#snippets with Azzy

[talesfromatabletop]

Reblogging for Azzy to find

A List of Headcanons

Azzy and I rp Supernatural sometimes. Here are some headcanons we usually employ! Any agreement/argument?

Dean and Benny, both being cooks, would totally fight over the kitchen - nobody would complain because it's delicious either way

Samandriel isn't just a Cas fanboy, he's THE Cas fanboy

Cas was put in charge of the Fledglings at some point and Samandriel was his favorite

Gabriel also was in charge of Fledglings at some point, but wasn't the best at watching them

At least one Fledgling fell into the primordial ooze on Gabriel's watch

He may or may not have thrown them into it in an attempt to teach them to fly

Kevin, repressed as he is, is probably actually really into everything? Mostly kink-wise, but also just getting into tons of research when he doesn't have to?

Dean wants a Big Family™ and will steal and raise any unattended babies/orphans he finds

Benny makes bomb beignets

Sam doesn't like talking about "Groundhog Day"

Dean doesn't like talking about that he liked being a torturer in Hell

Cas would trust Dean to hurt him, if Dean needed to lash out that way

So would Sam tbh

Balthazar left heaven when he realized Cas didn't love him back as anything more than a friend

Bobby would steal all of the Winchesters's kids...he would still somehow be surprised when one called him Grampa Bobby, though

Gabriel likes pointing out that SOOO many things are just "bread" - regular bread, flat bread, rice bread, sweet bread, etc

Lucifer is so confused and annoyed by Gabriel and bread that he starts throwing a fit when people start calling everything he eats "____ bread"

Kevin is the most caffeine-addicted member of the fam

Crowley is definitely their friend, but they all collectively play along when he denies liking them... like, at least 65% of the time

Sam and Cas jog together

[hearts4pbaz]

i know the poll i posted is currently leaning towards the pool fic, but i have the beginning of the covid fic typed up so do yall want a snippet?

[ineffable-hyperfixation]

"Th..this is *hic* all my fault"

"No...no Angel it's not...it's," Aziraphale sobbed again, "ok..ok why, how do you think this is your fault?"

Aziraphale worked on catching his breath, having a question to focus on did help, "if...if I'd just said no - stayed with you"

"And what would they have done to us then? Hmm? Think they wouldn't have killed or tortured me to get to you that much sooner?" Crowley wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a fresh wave of sobs and tears. He snuggled his Angel closer as Aziraphale managed to sob out

"If I wah...wasn't so sel *hic* selfish," he caught his breath enough to get out "so selfish, if I'd stayed away...but I couldn't...and I saw" he all but moaned the last word as he pulled back to look into Crowley's face, clutching his shirt, "I saw how much it hurt you! Every single time I pulled away. But my God...my God Crowley what else could I do?? They would've killed you! Forced you back to hell to keep us apart!? Something! But I couldn't stay away" the absolute anguish in his voice would've brought Crowley to his knees had he been standing, but as it was while Aziraphale buried his head into Crowley's chest, Crowley wrapped his arms tighter around him, ignoring his still sore wing, and huffed out a bitter laugh,

'We've wasted 6000 years, because I was trying not to push him, and he was desperately trying to do nothing at all....just to save me'

[casssmalefantasy]

OFF MUTE — PAIGE BUECKERS X READER!

| synopsis: you never thought your casual scroll on tiktok would land you on a live with kk arnold and paige bueckers. but a last-minute song request, a few suspicious smiles, and one dm later… you’re starting to think paige might’ve just found her new favorite singer.

| warnings: secondhand embarrassment, lots of flirting, suggestive banter, minor swearing, social media chaos, and hints of mutual pining

| word count: 3.2k / part two

you’ve been a uconn wbb fan for a minute now. it started out casual—just catching games on tv and watching clips on twitter—but it quickly turned into something deeper. the kind where you know their next five matchups, have favorite pregame fits saved on your phone, and would absolutely fake confidence if any of them ever looked your way in person.

you’ve already been to two home games this season, and yes, you may or may not have replayed that one clip of paige doing a no-look dime to azzi like thirty times.

so when you see kkarnold2 pop up in your tiktok live notifications, your fingers move before your brain even catches up.

you click in.

the screen loads, and there they are—kk and paige, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on what looks like paige’s bed, a mountain of snacks behind them and the sound of a basketball game from the tv playing in the background.

“we live. what’s up girly pops,” kk says immediately, grinning into the camera. she does a peace sign while sticking her tounge out, and paige snorts beside her.

“hey girly pops,” paige mimics, reaching for a gummy worm. “i sound just like camera, huh?.” she says while smirking.

“girl boo,” kk says. “you lucky i invited you. the people don’t come here for you.”

“bold lie,” paige says, looking directly into the camera now. “they definitely come for me. watch this—”

she leans in closer. “talent show.”

and just like that, the comments start exploding. people are begging to go live. some are typing “i can do a backflip on command” and others are already screaming “PAIGE I LOVE YOU” in all caps.

you laugh to yourself, just watching. you remember the last “talent show” live they did. someone tried to do a magic trick and exposed themselves accidentally. it was chaos.

kk starts accepting people randomly—one girl screams as soon as the camera flips, another guy attempts to rap, and two different girls sing a snippet of sza before fangirling too hard to finish.

you pause for a second. bite your lip. then… screw it. you hit the request button.

you don't actually expect anything, though.

“ooh hold up,” kk says, squinting. “this username kinda cute. should i let them in?”

paige leans over to look at her screen. “wait, show me the pfp.”

there’s a beat.

then paige goes quiet. really quiet.

so quiet you hear her say under her breath, “pretty.”

but the mic picks it up.

kk turns to look at her, then immediately starts grinning. “paige.”

before you can panic and back out, your screen changes.

you’re live.

with paige bueckers staring directly at you.

“yo!” kk cheers. “we got a new one. say what’s up!”

“h-hi,” you manage, trying not to sound like your heart’s doing jumping jacks. “uh… i wasn’t actually expecting to get in.”

“too late now,” paige says, smiling. “you’re here. what’s your talent?”

you blink. “uh… i sing.”

“yesss,” kk claps. “okay pick a song, we ready.”

“you pick,” you say, a little bolder now. “what do you want to hear?”

paige doesn’t even hesitate. “sza. sing ‘love language.’”

you raise an eyebrow. “is that your favorite or something?”

paige shrugs, but she’s smirking. “might be.”

you set your phone down, take a breath, and hit play on the instrumental in the background.

the second the first note drops, paige mouths the intro. then stops completely once you start singing.

you’re locked in now—soft, smooth vocals floating through the speaker. eyes half-closed. completely in your element.

the chat explodes.

@buckets4bueckers: WAIT SHE CAN ACTUALLY SING

@kkarnoldstan420: PAIGE LOOKING LIKE SHE'S IN LOVE RN

@d1gf4paige: this girl is fine AND talented??? bye.

@fuddnation: paige got her mouth open 😭

@bueckherdownbad: THE WAY PAIGE LOOKED AT HER??? I’M SWEATING

@paigesgfconfirmed: y’all this is the real draft night

@szaandslay: girl sang sza and stole paige’s heart on live… legend

@loveandlayups: paige better dm her RIGHT NOW

you keep going. full verse, chorus, little riff at the end.

when you finish, there’s a few seconds of silence.

then—

“oh my god,” kk says. “no cause you ate that.”

“like, actually,” paige says, still staring. “you’re insane.”

you glance at the chat. one comment catches your eye: “paige been smiling since she joined.”

paige reads it too. she covers her mouth, laughing. then leans out of frame and lightly punches kk in the arm.

“you see how they got me lookin right now?”

kk cackles. “you did it to yourself.”

“nah. don’t even start right now.” paige says

you’re blushing hard now. “okayyyy i think it’s time to pass the mic to someone else.”

paige frowns. “what? no, sing another.”

you shake your head, trying to keep it smooth. “wish i could, but i got homework. maybe next time.”

kk nods. “respect. education comes first. even if paige is heartbroken.”

“literally shut up,” paige says, half-laughing, half-hiding her face.

she suddenly turns to kk. “wait—mute the live real quick.”

kk gives her a look, but does it.

the screen goes silent for twenty seconds. they’re clearly talking. paige’s hands are moving a lot.

then the live un-mutes.

paige leans back into the camera. “thank you for joining. you’re seriously amazing.”

“come back next time!” kk adds. “we need some more.”

you smile. “will do. night y’all.”

the second you leave the live, your phone buzzes.

followed by: paigebueckers and kkarnold2

then—another notification.

dm from paigebueckers:

hey. you really killed that. we should talk more sometime.

and you sit there smiling, already typing your message back to her.

[azzifuddfanpage]

So the world knows🫶🏻

————

*this is not my story guys ‼️‼️

full credits to my amazing anon who actually cooked so I’m posting it since they can’t but ya hope u guys love this as much as I did

❣️ANON HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AS @wbbfann❣️

————

Author note

~A story told in past tense through small snippets of a fictional Pazzi World.

————-

The way Paige and Azzi announced their relationship was subtle and without much conversation. Paige knew that without a doubt, no matter how many seats she was given at her draft table, Azzi would be there. When she was announced as the #1 pick she stood, turned to her parents for a brief hug and then quickly found the arms of the one person who mattered most to her, Azzi. She latched on to her as Azzi whispered “I love you, P. I am so proud of you. This is your moment. Your deserve it.” Paige smiled and leaned up from the hug and placed her forehead gently on Azzi’s knowing they only had a second she said “I love you so much, this isn’t my moment without you right here.” She placed her hand briefly on Azzi’s cheek and Azzi smiled “I’m here, now go to the podium.” She chuckled and so did Paige, and then Paige walked up to the podium as the #1 draft pick.

Perhaps it was that moment that told the world, or perhaps it was later that night when Azzi posted on her social media pictures of them congratulating Paige, gushing over her, and then ending the post with “I love you the most.” Only for Paige to comment on it “you’re the love of my life for real, thank you Baby 💗.” It wasn’t a comment Paige ran by Azzi, but she didn’t need too. Without saying anything, even though the girls were sitting next to each other on a couch at the after party, Azzi replied back to it “always 😘💗”

To capitalize on what they already established tonight, Paige allowed her teammates to go live one more time at the draft after party. KK was talking to the live as she normally did, wrapping her arm around Paige and hyping her up about the night and telling all the fans to get a Wings Jersey and to buy some tickets. Paige just laughed at her friends. She read some comments “umm Paige and Azzi came out!” “Pazzi for life” and then “Paige where is your girlfriend?” Paige smiled before she said “where’s my girlfriend? She’s right here, “baby the live wants to see you.” KK’s grin spread from ear to ear and then she eventually got out of the frame and Azzi joined her. She looked at Paige and smiled then turned toward the camera, waiving, “hi live.” The comments went nuts. They came in so fast the couldn’t even read them. Azzi laughed “ok guys slow down let me look at some of these.” Azzi settled on a comment to read out loud “Paige and Azzi are in love 😭” Azzi giggled and looked at Paige and Paige raised an eyebrow Azzi leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder and looked at the camera “yeah we are.” The team behind them came into the frame then, jumping for joy and wrapping their arms around them. They all laughed and then Paige said “aight aight, bye live! I’ll see you in Dallas!” Paige dragged Azzi way from her teammates and let KK do whatever she was going to do. She found a corner, wrapped up Azzi in her arms and kissed her. She kissed her for a long time, until Brittany came up behind them. “Ahem, you may want to chill.” They pulled apart with laughter, Paige said “when have I ever been chill about Azzi.” Brittany laughed “true.”

When the girls would wake up the next morning ,in their hotel room, they’d see the internet going crazy over their deceleration of love. It didn’t bother them, they were ready for it.

They would also wake to many texts from friends and family, congratulating them, supporting them, and very thankful they didn’t have to evade weird questions from people about their relationship. John and Jose were the most grateful the pressure was now off of them having an accidental slip up.

~

Even though they had been together for essentially 7 years, defined or not, they had a lot of firsts. Like when Azzi showed up courtside to Paige’s first game wearing a jersey and Paige couldn’t stop staring at her. Yes, she had worn her jersey a couple of times.. but this time everyone knew that they belonged to each other. When the game was over and after acknowledgements to her team and the other team, Paige would walk straight to her girlfriend, and kiss her. Cameras around and all, Azzi would just smile and shake her head at her girlfriend. “Come with me to sign autographs.” P said immediately and Azzi followed suit as fans screamed for both Paige and Azzi. Azzi ended up signing everything Paige did and walked down the tunnel with her. In the post game media presser Paige would get her first taste of WNBA media personal who loved to ask all kinds of non basketball related questions. “Paige, we saw Azzi here tonight in your jersey, the affection you showed her at the end of the game, and then her walking down the tunnel with you. As I’m sure you know social media is already going crazy, I was just wondering if you had any comment on your relationship with your long time best friend.” Paige smiled “umm yeah, social media is what it is- but Azzi has always been there for me, I knew she’d be here today cheering me on and wearing my Jersey. I love her more than life and just really grateful to have her support.” Azzi would tell Paige later that she handled that question well, they didn’t want to ignore their relationship in the press but they also didn’t want it to be a focal point around everything they did.

~

Once the W season was over, Paige would get the chance to return her support as she would sit right behind the bench, in a #35 jersey cheering loudly for Azzi and the UConn Huskies. When the game was over and they had won, Paige would walk on the court hugging her former teammates and wrapping up her girlfriend in the biggest bear hug. She wouldn’t kiss her, only because CD would ban her from the court, but she did let hands linger just a bit on her hug.

~

In April, when it would be Azzi waiting to be drafted, Paige would sit at the table along with the Fudds and when Azzi was selected #2, one behind Lauren Betts, Azzi would take her last hug at the table from Paige, and then lightly kiss her lips before heading to the podium. Paige would stand the entire time, watching her being interviewed and smiling as big as she could.

~

When Paige and Azzi would meet each other for the first time on opposing squads, they wore matching shoes. Paige walked up to Azzi who entered on the court before tip off with the rest of the starting 5 for her squad. They had decided they’d go back to their roots when they would see each other on the court, so they brought their hands together and did their familiar USA basketball handshake as the cameras watched. The crowd at Dallas erupted, and the girls laughed. “Good luck baby” Paige said. Azzi winked “I don’t need luck, I’ll see your ass once this is over.” Paige laughed “like my naked ass?” “Yep” Azzi said over her shoulder, as she walked to join her team. Paige just smiled after her, laughing, and then dapped up Arike to get in game mode.

That evening the girls would lock themselves away from the world, relishing in the short time they had together. They knew this was their new normal and they were ok with that. It didn’t matter they would now have more days apart than together.. because the days together were worth every single one they spent apart.

[fuddaroundandgetbueckets]

Told ya it was gonna be worth it :) Sad at first then gets better swear. Sidenote: should I do one shot requests? Seems kind of fun

Part 10 - All Roads Led Here

Summer – 2022

Paige and Azzi’s summer flew by in a blink. They visited one another, spent time with family, travelled to see their former teammates compete at the professional level, and practiced. A lot.

The sting of the National Championship loss buzzed through Paige’s brain like a gnat. It had humbled her, and also sparked a fire in her she didn’t know existed. She wanted to win. She needed to win.

She was going into her junior year at UConn and was now considered an official leader of the team. Quietly, her mindset shifted; she felt more serious, more locked in, more passionate about basketball than ever before in her life.

Azzi understood. When Paige asked her to shoot around at 11pm at Azzi’s grandparents lake house, she just smiled and told her, “You’re driving.”

When Paige had called her at 2am to dissect a new snippet of the championship game film she hadn’t noticed before, Azzi said groggily, “Talk me through it.”

And when Paige was having an off day practicing together, something Paige felt she couldn’t afford, Azzi gripped her by the shoulder and said exactly what she needed to hear to perform: “Show me you can beat me.”

Paige was grateful for Azzi in ways she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to articulate. She tried anyway.

The pair were back in Storrs now; practice would begin soon, and Paige had spent the day helping Azzi move into her apartment. The late July heat combined with summer winds felt blissful on their skin. The sky glowed a soft orange, and campus felt quiet apart from the inconsistent chirping of birds and rustle of grass. They walked languidly on the sidewalk with no destination, ice cream cups in hands.

“Dude, that’s not even true,” Azzi laughed, her hands coming up animatedly, “I’m literally Jon’s sister, he does not think you’re a better shooter than me.”

Paige gave her a smirk and stared ahead, “It’s true, he told me that day in Minne when you kept missing your shots.” Of course, she was lying through her teeth. She knew Azzi knew.

Azzi snickered, her mouth partially full of ice cream, “That is just false.” She swallowed, quickly putting another scoop in her mouth. “Besides, I was not missing my shots that day. And I had new shoes on.”

Paige just stared at her, eyebrows raised. Azzi shoved her in the shoulder with a pout, “Leave me alone.” Paige laughed as she narrowly avoided falling in a nearby bush, catching up to Azzi who walked ahead of her.

“Alright, alright, I’ll chill,” she said, raising her hands up in defense. As they fell into a comfortable silence, Paige found herself clearing her throat.

“Been wanting to say something,” she started, her eyes suddenly preoccupied with the Funfetti ice cream in her hand. “I really appreciate all the support you’ve been giving me this summer. Like, with hoops and stuff. I know I’ve prolly been a little crazy about it, so just wanted to say thanks.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, spoon in her mouth. “Yeah, I guess you have been kind of crazy this summer.”

Paige clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, nudging her shoulder against Azzi’s. “C’mon, don’t think it was that bad.”

“I know at least 15 different times you called me past 1am to go over film.”

“Yo, whatever.” Paige felt the tips of her ears grow pink.

“Not complaining,” Azzi said simply, shrugging. “I want to win too. And never eat brussels sprouts again.” They both chuckled at that.

“But for real,” Azzi continued, softer, “You know I got you. You and me, forever.”

Paige looked at her then and felt her arm reach across Azzi’s shoulders on their own accord. Her fingers slightly brushing the side of Azzi’s neck. They stopped walking and stared at one another, Azzi’s right dimple on display and she smiled gently up at Paige. Paige felt the familiar warmth in her chest and stomach at staring at the most beautiful girl in the world.

“You and me, forever,” Paige agreed.

-------------

On the first day of August, everything changed.

Paige and Azzi were playing a pickup game with their teammates, the feeling on the court jovial and carefree. Paige laughed as she ran down the court backwards, the swoosh of the net as her three-pointer hit like music to her ears. She turned to face forward, except she didn’t.

The tip of her foot hit the glossy hardwood in a strange way, causing her to fall on her left knee. She heard the pop before she felt the pain, and she fell to the ground on side, crying out.

“Paige!” she heard her friends cry out, rushing towards her. She couldn’t make out who was in front of her from the tears streaming down her face, the searing pain in her leg pulsing like a heartbeat.

“I –” She choked out. She couldn’t form thoughts; she didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

“I got her,” she heard someone say above her, and suddenly she was being carried off the court.

“I just –” she tried again. She couldn’t stop crying, the saltiness of her tears trickling into her mouth. The pain in her knee so intense, it was starting to numb her body. She barely registered herself being carried through the physical training hallway and gently laid down on one of the tables. Suddenly, the cold lights above her were too bright, and her breathing felt ragged. She covered her eyes with her forearm.

“Please, no,” she cried into her arm. She shook slightly, her cries coming out silently as she heaved. “God, please.”

She felt arms squeeze her shoulders, unmoving. She smelled Azzi’s lavender shampoo and knew it was her. Azzi’s fingers dug into her shoulder, as if she were latching on and planned on never letting go. She stayed quiet, rocking them back and forth, her face buried in Paige’s neck. There was nothing she could say, she understood how Paige felt. She had been there.

It was confirmed later that day Paige had torn her ACL. She was out for the rest of the year.

--

Paige’s parents flew in the evening of her injury. Had it been different circumstances, Paige would be dumbfounded to see her parents willingly in the same room together for the first time in months. Paige couldn’t feel anything though.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she used the bathroom the day of her scheduled surgery at UConn Health. Her cheeks had hollowed; her under-eyes were a cool-toned grey, standing out as her skin looked paler than usual coming off the summer. She looked half-dead.

Paige did feel something in this moment, actually – anger. She was doing something as monotonous as using the bathroom, which was now suddenly hard to do with her crutches in the way and the inability to bend her left leg. She wanted to rip the paper towel dispenser off the wall that wouldn’t feed out to her, even after waving her right hand wildly in front of it. She wiped her hands aggressively on the front of her shorts, wanting to burn those too.

Back in the lobby, she saw her family and Azzi waiting for her. Her younger siblings – Ryan, Lauren, and Drew – pointed and laughed softly at something on Azzi’s phone. Her parents spoke in hushed tones in the corner of the lobby. Her mother’s stance was defensive, her arms crossed; her dad had his hands in front pockets, looking tired. Paige’s jaw clenched at the sight.

Had it been under any other circumstance, she would have been happy that so many people she loved were in the same room for her, ready to support her. Instead, she felt a dull ache of guilt. Guilt for her causing her family stress, guilt for thinking of herself more in the last few days than probably her entire life, guilt for feeling weak.

She let her crutches drag slightly, creating a slight squeaking nose across the floor. She plastered on a small smile as her family’s heads snapped up toward her. Azzi’s neck stayed bent however, not turning towards her. Paige let out a genuine soft smile at that – she could’ve guessed that Azzi would be the only one to know not to give her a pitying grimace. Paige watched as she approached, and Azzi gently whispered to Drew to let his sister sit down.

After Drew obliged, Paige dropped down next to Azzi with a grunt, her left leg jutting out in front of her. She rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and tilted her head back with her eyes landing on the TV hanging from the ceiling. It was playing reruns of Seinfeld.

Paige felt Azzi slide her fingers into the crook of her elbow, resting there. Paige let out a sigh as she instantly felt grounded.

“Paige?” She heard her brother Drew say.

She tilted her head toward him, offering a small smile. “Hey, man.”

He played with the purple ribbons tied to her crutches (Azzi’s touch). “Can I hug you?”

Paige felt a lump in her throat, and without thought, scooped her little brother up in her arms. He instantly wrapped his small arms around her neck and dangled his legs over the arm of the chair. She squeezed him gently, letting her eyes close. She felt Azzi’s hand rubbing on her back.

Paige opened her eyes and looked at Azzi over her brother’s head. Azzi was staring at the two of them, her elbow on her knee and hand on her cheek, soft smile on her face.

“C’mere,” Paige said.

Azzi slipped one arm through Paige’s, the other coming across Drew’s body. Her head fell on Paige’s shoulder, and she closed her eyes. Lauren and Ryan flocked to them next, Ryan resting his chin on Paige’s head, his arm crossing across her collar from behind. Lauren looping her arm on Paige’s side not occupied with Azzi, her head falling on her shoulder.

Paige let out a breath and closed her eyes. She let her cheek rest of the top of Azzi’s head. For the first time in days, her heart settled, and her mind went blank.

She prayed silently, asking for strength. For her; for them.  

------------------

A few weeks later, Paige stared at Azzi with a quirked brow as she stood in Paige’s doorway with a bag the size of her torso.

“What is that?” Paige asked suspiciously, attempting to use her height over Azzi to peer down into the bag.

Azzi tugged the bag closer to her chest, pointing her finger in Paige’s chest. “Back.”

Paige lifted her hands in surrender, giving her a lopsided smile. Before she could ask anything further, Azzi pushed past her and into her room, effectively dislocating the crutch that was comfortably resting under Paige’s armpit. Paige braced herself against the wall, hopping on her good leg.

“Yo, I’m crippled here!” She laughed, slightly in disbelief. “Tryna put me on my ass, get the other knee torn up?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, “You’ll live.”

Paige chuckled lightly, carefully scooping her crutch off the ground. When she looked up, she caught Azzi’s eyes bounce everywhere but her. Azzi was nervous. When Azzi was like this, Paige knew to approach her like a docile deer, or she might scurry away – literally.

So, Paige approached the edge of her bed carefully, sitting down and looking up at Azzi with sincere eyes. “Wanna tell me what’s in the bag?” She asked slowly. Azzi, still clutching the bag to her chest, had eyes that told Paige no. Paige leaned her palms back, looking at her expectantly.

Azzi let out a small sigh and aggressively shoved the bag in Paige’s lap, eliciting a short laugh to leave her lips.

“Before you open it, it’s like really sentimental and mushy,” Azzi warned her, “And you can’t make fun of me, or I’ll leave.” Paige tilted her head and gave her a look that said really?, before shaking her head.

Slowly, Paige opened the bag and peered inside. Her mouth dropped open. Azzi fidgeted above her, scratching her socked foot against her ankle.

Paige pulled out the following contents: a tub of Sweet Martin’s chocolate chip cookies, Mouse Trap cheese curds, a platter of funnel cake, one of Azzi’s favorite purple plushies, and the photobooth pictures from last summer in a thin vertical black frame. She laid them out delicately across her bed, letting her fingers drag across each item. When she looked back up at Azzi, Azzi’s eyes stared back with an earnest sincerity.

“Since you couldn’t go to the fair this year, thought I’d bring it to you.”

If Paige’s heart could jump out of her chest, it would. The Minnesota State Fair had been a tradition for majority of her life, and recently together with Azzi. Missing it this year added to the list of disappointments and frustration she had dealt with. She hadn’t even disclosed her sadness in missing it with Azzi – she had just known. Because who else would know, but her. Who else knew her like her.

Her heart thudded loud in her ears, and suddenly she was brought back to a few months ago where the mere sight of Azzi had her lost for words. I’m never getting over her, she thought, Don’t want to anyway.

“Az,” Paige said as she extended her arm to reach out to Azzi, pulling her toward her. She hugged her stomach tightly, letting her head fall to her chest as Azzi stood between her legs. Azzi wrapped her arms around her neck, settling her chin on top of Paige’s head.

“Dunno how I got so lucky to know you,” Paige muffled quietly into Azzi’s shirt.

She could hear the smile in Azzi’s voice as she replied, “You’re a corndog.”

Paige shrugged, pushing her nose deeper into Azzi’s shirt. “Don’t care.”

“Me neither.”

Azzi pulled away, gripping the tops of Paige’s shoulders and shaking her back and forth. “Should we eat until we can’t move and watch Lebron highlights?”

Paige smiled the widest she had in weeks. “Duh.”

Hours later, Azzi had slipped on her favorite shirt and boxers of Paige’s and helped Paige get her leg settled for bed. After stuffing a few pillows underneath to keep her knee elevated, Azzi slid into bed next to her with a soft sigh. Paige stared at her with her arm behind her head, the smile from earlier having yet to leave her face. Azzi looped her arm through Paige’s that rested at her side and let her cheek fall on her bicep.

“How are you?” she asked gently.

Paige’s smile got a little smaller, but stayed on her face, nonetheless. “Happy, now.”

She thought she imagined, it she could have sworn Azzi’s cheeks heated at her words. “And before?” Azzi asked.

Paige waited a second to reply, wanting to be thoughtful. “It hasn’t been easy,” she started, “I think the hardest part has been that I just have to watch from the sidelines. Like I so wish I could be out there, helping you guys this season.”

Azzi tugged at her arm and tsked. “You are helping. You help with your loud ass cheering us on and with you supporting us no matter what. And you especially help us when you focus on yourself and getting healthy again.”

Paige lifted her lips to one side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Paige was quiet for a moment before saying, “I think I was the saddest when I remembered what you went through a few years ago, and I couldn’t believe you felt the way I do now. The pain, the fear, all of it. I was so mad for you – for us.” Paige took a breath. “I just never want you to feel this way again.”

Azzi blinked at her; her mouth parted in shock at her words. Paige nudged her with her shoulder, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“That was really sweet, Paige,” Azzi’s voice came out quiet and tender.

“Yeah well,” Paige said, feeling flushed, “You mean a lot to me.” Her arm that Azzi held was starting to buzz and feel slightly on fire. She pulled her arm away, leaning over her nightstand to turn her lamp off. Seconds later, they lay in darkness.

Paige peered over at Azzi, who was already looking back at her. Her face was illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamps outside her bedroom window, as her blinds weren’t able to close all the way. Paige thought that even like this, she looked ethereal.

“You mean a lot to me, too,” Azzi whispered. Paige felt Azzi’s fingertips travel down her arm, resting gently on her forearm. “I think you always have.”

Paige thought her skin was catching on fire, the way she tingled all over at her words and her light touch. She had to lighten the mood quickly before she combusted and had to sleep on the couch. Flipping on her forearm, she turned to Azzi and faked a smirk, “Even back in high school, when I annoyed the crap out of you in AAU?”

Azzi laughed genuinely, her smile wide as she looked up at Paige. “I think especially then.”

Paige smiled down at her. “Oh, yeah?”

Azzi reached up and traced the outline of Paige’s shirt collar, her smile cemented on her face at this point. “Yeah, you grew on me pretty quick,” she paused before continuing, “Like a fungus.”

“Wowwwwwwwwwww,” Paige thought her face might split in two from smiling. Azzi giggled, dimples on full display, her eyes half closed, and God – all she could think was kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

In this moment, she realized how close their faces had gotten. Azzi must’ve realized too, as she stopped laughing and stared wordlessly at Paige, her eyes bouncing across her face. Paige couldn’t get herself to pull away, she felt locked in place, gripping the sheets near her elbow. Their breaths felt in sync as they watched one another; their eyes blinking in unison.

Spell it out for me, Az, Paige thought.

But Azzi didn’t, in true Azzi fashion. She just stared up at her, breathing shallow, and tracing her pointing finger along Paige’s collarbone.

Fuck it.

“Az,” Paige’s lips barely moved.

Azzi’s eyes darted from her lips and then her eyes. “What?” She said quietly, her breath fanning Paige’s upper lip from being so close. The tips of their noses brushed.

“Can I kiss you?”

Azzi stared at her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Paige could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Then Azzi gave a singular, small nod. “Yeah,” she whispered.

Paige blinked at her.

Move, the voice in her head said.

Slowly, she inched closer. With slightly shaky hands, she rubbed a thumb over Azzi’s jaw. Azzi stared at her like she was scared to look away, like she was scared this wasn’t real.

Before she psyched herself out, Paige leaned down. She brushed her lips lightly against Azzi’s, as if she was glass that would break in her hand. At the contact, Azzi let out a shuddering breath, and Paige felt butterflies erupt from the tips of her toes to her ears. With her entire body humming, she traced her thumb to behind Azzi’s ear, rubbing gently at her hairline. Azzi met her halfway this time as she slotted her mouth against hers, trying to memorize the shape of it. They kissed slow, tenderly, lazily. They kissed like they were treading water, unsure if they would ever experience this again, but knowing they would at the same time. Because how often do you kiss your best friend that you’ve been falling in love with for years?

Azzi slid both hands slowly through Paige’s hair, letting her fingers get tangled as she gently scratched her scalp. When Paige felt Azzi poke her bottom lip with her tongue, inviting her in, Paige felt her eyes roll to the back of her head.

Unhurriedly, their tongues met. Their mouths moved with a slow and sensual rhythm, and Paige dragged her fingertips over Azzi’s exposed collar bone.

Everything was perfect; the room was quiet apart from the sounds of their lips moving and the rustle of sheets as their hands roamed over each other in tandem. Paige had kissed before but never lips as soft or as plump as Azzi’s. Her skin, God, her skin. It felt smoother now than anytime she had ever touched it before.

And then, Azzi pulled her bottom lip in her mouth, sucking gently before nipping it. Paige grunted and her lips chased Azzi’s, her body twisting to get closer and kiss her harder –

“Ow.”

Paige felt a twinge of pain in her elevated left leg. She settled back down on her forearms, breathing heavy. She turned to Azzi, who looked positively wrecked staring at her with the back of her hand on her forehead and her other hand resting on her chest. She breathed raggedly, and her lips looked swollen. Paige could imagine hers looked the same. They grinned at each other.

“We should do that more often.”

Azzi laughed breathily, “Yeah, we should.”

[velarisnightsky444]

Accepting the Bond*

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister!OC

AN: This is a snippet from my Stargirl fanfiction. OC is Rhysand's sister, and she's accepting the mating bond with Azriel.

CW: Fingering, oral, intercourse, brief allusion to past SA(not super obvious if you haven't read the fic)

Word Count: 2.3k

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

    Rhys got everybody out of the house early the next day, and I got to work on dinner. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and roasted carrots, plus a nice dessert of chocolate torte. It was the first real meal he had ever had. The first meal my mother had made for him when he came to live with us.

     Through the years, he would ask for it on every birthday. My mother and I would make it together.

       When I had finished cooking and baking the dessert, I set it all out on the table. I lit a few candles, and put a vase of flowers in the center.

     I took a deep breath, studying my work, then sent the okay to my brother's mind. Nerves settled in my stomach.

     I was wearing a cobalt blue dress, one that sparkled in the light. The bodice was tight to my skin, and the sleeves were sheer and loose. The skirt was loose, but didn't poof out too far. There was a slit in the skirt up my thigh. Underneath, I was wearing a blue set of lingerie that Mor had gone shopping for with me.

     After a few moments, the door opened. He must have winnowed to get here so fast. I took a grounding breath, trying to calm my heart rate.

      When he entered the room, I could feel the string in my chest go taut. He looked more handsome than I'd ever seen him. His curls were tamed, but still perfect. And his eyes . . . I'd always loved those hazel eyes. He wore a lovely suit, which made me think Rhys had instructed him to dress nicely. That likely gave me away. His shadows clung to him, but a few swirled over to me. 

"Hi, Azzy," I greeted quietly, a soft smile on my face.

"You . . . you look . . . " he was at a loss of words as he took me in, his eyes looking me up and down, then studying my face. "Breathtaking." The word was barely a whisper. A blush tinted my cheeks.

"Thank you," I uttered. "You look quite handsome, yourself." He glanced down at the table, looking at the food.

"Does this mean--"

"I accept the bond," I cut him off. "Yes."

      An expression of disbelief twisted his features for only a second, before tears began welling in his hazel eyes.

      He rushed towards me, and I could only laugh as he scooped me up and spun me around. I clutched onto him, squeezing him tight. When he set me back on the ground, I planted a kiss on his lips. He held my face in his hands, kissing me back. 

     When he pulled away, he got to his knees in front of me, hands gripping the backs of my thighs. I reached out, running my hand through his curls, and wiping his tears with the other.

"Evie, I swear I will never lie to you again. And I will never, ever, keep anything from you," he promised me. "And I swear to protect and love you for the rest of our lives. I will never let anyone lay a violent hand on you ever again."

     The thought of being protected and loved by him, forever, made my heart leap in my chest. To be with someone that I trusted--that I loved. It seemed too good to be true.

      Tears began to sprout in my own eyes as I stared down at my beautiful mate. He got to his feet, and held me close, kissing the tears away from my eyes. His shadows twisted around me, doting on me in excitement.

"Shall we eat?" I asked him. He nodded, smiling as he sat down at the table.

      I took his plate and shoveled some food onto it, then filled a glass of wine for him. I set it in front of him and sat across from him, serving myself next.

      The two of us ate in a comfortable silence, one of his hands reaching across the table to rest on top of mine. We seemed to be eating fast so that we could get upstairs sooner than later.

      But we ate dessert, nonetheless. The chocolate torte I made was absolutely delicious, if I did say so myself. It reminded me of my mother's. Though, I had followed her recipe.

      When we were done, I got to my feet and sat myself onto his lap, kissing him again. His tongue slipped into my mouth, massaging my own. One of his hands traveled down to grope my breast, and I moaned into his mouth.

      I whined as he pulled away, brushing my hair out of my face. I had wanted him for a very long time, but right now, it felt as though I needed him. If I didn't have him right now, I would die.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested.

     I nodded eagerly, squealing as he got to his feet with me still in his arms, carrying me bridal style. I wrapped my wings tight around myself as he carried me up the stairs.

      He dropped me onto his silk, deep blue sheets, and climbed on top of me, his lips finding my neck. I moaned, my hands intertwining with his curls as he sucked, bit, and kissed up the tender skin. His shadows settled around me, stroking different parts of my body.

"I love you so much," I whimpered as he absolutely ravaged me. He pulled back, hovering above me, his eyes meeting mine.

"I love you, too," he whispered. "My beautiful mate." His lips met mine again.

      I began clawing at his shirt, trying to undo the buttons around his wings, but struggling. Eventually, I huffed in frustration against his lips, and used my magic to make his shirt disappear. His hand began trailing up the inside of my thigh, and I gasped, my back arching.

       I sat up so he could unzip the back of my dress. I lifted my hips so that he could pull it off of me, leaving me in the lingerie set that I had bought. His pupils were blown from arousal as he took me in.

"You look so gorgeous in my color," he grunted, eyes trailing up and down my body.

"Is this your color?" I teased with a smirk. "I just bought it because I thought it was pretty."

     He snarled, clearly not in the mood for my taunts, and yanked the bra of the set off to reveal my breasts. His finger circled my nipple, making my back arch off of the bed as I whined.

"No whining," he reminded me. He'd always hated my whining, even when we were kids.

     He leaned down, his lips closing around the nipple. I gasped as he licked and sucked at it, his hand groping and kneading my other breast. A few shadows whirled around the delicate skin.

"Az," I sighed in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut. He glanced up at me, a smirk on his lips. His hand trailed down my side, resting on my hip. I bucked my hips desperately, letting him know exactly where I wanted him.

"Use your words, my love," he instructed.

"Please touch me, Az," I begged, my words a hushed whisper.

"Good girl," he praised, the words sparking more arousal through me. He smirked as he sensed it. "You like being praised?" I nodded, whimpering as he began circling my nipple again. "I'll remember that."

      His scarred finger began trailing up and down my core, over the lingerie. I gasped, throwing my head back at the sensation. I couldn't remember the last time I had been touched like that--so delicately.

       He carefully pulled the lingerie down, lifting my hips to get it off of me. When I was left bare beneath him, he took a few seconds to take me in.

"So perfect," he uttered, causing a blush to stain my cheek.

       He swiped a finger over my clit, making an indelicate moan fall from my lips. I would've been embarrassed had he not been causing me so much pleasure. He pressed down with the perfect amount of pressure, circling it with his thumb.

"So good, Az," I mewled, bucking my hips. He held them down with his other hand. "Want them inside, please."

"Whatever you want, baby," he agreed.

     His fingers swirled around my entrance. He sunk two fingers inside me and I gasped, grinding my hips. They felt so different than any other fingers I'd had inside of me. The texture from his scars made the sensation so much more pleasurable.

"Gods, Az," I moaned, clutching onto him. "Your scars feel so fucking good."

      He blushed, and I almost felt shame for letting the words slip out, but a shy smile settled on his face.

      He leaned down, licking a stripe up my core as his fingers continued drilling into me. I cried out, my hands gripping his hair and pushing his face closer. His lips locked around my clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure.

"Oh, Az, keep doing that," I begged, grinding against his face and hands.

        I was getting close, and he could sense it. He began sucking just a bit harder, his fingers moving faster.

       I let out a cry as I got right to the edge, then fell over as his fingers angled themselves perfectly. My moans were loud, and undignified as I climaxed on his fingers and mouth.

      He kept sucking my clit and fucking me with his fingers until I was shuddering from overstimulation.

      Then, he pulled away and crawled up to kiss me again. I could taste my release on his lips and tongue. I began to grope the bulge in his pants, desperate for him to be inside of me. He started to unbuckle his belt, and when he was done, I had no patience left. It felt as though he was taking them off slowly on purpose.

     I waved a hand, and his pants were gone, just as I had done with his shirt. I nearly moaned at the sight in front of me. His body was beyond perfect. And his cock . . . I wasn't even sure if it would fit inside me.

"Az . . . " I said nervously.

"If it's too much, we'll take it slow," he promised me, stroking my cheek.

       I pursed my lips and flipped us over so that I was on top. It seemed as though he was about to protest, so I put a finger to his lips.

"Trust me," I begged him. He sighed, but nodded and laid back.

       I smiled and lowered my mouth to him. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stand having him in my mouth. Not after what had been done to me.

       Instead, I licked up the underside of his shaft, my tongue trailing over the veins. He moaned and bit his lip. I felt a wave of excitement at how sensitive he was. I swirled my tongue over his tip, smearing the precum that had began to collect on it.

       When I felt comfortable, I lifted my head and took a deep breath. I straddled his waist and carefully lowered myself onto his cock. I gasped, slowly filling myself more.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on my hips.

       I nodded, biting my lip. I let out a moan as I finally sat down completely. He let out a hard breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Having him in me hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain. One that I knew I would crave everyday for the rest of my life.

"I'm fine," I uttered as I began grinding on him.

       He groaned, his grip on my hips tightening. Elio had never let me on top--he'd always stated that the male should be in control. So I wasn't quite sure what I was doing.

       But Az's hands on my hips helped guide me, helped encourage me. I rested my hands on his chest, running them over his muscles.

       His shadows settled on my breasts, playing with my nipples as I sighed in pleasure. One began swirling around my neck, focusing just below my ear.

       I braced my hands on his chest as I began riding him harder, causing a sweet whimper to fall from his lips. I smirked down at him. 

       His eyes were locked on mine, his thumbs stroking my hips. I whimpered as I got close to the edge again, and he could sense it from the way I clenched around him.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he asked me.

"No, please don't," I begged, throwing my head back as I nearly came undone.

"We'll cum together," he decided. I nodded.

      One of his hands left my hips, and his finger began circling my clit again. That was the last thing I needed to fall over that edge, just as he spilled inside of me.

       Our moans filled the room as we both climaxed, his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed. I grinded against him a few times to draw out our orgasms, until we had wrung all the pleasure from each other.

      I collapsed on top of him from utter exhaustion, and he wrapped his arms around me, under my wings, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Do you want to bathe?" he asked.

"Too tired," I mumbled.

"Okay," he whispered, rolling me off of him.

       I protested as he got out of the bed and made his way to our bathroom. But he came back with a washcloth. He washed our combined releases from my thighs with the warm, wet towel.

       When he was done cleaning me up, he put the towel away and climbed back into bed with me.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. I nodded, humming contently. "Good." He pressed kisses to my face, then one to my lips.

       He pulled me into his warm arms, the two of us still naked. I decided this would be a lovely way to fall asleep, every night for the rest of my life.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @panther-girl-124 @tangled-sun @hawke1917

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking

Comment to be added to the Azriel and General Taglists!

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[izzih22]

yes give us a little snippet

Alr this is the smutish one that’s kinda good the other one is shit like BAD.

And Paige could see it now under the sharp edge of stress in her eyes, there was fear. Real fear. Not of failing the test, but of letting herself down. Letting others down.

"Come here," Paige murmured, opening her arms.

Azzi hesitated again. "But we haven't—"

"Azzi." Paige's voice dropped, not harsh, but firm.

"You don't need another flashcard. You need to breathe."

[shorelinessightlines]

- pazzi high school exes to lovers au snippet -

“It’s been a long time,” Azzi concedes. She fiddles with her pen, hoping Paige can just hurry it up and order so Azzi can get back in the kitchen and tell Geno she’s going to quit.

Paige smiles when she says, “Yeah, it has.” It’s that same conceited, self-important smile that she used to plaster all over her face when they were in high school and Paige won something important, which was often. It’s the same smile Paige gave her in the locker rooms after gym, both of them sweating from exertion and. Something else. 

Azzi kind of wants to strangle her. She suspects, though, that a death in the diner would be bad for business, and Azzi is struggling enough to stay afloat as it is.

“You ready to order?” Azzi prompts, rocking onto her heels, and then back on her toes. The longer she stands here, the more humiliating it gets—Paige sits primly in her fitted suit and polished loafers, while Azzi is stuck working minimum wage in the most ridiculous, cheap diner get-up in existence. They must look like the cover of a bad Netflix romcom, one that nobody watches unless they’re fresh off being dumped over the phone.

Paige takes her sweet fucking time examining the menu, feigning interest at every little thing. She oohs and aahs over fucking waffles, pointing at random items and asking if they’re gluten free, which is made extra-annoying by the fact that Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have a damn gluten allergy. Her eye twitches.

“Paige,” she interrupts once Paige has moved onto loudly pondering the drink options. “I have other customers to attend to. So if you wouldn’t mind hurrying it up.”

Paige looks around at the obviously-empty diner. Nevertheless, she says, “I’ll have the classic pancakes.”

Azzi pretends she’s writing it down in her notebook and asks, as politely as she can manage, “Anything else?”

Paige snaps the menu shut. “Nope.” She pops the p, because of course she does.

Azzi’s cheeks hurt from holding her smile. Her teeth ache, too, from being clenched together too hard for too long. She grits out, “Excellent,” and, remarkably, returns to the kitchen without screaming even once.

[princessazzi]

all these things azzi is working on and we still haven't gotten a single one. just snippets but never the whole thing. 😭💔

[a8arkives]

i saw one — heavy on the one — snippet of azzi fudd in that workout video and FOLDED on the spot, like look at her and the material! 🥹😭 the hair, that face, just.. her 😭 it should be illegal to look this fucking fine while simply existing

(uconn media team, count your days)

[hearts4pbaz]

The Eras of a Dream

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Words: 5k

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Before the roar of the crowd, there were pivotal moments of self-discovery, defining relationships, and relentless dedication that paved the way into an extraordinary future for Paige Bueckers.

Notes: this is unlike anything ive ever written before so idk if it's any good or if i'll write anything like it again but hope you enjoy

Era 1: The Hopkins Spark 

The Minnesota air, crisp even in summer, carried the rhythmic thud of a basketball long before Paige Bueckers truly understood its siren call. In Hopkins, a suburb that hummed with the quiet energy of family life, five-year-old Paige was a blur of motion. Raised by her single father, Bob, their small world was built on routine, laughter, and an unspoken understanding that they were a team. Bob, a man whose own athletic days were fond memories, juggled work and fatherhood with a steady, loving hand. He was the fixed point in Paige’s universe, the one who made a scraped knee feel like a minor inconvenience and a good day at kindergarten feel like a triumph.

It wasn't any single moment that marked Paige as different, but a collection of small observations. On the playground, while other children her age were still mastering the art of not tripping over their own feet, Paige moved with an uncanny grace. She could outrun, out-jump, and out-maneuver most, her small frame surprisingly agile. Bob noticed it first, a quiet pride swelling in his chest as he watched her scamper up climbing frames or effortlessly catch a wayward ball. He saw the flicker of something special, a raw, untamed athleticism.

The true awakening, however, began with a bright orange sphere. Perhaps it was a hand-me-down, or a birthday gift, but once a basketball found its way into Paige’s small hands, it rarely left. Their driveway, modest and unassuming, became her first court. Bob, often weary from a long day, would find a second wind watching her. Initially, it was pure, unstructured play. Paige would chase the ball, hurl it towards the rusty hoop he’d installed, her tongue poking out in concentration. There was no technique, just an intuitive connection. The ball, almost too big for her, seemed to listen to her.

"Like this, Paigey?" Bob would demonstrate a clumsy (by his own admission) dribble or a simple chest pass. He wasn't a coach, not then, but he was an encourager, a rebounder, a steady presence. He’d praise her efforts, the wild shots that sometimes, surprisingly, swished through the net, and the determined way she’d retrieve the ball after a miss, her brow furrowed.

Her knack for basketball became undeniable. 

By six, she wasn't just throwing the ball; she was aiming it. She started to mimic players she might have glimpsed on TV at a neighbor's house or in snippets from games Bob watched. A little crossover dribble, a hesitant jump shot – her body seemed to instinctively understand the movements. The joy she found in these moments was palpable. It wasn’t a chore; it was an extension of her being.

Life in their single-parent household had its unique rhythms. Dinners were often simple, conversations flowing easily between father and daughter. Bob helped with homework, read bedtime stories, and always made sure Paige felt secure and loved. There were challenges, of course – the occasional pang of wishing for a mom at a school event, or Bob’s tired sighs after a particularly demanding week. But their bond was a fortress. And basketball was becoming a cornerstone of that bond. The driveway sessions weren't just about sport; they were about connection, shared laughter, and the quiet pride of a father watching his daughter discover something she loved.

As she neared eight, the playful interactions began to take on a more focused edge. She’d pester Bob to play "one more game" of H-O-R-S-E, her competitive spirit already fierce. She’d practice dribbling around imaginary defenders on the cracked pavement, her movements becoming smoother, more confident. Sometimes, other neighborhood kids would join, and Paige, though still small, would often surprise them with her skill and tenacity.

Her early dreams weren't yet of WNBA stardom or championship trophies. They were simpler, more immediate. She dreamed of the satisfying swish of the net, of making a shot Bob thought was impossible, of the feel of the worn leather in her hands. She dreamed of the sun setting over their Hopkins driveway, the orange glow matching the ball she cradled, her father's encouraging voice the soundtrack to her burgeoning passion. Basketball wasn't just a game; it was becoming a language she understood, a place where her natural talents could sing, nurtured by the unwavering support of the most important person in her world. The spark had been ignited.

Era 2: The Blueprint of a Dream 

The transition from playful driveway games to the more structured, demanding world of competitive youth basketball was almost seamless for Paige Bueckers. By nine, the raw talent that had blossomed in Hopkins was being sculpted, refined. Her movements on the court, once instinctive, were now imbued with a burgeoning understanding of the game's geometry, its rhythm, its subtle deceits. She wasn't just a kid who could shoot; she was a player who could think.

In Hopkins, as Paige moved through late childhood, her name began to circulate beyond the local playgrounds. Bob, ever her steadfast supporter, navigated the burgeoning world of youth sports, seeking out opportunities that would challenge and nurture her growing abilities. This often meant joining travel teams, facing tougher competition from across Minnesota and eventually, the Midwest. The squeak of sneakers on polished gymnasium floors became a familiar soundtrack to their weekends.

It was in these more competitive arenas that Paige truly began to distinguish herself. While other players her age were still mastering fundamentals, Paige was executing no-look passes that threaded needles, her court vision almost preternatural. She developed a lethal crossover, a quick release on her jump shot, and a defensive tenacity that belied her still-slight frame. She wasn’t just scoring; she was making everyone around her better. One savvy travel team coach, a grizzled veteran named Coach Henderson who’d seen hundreds of hopefuls pass through his program, pulled Bob aside after a particularly dominant tournament performance. "That girl," he’d said, pointing a calloused finger towards Paige, who was already back on the court shooting free throws, "she’s got it, Bob. The kind of it you see once in a decade, if you’re lucky."

This external validation only fueled the fire within Paige. Around the age of ten, a new, specific dream began to take root, nurtured by grainy TV broadcasts and stories of legendary players: the University of Connecticut. UConn wasn't just a college basketball team; it was an institution, a dynasty. She’d watch their games with her father, mesmerized by their precision, their teamwork, their relentless pursuit of excellence. The idea of wearing that Huskies jersey, of playing for Geno Auriemma, became a powerful magnet, pulling her aspirations into sharp focus.

And beyond UConn, a grander ambition shimmered: the WNBA. It was the pinnacle, the ultimate stage. The thought of playing professionally, of making basketball her life, was no longer a vague childhood fantasy but a driving force. This ambition shaped her days.

Her training regimen intensified, though Bob was careful to ensure it didn't consume her entirely. Early mornings before school often meant ball-handling drills in the driveway, cones set up under the pale dawn light. After school, it was team practice, followed by more shooting, more drills, sometimes just her and her dad rebounding for each other until dusk. He taught her the importance of fundamentals, of repetition, of outworking everyone else. He wasn't just her father; he was her first coach, her chief motivator, and her unwavering believer.

Balancing this burgeoning athletic career with schoolwork and the typical activities of a pre-teen was a constant juggle. There were missed birthday parties for out-of-state tournaments, homework completed in the backseat of the car on long drives to games. The pressure to excel wasn't just internal anymore; coaches expected her to lead, opponents targeted her, and the whispers of her prodigious talent created a subtle weight. Yet, through it all, Bob ensured she had space to just be a kid. He made sure there were movie nights, trips for ice cream, and time for friendships that weren't centered around basketball. He understood the pressures, having been an athlete himself, and his calm, steady guidance was her anchor. He’d remind her, "Play hard, have fun, be a good teammate. Be you. Be great."

By twelve, Paige Bueckers was no longer just a promising local talent. She was a young athlete with a clear vision, a blueprint for her future meticulously drawn in her mind. The courts of Hopkins had nurtured her, her father’s unwavering support had fortified her, and the twin dreams of UConn and the WNBA were now the stars she navigated by. The journey was just beginning, but the trajectory was undeniably upward.

Era 3: The Crucible of Adolescence 

The leap from late childhood to the precipice of teenage years was, for Paige Bueckers, like launching from a well-worn local court into a roaring arena. At twelve, her basketball trajectory was near-vertical. Hopkins remained home base, but her name was echoing far beyond Minnesota’s borders. Tournament MVPs, highlight reels that buzzed through youth basketball circuits, and the growing whispers of "future star" became commonplace. The dreams of UConn and the WNBA were no longer quiet internal hums; they were bold declarations, sometimes voiced by coaches, sometimes by Paige herself with a newfound, albeit still youthful, confidence. Local sports reporters occasionally sought out Bob for a quote about his prodigy daughter. The spotlight, once a distant flicker, was now undeniably brightening.

But beneath the polished veneer of the rising basketball phenom, a more complicated, internal drama was unfolding. Puberty arrived, unceremonious and awkward, bringing with it a cascade of changes that felt both alien and intensely personal. For any young girl, this is a period of upheaval, but for Paige, navigating it without an older female figure in the household added layers of bewilderment. There was no mother or older sister to confide in about the strange new landscape of her own body, no one to ask the embarrassing questions that burned in her mind.

Her dad, bless his heart, tried his best. He was a rock, as always, but this was uncharted territory for him too. There were clumsy conversations, initiated with a well-meaning but flustered, "So, uh, Paigey, things might be... changing a bit for you soon?" He bought books he thought might help, fumbled through explanations gleaned from pamphlets, and made awkward, solitary trips to the pharmacy for "girl things." Paige, though she appreciated his efforts, often felt a profound sense of isolation. She’d retreat to her room, feeling a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and a longing for a kind of understanding Bob, for all his love, couldn't quite provide. The locker room, once just a place for pre-game chats, now sometimes felt like a minefield of whispered conversations and shared experiences she wasn’t part of.

Adding to this internal maelstrom, new, unsettling questions began to surface regarding her own identity. As her peers started to navigate the tentative world of crushes and early adolescent romance, Paige found herself on the periphery, an observer rather than a participant. The typical boy-girl dynamics didn't resonate with her in the same way. A quiet, persistent voice in the back of her mind began to wonder why. This wasn't a clear understanding, just a nebulous sense of difference, a subtle disharmony with the narratives unfolding around her. It was another secret to hold, another layer of introspection in a mind already crowded with basketball strategy and adolescent angst. The word "sexuality" wasn't one she would have used then, but the nascent stirrings of questioning her orientation created a quiet undercurrent of anxiety.

The mounting pressure of her basketball success intersected sharply with these personal turbulences. Expectations were sky-high. Every game felt like an audition, every practice a test. Coaches, while supportive, also pushed hard, recognizing the once-in-a-generation talent they had. Peers sometimes viewed her with a mixture of awe and envy. And Paige, her own harshest critic, felt the weight of her own ambitions keenly. The court, often her sanctuary, could also feel like a pressure cooker. There were days when the joy of the game was overshadowed by the fear of not living up to the hype, of disappointing Bob, her coaches, or herself.

The balancing act was immense. Schoolwork demanded attention, intense training sessions ate up hours, and travel for tournaments consumed weekends. Her social life, already impacted by her dedication to basketball, became even more constrained. Friendships were often forged on the court, but the deeper, more vulnerable connections that adolescent girls often build were harder to come by when so much of her energy was focused outward, on performance, and inward, on navigating profound personal shifts.

Her dad remained her constant. He saw the shadows under her eyes, the moments of frustration, the flashes of vulnerability. He couldn't fix everything, couldn't magically make puberty easier or untangle the knots of her internal questioning, but he could listen. He could offer a hug, a reminder of how proud he was, not just of Paige the basketball player, but of Paige the person. He’d encourage breaks, try to inject normalcy with pizza nights or a silly movie, moments where she could just be a kid, not a phenom.

These pre-teen years in Hopkins were a crucible. Paige was being forged in the fires of intense competition, adolescent change, and nascent self-discovery. She was learning not just how to execute a perfect pick-and-roll, but how to navigate a world that was becoming increasingly complex, both on and off the court. The girl with the dazzling smile and effortless game was also a young soul grappling with the profound, often confusing, journey of growing up, all while the world began to watch.

Era 4: The Meeting

By the time Paige Bueckers stepped onto the polished hardwood of the Under-16 USA Basketball tryouts, she had already begun to understand that talent wasn’t enough. The gym at the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Training Center in Colorado Springs buzzed with intensity – every girl here had been the best player in her city, maybe even her state. Now they were all vying for the same red, white, and blue jersey.

At 15, Paige had just started to feel the burden of potential, of expectations. She carried herself with a quiet fire, not the loudest or most physically imposing, but undeniably magnetic on the court — her court vision, her creativity, her sheer command of the game. Still, this was different. The stakes were higher. She needed to prove herself all over again.

That’s when she noticed the girl from Virginia.

Azzi Fudd, just 14, had the kind of shot that made coaches stop talking mid-sentence. Everything about her form was immaculate – smooth, effortless, almost surgical. Rumors had preceded her: daughter of Tim and Katie Fudd, a basketball family through and through. But Azzi didn’t walk around like a prodigy. She was focused, head down, eyes fixed on her own goals. Still, there was something quietly intimidating about her – precise, controlled, and deadly consistent.

Paige found herself watching Azzi more than she meant to. She noticed the way Azzi never reacted to pressure, how she laughed only when she meant it. And Azzi, for her part, had certainly noticed Paige – the intensity in her passes, the fire behind her competitive streak, how her personality seemed to stretch wide enough to fill a room but shrink down in quieter moments, like when no one was watching.

They both made the team. That wasn’t surprising.

What was surprising – at least to Paige – was being assigned the same room for the duration of the training camp. The U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Training Center didn't offer much in the way of privacy, but the two girls found a rhythm. At first, it was basic courtesy: rotations for the bathroom, playlists on low volume, mutual respect. But high-stakes proximity has a way of collapsing distance. And the space between them began to vanish.

Late nights after grueling practices turned into quiet conversations about more than basketball – about families, injuries, what it meant to be seen only for what you could do, not who you were. Paige, always a little louder, found herself grounding in Azzi’s calm presence. Azzi, guarded and meticulous, felt safe letting down her walls with Paige’s warmth.

They started finishing each other’s thoughts on the court. Off the court, the walls between their beds became less symbolic and more real – Paige’s socks on Azzi’s side, Azzi’s phone charger always missing, the smell of eucalyptus from Azzi’s lotion becoming part of Paige’s memory of the room. There was no clean break between teammates and friends. And before long, there was no line at all between friends and something more.

It happened slowly and all at once. A hand held too long. A shoulder leaned on after a hard day. Laughter that dissolved into silence that neither of them wanted to break. The first kiss was quiet – nervous, charged, and unforgettable. They didn’t talk about it right away. But they didn’t need to. Something had shifted.

For Paige, who had spent months, maybe years, trying to name feelings she didn’t yet understand, this changed everything. It didn’t solve all the questions about who she was, but it gave her a new one: What did it mean to be in love – real, heart-thudding, can't-look-away love – with the girl sleeping four feet away?

They had games to win, drills to survive, reputations to uphold. But in that small Colorado room, under fluorescent lights and beside scuffed luggage, they found something unexpectedly fierce and tender.

Paige would never forget the feeling.

And neither would Azzi.

Era 5: Navigating New Realities 

By the time Paige Bueckers turned sixteen, she and Azzi Fudd were no longer just teammates or summer-camp sweethearts – they were something deeper. Something steadier. Something tested. Even from opposite ends of the country, they were still very much “attached at the hip,” as Bob liked to half-joke, though now their bond lived mostly in texts, FaceTime calls, and carefully coordinated visits squeezed between brutal practice schedules and school obligations.

The long-distance wasn’t easy.

Paige was in Hopkins, juggling her rising stardom, schoolwork, and a growing awareness that the eyes of the entire women’s basketball world were firmly trained on her. Azzi was back in Virginia, going through the same thing – though with her own quiet intensity. Their phone calls were often the only calm in the chaos: stolen hours late at night, earbuds in under blankets, voices low. They talked about everything – bad games, awkward interviews, coach drama, algebra tests, the unshakable pressure to be perfect.

There were fights. Of course there were fights.

Missed calls. Misread texts. Misplaced jealousy. At times, the distance carved valleys between them. But the reunions – God, the reunions – those made it worth it. Whether in hotel rooms during Team USA events, or during carefully orchestrated weekend visits, when Paige would hop a flight to D.C. or Azzi would show up in the bleachers at one of Paige’s home games, the gravity of their connection always snapped them back together like magnets.

They talked – often, and seriously – about college.

The dream, once whispered at fifteen, took on new weight now that recruiters were knocking down doors. UConn loomed large in Paige’s heart, a goal she’d carried since before she could drive. Geno Auriemma called. He made it clear: she was the future of the program.

Azzi had her own courtship, with her own list of elite programs. Coaches wanted her, not just for her insane shot, but for the way she moved – disciplined, unshakeable. It wasn’t just her game that drew attention anymore. She and Paige had become a kind of phenomenon. Fan accounts popped up overnight. Grainy game clips went viral. Articles speculated about their next steps. Rumors swirled about their relationship, sometimes lovingly, sometimes cruelly. The internet, with all its power, saw them. And it didn’t always look away kindly.

They tried to shut it out. Mostly, they succeeded. But they were still teenagers.

Some nights, Paige would scroll too long, lingering on comment threads she knew better than to read. "Overrated." "Too emotional." And other more negative words that caused that slimy type of anger to fester deep in Paige’s soamach. Not because people were saying those things about her per se but because they had the gall to throw those names towards Azzi. Her Azzi. 

The doubts, of course, found cracks, even in her titanium self-belief. Azzi had her own demons, her own critics who questioned her composure, her durability, her leadership. But they leaned on each other, as they always had. They reminded each other who they were when the world tried to write new definitions.

When Paige finally committed to UConn, the moment was a mix of joy and ache. It was everything she had worked toward – everything she had dreamed. Azzi was the first person she called.

"I'm proud of you," Azzi said. And she meant it. But the pause after hung heavy.

They had talked about it – about being a package deal, about chasing greatness side-by-side. But in the end, they each had to make their own choices. Azzi wasn’t sure yet. She needed more time. More clarity. Paige understood. She had to.

The distance between them, once just measured in miles, began to feel like a countdown clock.

And yet, through it all, the bond held.

Senior year brought more chaos. Media days. Honors. McDonald’s All-American announcements. Zoom interviews. Public personas had to be shaped, honed, protected. But in private, they were still Paige and Azzi. Goofy. Tender. Ridiculously competitive in ways that made their friends roll their eyes. They found each other in group chats, in shared playlists, in Polaroids taped to bedroom walls.

They were figuring out how to be young women in the spotlight – and in love.

It wasn’t always graceful. But it was real.

And when Paige finally zipped up her suitcase for Storrs, Connecticut, there were tears, of course. Not just from Bob at the airport, but from Azzi, who pressed a note into her hand before she left. Paige read it on the plane. It said:

“No matter where we go, I’ll find you. You know that, right?”

Paige did.

Era 6: Becoming 

The moment Paige Bueckers stepped onto the Storrs campus, it felt like stepping into a dream – one shaped by a decade of driveway drills, highlight reels, and whispered ambitions. UConn wasn’t just a college. It was the pinnacle. It was Geno. It was legacy. It was everything she’d worked for.

But dreams, she quickly learned, could be heavy.

College life hit fast. There was barely time to settle into her dorm before the reality of Division I basketball set in – 6 a.m. lifts, double practices, film sessions that dissected every missed rotation, every lazy closeout. Coach Auriemma expected excellence – not potential, not flashes – consistency. Paige, always the competitor, rose to the challenge. But the pressure was unrelenting. She was no longer just the girl with handles from Minnesota. She was The Next One.

Classes were another gauntlet. Managing deadlines between national TV games and recovery sessions felt like a second sport. Her days were a blur of movement, her nights a quiet race against exhaustion.

And then there was Azzi.

They’d made it – together.

After all the uncertainty, the dream of playing side-by-side in college had somehow materialized. Azzi chose UConn, too. Maybe for Paige, maybe not solely – but whatever the reason, the result was the same: they were finally sharing the same court, the same jersey, the same grind.

But being together didn’t make things easier. In some ways, it made them harder.

There were new eyes on them now – more invasive, more entitled. Whispers about their chemistry, their “closeness,” spilled into online debates, message boards, even press questions. They never made a public statement. They didn’t need to. But the scrutiny added pressure to something already so precious.

They learned, quickly, to protect it.

Some nights, they’d crash onto one of their beds, not talking – just letting the silence between them do the healing. Other nights, they’d sneak out for late walks near campus, hoodies up, fingers brushing. They knew they couldn’t outrun the spotlight. But they could at least claim pieces of privacy, moments that belonged only to them.

On the court, they were electric.

Paige’s game matured – her vision sharper, her leadership undeniable. She became the heartbeat of the team, balancing flare with discipline, swagger with sacrifice. Every pass had intention. Every game was a building block toward something bigger.

Azzi, as always, was the cool counterbalance. Her shot as pristine as ever, her movements honed like a dancer’s. Together, they played with a rhythm that was almost telepathic – years of trust distilled into basketball instincts.

Still, even greatness wasn’t a shield.

There were injuries. Slumps. Articles that praised one while questioning the other. Days when neither felt good enough, despite what the stat sheet said. Paige, especially, wrestled with the growing disconnect between who she was and who people believed her to be. To the world, she was the golden girl, the flawless star. Inside, she was just trying to stay afloat.

Azzi reminded her who she was.

Not with big speeches, but in the little things. A hand on her knee during a tough film review. A dumb meme texted at 3 a.m. The quiet knowing that came from being loved completely, even on her worst days.

Together, they kept dreaming.

The WNBA loomed ahead like a distant shore – tantalizing, inevitable. Paige felt its pull, especially after big games, when scouts would linger and fans would chant her name. But she also knew: this chapter mattered. UConn was more than a stepping stone. It was shaping her – teaching her how to lead, how to lose, how to rebuild.

And beyond all that, she was growing into herself.

As a student. As a partner. As a woman figuring out how to live boldly in a world that kept trying to define her.

By the time Paige reached the tail end of her sophomore year, she was no longer just chasing greatness. She was becoming it – in her own way, on her own terms. And whether the road led to championships, draft nights, or something entirely unexpected, one thing remained true:

Azzi was always there, in the crowd or on the court, still steady. Still home.

They had made it through adolescence, distance, doubt, and the roar of rising fame.

Now, in the glow of early adulthood, they were building something real.

Something that could last.

 Epilogue: Draft Night

The lights were brighter than they’d ever been. The kind of brightness that seemed to blur the edges of everything, making even the sharpest memories feel like dreams. Paige sat near the front of the room, dressed in a crisp black suit that made her look every inch the professional athlete she’d fought to become. Her name was everywhere – on mock drafts, on banners, on the lips of analysts filling airtime with praise and predictions.

Next to her sat Azzi, also in black to match – classic, understated, radiant. She looked calm. She always did.

But Paige knew better. She could see the slight tension in Azzi’s jaw, the way her hands were folded too tightly in her lap. They were both waiting. Both holding their breath.

A flashbulb popped. Cameras swept across their row. Somewhere on a nearby stage, the commissioner took her place behind the podium. The room hushed.

It was finally happening.

The journey that had started in Colorado Springs – two teenagers with duffel bags and nerves – had led to this moment. All the 6 a.m. workouts, the torn ligaments, the championship runs, the nights spent cramming for exams after practice, the long talks whispered under dorm blankets… it all pulsed beneath the surface now, a silent electricity in the air.

Azzi reached over without looking and found Paige’s hand. Their fingers locked like they always had, like they always would.

“With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft…”

The name rang out and the room erupted. Cheers, applause, camera shutters. Paige barely heard anything. Her heart was pounding too loudly.

She stood slowly. Smiling, stunned, trying to breathe.

She glanced at Azzi, who mouthed, “I love you.”

And those three words hit Paige harder than they ever had.

She walked onto the stage, hugged the commissioner, held up the jersey for the cameras. Her face beamed out on the big screen, and for the first time, she wasn’t chasing anything anymore. She was here. She had arrived.

Back in her seat, Azzi wiped away a tear.

But it wasn’t sadness. It was pride. Pure, fierce, aching pride.

Later that night, after the interviews and the handshake gauntlet, after Paige had posed with her draft cap and answered questions about leadership and expectations and the “legacy she hoped to build,” they found each other again in the quiet backstage hallways.

No lights. No cameras.

Just them.

"You did it," Azzi whispered.

"So did you," Paige said. "You're next."

They stood in the soft hum of the arena's back corridor, arms wrapped around each other, two futures unfolding side by side. And for a moment, time slowed. The noise faded. It was just like it had been in that room in Colorado Springs – two girls trying to figure it all out.

But now, they weren’t trying anymore.

They knew.

Whatever came next – different teams, new cities, more pressure – they would navigate it the same way they always had.

Together.

[linedbycaro]

use miss azzi fudd as inspo I believe in you!! In all seriousness though I’m super excited to read no matter when you are able to get it out!!

I’ve legit been running off a high of crazy adrenaline from that stupid phone case. And trust i’m using miss fudd’s game as inspo.

Anyways, after getting dragged away from my laptop last night for some bowling, and 4 hours of sleep later, I’m at 6k.

It’s almost done, but I really, really, really want to make it perfect. Cause it’s lowkey my baby and I’m proud of it. but when yall read it you have to promise to stay with me, okay? comparison is the thief of joy.

Also, for all my lovely anons asking for another snippet:

Azzi syncs her reps to the beat of some fuckass Drake song pounding through her headphones. Her arms burn. Her tank is soaked. She blows a stray curl away from her cheek and pushes through the exhaustion.

Lifting makes her feel empowered. And strong. And bad ass. And something clicks. 

Azzi Fudd is not a pussy.

And you know what?

Fuck it.

Yeah, what-if Paige is being a coward. Maybe she’s scared, or hurt or indifferent or whatever. But don’t they at least deserve to know? Haven’t they been dancing around it for too long?

[mommafudd]

Another snippet🙄

Though she wanted to grab Paige’s head she refrained since Paige hadn’t given her permission. “Fuck mami, this pussy is so wet f’me”, Paige said as she pulled back for some air. When she pulled back she noticed Azzi clenching the sheets eyes locked close. “You wanna grab my hair baby?”, Azzi didn’t bother answering and grabbed Paige by the hair with both hands. She tugged on her hair pulling her towards her throbbing center. Paige groaned at the roughness. “Careful ma don’t pull my hair like that,”, Paige said trying to remain calm and soft for Azzi. Azzi loosened her grip and her eyes fluttered open, “M’sorry Daddy, you just have me all worked up”, Azzi whined.

Why is there 78 anons in my inbox asking for snippets😔💔 HERE YALL GO. (Just kidding love you anons)

[averyspizookies]

SNIPPET SNIPPET SNIPPETS ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

I’m not giving much 🤐

Azzi’s gaze flicked over Paige, taking in the easy confidence in her stance, the way her eyes didn’t blink away but held steady. “Strong and a little dangerous,” Azzi repeated. “That’s a tall order.”

Paige laughed softly, a sound that was both challenge and invitation. “I’m not asking for easy.”

Brittany leaned in, whispering loudly enough to be heard over the music, “I knew you two would click.”

Yeah. Right.

[lanadelspray02]

i feel like a creep (not in a weird way) coming back to your page every so often to see if you dropped a new chapter 😭

i’m so obsessed with your writing and every chapter makes my day brighter 🤍

I know I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy with uni 🥲 I will try get a chapter out this weekend. In the meantime because y’all have been so patient here’s a little snippet 🤍

Azzi turned, and through the archway, she could just see the edge of the lounge. Paige had Ruby lying flat on the couch, her shirt pushed up, and was pressing her face into her belly again and again, making her shriek with laughter and kick her feet in the air.

“She’ll protect you both,” Katie said gently. “You know that, right?”

Azzi’s eyes stung again. “I know.”

“Then trust her,” Tim said, standing up and patting her shoulder. “And trust yourself. You’re doing good, kid.”