you to move between them, surrounded on all sides by their thrusting bodies.

“Oh,” you moan, warmth gathering inside you, thinking of tightness and heaviness, feeling the solid weight of their hands on you.

“That sound nice, Duckie?” Ghost murmurs in your ear. He lets you and Soap go, and drags his hands down to your ass cheeks, gripping with wide fingers and spreading them for Soap to admire what’s happening between them. “You want us to get you pregnant, sweetheart?”

“Take such good care of you,” Soap continues, “both of you, Duckie, we would. Our little family.”

“Johnny’d need some training,” Ghost murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, “but don’t worry, I’d get him there.”

“I—” you try to say, “I—I don’t, I…”

They don’t let up—Ghost pushing into you as Soap pulls out, so that you’re not empty for even the stretch of a heartbeat. It doesn’t give you a single clear moment to think, to find that rational, logical part of you that is ready to argue at a moment’s notice why childbearing and child rearing is such a horrible idea.

Instead, all you think about is the bundle in Soap’s strong arms—and how you wished, very suddenly, you could’ve seen Ghost hold it, too.

“It,” you pant, the force of their bodies jostling the breath from your lungs, “it sounds—nice—ahh!”

They fill you at the same time, all the way to the root, and grind you between them with tight, quick movements of their hips. It rips the cord of your orgasm, and you clamp around the both of them so tightly it would risk forcing them out if they weren’t so adamantly pushing in—you seize up between them, throwing your head back to land in the cradle of Soap’s shoulder, and dig your nails into Ghost’s pectorals, jaw slack as you jerk with every intense wave.

“Ah—ah—ahh!” you wail, as they fuck you through it, hands gripping you, chasing climax with ramming hips, and then liquid warmth floods you, fast and thick, so much you feel it spill out of you and start mixing as it drips down.

They don’t stop—

“Come on, again, bonnie, we can get you there again, come on,” Soap growls in your ear. “We’re still hard, come on, come on.”

Hands—you don’t know whose—wedge between your bodies, and fingers touch the live wire in your clitoris, circling roughly, and the scream of a frightened animal escapes your throat as they yank you right back over the edge. You finish a third time without having begun, locked in place and unable to escape it, and you can only thrash against them, sanding yourself against the hard planes of their bodies until, finally, they take their hands away.

Heavy, humid breaths; movement settles as the three of you pause to catch them. Soap pulls out first, but Ghost makes no move to, and they shift so that he can turn and lay you on your side without slipping out.

Soap pushes your leg up to hook over Ghost’s hip, and curls his thigh up under yours. They press you between them like a flower, tight and snug, and exchange a kiss over your shoulder as you shift between them, getting comfortable.

“Ghost,” you say, feeling their cum begin to cool on the insides of your thighs. You want to wipe off before it and the sticky mixture of your and their sweat all across your skin begins to dry.

“Little longer,” he murmurs. He presses his mouth to the crown of your head, and cups your jaw with loving hand.

Soap snorts quietly and kisses the back of your neck. “He’s jus’ keepin’ you warm for me, Duckie.”

He slips his hand between your and Ghost’s chests to curve it around one of your breasts, thumb finding the nipple. You make a soft sound in your throat, overstimulated, but unwilling to beg him off.

You lay like that for a little while, the three of you, curled into each other’s bodies and sharing your evening breaths. You would get cold, sweaty and naked as you are, but their combined heat cocoons you, cradling you in a soft warmth that, if you closed your eyes long enough, would lull you to sleep.

But something runs its fingers down the back of your mind. Lightly, gently, but enough to demand your attention, fuzzy and clotted though it may be.

“What’s gotten into you two?” you murmur.

There’s a beat of silence that you have learned, by now, indicates that Simon and Johnny are having a conversation with their eyes.

It used to make you insecure, in the early days of your relationship with them—feeling your own inadequacies in communication. You’d frequently thought you would never be able share the same ease they had together, the effortless understanding, the perfect alignment of intention and interpretation.

But as it does with nearly everything else, time proved to be the antidote to such poison. Ghost can read the angle of your shoulders like a large-print book; Soap can coax you to meet his eyes with a practiced twitch of his fingers, usually because he wants to make you laugh. The unspoken languages shared between lovers are a living practice of constant collaboration.

So you know that whatever they say to each other right now has something to do with you—

And with the baby they insisted you hold.

But you retreat instinctively from the idea as soon as you approach it. Repelled, like a drop of oil in water.

“Nothin,’ Duck,” says Ghost, squeezing your neck muscles between his fingers, rubbing the tension from them with a deep, probing pressure. “Just talk, remember?”

Soap kisses your neck again, distracting you, and then your shoulder. “I’m gonna clean off, Duckie. He’s gonna keep you stretched out for me, then I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, how’s that sound?”

Talk—that’s all it was. Just talk. Your men have said more outrageous things in the bedroom, in the throes; notions of forcing you to walk around nude at home, chaining you up in the basement, making a pet out of you, cloistering you away from the world in some cabin in the Cairngorms where no one can find you, and they can have you all to themselves.

Post-coitus, it’s meant nothing. They still massage your aching thighs and remind you when your next classes are. Talk like that only serves the imagination—

This is no different.

Ghost finally pulls out of you when Soap returns, still heavy and thick even when flaccid, shining and sticky with clear slick and white cum. You turn on your back, and he slots in behind your head, resting against the headboard.

Soap works himself back up with quick pumps of his hand along his shaft, and without preamble he slides into you, displacing Ghost’s cum still inside you with an obscene squelch. It gathers around the base of his cock and catches in the dark curls of his pubic hair.

“Jesus,” he groans, rolling his hips. “That’s a lot, Ghost, hell’s bells.”

It seeps in the creases of your folds as he slides his cock in and out of you at a languid pace. Soap lowers overtop of you, forearms bracing on the mattress, and kisses the hollow of your throat, then the heavy line of Ghost’s cock just above your forehead, before rising back up to settle on his knees.

“Don’t waste it,” says Ghost. He also settles on his haunches, and you crane your head to brush your lips against his shaft. He snorts. “Good girl.”

His heavy hands fall on your breasts, cupping, squeezing, pinching your nipples—as if something might come out. Soap cradles your stomach again, dragging his hands around it like a potter shaping clay.

Nothing. It means nothing.

next chapter early access

a/n: i'm ovulating can yall tell

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devileaterjaek · 11 months ago

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Need for Speed II (PSX) //community discord// //ko-fi// //twitch channel//

#gaming #psx #nfs #need for speed #need for speed ii #nfs2 #racing #racing games #cars #driving #ps1 #psone #90s #90s gaming #90s games #playstation

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retrocgads · 11 months ago

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UK 1998

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wileys-russo · 6 months ago

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filling the void (10) II a.putellas

la reinas birthday means another installation into the fresa universe! ft @girlgenius1111 solstråle engen filling the void (10) II a.putellas

“ale? por favour por favor i need help, hermana i need you!”

you’d managed through the searing pan to at least pull yourself up enough to sit leaning against the bath when alexia burst in, almost causing you to topple over again in shock as your sister practically kicked the door open and came to a screaming halt.

“qué ha pasado? estás herido? dónde estás herido? cómo de grave es? estás-” the older girl knelt down and fired question after question at you, eyes rapidly scanning your body for any sign of injury, barely giving you a chance to answer one question before asking another.

“alexia, cállate!” you snapped suddenly, frustrated that she wouldn’t let you get a word in as your sister did just that, falling quiet as you exhaled shakily. taking a moment to collect yourself you puffed air out your nose with a grunt as another wave of pain shot through your ankle and you felt like throwing up.

“hermana, what happened?” alexia asked firmly though not unkindly, eyes searching your own for any telltale sign of what had lead to the late night phone call, alexia’s stomach dropping the very moment you’d spoken and she’d heard the clear panic in your voice.

“i slipped over on the wet towel, think i broke it.” you whispered quietly with a nod down at your ankle, alexias gaze following your own and widening at the purple bruising already setting in and the weird angle your foot was at, the dimly lit bathroom meaning she’d not noticed sooner and she was cursing herself for it.

you meanwhile readied yourself for a lecture, told off for your idiotic choices, braced for a smack to the back of your head even and a reminder that this was your fault, because you were too stubborn for your own good, you didn’t use your crutches and of course thought you knew best.

but it never came.

instead all your sister did was give a curt nod that she’d heard you, your mami arriving in the doorway followed closely by olga who’d just woken her up, both women also looking down at your ankle in shock.

“es tan malo?” you grimaced at their expressions, alexia shooting them both a firm look of warning as they quickly dismissed your worries before gently pushing your head back as you craned your neck to look down at your ankle, your sister deeming it would be more helpful for everyone if you didn’t, olga moving quickly now to bend down beside you.

“a la cuenta de tres.” the girl warned as both her and alexia grabbed your arms and you exhaled shakily, both girls counting to three together before lifting you upward off the floor. curses dropped from your tongue like raindrops at the sheer immense wave of pain which overcame you as they did, your sister quick to just pick you up to save any further complications.

all of a sudden you felt four years old again as your sister fireman carried you out to the car which was still running, very carefully helping you into the back and shooing eli into the front as olga got into the drivers seat and alexia sat herself right next to you.

the car peeled out of the driveway and you tried to deep breathe through the pain, dismissing your mami’s repeated apologies she’d fallen asleep and hadn’t heard you come home, assuring you knew you should have just let elena help you like she offered, but it was too late for that now.

“you came.” you met alexia’s gaze as your sisters eyebrows furrowed together and her hand squeezed the knee of your good leg reassuringly, olga speeding through a red light with a grimace, though it had already been mutually decided this was faster than awaiting an ambulance.

“por supuesto fresita, you called.”

“qué quiere decir? it is broke! snapped!” your eldest sister glared down the poor receptionist who sighed, not as offput by your sisters protective and abrasive attitude as most would be intimated by, simply again explaining that they would be able to give you some pain relief but due to how busy the emergency room was you’d need to wait awhile to be seen by anyone.

“amor? venga, come sit with your hermana. your mama can talk to them, fresa te necesita.” olga murmured gently, grabbing your sister by her bicep and dragging her away, leaving eli to fill in the necessary paperwork while a nurse was sat explaining everything to you.

“oye! you are vaping?” alexia hissed, snatching the green pen from your hand as you looked up with a scowl and the nurse hid a laugh. “no no, this is for the pain relief. she will feel a little uneasy and lightheaded, but it is quick acting.” the nurse held her hand out as alexia blushed and placed the pen back in her hand which was then given back to you.

the nurse re-explaining everything to alexia and olga at their request you’d tuned out, your head starting to feel a little foggy the more deeply you inhaled from the small green whistle clenched in your fist, zoning out entirely until a tap on your leg had you looking up.

you made a thumbs up at the questio you hadn’t heard as olga snickered quietly and the nurse smiled before she left, your sister sitting down on your other side. “ale!” you huffed as she snatched the pen from you, swatting your hand away as she squinted to read the writing on the side, eventually handing it back as you took a hit.

“how are you feeling chica? how is the pain?” olga asked as you paused and blinked slowly, everything feeling a lot more numb now and suddenly it was as if you’d never even hurt yourself in the first place. “why are we here?” you questioned bluntly, taking another deep inhale from the green whistle.

“que? your ankle?” alexia frowned as you looked between both of their concerned gazes, letting out a loud and sudden laugh as alexia smacked a hand over your mouth and a few people glanced over curiously at the outburst.

“we need one of these at home! mami!” you yelled across the room the moment alexia let go, your sister wincing and sending an apologetic look to the elderly couple across from you who shuffled a few more seats away with a side eye.

“ale.” your sister paused her impending lecture, looking over your head at her girlfriend who’d tapped her, reading the article she’d pulled up on her phone about the side effects of the little green pen, eyes widening as she did.

it seemed it would make you act as if you were-

“dios mio did we take shots on the way here?” you giggled suddenly feeling like you were drunk, eyes droopy with a lazy smile painted on your face, and much much much more relaxed than just a few minutes ago when you’d barely been able to sit still from the pain shooting up your leg.

“como un suero de la verdad.” olga grinned, like a truth serum, and alexia despite the small voice in her head which prodded at her to just leave you be, was curious enough to test the theory.

“ay hermana.” she knocked her knee gently into your good one, the other strapped up with some ice though you couldn’t even feel your legs let alone your ankle right now. “what happened to the blue phantoms?” your sister questioned, a pair of her spare boots having magically disappeared the last time you’d stayed over but you’d profusely denied having anything to do with it.

“i sold them to someone at work.” you confessed right away with laugh, snort and a shake of your head, inhaling deeply from the pen. “and your red and blue fluffy nike jacket?” you looked at your sister, head lolling from side to side a little. “i took it.” you admitted with a snicker.

“and your vintage barcelona hoodie? the custom one? i took that too!” you giggled to yourself, alexias eyes widening at the myriad of confessions which came rolling out of you, admitting to many a theft from her closet, albas closet, even some items which alexia had entirely forgotten about, and some that she’d almost beat your other sister for assuming she was the one lying about taking them.

“-and mami? your blue vase with the flowers? ale made me say i broke it cause i was cute and i’d get away with it. but she broke it!” you poked your finger into your sisters cheek with a lazy grin as eli sent her eldest a very unimpressed look from the seat across from your own.

“-and then alba used to sneak in through my window all the time from parties! she’d pay me not to snitch.” you shrugged, inhaling deeply again from the pen and exhaling with a content smile.

“then one time alexia hit alba so hard she lost a tooth then she made her-” your sister shot up, not quite willing to let that secret fully see the light of day just yet, snatching the green pen from your hand and smacking one of her own over your mouth, eli’s eyes burning into her as she smiled awkwardly.

“i will go check with a nurse about the wait time.” your sister scurried off with the green pen still in hand, your mami charging after her leaving you and olga be as you sighed heavily, truly feeling on cloud nine and not at all understanding why you couldn’t just go home no matter how many times it was explained to you how you’d ended up here.

“olgui.” you spoke up suddenly, your sisters girlfriend raising her eyebrows in amusement beside you. “i know you worry that i don’t like you as much as i liked jenni-” you started with an ever so slight slur, olga’s eyebrows now furrowing, a little unsure of where this was going.

“-but you don’t need to! i needed jenni when i was little, i don’t anymore. i need alexia to be loved and looked after and you do that and more, you bring out the best in her, more than anyone else ever has.” you continued firmly, slapping a hand onto her shoulder and making her jolt a little.

“-and i love you, like a sister. eres de la familia!” you promised with a very determined nod and a dopey smile, head still lolling a little side to side as the older girls features softened, pulling you into a side hug.

“gracias pequeña.” she kissed your head as your sister and mami now returned, grumpy look on alexia’s face as she threw herself down in her chair with crossed arms, eli lowering herself much more gracefully back into hers and if you’d not been so high you might have clocked the tension.

but you didn’t, in the slightest.

“ale!” you quickly turned to face your sister, hands coming to grab her face and squish it together as she gave you a strange look. “i love you hermana. i love you! i love you! i love-.” you pinched her cheeks tightly and shook her head side to side with every declaration, alexia eventually pulling your hands away with a wince and a small smile.

“yo también te quiero diablillo.” your sister chuckled, kissing your cheek as your head fell to her shoulder and you patted her leg, everyone exhaling a little as it seemed you’d finally settled.

but they were wrong, alexia tensing up in surprise as you went flying back up into your seat, dopey grin and a glazed over expression on your face looking around the waiting room as if you were trying to find someone, snatching the pen from your sister and managing a half inhale before she took it back muttering about how your pain was more than managed.

“oye why are we here again? we should be at the club!”

~~~~~

you glanced up from your breakfast at the sound of a knock on the door, barely even able to blink before your mami warned she would get it and you weren’t to move as you huffed and leaned back in your seat, pushing the now cold plate of eggs away from you.

it had only been a few days of wearing the dreaded ‘moon boot’ encasing your foot like a cage but you were past ready to tug it off and launch it into outer space, your indeed broken ankle be damned.

the boot was ugly, clunky, heavy, made your entire foot itchy and hot, but you couldn’t do anything about any of that, only simply sit and suffer while it helped you ‘heal’.

you still had to use your crutches most of the time because you weren’t supposed to bare any unnecessary weight onto your ankle in the boot, but that was causing irritating little bruises to form under your arms, which the doctor warned may happen while you still got comfortable relying on them.

though you didn’t want to become comfortable using them, you didn’t want to get used to this stupid ugly boot, you wanted to snap your fingers and have your bones magically heal.

or for someone to invent a time machine so you could go back, rewind and not have slipped over that day to avoid this whole situation in the first place. you knew the boot had to be on for a minimum of five, maybe even six weeks, and here you were losing your mind after a mere four days.

and you were, losing your mind.

the one thing you did have working in your favour was that it was a clean fracture, meaning you didn’t need surgery or any sort of invasive medical treatment. but you did need to go to a physio for rehab to build the ankle strength back up, as well as to see your doctor for x-rays every fortnight to keep on top that everything was healing as it should.

alexia had of course insisted you use her physio therapist, the same whom she’d trusted for years, and as much as you despised the treatment plan you knew if he could deal with alexia after her acl? the man must have the patience of a saint and clearly know what he was doing, so you’d begrudgingly agreed, not that you’d really had a choice.

though as much as the boot and the crutches was driving you crazy that was nothing compared to the absolutely insufferable smothering from your family, which was the final piece in the puzzle of your current head loss and slow but steady descent into insanity.

you knew deep down it came from a place of care, and that being the baby of the family did have its perks, some of which you’d taken full advantage of over the years and still did to this day.

but one of these said perks was not being watched like an organism under a microscope, every move studied, wants and needs assumed and in turn met for you in an often forceful way, in which any and all protests from you were ignored or shut down.

alexia of course was the most insufferable of the bunch, hovering and fussing and bossing you around like your own personal nurse from hell. but as much as you’d reminded her time and time again she actually wasn’t the putellas studying a degree in medicine, she was far too pigheaded and tenacious to listen or let that stop her.

it had even gone as far as her deploying olga to stay at eli’s and ‘hang out with you’ when everyone else had to work since she could do her own job from the couch you’d been basically glued to all week.

but both you and your sisters girlfriend knew that really just meant to watch and hover and fuss over you when the others weren’t around to do that, ensuring that you weren’t left without a pair of eyes over you every second of the day despite once again your protests you were fine by yourself.

though at least olga allowed you a little more independence than her girlfriend did, asking what you needed rather than assuming, helping instead of doing things for you, and she always brought you some sort of food as a peace offering if it be sweet or savoury.

but after you’d almost stabbed your eldest sister in the hand with a fork at dinner last night after she tried to cut your food up for you as if you’d broken your hand, your mami had taken you aside to cool off.

she’d gently advised that your sisters, alexia in particular, still had their own wounds to heal with having made you feel so neglected the last year or so, reminding you that part of this healing process of their wounds was to overcompensate.

eli finishing that with as much as alexia could be insufferable and bossy, every little word and action from alexia came from a place of love for you, and that to some degree you had to just let your sisters do as they needed to feel like they were making up for lost time.

though a few moments after that chat when you’d returned to the table you threatened to stab yourself in the eye with a fork if alexia didn’t leave you alone and let you eat in peace, your mami realised that though she had the hindsight to see and accept alexia’s overbearing nature came without malice, you weren’t quite just there yet.

the worst part of it though wasn’t the fussing, or the smothering, it wasn’t the lack of quiet time and independence, or even the overstimulation of the boot and the bruises from the crutches, it was the boredom.

you’d never been the kind of child growing up who sat still without a cause. sure you had your times when you’d be quiet through sheer exhaustion, but almost all of the time you had to be moving around doing something and keeping busy, albeit chattering away to anyone who had an ear to lend to listen.

this in turn meant you’d had more energy to burn than your family knew what to do with, which is how you then wound up going to training so often with alexia after school, even if after the tooth incident you refused to so much as touch a football for fear of injury, no matter how many times your sister tried to change that.

the running around the field after alexias teammates for hours was enough to tire you out for the evening, which in turn allowed a routine to be implemented that didn’t involve you running circles around your family and refusing to settle down or do anything you were asked.

but now nearly eighteen you’d calmed down quite a bit, and knew how to appreciate the little pockets of peace that came with laying on a beach tanning or the solitude locked away in your room studying.

your job was your favourite way to pass your time these days.

you had a drive to achieve and to want and to work for what you desired instilled in you from a very young age and you were thrilled to have found something you were not only good at, but that you sincerely enjoyed like working at the clinic, and your studies that went hand in hand.

you were often teased by your friends and coworkers that you were like a sponge, just always going around soaking up every and any little tidbits of advice or knowledge you could wring from anyone who had the time around the clinic.

so when not only the doctor but your boss had agreed with your families suggestion you take some time off while you healed, it was like an uppercut punch to the stomach.

your contests in the doctors office that you could sit at the front desk in reception and not put any weight on your foot all day were shut down with three fierce glares and a warning pinch to the back of your arm for the choice words muttered under your breath afterward.

so now without work to look forward to everyday, the rug of your weekly routine pulled out from beneath you in tatters, you were distraught at the thought of so much free time unoccupied to say the least.

you still had your studies you could do from home, though you felt like a nuisance texting your coworkers to ask for advice knowing they were busy.

it was different when you were at the clinic and could ask things in real time and often be shown your answer, or when you were allocated your time to work on your assessments and one of them would sometimes opt to come sit with you in the back office to help on a lunch break.

then of course it was also near impossible to concentrate on anything when at any given you time you could have up to eight eyes all staring at you as if waiting for any sort of sign you needed assistance, forced to sit at the dining room table or the couch because in your room you were apparently far too unsupervised.

between the three women constantly fussing and hovering and offering help you knew they couldn’t give you alba had been the least insufferable. your older sister actually taking your side and advocating you be left alone to your notes and your textbooks, very firmly reminding alexia that not only would she be annoying you but she would be essentially useless if you did have any questions or require help.

none the less back to present day you perked up when after your mami answered the door you heard a familiar voice, eli inviting them in as the sound of footsteps thundering toward you had the first sincere smile in days tugging at your lips.

“fresa!” the girl cheered, climbing up onto the sofa and launching at you in a hug, elena quick to follow and sternly reminding her daughter needed to be very very careful of your ankle. the four year old nodded with a concerned frown as she looked down at the boot propped up on the coffee table, and you could tell by the little twitch in her hands she was trying very hard not to reach out and poke at it.

“but when my foot is all better your mami and i will have to take you to the aquarium chica, just like we promised.” you grinned as sofia perked up with an enthusiastic nod, eli watching on with a soft smile as she conversed with elena.

“are you going to daycare today nena?” you asked, noting elena in her scrubs ready for work and knowing that she’d never take sofia with her. “sí! we have picture day today so mami did my hair special, but she brushes really hard.” the girl leaned up and whispered the last part in your ear making you laugh.

“bueno, se ve hermoso. but make sure you do not blink in your picture, and no silly faces at the camera!” you poked at her with a playful glare making her giggle and push your hands away.

“we thought we’d drop by to say hola and check on the patient!” elena pushed your head with a teasing grin, now stood behind the sofa as you turned a little to be able to speak to her.

“oh! and-” elena reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of papers as you perked up in relief. “eres un salvavidas!” you took them carefully, leaning forward to place them on the coffee table, rolling your eyes as your mami swooped in and immediately rushed them off to your room.

“they are all different reports, all public knowledge and from the last five or so years. what do you need them for amiga?” elena asked curiously about the files she’d sourced, copied and printed at your request. “research paper, if i ever get left alone to work on it!” you grumbled with a huff.

“there are eyes everywhere!” you whispered, pulling a silly face making sofia giggle and elena shake her head but with a small smile as your phone chimed in your lap. “oye sofia, i planted some new flowers in the garden nena. would you like to see before you go?” your mami asked, the four year old practically levitating to her side as eli lead her outside hand in hand.

“your favourite norwegian?” elena guessed with a grin, rounding the sofa and taking a seat beside you as you frowned at the message, eyebrows furrowed together.

“how did you-” your head snapped toward her, baffled at how she’d picked up on it so easy until you saw the knowing smirk and put it together she’d clearly read it over your shoulder.

“you promised to stop being so nosy, puta!” you shoved at her shoulder, your phone plucked from your hand by the older girl who waved you off, already filled in on the disaster that had been your first study session with solstråle.

“heard you broke your ankle. i can drive you to the library?” elena read out the message from ingrids sister and pushed you away as you reached for your phone back. “oh she seems harmless fresa, that is a nice offer to drive a cripple!” elena teased as you pulled another face.

“ella es una gilipollas.” you quipped with a roll of your eyes, trying to reach for your phone back again as elena pushed you away once more. “i thought you were going to try again? give her a chance? that you felt bad with how you treated her.” elena reminded you of your own words as you groaned loudly.

“si, i will tutor her. but that does not mean i have to like it or her, and i do not want to be stuck in a car with her.” you scoffed, again pushed away as you tried to take your phone back. “elena no! elena!” you protested, held off by one arm and a hand against your forehead as her fingers flew against the keyboard with the other.

“you have an attitude problem amiga, tan hostil y malhumorada. you think your mami or your hermanas will let you take the bus to the library?” elena reminded as you finally snatched your phone from her grip.

“you know we do have that wheelchair in the back at the clinic, maybe i could-” you tuned her out as you sighed at what the girl had texted back. ‘that would be lovely! thank you.’ it would certainly not be lovely, however elena did have some point in that perhaps an awkward car ride with a broody norwegian might be better than with alexia who no doubt would insist she carry you inside as if the floor was lava.

so with a stubborn huff you quickly sent your own message back to sol. ‘sorry, that was my friend with my phone. she thinks I have an attitude problem, you can drive me. I guess.’ you didn’t have to wait long for a response, rolling your eyes yet again as you read over it.

‘well I’m not arguing with the attitude thing. I’ll pick you up at 4:15.’

elena still chattering on and you still very much not listening, your nails tapped against your screen as you typed your own reply.

‘your car better not be as unorganized as your backpack.’

an ever so slight quirk in your lip at that, proud of your comeback which wasn’t laced with as much malice as it might seem to the untrained eye.

‘as you wish, dr. putellas.’

“is the answer on my face engen?” you questioned without even looking up from your own studies, feeling the norweigans curious gaze burn into your forehead. “no.” the girl mumbled, flushing bright red at being caught staring.

“then stop looking at it and work on the math.” you hid a smile at how flustered the stoically silent girl seemed as she cleared her throat and slouched back in her seat with a signature scowl. “i was looking at the board. behind you.” she nodded above your head as you glanced back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“the empty one?” “yes.”

“tonta.” you muttered to yourself, the norwegian ready to fire an insult back at you until she noticed the small smile of amusement peeking through the corners of your mouth, realising there wasn’t really much malice behind the word at all.

were you, teasing her? being friendly? no, surely not.

“what is this?” you clicked your tongue in annoyance as your paper was snatched from the desk in front of you, the tall brunette squinting as her eyes scanned the paper, pushing back so her chair was teetering on only its back two legs as she kept the paper out of your reach and you huffed.

“grown up work!” you stood up and reached across, snatching it right back with a roll of your eyes as now solstråle smiled seeing she was getting under your skin. “i am older than you.” the norwegian reminded, again swinging her chair to balance on the back two legs as you glanced up with an unimpressed look.

“act it, engen.” you quipped in broken english, tapping a manicured finger against the math equations the norwegian was supposed to be working on instead of bothering you with your studies. “why do you want to be a doctor?” the taller girl asked quietly, hands now gripping the edge of the desk in the small meeting room you’d booked to keep her chair balancing on only the back two legs as you sighed.

you’d at least managed to coax her through two worksheets, which given how horrible the first session had gone, was progress. once you’d actually gotten her to admit you’d jumped a little ahead in assuming her understanding and you could take it back to basics, she was understanding things a little more.

“not a doctor. nurse.” you corrected without looking up from the article you were summarising, highlighting its key passages with a bright orange marker. the girl didn’t talk anymore, returning to her usual silent ways, however once again you could feel her bright eyes burning into your forehead, wordlessly waiting for your actual answer.

with an overly dramatic sigh you looked up and sat back in your chair a little, solstråle shifting uncomfortably at the way your sharp gaze raked slowly over her for a moment as if sizing her up and scanning for some sort of imperfection.

“i like helping, learning. this-it is…interesting, and important. i like to be eh how do you say it? challenged, and this is not easy. i find reading, writing, remembering, all easy. but this is hard, makes it…fun.” you struggled to articulate yourself without your native tongue, always making sure, as requested, you speak to the scandi in english unless you were actively trying to work on her spanish which you’d not really had a chance to, yet.

the norwegian only nodded at your answer, a soft thump sounding as the chair dropped back down on all four legs, solstråle picking up her pen again and pulling the worksheet closer to her. the sudden change in demeanour back to silent and stuffy had your eyes rolling as you bit back the urge to question why she was like this, choosing to hold your tongue instead.

when the alarm on your phone went off to signal the end of your agreed upon time you had to bite back a smile this time as the tall norwegian almost fell to the floor in shock at the obnoxious chime of your alarm, scowling at your quiet laughter and muttering something you couldn’t understand under her breath.

before either one of you could break the strange silence that had filled the room you reached into your backpack, pulling something out and reaching across the table, dropping a small stack of books in front of solstråle who frowned.

“what are these?” she asked slowly, picking one up which had quite a tattered cover, every single book with a once brightly coloured title page had all long faded, two of them even taped up and most with well loved dog eared pages.

“books.” you drawled back sarcastically as she shot you a glare. “books, for niños. you will read them. help with your spanish!” you ordered with a curt nod, admittedly a little beguiled to part ways with them even for just a little while but it had been albas suggestion since that same little stack you’d read to death and back with her as a child had been what helped you.

“kids books?” the norwegian scoffed as you now gave her an evil look. “sí. and look after them engen!” you warned, perfectly painted fingernails pointing at her menacingly as solstråle started to argue, shut down by the firm and unwavering glare you shot at her.

“fine. even if it is stupid!” she grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear but if you did you made no move to show it, starting to pack up your things.

“are you going to the final?” the norwegian asked quietly as you paused, leaning back in your chair and nodding, wincing a little as you rolled your moon boot clad foot as best as you could, a small bolt of pain shooting through your toes.

“with my family. you are going?” you asked back as now she nodded, advising she would be sitting with mapi’s parents in the family and friends section. you faltered just slightly at her answer, eyebrows creasing as curiosity drifted over you as to why she would not be sitting with ingrids parents, her own family.

but deciding though today had been significantly less tense, you’d hardly call the pair of you friends, and as much as you were curious you knew not to push what little of a rocky relationship you were forming with the broody brunette.

you thanked her as she stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and grabbing your dreaded crutches from where they rested against the wall, not missing the way you gave the two sticks a clearly annoyed look.

“i will see you there then, before we meet to study again. if you want to study again.” you left the statement not quite as a question, though you hoped she would sense you were seeking some sort of confirmation or denial to the subtle proposal.

“i would like to. this was helpful, even if it was boring.” she was fast to to add on the last bit as you allowed yourself a small smile which was gone as soon as it appeared, unsure why you suddenly felt as if you needed a guard up but the way the taller girl was looking down at you had something in your stomach feeling a little strange.

she offered you a hand up, a hand you couldn’t help notice was a little swollen, a slight crease in your eyebrows as you studied her wrist which seemed just not quite right, maybe an old injury? it was probably nothing.

you accepted her help, grunting quietly as she pulled you to your feet, hurrying to slip your crutches under your arms as you mumbled a quiet thanks. you were eye to eye for a moment, or as eye to eye as you could be with the tall norwegian towering several inches above you.

then as soon as you seemed steady on your own feet she stepped back, fiddling with the frayed straps of her backpack, looking around the room, really at anything but you.

“boring?” you scoffed at her previous statement. “boring is watching you try to multiply double digit numbers engen.” and with that remark hanging in the air you began to crutch out of the room, solstråle quick to dart forward to pull the door open for you to hobble through, the tiniest of smiles on her lips when she thought you weren’t looking.

“well sorry that we are not all as smart as you, dr putellas.”

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #🍓☀️

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bueckersstuff · 5 months ago

Text

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV

There’s something about being best friends with someone like Paige Bueckers that makes you feel both incredibly lucky and completely exasperated at the same time. You know that sounds contradictory, but if you knew her, you’d get it.

You met when you were eight, and I swear, from the moment you collided on the playground during recess—both of you going for the same ball—you were inseparable.

It wasn’t hard to see that Paige was special. Even back then, she was effortlessly athletic, her natural grace obvious in everything from her jump shots to the way she could race across the court. While other kids had their moments of clumsy falls or awkward movements, Paige glided, even as a little girl.

You weren’t into sports—never were—but you always knew she was going places. You watched her grow from the girl who loved to chase after basketballs into the player who could practically bend the rules of physics to make a perfect shot. She was destined to be a star, and the rest of us? Well, you just had to hang on to her for the ride.

Then there was you—definitely not a basketball star, but no slouch when it came to your studies. You were the type to bury your nose in books while everyone else was at practice. You loved reading, writing, and getting lost in whatever academic challenge you could find. Your classmates always knew you could finish a math test in half the time and nail the history essay before anyone else had even started. You weren’t a superstar in the traditional sense, but you had your own rhythm, and it worked for you.

And yet, despite your different worlds, you and Paige were the best of friends.

You sat next to each other in most of your classes, and your favorite pastimes involved everything from debating which was the best superhero movie, running through the halls of your high school, laughing at something no one else understood. And then there was the teasing—God, the teasing.

Paige was relentless. She’d always tease you for being the "boring academic" while she perfected her crossover dribble, making jokes about how you’d never survive a week of basketball practice. It wasn’t mean-spirited, at least not in the way that some people’s teasing could be. But that didn’t make it any less insufferable.

“Come on, nerd, do you even know what a fast break is?” she’d say, standing with her hands on her hips after yet another practice, eyes gleaming mischievously.

You’d roll your eyes and half-smile, knowing what was coming next.

“Yes, Paige. It’s when someone speeds up the court before the defense can set up. I’ve read a book or two about basketball.”

Her laugh would always follow. “Well, maybe you should try it sometime. You’ll be a star! You could wear your glasses while you play, and the team could call you ‘The Bookworm!’”

You hated it. You hated that she’d get under your skin, making you feel like you should try to be something you weren’t. But at the same time, you secretly kind of liked it. Who else would tease you like that and still be your biggest fan? I mean, Paige was so full of life, so unapologetically herself, that you couldn’t help but admire her for it, even if it drove you crazy.

It wasn’t all teasing, of course. There were those moments when you’d look at Paige, really look at her, and see the layers that the world didn't always get to see—the quiet moments after games when she was just a regular person with regular fears. Like that time she sat next to you in the locker room after a particularly tough loss, not saying much but letting you know she was okay by the way she leaned her head on your shoulder. You were the one with the words in those moments, and she didn’t need to ask for help. You just understood.

In high school, you were those two girls everyone kind of knew—Paige, the basketball prodigy, and you, the girl who could read, write, and speak five languages (okay, maybe just four, but who’s counting?).

People knew you were best friends because you made it so obvious. You were the one who had her back through the drama, through the spotlight, through all the things that came with being someone like Paige. And she was the one who kept you grounded, who pulled you out of your shell, and who still found a way to make you laugh, even when you were too stressed to breathe.

I remember one particular day, not long before you graduated, when the teasing reached a whole new level. Paige had been making jokes all day about how you were going to be "the world’s most successful librarian" or "the next Shakespeare" (thanks, Paige, I think?). By the time lunch came around, you were done.

“Okay, okay,” you said, throwing your hands up in mock surrender as you sat down across from her at your usual lunch table. “I’ll come to one of your practices. You can teach me how to play basketball. But just know that if I end up scoring more points than you, I’m going to bring it up forever.”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “You want in? Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. This is gonna be so much fun.”

It was that day that you realized just how much you loved your friendship. Because while Paige could drive you to the edge of insanity with her teasing, her laughter, her crazy competitiveness—it was all out of love. It always had been. And no matter how much she teased you, she was the first person to defend you when you needed it. No matter how many basketball practices you would never get through without tripping over your own feet, no matter how many times she’d laugh at your inability to dribble, you wouldn’t trade her for the world.

Paige Bueckers, insufferable tease and one of the best friends you could ever ask for.

Things started to change in 2019. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t a loud, dramatic shift, but slowly, like the tide creeping in, everything began to feel different. That was the year Paige was recruited for Team USA’s Women’s U16 National Team. You knew it was coming—her talent was undeniable, and she was just too good to ignore. But still, when the phone call came, when she told you she’d made the team, you felt this rush of pride mixed with something else you couldn’t quite place.

She was going places. Big places. You were still that girl with your nose buried in textbooks, with your quiet, academic achievements to your name. But Paige? Paige was going to represent her country. It was what she’d always dreamed of. You were thrilled for her, of course, but with that thrill came something else—something that felt like the quiet loss of the friend you’d grown up with.

That’s when Azzi Fudd came into the picture.

Azzi, a prodigy in her own right, had already started making waves in the basketball world by then. She was fierce, driven, and she and Paige immediately hit it off. They were two peas in a pod—both basketball geniuses, both with an unshakable bond of ambition and determination. You watched from the sidelines as the two of them grew closer over the months. They practiced together, trained together, and even joked together in ways that made you feel like an outsider. Azzi became Paige’s new constant, the person she could lean on during the long hours of practice and travel, the one who shared her dreams of championships and accolades.

And you—you were left behind.

At first, it was subtle. Paige’s messages became fewer and farther between. She was busy, you knew that. She had games, practices, and a whole new world that was opening up to her. But it was the little things that started to hurt.

You’d text her about something random—just like you used to—and you’d get a short, distracted reply. “Busy, sorry, will talk later.” But “later” never came. The “Paige” you used to know was slipping further and further away.

As the months went on, Paige’s attention drifted more toward Azzi. You saw the way they interacted—something beyond friendship, something deeper. Their connection was electric, magnetic. Every time they were together, it was like the world around them disappeared, like they had their own universe in the middle of all the chaos. You tried not to notice it, tried to tell yourself that it was just their bond over basketball, over being in the same world of greatness. But deep down, you knew. You knew that something was happening between them. Something that you couldn’t be a part of.

You didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge that your best friend was slipping away from you. But the truth was clear: Paige wasn’t just getting busier with her career; she was getting closer to Azzi. And with that, she was pulling away from you.

You still supported her, of course. You cheered her on from the sidelines, watching every game, every tournament she played in. You sent her messages—hoping that maybe she’d see them, maybe you could have one of your old conversations—but they were always answered with a brief acknowledgment, nothing more. You didn’t push. You didn’t want to be that friend—the one who made everything about them when it wasn’t supposed to be.

It hurt, though. It hurt more than you were willing to admit.

It was hard to watch Paige and Azzi share everything—laughing at inside jokes you weren’t part of, training together in ways you could never understand, building a future that didn’t have a place for you. And you got it. You did. You weren’t in the same world. They were two rising stars, both with the world at their feet, and you were just… there. You weren’t part of their journey anymore.

But the hardest part? The hardest part was that Paige didn’t even realize what was happening. She didn’t see how much it hurt you to watch her and Azzi grow closer, to feel the distance widening between you. She was so wrapped up in her new life that you barely existed in it. And you didn’t know how to tell her—how to make her understand that you were still her friend, that you were still proud of her, but you also needed her to see you.

You couldn’t tell her you were lonely. You couldn’t tell her that the bond you once had felt like a memory, like something you couldn’t reach anymore. Instead, you took the quiet route. You pulled back. You didn’t call her as often. You didn’t text her every time something reminded you of her. You figured if she had time for you, she’d reach out. But you knew that wouldn’t happen—not in the way it used to.

It was the end of the year when you finally realized something. Paige and Azzi had something going on—something that wasn’t just about basketball. Maybe it was the way they exchanged knowing glances at practices, or the way Paige’s face lit up every time Azzi spoke. Maybe it was the late-night conversations you’d overhear when Paige thought you weren’t listening. You didn’t want to interfere. You didn’t want to make Paige feel like she was betraying you, because you weren’t mad at her—you were just… heartbroken.

You still supported her. You always would. But something had changed. Something was missing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go back to the way things were.

Paige, your best friend, was slipping away. And Azzi Fudd, who had become her everything, was standing in the space you used to occupy.

You didn’t blame her, not really. People grow, they change. Sometimes they outgrow each other, and sometimes they find new connections that mean more than the old ones. But it didn’t make it any easier.

So you stayed silent. You watched from the sidelines. You cheered, you smiled, and you let go.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Paige didn’t need you anymore.

The summer before college was supposed to be a time of celebration, excitement, and the thrill of what lay ahead. You and Paige had spent years imagining this moment. Since you were little, you both had talked about where you'd go to school, what your futures would look like, and the dreams you’d chase together. You had always planned that you'd be there for each other no matter what. You’d go off to college together, as inseparable as ever.

And then came UConn.

Paige had just received a huge call—Geno Auriemma had recruited her to play for the University of Connecticut. Of course, you had known it was coming. Paige had been a star for years, and now, the biggest program in women’s college basketball wanted her.

"Guess what?" she texted you one evening, her excitement practically jumping off the screen. "Geno wants me at UConn. It's official."

You were thrilled for her. This was the dream she had talked about since you were kids, and now it was happening. UConn was where she was meant to be. But when she mentioned something else, something that wasn’t part of the plan, something that made your heart twist—well, that’s when everything started to change.

She told you, "I really want Azzi to come to UConn too. I think it would be perfect for us to play together."

That hit you in a way you didn’t expect. Azzi Fudd—the same Azzi who had gradually become everything to Paige. The girl who had quietly inserted herself into your friendship and your life, until now, she was practically the center of Paige’s world.

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let it sting, but it did. You had been there with Paige through everything—through the awkward middle school days, the high school highs and lows, and now, you were being pushed aside for someone who had only entered the picture recently. Azzi was going to UConn, and you could already see how the next few years were going to play out: Paige and Azzi, side by side, dominating the court together. Meanwhile, you’d be sitting on the sidelines, watching it all unfold, your own dreams feeling smaller and more distant.

You had already planned on studying business. It was a solid, practical path that made sense for you. But in that moment, you felt the weight of the change, the realization that everything was moving forward—and you weren’t moving forward with Paige the way you thought you would.

So you did something you hadn’t planned on doing. You sent Paige a message that made your stomach churn.

"Hey, I’m actually considering Harvard for business. It’s really good for the program I want, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. What do you think?"

It was a low blow, you knew that. You weren’t trying to throw it in her face. But in that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be the only way to keep your own sense of identity. Maybe it would be easier to start fresh somewhere else—somewhere where you wouldn’t be constantly reminded of how Paige and Azzi’s bond was growing stronger every day.

Paige’s response was subtle, more so than you had expected, but you saw the shift.

"Wow," she replied, her message short. "Harvard’s amazing. I’m sure you’ll be great there. But, um... I guess I thought we’d go to college together, you know?"

There it was. The hurt. You knew she didn’t take it well. The dream you two had shared was now splintering into two separate paths. But despite everything, Paige still gave her approval. It was like she was trying to convince herself that it was okay. That you could both be on your own journeys, even if they weren’t the same.

The months leading up to college were a blur. You both packed up and moved to your respective schools, the excitement of starting fresh hanging in the air. You met new people, made new friends—people who understood you in a way that only other business-minded students could. You threw yourself into your studies, the weight of your decision sinking in, but you knew it was the right one. You had made your choice. You were going to make the most of it, even if it meant growing apart from Paige.

College started, and the messages between you and Paige grew more and more infrequent. She was busy with her basketball commitments, of course. She had her teammates, her coaches, and the demands of being a star athlete. You, on the other hand, had your classes, your friends, and a life that was slowly but surely diverging from hers.

You had heard about Paige’s teammates, names you had only known from the sidelines: Aaliyah Edwards, Nika Mühl, Caroline Ducharme, and Aubrey Griffin. They were all part of the powerhouse UConn team, each one playing a role in creating a dynasty. You’d watch their games on TV from time to time, seeing Paige’s highlights flash across the screen, her name growing bigger with each win. You cheered her on silently, even if it felt like you were cheering from a distance.

You had your own life now, and Paige had hers. She seemed happy—genuinely happy, surrounded by her team, her friends, and Azzi, who had made her way to UConn a year later, just like Paige had hoped. But it didn’t escape your notice how much their bond had only deepened. Azzi was there in every picture, in every moment, their chemistry undeniable. You were just another name in the background now.

You tried not to let it hurt. You really did. But it was hard not to notice how Paige’s world was building around her, and how you were fading into the background.

It was no secret to you how hard Paige had worked to recruit Azzi to UConn. She had pulled every string, every connection she could find, making sure Azzi was right where she wanted her. You saw their bond growing stronger, seen more clearly than before. It wasn’t just about basketball anymore—it was about their shared future. Paige had gotten exactly what she wanted, and Azzi was finally there, playing alongside her on the same team.

You didn’t blame Paige. You understood. She had always been someone who knew what she wanted, someone who would do anything to get it. You couldn’t be mad at her for building the life she had always dreamed of. But you couldn’t deny the bittersweet feeling that had settled inside you, watching from the outside.

Your friendship with Paige wasn’t what it used to be. You didn’t have the closeness anymore, the bond that once tied you together. You were happy for her—really, you were—but in that quiet, unspoken way, you knew things would never be the same again.

And maybe that was just part of growing up.

It wasn’t like it used to be. You and Paige—best friends since childhood—had always been so close, but now, everything felt... distant. The conversations were minimal, just a few texts here and there, just enough to keep in touch but not enough to feel like you were a part of each other’s lives anymore.

"How’s school?" she’d text occasionally, and you’d reply with a short update about your business classes. "Busy, but it’s going well," you’d tell her. Paige would then tell you about UConn, about the team, about her and Azzi. She’d send little snippets, but her words were always focused on basketball, her life with the team. They were thriving together, and you were happy for her.

She’d told you, in one of her rare texts, that her and Azzi were officially together. "Yeah, Azzi and I are in a relationship now. It’s crazy, huh? But I think we’re good."

You read the message, paused, and then sent a quick reply. “That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

It didn’t sting. You’d accepted things for what they were. Paige was living her dream with Azzi by her side, and you were carving your own path at college. You’d let go of the dream you once shared with her, knowing that life had different plans. You weren’t bitter. You weren’t angry. You just accepted it.

But then, everything shifted.

It was December 2021, and you were adjusting to the fast pace of college life. Your mind was focused on your studies, your friendships, and your own growth. But one night, you received a message that stopped everything in its tracks. It was from Paige.

"Can’t play... Something’s wrong with my knee. I can’t walk. I’m at the hospital."

Your heart dropped. You could feel the weight of her words, the pain behind them. Your first instinct was to drop everything and go to her, to be by her side like you always had been. But reality set in. You had assignments, deadlines, and the pressure of school. You couldn’t just leave, and you hated yourself for it.

You sent her a message. "I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there. Let me know what the doctors say."

She didn’t reply immediately, and when she did, it was just a simple message: "ACL tear. I’m done for the season."

You felt helpless. Paige was heartbroken. You could feel the pain through the screen, and it hurt you too, but there was nothing you could do. All you could offer were the words, the kind of support you knew she’d appreciate. The text messages between you became more infrequent, and soon enough, they stopped altogether.

You kept checking in, but the replies from Paige became shorter and more distant. She was focused on recovery, and her life was still revolving around basketball. You, on the other hand, were learning how to survive in a new world without her there. You didn’t want to push her, but it hurt—being left behind, being so far from her when she needed you the most.

Then, in early 2023, came Azzi Fudd’s injury. You saw the headlines, the news reports, and you knew how it would affect Paige. Azzi had suffered an MCL sprain during a game, and she would be out for several weeks.

In the aftermath, Paige started texting you more, reaching out when she needed someone to talk to.

"You don’t understand," she sent one night, the words filled with raw emotion. "With everything going on between Azzi and me... It’s falling apart. We’re not okay. I feel like everything I’ve worked for is crumbling."

You didn’t know what to say. You had never seen Paige like this, so vulnerable, so unsure. You didn’t want to make her feel worse, but you were there for her, trying to offer whatever comfort you could.

She texted again a few days later. "I don’t know what to do. I miss you. I miss how things used to be."

It felt like a tiny crack in the walls she had built around herself, a sign that maybe, just maybe, she missed you too.

Then, one evening, you received an unexpected notification. It was from Paige—a video call.

You hesitated, then answered. You could see her face, pale and tired, her eyes red from what you could only assume were endless tears.

"I need to talk to you," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Azzi and I... we’re done. It’s over."

But before she could say anything else, your female friend, Emma, had been hanging out with you. She saw the video call and, in a playful but mischievous mood, show herself on the video. Without thinking, Emma greeted Paige, her voice indifferent and teasing.

"Hey Paige, heard a lot about you." Emma said with a smirk, "What’s up? Just here with my girl."

You could see Paige’s expression drop, a frown forming as she processed the words. But Emma was only joking, trying to lighten the mood, unaware of what was going on. Paige, on the other hand, didn’t find it funny. She didn’t understand.

"You’re with... your girl?" Paige’s voice was cold, her face tight with emotion. "I... I thought... I thought you weren’t …?"

Emma quickly handed you the phone, laughing it off, but you could see the damage already done. Paige’s eyes were filled with hurt, her thoughts racing. She didn’t know Emma, didn’t understand the joke.

That night, Paige left you a message. It was different from the others. It wasn’t just a simple text. It was more—more raw, more filled with emotion.

"You know what? Forget it. I guess I was wrong about everything. I thought we’d still be there for each other, but I guess you’ve moved on. It’s funny how people can just leave you behind when they find someone else. You were my best friend, and now you’re just... gone. Just like everyone else. Thanks for nothing."

You read the message over and over again, your heart sinking with each word. You knew it wasn’t the truth, that Paige had misunderstood everything. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done.

She was bitter now. She had pushed you away in her own way, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You hadn’t meant to hurt her, but somehow, you had.

And so, you were left with nothing but the silence between you, the space that had grown between you and your best friend, the girl who once meant everything to you.

The silence between you and Paige grew deeper with each passing day. The messages, the once-constant check-ins, had completely stopped. You tried, you really did. You sent her texts, not too frequent, but just enough to let her know you were still there. “Hey, how are you? Hope you’re doing okay. Thinking of you,” you’d write, or “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

But there was nothing in return. No reply. No sign of life from her side.

At first, you told yourself she was busy. UConn’s basketball schedule was grueling, and after Azzi’s injury and their breakup, you thought she might just be going through a lot. Maybe she needed space, you rationalized. You didn’t want to push her, but the more you tried to reach out, the more her absence stung. Each unread message was like a slap in the face, a reminder of how quickly things had changed.

It hurt because you’d accepted the changes. When Paige and Azzi grew closer, you had never once resented it. You didn’t like being pushed aside, sure, but you supported them. You’d watched their bond grow stronger, seen how it gave Paige the happiness she had longed for. You didn’t complain. You didn’t walk away. You stood by her, from the very beginning. You never left her side, not even when it felt like you were the third wheel, not even when it seemed like you were losing the girl who had once been your everything.

But now, just one joke—one misunderstanding—and she’d dropped you like you were nothing.

The weight of that hit you harder than anything before. It wasn’t even the joke itself that hurt, but the fact that Paige had been so quick to assume the worst. After everything you’d been through together, after all the years of friendship, she thought that little interaction—that brief moment—was enough to erase you from her life.

Why did you let this happen? Your mind spiraled. You hadn’t meant to hurt her. You hadn’t meant for it to go this far. And yet, here you were, wondering why someone you loved so much could just walk away, leaving you in the dust.

You sat in your dorm room one evening, staring blankly at your phone, scrolling through social media, when the news hit you like a freight train. Paige had suffered another injury—another knee injury. Your heart sank as you read the headline: “Paige Bueckers Out for the Season With Torn ACL—Again.”

The room felt like it was spinning. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t have gone through all that recovery only to face another setback. You immediately tried to text her, but nothing. No reply. It was as if she had disappeared from your life completely.

The guilt consumed you. You knew she was hurting—physically, emotionally, after everything she had been through with Azzi and now this. But you were angry too, angry at how quickly she had shut you out. Angry at the misunderstanding that had created this silence. You hadn’t meant to hurt her, and yet here you were, unable to do anything for the one person who had once been everything to you.

You wanted to fix it. You needed to fix it. You couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.

And that’s when it hit you—a desperate idea, a leap of faith.

You would transfer. You couldn’t stay where you were anymore, not knowing that Paige was hurting and you weren’t there. You couldn’t live with the guilt, the uncertainty, the not-knowing. You needed to be where she was, to be close to her, to try and repair the wreckage that had been your friendship. Maybe this was crazy, maybe it was impulsive, but you didn’t care. You just needed to do something.

You called your parents, explaining the situation in the most frantic way you could. “I’m thinking about transferring to UConn,” you said, your voice shaking. “I can’t stand this anymore. I need to be there for her. I need to make things right.”

They were shocked, of course. They didn’t fully understand. But you didn’t care. You were too far gone in the rush of your emotions, in the desperate need to fix the broken pieces of your friendship with Paige.

The days that followed were a blur. You filled out the transfer papers, contacted the UConn admissions office, and started the whirlwind of transferring to a new school. But it wasn’t just about school—it was about Paige. It was about doing whatever it took to be there for her, to prove that you hadn’t abandoned her, that you would never abandon her, not after everything you’d been through.

And still, there was silence. No word from Paige. No sign that she even cared that you were trying. Each day felt like a punch in the gut, but you kept pushing forward. You kept going, thinking that once you were there, once you were close enough, everything would fall into place.

When you arrived at UConn, everything felt surreal. It was overwhelming, being in a new place, surrounded by new faces, but all you could think about was Paige. Would she even want to see you? Would she care that you had gone to all this trouble just to be by her side? Or would she still see you as the person who had made one mistake, one joke, and ruined everything?

You’d seen the news about Paige's injury. You knew where she was likely to be. The clinic, you remembered. You'd seen enough photos and posts about it to know that’s where they’d be working with her.

You walked to the clinic, your steps quick but uncertain. When you reached the entrance, a security personnel stopped you.

“What’s your name?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m—” You hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say. But you had to get through. You had to make sure she saw you. “I’m here to see Paige Bueckers.”

The guard’s expression shifted. He looked down at the list in front of him. You told him your name.

“Paige’s friend?”

You nodded. “Yes, I need to talk to her.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then picked up his radio. He spoke briefly into it before turning back to you, his eyes wide. “She knows you're here. You can go in.”

You felt a rush of hope, but as you walked through the door, you could sense the cold air surrounding you. The clinic was quiet, save for the soft hum of machines and the faint sounds of footsteps. When you finally reached the are, you saw Paige sitting on one of the therapy tables, her leg elevated, working with one of the physical therapists.

She didn’t look up immediately, but as you stepped closer, you could feel her eyes on you. There was a long silence before she finally met your gaze.

Her eyes were hard. Hostile. You could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“What are you doing here?” Paige’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Did you come to gawk at me while I’m stuck here, injured again? Is that it?”

You swallowed hard, standing your ground despite the hurt twisting in your chest. “No, I didn’t come here for that, Paige,” you said, your voice steady but with a flicker of emotion behind it. “I came because I’m worried about you. I’m here because you’re my friend, and I... I didn’t want to just sit back and do nothing.”

Paige’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Worried about me?” She repeated, her voice dripping with bitterness. “Where were you when I needed someone? You just disappeared, and now you think you can waltz in and act like nothing happened?”

The words stung, but you refused to back down. “I’m sorry for what happened between us,” you said, taking a step forward. “I never meant to hurt you. You cut me off, and I respected that, but I’m here now. I’m not leaving, Paige. I’m still your friend.”

She glared at you for a long moment, her gaze piercing, as if she was trying to decide if you were worth the effort of keeping around. “You should’ve stayed gone,” she spat. “I don’t need you here. I don’t need you to ‘fix’ anything. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Her words hit like a slap, but you stood your ground, refusing to let her push you away. “I don’t care if you think you don’t need me,” you said, voice calm but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. I came here because I care about you. You might not want me here, but I’m staying.”

Paige’s eyes softened for a split second, but then the hardness returned. She turned away from you, her focus back on her rehab. “I told you,” she muttered, her voice distant, “I don’t need you.”

You felt your heart break all over again, but you weren’t going to back down. Not now. Not when you were so close.

“I’m not leaving, Paige,” you said, your voice unwavering. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk. But I’m not going anywhere.”

You could tell she was trying to ignore you, trying to shut you out. But deep down, you knew you had made the right decision. It didn’t matter how angry or hurt she was. It didn’t matter how much she tried to push you away. You were here for her. You always had been, and you always would be.

And no matter how hostile she acted, no matter how much she hated you in that moment, you were ready to take it. You were ready to fix what had been broken—even if it took everything you had.

You left Paige to continue with her rehab, but before walking away, you turned to her, feeling the weight of everything you were about to say. “I need to sort out my transfer,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’ll be settled in soon, so… I’ll be around.”

Paige looked up at you, her face betraying nothing but a mask of indifference, a carefully constructed wall. For a split second, you saw something flicker in her eyes—something soft, maybe even surprised—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She didn’t respond. She just nodded, her eyes still hard as she shifted her attention back to her physical therapy.

You left her there, the tension between you two still thick in the air.

Once settled into your new dorm room, you couldn’t help but think about Paige. You had to admit it—no matter how things had changed, you were still concerned about her. You texted her first. “Hey, just checking in. Have you eaten today?”

No reply.

You waited, staring at your phone, and then made up your mind. If she wasn’t going to answer, you’d bring her some food yourself. She hadn’t looked like she was eating much lately, and you couldn’t bear to think of her not taking care of herself. You knew her favorite meal, and that was what you decided to bring. The thought of her, still struggling with her injury, made you feel helpless, but this was something you could do.

You asked your new roommate, Kim, if she knew where Paige’s dorm was. She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’re going to her dorm? Why?” she asked, half skeptical, half curious.

“We’re childhood friends. I just... I need to make sure she’s okay,” you said quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Kim shrugged. But then gave you directions nonetheless.

The walk to Paige’s dorm felt like it took hours, though it was just a few blocks away. When you finally stood in front of her door, your heart raced. You knocked softly, hoping she wasn’t out. The girl, Nika answered the door, her expression confused as she looked you up and down.

“Who are you?” she asked, eyeing you warily.

You swallowed, trying to stay calm. “I’m… I’m a friend of Paige’s. I’m just here to bring her some food.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like the recognition clicked. “Oh, you’re the one she’s been talking about. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Hold on.” She stepped aside, and you could tell she was still unsure, but once you said your name, there was something in her eyes—a knowing look, like she understood more than you were letting on.

She called for Paige but received no answer. “She’s probably in her room, trying to sleep off the pain,” Nika said with a shrug, gesturing for you to follow her.

You hesitated at first, unsure whether you should push any further, but Nika gave you a quick nod. “Go on, she won’t bite.”

With a tight breath, you stepped past Nika and into the dorm, the familiar, comforting scent of Paige’s room hitting you the moment you crossed the threshold. It was a mix of lavender and the faint smell of her favorite candles, something that always felt like home. You stood there for a second, trying to get your bearings, until you finally walked to Paige’s room.

There, lying in bed, was Paige.

She looked almost angelic, her features softened by the pillow beneath her head, eyes closed. But something about her posture—the way her body was tense, even in sleep—told you she wasn’t at peace. You stared at her, lost in the emotions you’d buried for so long. She was still the girl you cared about, the girl who had been your world for so many years. You missed her. You missed the real Paige, the one you used to talk to about everything, the one who was always there, no matter what.

As you stood at the edge of her bed, staring at her, the need to reach out to her—just to touch her hair, to feel her close—overwhelmed you. You could still remember how soft her hair used to be, how it would fall around her face when she was tired, and you wanted nothing more than to be that person again—the one who was there when she needed it.

But before you could touch the strands of hair resting on her forehead, her hand shot up and grabbed yours with a force that startled you.

Paige’s eyes snapped open, and you were met with a glare that felt like it could burn through you. Her eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, frustration, confusion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse, but there was a sharpness to it, a biting edge that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “Why did you come? After everything... after you left, why now?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. You wanted to explain, to tell her how much you missed her, how much you needed her in your life, but the words stuck in your throat.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said quietly, trying to meet her gaze, to show her that you weren’t here for any other reason than to be there for her. “I brought you some food. I thought maybe you hadn’t eaten. I’m sorry for everything.”

Her hand released yours with a shake of her head. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come in here after all that time and act like everything is fine.”

She pushed herself up from the bed, her movements stiff, as if every part of her body was in pain. She was still healing, and you could see it in the way she moved—like every step she took was a reminder of her brokenness. “You should go back to Harvard. Go be with your girl, continue living your perfect life without me.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The jealousy, the bitterness, it all came rushing at you. You could see the confusion in her eyes, the way she was trying to push you away, but the flicker of longing creeps at you. She was angry. So angry at you for leaving, and yet... there was something else there. Something raw, something painful.

“I didn’t forget about you, Paige,” you said, your voice breaking. “I came here because I’m not going to give up on us. You don’t get to shut me out like this. I’m here for you. I always have been. Even when you were with Azzi, I stayed. I never left, Paige.”

Paige’s face contorted in frustration. “I don’t need you, okay?” Her voice cracked, her anger turning to something more, something deeper. “I don’t need anyone right now. I’ve lost too much. I’ve been through too much... I just can’t do this with you.”

The vulnerability in her voice shook you to your core, but you refused to back down. “I don’t care how much time has passed, Paige. I’m still here. I’m not leaving. I came back for you. You’re not alone in this.”

She swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes, but she turned away, the pain too much to bear. “Just go, okay? Please. Just go.”

It felt like everything was unraveling in that moment—the words, the emotions, the broken pieces of what had once been the strongest bond you’d ever known. You stood there, helpless, knowing that no matter how much you tried, she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

And so, with one last, heart-wrenching glance, you left her room. You walked away, not knowing if you’d ever get the chance to fix what had been broken.

Settling in at UConn was a strange experience. The campus was both new and familiar at the same time. You had transferred in hopes of finding something to hold onto, a chance to fix the mess that had become your friendship with Paige. But so far, nothing felt right.

You were trying to adjust, surrounded by a new group of friends—some from your classes, some from the dorms. They were nice enough, the kind of people you could see yourself getting along with, and for the first time in a while, you started to feel a little more like yourself. It was a relief to have people who weren’t part of your old world with Paige, people who didn’t know the tangled history between you two.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always wandered back to her. You couldn’t help it. Every time you checked your phone, you half-hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d get a text from Paige. But there was nothing.

A few casual run-ins with her teammates made your chest tighten. You could see the knowing glances they shot you when you passed by. They were all aware of what had happened, all aware of how things had fallen apart between you and Paige. But none of them said a word. It wasn’t like they didn’t care; it was just that they didn’t know what to say. They respected Paige, and they knew how fragile things were.

Then, one afternoon, as you were walking to the gym to get some work done, you saw her.

Paige.

She was in the gym, but not in the way you expected. She was standing in the corner, dribbling the ball, her injured leg barely touching the floor. She wasn’t pushing herself like she used to, wasn’t running, wasn’t playing. She was just standing there, looking lost. You could tell she was angry—probably at herself, maybe at the world—but it was deeper than that. There was a sadness that clung to her, a rawness that you hadn’t seen before.

She wasn’t using her injured leg at all, just holding the ball with a frown that seemed permanent now. The Paige you knew, the one who’d been so driven, was fading in front of your eyes.

You hesitated, watching her for a moment. The distance between you seemed impossibly wide, but still, something inside you made you move forward. You couldn’t just walk away, not now.

“Paige?” you called softly, but she didn’t turn around at first.

When she did, her face was full of that hostility again, but this time, it was laced with something darker. “What do you want?” she snapped, her voice colder than usual.

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you pushed it down. You had to talk to her, even if she was pushing you away.

“I just… I saw you in here and wanted to check on you. Are you okay?” The words felt hollow coming out, but you meant them. You really did.

Paige glared at you like you were some sort of nuisance. “I’m fine,” she said flatly. “I’m just… working through things.”

“You’re standing there, not even using your leg. That’s not ‘working through things.’” You took a step closer, your voice growing softer. “Paige, you’ve got to heal. You can’t just push it all aside.”

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated, more sharply this time. “I don’t need you here telling me how to do things. You don’t get to come in and act like you care. Not after everything.”

The words cut through you like a knife. She was so angry, so defensive, but you couldn’t leave it like this. Not when you knew deep down there was more to her anger than just the injury.

“What is your problem with me, Paige?” The words were out before you could stop them, and they hung in the air like a challenge, like a question you were terrified to ask.

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening into a thin line. “My problem? My problem is that you went to Harvard. You didn’t keep your promise, and you left me to face a new world all alone! And to top it all, you got yourself a girl without even telling me? I always thought you don’t swing that way, or maybe I just don’t know you at all.” Her voice cracked as she said the words, and you saw the flicker of pain that passed through her eyes, but it was gone in a second.

You stared at her, your chest tightening. “What do you mean, ‘I got myself a girl?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Emma,” she said, as if the name itself was a poison. “You found Emma, didn’t you? And you left me behind. You found someone better and didn’t even look back. I couldn’t… I couldn’t deal with that. I thought we were always supposed to be there for each other, but you just… you just moved on. You left me alone.”

You felt the anger rise in you, bubbling up from a place you hadn’t even known existed. The words you’d kept buried for so long rushed out of you like a flood, and suddenly, it felt like everything had been building up to this moment.

“Do you really think it was that simple, Paige?” you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. “You had Azzi, okay? You had her, and I was the one who stood there, quietly in the background, waiting for you to see me again. I didn’t leave you behind! I was there, supporting you, even when you chose her over me! I let you go, even when it hurt more than anything. But now, now you’re telling me I betrayed you?”

Paige’s face faltered for a moment, her eyes wide with shock. Maybe she had no idea that’s how you felt, that the whole situation had been just as painful for you. She was always so focused on herself, on her world, that she didn’t even see what she had done to you.

But when she spoke again, her voice was shaky, defensive. “I didn’t ask you to do all that for me,” she said, her pride still holding firm. “I didn’t ask you to stand on the sidelines for me. I didn’t even know… I didn’t even know how you felt, and now you’re blaming me for everything. You think you’re the only one who’s hurt?”

You stood there, the anger and hurt so much you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I’m not blaming you, Paige. I’m just telling you how it is. I never left you, but you let me leave. And now, when I’m here, trying to fix things, you just keep pushing me away.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing again. “I’m not doing this with you. I’m not going to let you make me feel guilty for being angry. It’s easier for you to act like the victim, but you’re not.”

You wanted to say more, to break through that wall she’d built around herself. But you could see it now—the pride, the stubbornness in her eyes. Paige was never going to admit that she had been unreasonable. She wasn’t going to let her ego crack, no matter how much you tried to make her see the truth.

You took a step back, your heart heavy with all the unspoken words and unresolved pain. “Fine. If you don’t want to fix this, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

You turned, walking away before you could say anything more. You needed to clear your mind, needed to be away from her and the storm of emotions that had just come rushing back.

As you walked out of the gym, the weight of everything—the hurt, the betrayal, the love you’d lost—pressed down on you. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you didn’t know where to go anymore.

Time passed since that confrontation in the gym, and you had kept your distance from Paige. You focused on your studies, on your courses, on everything that wasn’t Paige Bueckers. It wasn’t easy, but it was the only thing you could do to stop your mind from spiraling every time you thought about her.

UConn became a new chapter for you. You threw yourself into your work, the business courses you were taking, determined to make the most out of your transfer. Your new friends became a source of comfort, and the casual distractions of life kept you from thinking too much about the distance between you and Paige.

Still, it was hard. You’d see her, or at least hear about her, all around campus. She’d be walking with her teammates, laughing, looking like the person she was before. The athlete. The star. You could never avoid seeing her, no matter how hard you tried. But you made a choice to stay out of it. After everything that had happened, you couldn’t keep making excuses for her. You couldn’t keep pretending like things were still the same.

Paige went on with her life, though. Her teammates were by her side, supporting her as she rehabbed and worked on getting back to where she was before the injuries. You’d hear bits and pieces of what she was up to—how hard she was working, how she was getting back to form, how she was laughing with her teammates again. It stung a little, but you buried it under your growing stack of homework and exams.

Every so often, you’d be in the same place as Paige. A quick glance from across the campus, maybe in the cafeteria, maybe at the student center. It was always the same. She’d notice you first, trying to keep her distance, but her eyes would linger for just a second longer than they should have. You’d catch her looking, but she’d quickly turn away, pretending she hadn’t been staring.

The silence between you was deafening. There was no hostility anymore. No cold glares. Just… distance. It was like you were two strangers, living parallel lives at UConn. So close, yet so far apart. And it hurt more than it did when you were at Harvard, the feeling of her being nearby but unreachable.

You stopped texting her. It was a choice you made, and for the most part, you convinced yourself it was the right one. The questions that lingered between you—Why didn’t she reach out? Did she really mean it when she told you to leave her alone?—stayed unanswered. The silence spoke volumes, and you listened to it carefully.

As the school year drew to a close, a whisper came through your ear that Paige had finally been cleared to play again. You heard the news like everyone else, and while part of you felt genuinely happy for her, there was also a part of you that couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Pride, maybe. Or maybe it was just too late. The wedge between you had only gotten wider, and you didn’t want to be the one to try and fix it now.

But one night, out of nowhere, a ticket showed up in your mailbox. No note, just the ticket.

You stared at it, confused. It was for the next home game, the one you hadn’t planned on going to. And it was from her. You knew it was from Paige. No one else would have known to send it to you. You told yourself you didn’t need to go. You didn’t owe her anything anymore. So you ignored it.

But it happened again. The next game, another ticket.

And again for the one after that.

Each time, it was like a silent plea. Paige was reaching out, but she wasn’t saying anything. No words. Just a ticket. Just an invitation. And yet, you stayed away. You were torn between not wanting to play into her games and still wanting to be there for her. You couldn’t deny that the part of you that still cared about her wanted to go, to support her. But the other part—the part that had been hurt—kept you from taking the step.

Then, during the fourth game, it happened again. Only this time, it wasn’t a ticket that appeared on your doorstep. It was Nika.

“Hey, I’ve got an extra ticket to the game tonight. You should come,” Nika said, with a knowing look in her eyes. You could tell there was something behind it. She wasn’t just being friendly. It was like she was trying to get you to come, to be there.

You frowned slightly. “Why do you want me to go? I’m not really in the mood to watch a game right now.”

Nika shrugged, but there was a subtle, almost sly look in her eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Paige will be happy to see you there. Trust me.”

That sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t know what exactly was going on between Nika and Paige, but something in her tone made you feel like there was more to the story than just a friendly invitation. Maybe there was a hidden agenda you didn’t understand. But at the same time, you didn’t want to question it too much. You just wanted to move on.

So, against your better judgment, you went.

The game was high-energy. The crowd was hyped up, the excitement palpable in the air. But all you could focus on was Paige.

When you stepped into the arena, your eyes immediately locked onto her. She was on the court, warming up, looking focused as ever. She glanced at the crowd, and you saw her eyes flicker over you. You almost wanted to look away, but you didn’t. You just stood there, indifferent, pretending you didn’t care, pretending that it didn’t affect you.

After the game, you decided to leave right away, hoping to avoid another awkward encounter. You were tired of the emotional rollercoaster, tired of feeling like the strings were being pulled every time Paige was nearby. But just as you were about to exit the stands, you heard her voice.

“Hey!” Paige’s voice was tentative, unsure, but you could hear the urgency in it. She had come after you, and for a split second, you wished you could have just kept walking.

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn around. Instead, you kept walking, forcing yourself to stay calm, unaffected.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Paige said, catching up with you. Her footsteps were light, but they seemed louder than usual in the silence between you two.

“Yeah, well. I’m here,” you replied, keeping your voice flat.

There was a pause, a heavy one, before Paige spoke again. “I’ve been trying to reach you... and I, uh... I don’t know what to say. It’s just... it’s been hard.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just continuing to walk at a steady pace, refusing to let her get under your skin.

“I’m sorry,” she added quietly. “For everything. I know I hurt you. And I didn’t mean to, but—”

“Paige, please,” you interrupted, your voice more distant than before. “I’ve heard it before. And I don’t need to hear it again. You were fine. You got everything you wanted. You had Azzi, and I stayed behind. I accepted it.”

Her face fell, and you could tell the guilt was weighing on her. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just about Azzi. It was everything… I just... I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You stopped walking then, turning to face her, your cold exterior masking everything you really felt. You weren’t going to give in. Not now. Not after everything.

“Well, you didn’t fix it. And now I’m just here, dealing with it. I’ve moved on. You should, too.”

Paige’s face flushed, and you could see the hurt in her eyes, but she didn’t back down. “I didn’t want to lose you, but I felt like I had no choice. It’s all a mess, and I didn’t know what to do…”

You stared at her for a long moment, trying to read her. “It’s too late for that now. We’re both just stuck, right? You and your team. Me and my life. No one to blame, just the way it turned out.”

Paige took a step closer, her voice quiet. “So, that’s it? We’re just done?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

There was another silence, one that felt heavier than anything that had come before. Paige opened her mouth to speak again, but you didn’t give her the chance. You turned and walked away, leaving her standing there.

And as you walked back to your dorm, you could still feel the weight of her gaze on your back, burning into you.

The days blurred into one another. Your life at UConn was steady—study sessions, lectures, and the occasional hangout with your new friends. You kept your head down, determined to finish your studies and keep away from the chaos of your past. But as much as you tried to distract yourself, there was no escaping it.

Every time you checked your phone, you saw the media posts—the team's photoshoots, the constant updates, the shining moments of Paige and Azzi together. They looked like they were thriving, inseparable, like nothing had ever happened. It triggered something deep inside you—something you’d been trying to bury. The anger, the betrayal, the pain of seeing them so... perfect together.

It made your blood boil. How dare she? How dare Paige get mad at you for moving on with your life at Harvard when she was busy with hers? She had Azzi. She had everything she wanted, and you were left with nothing but a cold, hollow feeling in your chest.

You’d never wanted to feel this way—bitter, resentful, angry—but there was no denying it.

One evening, after a particularly long week of burying your feelings and getting lost in textbooks, your friends invited you to go to the pub. You’d never been one to drink much, but tonight, you needed a release. So, you agreed, wanting to drown the gnawing frustration eating away at you.

The pub, named The Huskies’ Den, was lively as usual. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the clinking of glasses was a constant background noise. You found yourself letting go, getting lost in the crowd, your mind momentarily distracted from everything that had been weighing on it.

But then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of humor, Paige walked in. She was with her teammates, laughing, her presence lighting up the room as she always did.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You were drunk, and part of you told yourself you didn’t want to ruin the night. But as you watched her, something inside you snapped. You couldn’t pretend anymore. Not tonight.

You approached her, the heat of alcohol making you braver than usual. Paige looked up when she saw you, her expression shifting, flickering between surprise and something else—something unreadable.

“Paige,” you said, your voice thick with the mix of anger and hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface for months. “What the hell is this? You’re mad at me for what happened between us but look at you. You’re with Azzi again, acting like everything is fine. How could you?”

Her teammates fell silent, watching the two of you with uncertain glances, but neither you nor Paige paid them any mind.

Paige took a step toward you, her face a mixture of confusion and apprehension. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable than before. “Azzi and I are just friends, okay? We’re not together anymore.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound bitter and sharp. “Yeah, sure, just friends. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I didn’t notice how you pushed me aside for her? For her, Paige. For Azzi. You think that makes it better? You think it changes anything?” Your voice grew louder, drawing attention. “You shut me out, Paige. You left me behind for her. You moved on, and I had to watch it all happen. I had to sit back and pretend like it didn’t hurt.”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but you didn’t let her. “I’ve been stuck with this shit in my head, wondering what happened to us. Why did you pick her over me? I’ve been stuck here, trying to figure out what the hell happened to us, to me, while you’re out there acting like you’ve got everything together,” you shot back, your words harsh, the alcohol making them sharper than you intended.

Paige opened her mouth, but you didn’t give her the chance to speak again.

“You’re happy with Azzi, aren’t you? You’ve got everything you need with her. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this mess, watching you from the sidelines like I’m some kind of outsider.”

Her eyes flickered, guilt creeping into her expression. “It’s not like that, I—”

You didn’t let her finish. “No, it’s exactly like that. You have her, and you’ve got your life, and I’ve just been the one left behind. Again.”

Paige’s expression shifted, and she lowered her gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly.

The words, however, didn't bring you any comfort. “You didn’t mean to hurt me?” you repeated, your anger boiling over. “You abandoned me, Paige. You keep choosing her over me, and then saying I’m the one who left and betrayed you. Be so fucking for real right now.”

Paige’s eyes softened for a moment, but you could see it—the hesitation, the wall she’d built to keep you out. “I... I didn’t know it would hurt you this much. I thought you’d be fine. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, including you.”,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words didn’t reach you, not when the hurt had already festered for so long. You stepped closer, your chest tight with everything you had been holding in. “Best for me? You forgot me, Paige. And now you’re acting like nothing happened.”

Paige flinched, and you could see the guilt in her eyes. She opened her mouth to apologize again, but this time, there was something different about her. Something more vulnerable. She stepped closer to you, her voice softer now.

Paige took a step forward, her face filled with regret. She reached out, her hand lightly brushing your arm. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, but I see now that I was wrong.”

For a brief moment, you saw it—the vulnerability in her eyes, the regret she couldn’t hide. But the anger still burned. You had done everything, and she had pushed you away.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you muttered, feeling the weight of everything you had been carrying. “And it’s too late for apologies now.”

Paige's hand dropped from your arm, her face falling as you turned away from her, your frustration overwhelming. But before you could walk off, she reached out again, her voice now pleading. “Wait... can we just... can we talk more? I want to fix this.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even turn back. You just kept walking.

The night felt like it would never end, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol started to take its toll. You were drunk, really drunk, and your head was spinning. The frustration from earlier—the hurt, the confusion—was still there, but it felt distant now. All you wanted was to escape it all.

That’s when you felt a hand on your arm. You turned, your vision blurry, and saw Paige standing there, her face serious, but there was something else in her eyes—something softer, more gentle.

“You’ve had enough,” she said, her voice like a calm in the storm.

You tried to protest, but your words were slurred. Before you could say anything, she was guiding you out of the pub, her arm around your waist for support.

“I’m taking you back to my dorm,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “You need rest. I don’t care what you say right now.”

You barely had the energy to argue. She led you through the campus, taking you back to her dorm, not asking for your consent, but instead just doing. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the years of familiarity between the two of you, but you didn’t protest.

She helped you into her room, carefully making sure you didn’t fall. You collapsed on the bed, your head spinning, the world around you a hazy blur.

Paige sat next to you, her presence surprisingly gentle, as she began to take care of you. She made sure you were comfortable, checked your pulse, and even tucked you in. You tried to speak, tried to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her presence beside you, her hands gently smoothing your hair away from your face. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the anger and hurt, her touch was comforting. It was the touch of someone who had been there for you once before, and maybe—just maybe—was starting to care again.

Maybe it was the alcohol, making your eyes see shit, but Paige looks like she’s at peace. And when you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, you might have heard her murmur, “You’re here. You’re actually fucking here”, while holding you close.

The night passed in a blur, and you didn’t know what would happen when you woke up. But for now, you were in her room. Paige had taken you in, cared for you when you needed it most. And somewhere deep down, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things could start to heal.

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