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paige bueckers x azzi fudd

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a/n: happy pride! this month is so special — my birth month and first pride as a bisexual ���� what better way to celebrate than a clairo fic 🩷 i tried really hard to get this up to my standards but i fear i’ll have to edit it more tomorrow morning … anyways i hope you still enjoy the read <3

ALSO PAIGE W CAREER HIGH IKTR 🙂‍↕️

one.

every second counts, i don’t wanna talk to you anymore.

all these little games, you can call me by the name i gave you yesterday.

–

paige would say she was pretty good at this.

this being attracting people, turning heads.

though she would never admit it, she knew she was…somewhat attractive.

she knew how to style her blonde hair that toed the line between effortless and done with enough effort. she knew her blue eyes looked a little deeper and a little more irresistible under the sun.

she also knew that she was attractive in a way that drew people, boys and girls alike. that her undeniable athleticism contributed to her already attractive looks, and that her height definitely drew attention from girls the same way her soft giggles drew in guys.

so yeah, maybe she’d practiced a few pickup lines in her time. maybe she had a look. a signature smirk. a way of leaning in, just enough to catch people off guard — to blur the lines of friendly and flirty.

and yeah, she’d say she’s pretty confident that she’s got game.

but right now? she was seriously rethinking it. because there's only two options.

either she’s not as attractive or smooth as she thought she was.

or azzi’s just fucking clueless as hell.

–

gone were the facetime calls stretched thin over different time zones, the half-asleep whispers just to stay connected for another five minutes. no more quick weekend trips that ended too fast, or half-unpacked bags by the door.

azzi had finally committed. to uconn, to her team, to paige.

and now she was here. with her vanilla-scented shampoo that somehow lingered in every room she walked through. with her soft curls and oversized hoodies and the exact brand of laundry detergent that paige used but somehow smelled more fragrant. and god did it make paige’s heart hurt in a weird, intimate way. she’s everywhere, burrowed in every surface and corner of paige’s life and she didn’t know if it was a good thing or if it was genuinely gonna kill her.

and yeah, maybe paige has been subtly flirting since that plane ride back to minnesota, but that was all in the past. when she didn’t have the confidence she did now, before all the nights they spent getting to know each other, before she had confidence that azzi felt the same way.

now, they were older. they had their own space, their own schedule, their own life.

now, paige wants.

achingly, embarrassingly, and disgustingly desperate in the middle school crush kind of way.

and honestly, she thinks she deserves some kinda recognition cause she’s really been trying here.

she brought up azzi’s boxes the second her car pulled in. helped build her furniture, even when it gave her splinters and a mild breakdown. she complimented her every chance she got during practice—sweet, casual comments laced with a longing she hoped azzi might finally pick up on.

“you look pretty with your hair like that.” she had said after a team workout, paige pressed up azzi’s side. the younger had braided strands of her hair back into a soft crown. and despite being sweaty and flushed, still she looked like something straight out of a daydream. it was unfair really.

azzi barely blinked. “thanks, paigey,” she said, casual and light, chugging her water before patting paige’s knee like she was a dog who just did a trick.

what the fuck?

she tries to ignore the flare of annoyance at the nickname, remembering how she only called her that when they wanted to tease each other or piss each other off a little.

but she tried again, a little braver. a little more direct.

“no seriously, az. did i ever tell you how pretty you are?”

this time, azzi looked a bit startled.

paige thought, finally. she’s catching on. she sees it.

see me. please see me.

“i literally look like shit paige.” she rolled her eyes playfully as her attention drifted, pulled toward caroline laughing over a dumb tiktok.

paige blinked, trying to ignore the sting behind her eyelids and the pang of hurt that bubbled in her chest.

azzi: 1, paige: 0

—

two.

can you figure me out? just doin’ to waste more time on the couch.

the second time paige really tries was their second year together, and she thinks she actually might lose her mind. or kill someone. or both.

they’ve found their rhythm now. azzi wakes up first, padding into paige’s dorm with her hoodie sleeves swallowed over her hands, whispering “wake up” like it’s a secret just for them. then it’s morning runs, team practice, and a stop at 7/11 for their excuse of a breakfast: beef jerky, chocolate milk, and whatever chip brand they were currently obsessed with that week. afterwards, they head back to paige’s dorm to shower and complain and half-nap before dragging themselves to class.

they were practically stuck to the hip, even having their night routine together down. after class and any obligation they had for a day, it was almost an unwritten rule between the two that they would take turns sleeping over at each other’s dorm, eating sugary snacks that cd would absolutely murder them for eating and passing out during a movie, limbs intertwined and breathing in sync.

it’s predictable. sacred. comforting. theirs.

and if paige’s heart stuttered a little every time azzi leaned into her side on the walk to class, or when their hands brushed accidentally-on-purpose at the vending machine – well. she told herself it was normal. it was fine. they were best friends.

the team had a name for it. they called it “the thing.” paige and azzi’s thing. a relationship that wasn’t a relationship, but also very much was. an entire ecosystem of soft looks, inside jokes, and brush-of-the-hand flirts.

and yeah paige would elbow whoever said it out loud, but everyone knew.

azzi fudd was untouchable. off-limits. claimed.

and paige bueckers?

hopeless. head over heart, down bad.

–

that night, they go out to celebrate the start of the season. just the team, their partners, and a plan to let loose before their lives get swallowed by the practice, travel and press they’ve grown to be thankful for yet still despise. they’re at some packed bar with too-loud music and neon lighting, and paige is already two drinks in when azzi slides up next to her, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from laughter.

“hey, stranger,” azzi says, nudging her shoulder. “been looking for you.”

paige blinks, thrown off for half a second. her pulse spikes. “yeah?” she asks, teasing, turning toward her fully. “you miss me or something?”

azzi doesn’t answer, just grins while she looks up at paige.

paige doesn’t know if she's turned on or in pain.

cause azzi looks good. a simple crop top that showed smooth skin, mascara that accentuated the brown eyes paige has been wanting, needing, begging for.

azzi looked like sin.

“you’re glowing,” paige says, voice low and soft like she means it. because she does. god, she does.

azzi just snorts. “it’s the vodka soda.”

paige grins and leans closer, breath warm against her ear as her lips brush the skin ever so slightly. “nah, it’s just you.”

azzi laughs, easy and bright, like paige’s words are harmless. like they don’t mean everything.

“you’re so drunk, paige.”

“am not!” paige says, pouting now, bumping their knees together. “but even if i was, i’d still say you’re the prettiest person here.”

azzi paused for a second, lips apart and an unreadable look in her eyes and for a second, paige indulges – lets herself embrace the dangerous hope bubbling up in her chest.

her heart actually stutters.

but then azzi giggles, ruffles her hair, and sips her drink.

“you’re actually ridiculous.”

like paige is a joke. a pet. a harmless, harmless crush.

paige laughs along, like her chest didn’t just cave in a little. she turns to aubrey and joins in their conversation, pretending not to feel the slow, quiet crack deep inside her.

still, she tries. because she’s stubborn. because azzi’s worth it. because maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance. she sticks by the younger’s side, buying their drinks, slipping her water every now and then, slipping her arm around azzi’s waist lightly like it was the most natural thing in the world – like paige’s arm belonged there

god, it does. and maybe that’s what made it worse.

because maybe that’s the problem. maybe it’s too easy. too natural. maybe paige’s touches don’t register as more because they’ve always lived in this space between friendship and something deeper. a line that azzi never seems to notice, even as paige teeters right on the edge.

nonetheless, she stays close, whispering dumb jokes in azzi’s ear just to see those deep dimples and her melodic laugh that for some reason, paige could never get sick of. she lets her fingers linger, lets her eyes do the talking. flirts with a kind of quiet desperation.

and azzi? she just smiles, taking the affection like it's casual. like paige isn’t holding her breath every time she reaches for her hand.

and paige? she doesn’t know what the hell is happening.

maybe azzi was just so comfortable in their friendship she didn’t second guess paige’s motives, and god paige would feel really fucking terrible if that was the case. or maybe she felt the same and was scared to show?

or if azzi knew what she was doing, and cared about their friendship and the team to let her down.

fuck.

still, paige believes. there has to be something behind the way azzi always comes to her—her dorm, her bed, her arms. the way her cheeks flush across the court when their eyes meet. that has to mean something. it has to.

maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance.

so paige heads to the bar, heart buoyed by vodka and stubborn hope, intent on grabbing them one more round. she’s halfway through ordering when she glances over her shoulder and freezes.

azzi’s still at their table, but she’s not alone.

beside azzi, perfect azzi with her stupidly pretty cheekbones and stupidly pretty smile and stupidly perfect curls sat a guy. tall, muscular, with dark, unruly curls that fall over his eyebrows and clear blue eyes. and he’s close—too close. his hand rests casually at her waist like it belongs there. like he belongs there.

and the worst part?

azzi was laughing, her smile wide and effortless. her posture relaxed. her body tilted just slightly toward him, just enough to say she’s interested. just enough to hurt.

oh.

and suddenly, the cool bar was too warm, and she could feel her throat dry.

her grip tightens on the edge of the bar, knuckles white. it’s too hot, too loud, too much. her chest aches. her throat is suddenly dry. she watches as azzi brushes a curl behind her ear, the way she always does when she’s flustered or shy. she’s seen that look a hundred times.

she used to think that look was meant for her.

fuck, she was gonna be sick. all over this disgusting counter top.

she turns back to the bartender, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“just one drink,” she says quietly. “for me.”

she doesn’t go back to the table right away. instead, she finds a quiet corner near the back of the bar and lets the music drown out the sting of everything. her drink sits untouched in her hand, condensation running down the sides as she blinks back the sudden burn in her eyes.

maybe she has been ridiculous. maybe azzi’s been this close all this time, and paige never actually had her.

she physically shook her thoughts away like they pained her.

cause honestly? they really did.

“caroline!” she calls out, voice hoarse from emotion and noise. “i’m heading back. tell azzi if she asks.” she ignores the way her friend’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“paige, what-”

she slams the glass down the counter too harshly, weird glances thrown at the sudden noise. but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she marches down the dance floor to the exit.

past the dance floor, past the tables, ignoring the curious glances and concerned stares from her friends, chest hollow.

she doesn’t look back.

the worst part?

azzi doesn’t either.

later that night, azzi pushes open the door to paige’s dorm, adrenaline still buzzing from the night out. she expects the usual: paige half-asleep on her bed, tv playing something they’ve seen a dozen times, snacks scattered across the sheets.

but she stops short.

paige was curled up on the couch, her blanket pulled high over her shoulders like armor. small, still, silent.

which only meant one thing.

paige didn’t want to sleep beside azzi tonight.

didn’t want to see her.

and that realization hits harder than it should.

—

three.

can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time. i can’t read you but if you want the pleasure’s all mine. can you see me using everything to hold back?

–

they never talk about it.

not the distance.

not the moment at the bar.

not the way paige disappeared and never came back to the table, like vanishing would make the ache disappear too.

the tension settles between them like a fog, quiet and dense, too thick to cut through. it lingers in the way paige stops cracking as many jokes. in how her texts come a little slower, a little shorter. how she starts replying with one emoji instead of three. it lives in the space between their shoulders when they sit next to each other on the locker room bench. it’s invisible, but it’s everywhere.

and yeah, maybe it stung, but paige was nothing if not loyal.

and maybe stupidly in love.

so she lets it go. or at least tries to.

a week after the bar, she invites azzi over like nothing happened. like she didn’t feel her heart splinter watching someone else touch what she’d spent years silently longing for. she says everything she usually says, they start their routine again like nothing had happened. hell, she even starts touching azzi again.

platonically, of course.

they slip back into routine. barely. paige tells herself it’s fine. and when she let herself touch azzi again, people noticed the scripted familiarity in place of actual closeness.

everyone sees the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. the way she pulls out of azzi’s hugs a beat too early. how she watches azzi like she’s memorizing something she’s about to lose.

everyone could feel that something had changed. that the bar broke something open.

because that night didn’t just sting. it splintered something deep and raw inside her.

watching azzi laugh with someone else didn’t just hurt, it shattered her.

except azzi.

azzi who lived in her own world, who apparently, was the most oblivious person in the planet. azzi who smiled at paige like she hung the stars but never saw paige quietly looking, no, admiring her in the locker room after each game. azzi, who dances in paige’s orbit, always just close enough to warm her but never close enough to hold.

paige doesn’t know what it is—if it’s her, if it’s the way she loves too hard, too quietly. but no matter how badly she’s been hurt, she can’t bring herself to leave. it’s like gravity. like she’s caught in azzi’s orbit and doesn’t know how to break free.

and yeah, maybe the love of her life was painfully oblivious. or maybe she just didn’t reciprocate her feelings. paige tried not to think about the latter for too long or else she would actually have a breakdown and never stop.

so she stays.

and she tries.

and as she looks at herself in the mirror with her hair in her signature game day braids and ponytail. she takes a deep breath trying to gather every piece of her heart and soul she could bear.

one last time.

and this time, she’s not gonna hold back. she’s gonna get a reaction – an answer.

one last time, no holding back.

–

from the second they step into the locker room, paige is already reaching for her.

trying like her heart didn’t shatter just a few weeks ago, like she didn’t feel absolutely bat shit terriffied. and frankly, that she didn’t feel a little exhausted of the constant rejection that wasn’t rejection? maybe? who the fuck knows at this point.

her eyes find azzi as soon as they broke their team huddle, coach going over their strategy and his usual “don’t fuck up” talk.

and it should be a crime really, how azzi managed to look absolutely radiant under the fluorescent lights, her headphones on and hoodie pulled over her head. her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she scrolled through her phone, probably trying to find a playlist to blast before they start their shoot around.

she walks straight up to her like a magnet being pulled in.

paige bumps their shoulders together, “you’re walking around lookin’ too pretty, gonna distract everyone from the game.” she said slowly, her eyes locked on azzi’s with everything she’s too scared to say aloud.

she didn’t expect much, she’s been knowing this was gonna absolutely crush her. so really, it was only a slight sting in her heart when azzi laughed dismissively, “you’re the one with thousands of thirst edits under her belt, be serious.”

paige masked it all with a smirk, “i’m always serious.” she leaned in closer, making sure the distance between their body screamed anything but platonic, “especially when it comes to you.”

they were close. closer than paige had ever dared trying. she could feel azzi’s breath stutter and see the telling pink slowly colour her cheeks.

and god, she really was down bad. cause after all the heartache she’s been through, she still finds her heart stuttering at the sight.

nearby, kk hears it and mutters under her breath to caroline, “god, she’s trying so hard.”

caroline raises an eyebrow from across the court. “do you think azzi knows?” she whispers.

“no,” aubrey sighs. “and it’s kinda sad. i’m starting to feel bad for paige.”

“starting?” caroline mutters. “girl’s been down bad since freshman year.”

paige ignores them all.

her focus is zeroed in on azzi,s tanding so close and still somehow so out of reach.

who had the nerve to fucking giggle like paige hadn’t just casually flirted like her whole heart wasn’t in it. like it was just another day.

paige wanted to die.

it stings. again.

but she pushes through.

they run through warmups and shooting drills. paige’s eyes keep drifting. her fingers brush azzi’s when they stretch side-by-side, and her breath hitches every time their arms bump. she laughs louder around her. lingers longer.

and this time, she means to be obvious.

because tonight, she’s tired of guessing. tired of almosts. tired of being brave in a way that doesn’t count.

so the moment coach’s final pregame huddle breaks, paige tugs azzi’s wrist gently and pulls her just outside the tunnel, into the quiet shadow of the hallway.

“hey,” she says, eyes soft and unreadable.

azzi tilts her head. “what’s up?”

paige hesitates. her fingers tremble at her sides, heart knocking against her ribs so loudly she swears azzi can hear it. she opens her mouth. closes it. opens it again.

“i like you,” she blurts. “no, i love you.”

azzi blinks.

paige pushes forward, voice steadier, “i love you, azzi. like, can’t think straight, can’t breathe right kind of love. like, every time you walk into a room, it’s like my entire world resets around you. and i’ve been trying to push it away, really i have. but i just… i just need to know.”

and then.

azzi laughs.

paige’s chest drops.

“paige,” azzi says, bumping her shoulder like it’s all one big inside joke. “you’re so dramatic. is this like… one of your locker room speeches? you tryna pump me up before tip-off?”

“no,” paige says, voice low, raw. “i’m not kidding.”

but azzi’s already turning back toward the court, pulling her arm gently. “c’mon, let’s go. we’re gonna be late.”

paige stays frozen.

she watches azzi jog ahead, her ponytail swaying behind her, completely unaware of what she just did.

and just like that.

paige thinks that was her answer.

—

the game goes on. and paige plays like a woman possessed.

she’s on fire from the jump. every three-pointer hits. every steal turns into a fast break. she’s moving with a kind of controlled rage that the opposing team can’t figure out how to contain. she drops twenty by the half. thirty by the fourth. and when the final buzzer sounds and uconn takes the win, the whole bench erupts.

the locker room is chaotic joy. music blaring. gatorade everywhere. aubrey filming a live stream. kk’s dancing in the corner. even geno cracks a smile.

paige doesn’t. doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even spare a glance at her team mates.

she slams her locker shut so hard that it echoes, the metallic clang slicing through the music.

everyone goes quiet.

“paige?” caroline calls.

but paige doesn’t answer. doesn’t look at anyone. just grabs her bag and storms out of the room, jaw clenched, eyes stinging.

and still – she doesn’t let the tears fall.

not yet.

a beat of stunned silence.

“…what just happened?” ines asks.

azzi’s still pulling off her shoes, confused. “she’s probably just mad about something else.”

“mad?” aubrey echoes, incredulous.

“yeah,” azzi shrugs, unbothered. “she pulled me aside earlier and said she was in love with me or something. tried to make it all deep and dramatic.”

the room falls completely silent.

caroline drops the water bottle she’s holding.

“what.” aubrey said lowly, as if she didn’t know if azzi was being serious or not.

azzi blinks. “what?”

“azzi,” caroline groans. “that wasn’t a joke.”

“you can’t be serious,” aubrey mutters.

“she’s been in love with you forever,” caroline says, exasperated. “how do you not know that?”

azzi’s smile falters.

“that was her confessing,” caroline says, stepping forward. “god, azzi. you haven’t noticed how down she’s been every since that night at the bar? when you were flirting with a guy in front of her?”

the bar?

azzi feels a flare of confusion and guilt, remembering at how shrunken and small paige had looked that night. when she entered her dorm to a sleeping paige.

“no, i–” azzi starts, suddenly unsure.

“she’s been trying for weeks,” she continues, “you think paige – the one who consistently begged you to come here just so she could play with you, the one who literally will not let you carry anything heavier than a fucking newborn, the paige that’s been loyal and lovey dovey to you for years now – you think that paige bueckers flirts like that with anyone?”

azzi’s breath catches.

and there it is.

that moment.

that horrible, gut-wrenching, oh.

the realization that she misunderstood everything.

that what she thought was playful banter was actually someone – paige – her best friend, handing over her heart.

and she didn’t know whether she should cry or sit and marvel at the realisation that paige liked her.

paige likes her. azzi.

“i… i didn’t know,” azzi says quietly, voice suddenly small.

aubrey sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. “well, now you do.”

and somewhere down the hallway, past the chaos and celebration and confusion—paige is gone.

and this time?

azzi feels the distance.

and she’s terrified it’s final.

–

four. – azzi’s one.

i don’t wanna be forward, i don’t wanna cut corners.

savour this with everything i have inside of me.

—

azzi doesn’t sleep that night.

her bed feels unfamiliar. hollow. the faint scent of paige’s body wash lingers in the sheets, like even her bed misses her.

she couldn’t remember the last time she fell asleep without someone warm beside her. without soft whispers, or a weight curled into her side. without paige. without the quiet reassurance of her presence, the grounding comfort of her voice when azzi’s thoughts got too loud.

and god, how could she be so dense? how did she miss the ache in her chest when paige was an inch too far? how did she miss the giddiness she felt when paige’s eyes zeroed in on her? the way she saw her, really saw her, and not who people wanted her to be.

paige. of course it’s paige.

she loves paige.

of course she does.

the paige who had stuck with her through sweaty practices, sticky summer visits, mental breakdowns and insecurity that came with her acl injury. the paige that was the first to compliment her form and the first to give her pointers on how to improve. the paige that was so gentle with her it practically ached, but the first to make a stupid joke just to see her laugh.

the paige who’s been her constant. her person.

the paige who was so beautiful she had been pushing herself so far. that maybe if she tried hard enough to pretend that this was all a joke, that what she felt was just a silly crush – a figment of her teenage, hormone filled brain, that she could stay in the safety zone they called friendship.

but instead, she ruined it.

her phone sits heavy in her hand now, the screen dimming in and out of sleep. paige’s name glows at the top of their empty thread.

she keeps typing. deleting. typing again.

paige i’m sorry.

can we talk?

please.

call me back, please p.

nothing. no bubbles, no typing, not even a read.

nothing.

and now it all clicks into place: the way paige would pull her closer, only to retreat the moment azzi leaned in. the way her jokes hid something deeper. the way she looked at azzi like she was scared of being seen, but more afraid of being invisible.

god. she’s been breaking paige’s heart without even knowing.

and paige had still tried. had still stayed.

the silence feels like punishment.

cause fuck, she’d been so sweet. she’d been patient with her and she laughed? brushed it off like it meant nothing.

fuck, she really messed up this time.

azzi sits up in bed, blanket around her shoulders, and finally lets the tears fall.

“i didn’t know,” she whispers to no one. “i didn’t know, i didn’t know, i didn’t know.”

but that doesn’t stop the image of paige’s face from playing on repeat. that look in her eyes when she said i love you. the way her voice broke. the way she stood still while azzi walked away. the way her voice broke, the way her hands stayed at her sides like she was bracing for rejection.

and azzi gave it to her.

and now all azzi wants is to run back.

–

it’s raining when azzi stirs.

she doesn’t remember when she fell asleep. the night stretched on like a nightmare, and it was clear she was dragged through it and back. her face felt sticky with smeared mascara and tears, her hair still in her game day braids, now frizzy and messy.

she couldn’t find it in her to even care.

she throws on a hoodie – paige’s, she realizes when the familiar scent hits her, and her chest cracks open all over again.

she walks across campus in her hoodie and slides, socks soaked, barely feeling the cold. her heart’s pounding so hard she thinks she might puke. she doesn’t even stop to think, just walks straight to paige’s dorm, praying she’s there.

she knocks once.

twice.

then harder.

“paige,” her voice is shaky. she tries to steady it but fails. “paige, please. can you open the door?”

nothing.

and azzi can’t even blame her. but still, she feels her heart crack a little more.

“i know i don’t deserve anything more.” azzi starts, sniffling as she attempts to steady herself. “i get it, i wouldn’t wanna talk to me either after… everything.”

she leans her forehead against the door, her voice cracking.

“i just wanted to say, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i kept pushing you away. i’m sorry i didn’t let myself feel.” azzi’s hands were trembling at this point.

but no.

paige has always been the brave one.

paige loved her, even when azzi didn’t make it easy.

paige gave and gave and gave.

and now it’s azzi’s turn to give something back.

“i didn’t let myself believe it was real because… i think i’ve been in love with you too, and i was scared.”

a beat.

and then another.

“you’ve been in my life for so long, and you’ve always been this… bright, golden thing. and i thought if i let myself feel it, i’d lose you.”

her voice drops to a whisper, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“and i don’t know. maybe i already did. but i don’t wanna lose you paige. i can’t.” she couldn’t help the soft sob that leaves her mouth as she crumples to the floor.

she sniffles, wiping her sleeve across her face. “i’m sorry i laughed. i was nervous and caught off guard and i didn’t mean to make you feel like that. if i could go back and do it over, i’d tell you the second you looked at me that i’ve been so stupid in love with you too.”

for a moment, all she hears is her breathing.

god, she must look so pathetic right now.

but then.

a click.

the door opens.

paige, in the hoodie azzi has stolen a hundred times, eyes swollen and glassy. her expression folds at the sight of her, and azzi can barely breathe.

“azzi.”

and god, azzi doesn’t know how to handle this. the way paige breathed out her name, like it was the only thing keeping her alive. like she was her everything.

like she was in love.

“you mean it?” she says, voice barely a whisper.

azzi nods through her tears, already standing, already stepping into her arms. “i mean it. every word.”

and then paige’s arms are around her, warm and trembling and so desperately needed. azzi wraps herself into her like she was always meant to be there, like it’s the only thing that makes sense. she lets herself inhale paige’s scent, lets herself burrow her face into the blonde’s chest like she’s always wanted to do.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” azzi rambles before she could pull herself back, shaking as paige pulls her tighter.

“i know. i know, baby.”

fuck.

azzi looks up, gazing into the blue eyes she’s known for forever.

and she looks, really looks.

and maybe it’s the nickname, or the rain, or the way paige still holds her like she’s everything, she has absolutely no fucking clue.

but her body knows before her brain can catch up.

her fingers reach up to cradle paige’s jaw, soft and hesitant at first. she lets her thumb brush the damp curve of her cheek, tracing the warmth of skin that’s always felt like home. and paige just gazes down, awe in her blue eyes – and doesn’t pull away. and when she leans into the touch like she’s been starved for it, azzi moves closer, closer, until there’s no space left between them.

her breath stutters. her heart’s in her throat.

and then she closes the distance.

it’s not perfect. it’s messy and tear-slicked and trembling. their lips crash more than meet at first, azzi’s hand shaking as it curls around the back of paige’s neck, as if afraid she’ll disappear.

but she doesn’t.

she stays, rooted in place at first, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening. like this was another one of her dreams and she was terrified to wake up.

but then she melts.

she melts into azzi like she’s been waiting for this forever. like she’s been holding her breath for years and finally, she’s allowed to exhale.

the kiss deepens, slow and aching. paige lets herself soften under azzi’s fingertips, lets her hand wander to the younger’s waist as she pulls her closer, the kiss turning eager yet desperate. she kisses her like azzi is the only thing in the world that makes sense. like this is everything she’s ever wanted.

it feels like breathing for the first time.

like finally coming home.

when they finally pull apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths shared in the quiet space between them, azzi’s hand is still resting over paige’s heart.

azzi feels herself smile, “so, we’re okay?”

and god, paige feels herself fall deeper.

“we’re more than okay,” paige says, smiling for the first time in days. “but next time i confess my love, can you maybe not laugh in my face?”

azzi groans, burying her face in paige’s neck. “i will never live that down, huh.”

“not a chance.”

and when they finally close the door behind them, curling up together in the quiet warmth of paige’s room, it feels like everything that’s been aching finally finds peace.

and this time, no one’s holding back.

—

ps: talk to me thru the inbox w your thoughts :) makes me so happy after posting a fic to see reactions hehe

[starspangledsteeve]

love it when they use reoccurring lighting like this in media. it is absolutely beautiful, showstopping, epic masterpiece, scrumptious even, every single time. true cinema. no notes. keep doing it.

[luvzpagie]

DOE EYES — P.B

you eyes immediately caught paige’s attention the first time she saw you, the way you looked up at her made her knees instantly weak.

batting your lashes as your smile gleamed in the light, paige couldn’t help but lick her lips. she already craved the taste of you, she needed you right then and there.

“baby pleasee” your glossy lips formed a pout, you had been begging paige to take you to some new random sanrio store a couple minutes away.

the blonde girl ignored you, you huffed as you straddle her lap. you grabbed her phone from out her hands and leaned in, putting you eyes to work. giving her the look she loved oh so much.

“pleaseee” you beg once more. you grabbed her chin, acrylics softly scratching her face.

“yo, chillll” blush crept onto your girlfriend’s face, her smile wide as can be. paige leaned in for a kiss but your hand stopped in front of her face.

“nope! you can’t get a kiss until you take me to the place” paige sighed hard, eventually giving in.

“fine, now gimme my fuckin kiss”

your back was against the sink, your legs spread apart. you were dragged to the bathroom, the music of the party slowly dying down as you got closer.

you grip onto the sink as paige slid her digits into you, your arousal coating her fingers. your mouth slightly opens, her actions were slow.

your breaths are heavier, your pussy throbs around her fingers. your legs unconsciously spread wider.

“paigey- fuck- s’good” her fingers stretched you out almost splitting you in half. your eyes shut as paige curls her fingers, hitting a new spot.

“oh my gosh!” gasps came jumping out of your mouth, your grip on the sink almost cracked it.

“need you to look at me baby” paige whispered, your eyes opened close to closing again.

you look at the tall girl, whose eyes were already on you. your eyes twinkle with neediness, you wanted more. your head falling back as paige speeds up.

“eyes on me, pretty girl” she lightly taps your cheek, you try to blink some of your consciousness back. paige’s free hand grasped around your neck, as you stare into her eyes.

“i fuckin’ love when you look at me like that.” she grunted

note: IM BACKKK did y’all miss me 😚

[lalaluna20]

Her dolly 🤍🤍

paige bueckers x hyperfeminine reader tw: reader has like coquette, dolly, shoujo style and interests so if you’re not into that just click off thx!! as a girl who love the hyperfeminine style i wish there were more fics and headcannons with them. so i just decided to make it myself.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves your style so much. she thinks you just look so adorable and elegant, she just loves it.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who 100% buys your entire wardrobe.

while out shopping, you pull out your wallet. “girl” paige states with an ‘are you serious’ side eye “put that away” she says playfully shaking her head. as she taps her card against the reader. “acting like i would make her pay,” she jokes with the cashier. walking out of the store, she takes your hands in hers. holding all the heavy bags as you hold the small, dainty, aesthetic ones.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige whenever she has formal events she always takes you. you’re always dressed in the cutest jewelry and hair accessories. and nothing less than the best made laces, silk and stain fabrics. and the shoes, omg don’t get me started. having the cutest shoe collection, with cute platforms, converses and heels.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige although you guys have completely opposite styles. paige loves matching with you, whether that be matching colors, wearing one of your many lace/satin ribbons bowed in her hair or jean belt loop. or she follows the recent trends and wears one of your favorite plush keychains on her belt loop, always on the givers side (i don’t make the rules!)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige when paige first makes it to Dallas, she asks dijonai if there’s any “girly fashion” stores so she could take you there. and i assure you, girly took notes. when you first made it to dallas she took you on a huge shopping spree. since for one, you didn’t hav your closet besides 10 days of clothing. and two, you both didn’t know if you would move in or not.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who allows you to use her hair for when you’re trying hairstyles. since she doesn’t want you to hurt yourself or your pretty hair in the process.

possessive/protective paige

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who always has a jacket with her so if you get cold you can wear it. totally not because it’s a way to show you’re hers, totally.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves your style but is also super over protective whenever you guys go to parties, bars, clubs, etc. she just wants to make sure you’re safe and unharmed.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who gets outrageously possessive whenever someone calls you “doll” or “dolly” she can’t explain it. but she just hates it when someone who isn’t her calls you that.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves having you on her lap. just something about having your skirt sprawled out on her lap, it gets to her.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige since she is a public figure she never makes a scene. but she does have possessive touches and the meanest glare.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige if anyone objectifies you or makes you uncomfortable, they will have hell to pay. whether that be paige’s friends, teammates or fans, hell will be paid.

that’s all the head cannons i have for now.

i hope you enjoy- Love Luna

taglist: @ashortyluvsports, @itsssports, @salemsuccss, @d1paigebueckersglazer, @laurenmcucm, @pbno5

[unbloodiedmartyr]

Wouldnt it just be truly fucking awful if it was only people out here, and nothing else?

anyways this is like my favourite carpenter monologue of all time it destroys me. so yk i had to draw it. ALSO you can BET i used @catwyk 's incredible parish designs and @valtsv 's leech halo for faulkner. because i gotta steal their smartypants ideas

[hyruling]

the sweetest apparition

buddie, 20.2k, rating: E

Buck glances over his shoulder and smiles. “Sorry, lost in thought.” “I would be too looking at a man that handsome,” she says with a glance at his phone as they move up. “Your partner?” Buck feels his cheeks heat. What the hell – Eddie isn’t here to hear him, probably wouldn’t care anyway. It’s easier than explaining the truth to this stranger. “Yeah.” “And he sent you to do all the Christmas shopping alone?” she teases with a grin. “Oh, no he’s, uh – he’s gone.”

Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck keeps accidentally telling people Eddie's dead. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

based on

[villainesses]

Darling...

Rosalind Russell and James Stewart in No Time For Comedy (1940)

[mrsarnold]

❝ 𝓦hat happens here stays here its just like 𝓥egas ❞

pairing ! p. bueckers x fem!oc

warnings NASTY smut, ex!p x ex!c, semi public/private sex, oral (c!recieving), jealousy sex, what did sabrina say ? 'have you ever tried rhis one?' 🤗 tit sucking (c!recieving), mean paige, vocal control, 3rd person pov,, thats it??

summary after paige & callie broke up the distance and hatred for eachother wqs very obvious even if they were in the same fg. the distance was further until the fg took everyone on vacation to vegas..

note may be my new favorite fic of mine, pt2?

The sun beamed onto Callie's and the friend group faces as they stepped off the private jet onto Vegas airport grounds. Maya and Jane had the bright idea to take everyone to Vegas for the week off. It wouldve been a fun weekend until the invited someone specfic.

Paige.

Callie and Paige broken up 6 months ago on bad terms. The break up was much needed from the arguments to the accusations of cheating. It was toxic.

Callie was deep in thought on what the possibilities of what could happen on the trip until someone snapped her out of it. "Cals are you ok", Leah asked as everyone headed over to the rental car.

"um yea.. yea im ok."

"you sure?"

"i promise", Callie said unsurely as her and Leah got into the car. Most of the seats were taken by time they were inside so she had sit between Paige and Jane. Just the two of them sitting near eachother tension was knowingly there.

"Lets play some musiccc", Nevaeh said excitedly as she started the car and connected her phone to the aux. The whole ride to the Airbnb was loud but the tension was still there. Every slight movement or accidental looks with eachother caused fireworks in Callie's head.

Callie continued to zone out, thinking of why she even agreed to this trip before she snapped out of it realizing they made it to the Airbnb. As soon as the car was parked Callie was the first out, trying to stay away from Paige but she was right behind her getting out as well before going to speak to KK.

Callie couldn't help but stare at Paige. From here toned arms on displayed by her t shirt, to her boxers peaking out from her sweatpants. 'Gosh she never looked bad' Callie mumbled under her breath before snapping out of it and walking into the Airbnb with everyone else.

"everyone go find the rooms yall want im ordering food", Jane said as she whipped her phone out and doordashed some wingstop. Chatter was all that filled the airbnb as everyone looked around before heading upstairs to find there room. Callie shared with Leah in a room all the way to the end of the hall upstairs.

Callie stayed silent as she tied her hair up into a bun and unpacked her clothes as she closemindly listened to Leah's rant.

"and then we're all gonna go p- Callie are you even listening", Leah asked snapping her out of her unpacking tranced.

"Oh yeah, something about what were doing this week"

"are you ok?? you been off since we landed", Leah worriedly asked as she sat on the bed. Callie wanted to so badly tell her what she was thinking but she didn't wanna ruin anything.

"Yea im ok- i think Jane is calling us down for food and maybe we're going swimming after in the pool you should head down. ill be down soon", Callie admitted as she unpacked her last shirt in the drawer. Leah looked at her confused before getting up and changing into her bathing suit and heading down.

as soon as Leah left Callie sat on the shared bed, deep in thought. Could she actually get through this week. After a little she finally got up and changed into a black bikini.

She stood in the long mirror, checking herself out for any flawd before she saw a familiar figure, one she dreaded to see.

"Just as pretty as i remebered hm", the figure rasped out as she leaned on the door way. Paige once again. Callie stood there frozen, not expecting her to be there at all.

"What? You wanna be silent now", Paige said as she finally entered the room, still checking Callie out. Paige stayed her distance but close enough.

"Paige-", Callie tried to form words before she turned to finally face her. She had jean shorts that hugged her toned legs with a purple two piece swimsuit underneath. 'fuck'

"What do you need Paige."

"Nothin' if we're gonna stay in the same house for a week we gotta tolerate eachother"

Her words alone made Callie roll her eyes.

"Besides you know you miss me Ma", Paige said coming closer. Callie just scolded at her words, expecting but not expecting them.

"In your dreams."

"most definitely in my dreams, if you ever change your mind then. y'know your still mine", Paige said lastly before turning around and walking out of Callie's room, leaving her in shock.

......

The sun beamed on the girls as they were in the pool, talking, drinking, tanning, and doing tiktoks. Callie continued to speak to everyone, still a little shocked at the previous events.

The music became more upbeat the more everyone drank. Callie was all in a blur, one moment she was talking to Leah the next she was off flirting with Izzy in a corner.

It was all going good until Izzy started getting touchy. Callie was unknowing until she heard a familiar voice behind her.



"Izzy mind if i speak to Cals real quick", Paige asked looking from Izzy to Callie. Izzy nodded and removed her hands from Callie. Callie gave her a quick smile before she was roughly dragged away by Paige to the inside of the house.

Once they were alone Paige finally snapped, "What the fuck was that." Her words made Callie become taken aback by her sudden words.

"What do you m-"

"Don't pull that 'what do you mean' shit with me you seen her being all up on you", Paige said annoyedly as she put her cup on the kitchen counter.

"Paige so what we're not dating anymore"

"nah, i already told you were still mine earlier. want me to remind you", Paige said grabbing Callie's neck and forcing her to look at her. Callie instantly went silent at her words and actions.

"nah go upstairs and strip since you don't wanna speak. don't even try moaning either or whimpering. none of that shit", Paige said finally letting go of her neck and watched her go upstairs. Oncs Callie was fully upstairs Paige went back outside like nothing happened.

Meanwhile Callie was upstairs in Paige's room, sitting on her bed in thought of what was gonna happen. then she just stripped fully and laid on her bed, closing her eyes impatiently.

Callie continued to lay there in thought before she felt familiar lips crash against hers making her eyed flutter open. It was Paige doing what she promised.

"Pai-"

"Ah what did i say", Paige said breaking the kiss before kissing down Callies neck. Callie bit back moans not wanting this to be any more difficult.

Paige left some hickeys here and there on her neck before kissing down her body, her stomach to her thighs to her core. She placed a few kisses on Callie's core making Callie squirm under her touch.

"Stay still", Paige said annoyedly before looking up at you, "I don't even think you deserve my touch hm?"

Callie felt she couod cry from the teasing not realizing how bad she wanted this till now. "That's what i thought", Paige said before shoving two fingers into Callie making her moan lowly before covering her mouth and lay her head back.

"Ah look at me or im stopping", Paige said moving up to face Callie as her fingers moved at a relentless pace, "looking so pretty f'me Ma." Callie felt she could practically fall apart at her words. Callie was able to maintain her moans before Paige had a idea.

Without warning Paige caught one of her bouncing tits in her mouth and started sucking on her bud. the overwhelming friction made Callie cry out against her palm.

"Doing so good for me pretty, i wan' hear you now though", Paige mumbled out against her tit making vibrations go through Callie. Callie finally uncovered her mouth and let out shaky moans as Paige continued.

"mm.. Im so close", Callie moaned out as Paige drew her closer and closer to the edge. Paige smirked as she let go of her tit with a pop as her fingers continued to work magic.

"That's it pretty girl come for me aight", Paige said finally before Callie let out one more moan before coming on Pauge's fingers. Paige let her ride out her high before removing her fingers.

Before either of them can speak they heard a yell from Leah, "YALL ARE NASTY."

The both of them burst out into laughter hearing Leah yell at them from downstairs.

"This isn't over by the way."

[robert-nash]

[automatonwithautonomy]

very funny to me that paige makes her only friends when they kidnap her and are just awful at it. then at the nearest opportunity she kidnaps and befriends hayward. tried and true method!!!!

[raevpng]

only you (pt.1)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

chapter 2

summary: everyone tunes in when they share a court — paige bueckers and azzi fudd, former team mates, once golden duo, turned wnba rivals. they were the perfect match on court, and no one could deny it. but no one knows what goes on under the surface of competition and rivalry, not even them.

a/n: holy shit. i’m really stepping out my usual zone here, i hope people still enjoy this 😭 please flood my inbox w your thoughts i will acc combust 😓

lights, camera, action.

“and now, number five from minnesota: paige bueckers!”

she walks out the tunnel like she owns it.

and in a way, she does.

star player, once in a generation talent, a prodigy.

gelled blonde hair gleaming under the lights, pulled slick into a bun, not a single hair astray. her jersey clings to her frame in all the right places — crisp, powerful, unforgiving. her steps are long, her posture regal, eyes laser-sharp and dead ahead. not a flicker of hesitation.

she doesn’t wave. she doesn’t look around. she doesn’t need to. every movement is purposeful, every step is a message: she’s not here to impress. she’s here to dominate.

because paige bueckers was every inch the prodigy the world made her out to be.

there was something about her, something about the way she moved, something about the way she just is.

not arrogance. not some bravado.

it’s fire. the kind you’re either born with or broken by.

the stadium erupts, shaking with the sound with only one name cutting through the noise. number five jerseys can be seen scattered in the stands, phones flashing, people on their feet.

but she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t flash a smile, doesn’t cast a wave.

she gets to work.

–

“and now, number thirty-five from washington: azzi fudd!”

the energy doesn’t die — it shifts.

softer. steadier. like an exhale after a held breath.

azzi walks out like a sigh of wind after a storm. calm, composed, unbothered. her shoulders are relaxed, her posture open. a soft smile curves on her lips, eyes crinkling at the corners as she offers a brief wave to the crowd. no theatrics, no nothing for show.

just azzi. composed. radiant. untouchable in her own way.

she moves like she’s done this millions of times.

like she was born for this.

she doesn’t strut. doesn’t burn. she doesn’t smirk.

she floats.

every step is fluid, unhurried. there’s grace in her movement, a rhythm that feels almost surreal. like she’s not walking toward battle. she walks like she’s already won.

azzi moves like water, unshaken, gentle, graceful yet undeniably strong in her movements. she moves like she’s a dream, textbook perfection. her hair is braided back with precision, cascading in sleek, thick ropes down her shoulders. her jersey is neat, fitted – not a wrinkle in sight. she doesn’t need flash or flair. never has.

yet her essence, captivating as ever, held everyone’s attention effortlessly.

and that was just who azzi fudd was.

she commands attention without a word spoken, she doesn’t force her presence – she lets it simmer and burn.

the crowd roars, not all-consuming, not rabid — but reverent. like they’re watching greatness in motion and they know it.

azzi’s never been the loudest in the room.she never needed to be.

that’s danger. that’s her poison. because people mistake quiet for softness.

she moves in an eerie calmness, a stillness that makes people underestimate. she moves like she has nothing to prove. her game speaks. her presence follows. she smiles when they cheer, and when she steps onto the court, there’s a certain calm that settles over everything.

but not today.

no, never with her.

–

it was only for a second – easy to miss and easy to forget.

brown eyes lock on blue, and the shift in the air was instant. azzi’s shoulders go stiff. the light in her eyes dulls. the smile falters.

and yeah, she may be chronically offline, but she’s seen what they say. she’s seen enough social media posts, podcasts, and even competitors analyze them and their game.

once-in-a-generation rivalry. all that respectful-competition bullshit. best of the best. prodigy vs perfection.

the crowd eats it up, her teammates, the commentators, her coach even, to laugh it off as some recipe for crowd engagement.

she lets them – like the tension doesn’t linger. like it doesn’t follow them across cities, into games, under lights.

azzi was the first to break eye contact, turning away to join her team. the huddle is familiar, robotic. another pep talk she barely hears. another game plan she doesn’t need.

“run the play. get it to fudd. let her shoot.”

don’t fuck up.

the horn sounds and they break, lights brightening as they take their place on the court.

azzi feels the burn of paige’s stare immediately.

she feels it like a flame to skin, feels it like a needle breaking the surface. it burns. it follows. it waits.

and underneath it all, buried deep beneath the applause and camera flashes and crafted quotes lies something heavier. a charge, hatred that runs underneath the surface.

something unspoken and undeniable.

–

the mystics win the tip off, just barely.

and before the ball even gets anywhere near her hands, paige is on her. glued to her side, falling like a shadow that just won’t fucking quit. she’s everywhere all at once, no adjustment or grace period offered. it’s immediate, it’s aggressive.

frankly, it’s fucking annoying.

“of course,” azzi mutters under her breath, catching the ball at the wing, paige already crouched low in front of her. she watches the furrow on the blonde’s brow, the stoic and determined look on her features.

they don’t speak, not even a nod of acknowledgement.

paige dares her to drive. wide stance. locked gaze.

but azzi doesn’t fall for it. she’s seen that bait before. she sees the slight lean, the twitch of her left wrist, the small glace that paige throws at her side.

she stays planted. she doesn’t move.

she holds the ball at her hip, calm, heartbeat steady, watching paige watch her. waiting. azzi entertains it, expects it even, and waits for a second to pull her move: a quick jab, a flawless crossover, step back, pullup.

and fuck her honestly, cause paige reads it perfectly.

she’s there at the release, hand up, elbow contesting. like she knew the moment azzi even thought of taking the shot.

the ball grazes the rim.

rebound. minnesota.

and now, it was paige’s turn – inbounds, a quick cut. she takes the ball in stride and charges down court, calling for a clearout.

azzi slides into her path before anyone could switch.

there were people everywhere, fans screaming so loud it could genuinely rattle a building. so realistically, this feeling should be impossible. yet, in the court, under fluorescent lights and squeaking on floor, they were alone, the space feeling too big and too small all at once.

paige starts her rhythm – bounce, crossover, the same step she’s broken ankles with since high school. and it works, it always does.

not with azzi.

because she’s been guarding that move since she was seventeen.

“try again,” her eyes say, calm, unbothered, almost tauntingly.

“fine.” paige thought.

let's play.

she pivots, muscles tense, tries a spin off the back foot, pulling the ball behind her with elegance and bite. it was the move she used to demo in every skills camp. azzi barely reacts, feet planted, doesn’t even reach. she’s already there. their shoulders collide, clean, but solid. paige absorbs it, jaw clenched, and releases the ball out before the shot clock dies.

another miss.

the crowd roars, half in disappointment and the other in anticipation. they don’t hear the too loud breathing of their star players.

because nothing was landing, nothing was working.

it wasn’t luck, hell it wasn’t even skill.

it was memory.

possession flips, and azzi cuts baseline – sharp and flawless. she loses her defender, one paige’s teammates that towered over her frame.

but not paige. never paige.

she’s there before azzi even plants her feet. like she knew.

and of course, she did.

because paige taught her that footwork.

azzi learned it by watching paige move.

azzi calls for a screen. paige slips it. stays on her hip. breathes down her neck.

“this isn’t college anymore,” paige mutters, voice low.

and fuck, she feels herself almost give in, almost bite at the bait and lashes out in the way paige was clearly fishing for.

drive. shoulder drop. fake step-in.

paige doesn’t flinch.

because she taught her that fake.

azzi spins, tries to shake her off, gets to the elbow, and shoots.

paige’s hand is already up.

swish.

they jog back on defense side by side, shoulders brushing once, just once.

and it burns.

like fire and ice meeting at the edges.

like too much history with no closure.

“and the lynx call for their first time out.”

–

coach’s voice blares somewhere in the background, barking out instructions, arms slicing throughout the air with urgency. he rambles on about defence, warns about thirty-five and her game. but paige doesn’t hear any of it.

she plops down the bench, chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. her eyes remained locked across the room. on azzi.

she watched as she walks calmly to her bench, a soft smile on her face as she turned to the crowd and waves.

paige almost lets out a laugh.

what bullshit.

but before she turns away, azzi looks back.

it’s not a glace, not a stare, not even a glare.

it’s a collision.

something sharp, wordless, cold. not hate. not exactly. more like recognition.

“paige.” a sharp elbow to her side kicks her out of her trance, glancing swiftly at kayla who stared at her quizzically. silent questions swimming in her eyes that paige was not willing to at all indulge in.

“you good?” kayla asks, eyeing her warily as she drags a towel across her face. “you look like you saw a ghost.”

accurate.

“just tired,” paige mutters, rubbing a hand over her face, like that’ll erase whatever the hell just passed between her and azzi.

“nah,” kayla says, still watching her. “it’s her.”

paige raised a brow, scoffing like it was an insult.

“azzi,” kayla says, tossing her water bottle from one hand to the other. “she’s calm against everybody. chill. never plays with heat, even cracks a smile. but when it’s you?”

she hesitates, pausing like she knew she needed to watch where she stepped.

“it’s like she turns into someone else.”

paige scoffs, chugging her bottle of water before shrugging.

“guess we bring out the best in each other,” she says, dry. textbook. like she’s said it to reporters a thousand times.

kayla only stares before slowly nodding.

paige stands up.

–

azzi physically hears her heartbeat pounding in her ears. her chest was taut as she breathed in and out slowly, embracing the tightness in her lungs that only came through intense games. she was mid-gulp when aaliyah sat beside her.

“bro.” she says through a laugh, “you and paige, i swear yall are different, that was art!”

azzi doesn’t respond. just sips. just catches her breath.

“seriously.” aaliyah presses, “fucking unreal. your moves don’t work and hers doesn’t either. it’s like you're destined to be perfectly matched or something.”

azzi’s jaw tightens. she stretches her legs out, not looking up.

“maybe it’s ‘cause y’all used to be besties, huh?” aaliyah jokes, nudging her with an elbow.

yeah, that one landed.

azzi sets her bottle down with a practiced calmness, standing up before looking back at her friend.

“i’m beating her tonight.”

aaliyah blinks, clearly caught off guard. “woah. okay. i mean-”

azzi is already on her feet, bouncing on her toes, like the bench is suffocating and the court is the only place she can breathe.

–

the score is tied.

the court is a beautiful blur of motion – sneakers on floor, the ball passed and swished through the net, half-formed plays and forced decisions. adrenaline pulses through every player, every coach yelling from the sidelines, every fan rising to their feet with phones pointed and mouths open.

the clock ticks down, and it feels like the oxygen was very quickly getting sucked out of the room.

6… 5…

paige’s eyes find her across the paint, just outside the arc. azzi’s calm, terrifyingly so. the ball already in her hands, chest rising in steady rhythm.

4…

paige surges forward. she knows azzi’s game like her own. she knows that flick of her wrist, the way her weight shifts ever so slightly before a drive. she taught her that footwork. she built her counters.

but azzi?

she knows paige too.

knows exactly what version paige stopped knowing.

she fakes right. paige bites.

3…

azzi pivots left, quick. too quick. her elbow brushes paige’s ribs on the spin.

2…

the separation is just enough. she pulls up. soft, clean release. picture perfect form.

1.

the buzzer sounds.

the net ripples.

swish.

game over.

–

azzi doesn’t celebrate. doesn’t scream, doesn’t even cheer.

she exhales, deep and slow, like a pressure on her chest was suddenly lifted. like it’s been there, sitting in her lungs since the jump ball.

her teammates erupt behind her. the bench floods the court. someone jumps on her back and nearly knocks her off her feet, but azzi doesn’t break stride as she walks away from the three-point line.

her eyes? already on paige.

–

paige turns away.

because fuck, she refuses to do it.

she refuses to let her see.

let her see what this meant to her.

hands on hips. mouth parted. heart pounding so loud she swears it drowns out the crowd. azzi’s shot replays on the jumbotron above her in slow motion. her own silhouette a step too late, hand raised but not high enough. it burns. worse than any loss she’s had this season. and she hates that she knows why. she knows what bothers her, what annoys the hell out of her.

it wasn’t stats, it wasn’t about the numbers, hell it wasn’t even about the fans.

it’s who made it and how damn calm she looked doing it.

azzi’s expression hasn’t changed. not even as she walks by her, just close enough that their shoulders brush.

they don’t speak.

don’t nod. don’t smile.

and it sears through paige’s chest.

[starspangledsteeve]

never done a single thing wrong in his life. ever.

[makethemhoesmad]

love you till my lungs give out

paige bueckers x reader

word count- 2k(lord)

notes: this fic was such a great write for me, as it focuses around eating disorders, which is something i’ve personally struggled with. i know this is a sensitive topic, so please, if this makes you uncomfortable, scroll away, or read at your own risk.

thanks to: literally the biggest thanks ever to @melpthatsme for dming me your idea and helping me work through it, i really could not have done this without you, so everyone thank them

also thanks to @imaginespazzi and @bueckersstrap for reacting to my random messages about this

—

the first time it happened, i barely realized i did it.

“paigey, my head hurts so bad right now. like, im gonna die right here,” i groan, hiding my face in the fabric of her hoodie, trying to lock out any stray amounts of light coming from the covered windows. she runs her hand through my hair, and starts to ever-so-gently massage my temples. i sigh in quiet relief, and then she tries to pull me up to lay on top of her.

“uh uh, paige, no,” i say. i try to shake my head at her, but a bolt of pain flies through me, forcing my head back down.

“jus’ tryna help you get comfy, ma,” she whispers, bundling me up in a blanket and pulling me back into her side. she moves her warm hands up and under my t-shirt, but i squirm about, complaining that they’re too cold, even though i’ve never felt anything more soft and warm, so she moves them back over my shirt. but i don’t notice it, not really. and neither does she.

the second time, i know what i did.

“so, what should we order to eat?” paige asks, scrolling on her phone for different options. 

“mm, what if i cooked here, for something different! i can make you a grilled cheese,” i joke, nudging her arm with my shoulder. “that’s all i know how to cook anyway.”

she giggles, standing up with me and following me to the kitchen. she hoists herself onto the counter, and watches me intently as i pull out the things for a sandwich. i grin at her, moving to step in between her legs and take her face in my hands. 

“you’re so cute,” i say, pressing a kiss to her nose. she hops off of the counter and follows me to the stove. paige is just too sweet to me sometimes. i’m cooking dinner for her, the least i can do, really, and she’s cozied up behind me, arms around my waist her hands are barely touching, she can barely fit them around me and her chin is resting softly on my shoulder. she’s pressing light pecks to whatever area she can reach, and i feel at peace, in the kitchen, for a few moments. then it stops.

“why aren’t you making one for yourself baby?” she asks, spinning me around to lean me against the countertop, forgetting her sandwich beside her.

“i’m feeling, um, nauseous,” i stutter, stumbling over the excuse. she lets me go, though she looks skeptical.

“cmon, just have a bite of mine then. baby, you really need to eat more, that’s probably why you haven’t been feeling very well lately.”

i allow her to feed me a small bite, then quickly use my fingers to silently add that to whatever else i ate today. i read somewhere that to lose weight, you need to burn more calories that you eat. tomorrow, i need to burn around 800. Well, 804 now. 

the third time, i think paige noticed something was up.

“ma, this is literally the fourth time you’ve said that you’re cold. just take my fucking hoodie, i’m actually begging you,” she pleads, taking it off and offering it up to me. i shake my head, again, and press myself further into her chest, rubbing my arms to try and make the goosebumps disappear. she pulls me into her, then moves her mouth to my ear.

“is everything okay baby? do you wanna go home?” she whispers, nuzzling my neck with her nose. i shrug, not wanting to make her leave if she wasn’t done chatting with people yet. she makes the decision for me, standing up and tugging me with her. her hand finds its way to the small of my back, and she guides me towards the door. i sway slightly as we stand, blood rushing to my head. i take it as my lack of protein, or anything really, catching up to me. she stops walking, lurching to grab me by both shoulders and bend to eye level with me.

“darling, i want you to be honest with me. what have you eaten today?” i shake my head, feeling my cheeks going red at the thought of her confronting me. i look down, trying to avoid eye contact with her as my eyes fill with tears. she wraps me up into a hug, planting a kiss to the top of my head. she pulls me to the car and helps me in, then climbs into her own door, but makes no move to turn the car on. instead she pulls out her phone and asks me “so, where do you wanna stop and pick up food on our way home?” 

“paige, i’m really not that hungry, just tired and need to be with you in bed for the night. can we please just go home?” 

she nods, but looks at me skeptically out of the corner of her eye. she must know that all i’ve eaten today is half an energy drink and a piece of gum. i’ll eat something with her tomorrow, i guess. we can go out to lunch together and then when she goes to the gym ill go on a run. then she’ll see that im okay.

the fourth time, or probably the fifth or sixth, really, i don’t notice it, so i don’t think she does either.

“cmere pretty,” paige mumbles, reaching her arms out to me from where she’s laying on the bed. i slowly move to lay next to her, but roll away when she tries to take my sweater off.

“hey, baby, what?” she whines, apparently frustrated by the lack of contact.

“i wanna leave it on, paigey,” i tell her, moving my hand into the waistband of her shorts.

“but i wanna see you, please baby,” i don’t like saying no to her, but this is one thing i very rarely back down on.

“uh uh, sorry. lemme taste you, though,” i respond, moving to tug her shorts down.

“nah, come and sit on my face, cutie.” she smirks at her own words, but i’m not laughing. i scramble off the bed, standing up to black spots in my vision. i stand still, squeezing my eyes shut to get rid of the feeling. i stay there for im not sure how long, when i feel strong arms loop around my shoulders and help me onto the bed. paige helps me lay down, placing my head in her lap, then starts to comb through my hair with her fingers. she doesn’t say anything, and i’m grateful for that. obviously, she just thinks im tired. she knows im okay.

this time, im sure she noticed. it would be hard not to.

i’ve just come home from a run to the gym, dripping in sweat. it’s part of my new routine. i jog a mile and a half to the gym, i walk on a stairmaster or inclined treadmill there, then run home. normally i leave when paige leaves for practice, and come home just as she’s getting home, if not a little before so i can shower before she gets here. today, i must’ve done a little too much, because by the time i walk in the door, my head is spinning. i walk into the kitchen, sitting down at the island and resting my head in my hands, trying to clear my vision. i don’t hear when the door opens.

“baby, are you okay?” i hear. i sit up quickly, startled, then put my head back down immediately, because my vision goes nearly dark again.

“mhm, just tired you know? just got back from a run.” 

“you’ve got to take a rest day sometimes, darling,” she coos, taking my face into her hands and pressing a kiss to my nose. i nod, knowing i won’t do it.

sometimes i don’t realize it, but she knows exactly what to do.

i’ve just finished cooking dinner, just some simple spaghetti and a salad. i place her bowl of noodles in front of her, then settle down with my salad. when i stand up to get a glass of water, then come back, i can’t help but notice she’s switched our bowls.

“paigey, could i, possibly, maybe, have my bowl back?” i ask, trying to seem lighthearted.

“oh, yeah, sure,” she answers, sliding it back towards me. but when i try to slide hers back, she stops me. 

“nah, you eat that too. seems like you forgot to serve yourself noodles, so ill go make myself a new bowl.” she stands up, but i scramble in front of the stove quicker, blocking her way. 

“why would you do that, when i made you a whole bowl? eat it,” i tell her, pointing back to the countertop. she lunges at me, lifting me easily and placing me on the countertop. why would she pick me up? she definitely thought i was too heavy. i bet she leaves after this. she drags her my bowl over, twirls a few noodles onto the fork, and begins to prod my mouth with it. 

“cmon honey, just a bite. it’s not like it’s poison, you literally just cooked it,” she presses. i start to shake my head, so she moves the fork and instead swoops in for a kiss. i return her advances eagerly. hoping it distracts her. she moves her head down, pressing open mouthed kisses to my neck, and my mouth falls open. i don’t realize she’s noticed that until she’s setting the forkful of food between my lips and lightly closing them.

“it’s one bite, ma. let’s get it eaten, then you can be done.” i chew, not really having the choice to run and spit it out. once i swallow, she beams at me.

“such a good girl, baby. i’m so proud of you.”

at some point, she wins

“come here now, baby,” paige demands, grasping me by the waist and yanking me in front of her. i’d been about to climb into the shower when she spotted me through the bathroom mirror, stripped down to nothing. she’d grabbed me, pulled me into my room, and positioned us in front of the full-length mirror to the side.

“you see how perfect you are? how pretty?” she mumbles into my ear. i let my eyes flutter shut as she snakes her hand down my body, stopping to circle her finger over my clit. a groan slips out from my lips, and she stops.

“alright, i want you to keep on looking right in the mirror, ma. want you to see how perfectly you take my fingers.” i writhe against her, trying to keep my eyes open and hold myself up at the same time. she plunges three fingers into me. i cry out, locking eyes with her in the mirror, she smirks, the same way she always does when drawing a climax from me. i go boneless. if she hadn’t been holding me so tightly, i would be on the floor.

“now can you see how amazing you are? you don’t gotta change anything about you, i’ll love you no matter what. you should stop listening to what others say, because people that love you, like me, want you, no matter what you look like. i, personally, think you’re perfect. i’ll love you till the day my lungs give out, and even then, i’ll use my last breath to say it again.”

after that, it happens less often. some days, i still forget to eat, and some days even looking at a scale makes me want to throw up. but paige is always there. she’s always there to hold me, or help me eat just a little bit, or to help me lay down and relax after i’ve panicked so hard ive puked into the toilet. one day, looking at her from across the couch, i realize that when she told me she’d love me no matter what, she was telling the truth.

[luvzpagie]

paige folding you like a pretzel 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨..

since paige has a advantage with being stronger and all sorts, she can easily manhandle you— don’t get me wrong she loves doing it.

especially when she’s deep inside you. her arms wrapped around your thighs pushing them back impossibly farther, the sounds of your sweet moans and pussy gushing motivated paige even more.

you always ended up with your arms above you and your legs almost behind your head. your whines got louder whenever she would slow her strokes, making them more sensual.

her free hand would wrap around your throat, sometimes tightening her grip slightly. her head dipping down to suck your hardened nipple.

as you got closer, paige’s thumb circled your bud. your body twitched at the sensation. your cunt ached for a release, she went deeper and harder as you leaked onto her strap and sheets. her hands still wrapped around your thighs.

note: i’m backkk after like two months lmao

[lalaluna20]

cuddles?

paige bueckers x reader fluff little drabble because idk what to write

you and paige have always been super cuddly and touchy. holding hands, hugging for at least a minute long, cuddling, kissing, etc, etc.

but that’s normal between best friends …right?

well, that’s the question that has been on paige’s mind all night.

i mean, she has other best friends. some nearly as close as you two. yet even the thought of cuddling them weirded her out. but the thought of you not cuddling her, well let’s just say the thought made her sick to her stomach.

she takes a deep breath, continuing to play with your hair. your ear aligned with her heart, your arms wrapped around her as hers are wrapped around your back.

surprisingly you haven’t commented on her deep breath or heart rate. making her look down.

she smiles realizing you finally fell asleep. she leans down pressing a kiss to your head before finally shutting her eyes and calling it a night. because at the end of the day you’re where you’re supposed to be. laying on top of her, cuddled up in her arms and hidden within her embrace.

the question that has been consuming her all night finally answered. no it’s not normal but what you guys have isn’t either. and she’s glad for that.

taglist: @ashortyluvsports, @pbno5, @sweetbcgs, @itsssports, @salemsuccss, @d1paigebueckersglazer, @laurenmcucm, @bueckersverse, @mariahthealchemist

[azzibuckets]

huh! how funny