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also to all the lovely people that have sent me little prompts or ideas-- i'm not ignoring you! i just am keeping them in my inbox so i don't forget about them <333

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i miss ur writing bad :(

this is so sweet angel </3 i promise i'm working on something right now! what was supposed to be like a short little smutty 5k blurb has turned into like 10k words and i'm not finished yet but it's coming along!!!!! the longer i take to write the better it will be in the long run <3333

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Why are all the writers deleting their accounts 😭😭😭. Author of Motion sick deleted her account. Please tell me u wont. Im so sad

omg no i definitely won't! and on the off chance that i did delete this blog for whatever reason i would never delete my fics off of ao3 i swearrrr on it i would just orphan them <3333

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her armsssss are so

you sent this yesterday or the day before i forget which means i'm talking about her arms a lot which means my blog is a perfect representation of my brain <3

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Ok lol

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holy arm pt. 3

pt. 1 pt. 2

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thinking about azzi's three off of the elevator screen in the elite eight... nothing will ever compare #imissazzifuddhoops

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this was beautiful

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a mystics win, a dallas win, AND a chicago win?????? seattle you know what to do

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im sick omfg

Jose on threads

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ur joking

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nivi alr here me out, if you want to, plssss a pazzi one shot of paige jelly over azzi in georgias jersey…plus 😈

Y'all know the drill. This was written in very little time and is definitely not edited and is extremely silly but y'all said Nivi rescue us from this fic drought, and I figured I'd give you a little droplet tee hee :)

Everything wrong with the color red and the number 8

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Paige Bueckers deserves a pat on the back.

Actually, she deserves a goddamn trophy.

Because Azzi Fudd (pretty, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, literally a goddess and also most importantly, her girlfriend as is proudly displayed on her phonecase) is sitting courtside.

Right where Paige can see her.

And Paige hasn't gotten distracted once (okay well that's not entirely true because she may or may not have frozen the second she'd come out for warmups and seen said ethereal girlfriend on the sidelines and she may or may not have stopped breathing even though she'd already known Azzi was going to be here, and Nalyssa may or may not have ran straight into her from behind because Paige quite literally could not move and Dijonai may or may not have called her a simp for that because oh my god Paige you literally had brunch with her this morning but all of that is just semantics!)

But in the grand scheme of things Paige is pretty proud of herself and her self-control (and no the little glances she's been sneaking throughout warmups do not count as a strike against any of that because if she didn't take the liberty of occasionally checking out her girlfriend who she hasn't seen in years weeks, that would just be blasphemy and Paige Bueckers is a devout Christian who does not engage in blasphemy)

That is until Georgia Amoore enters the scene.

Paige doesn't know Georgia particularly well beyond when she'd met the girl during draft weekend (which if she's honest, she'd mainly spent most of that weekend tucked into a corner why Shyanne, the two of them going back and forth about how much they missed and adored their girlfriends) but she knows that her and Azzi had bonded over DAWG camp and anyone that gets the Azzi Fudd seal of approval, pretty automatically gets the Paige seal of approval too.

There's a ruby red Mystics jersey slung casually across Georgia's shoulder that Paige doesn't really pay much attention. She grins at the shorter girl when she makes her rounds past the Dallas team, dapping up all of her teammates before reaching Paige. There's a twinkle in Georgia's eyes as she smirks at the blonde, something a little cocky about it that almost reminds her of herself. Neither of them say anything beyond their casual smiles and Paige pencils that interaction into her memory to be thrown out in a couple of seconds.

Or so she thinks.

She continues going about her drills, a slight pep in her step that's been present since Friday night when she'd come home, (not to Connecticut, but to Azzi) as she goes through her routine. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots Georgia walking over to her girlfriend, her grin widening (which like fair, she thinks everyone should in fact smile their biggest smile when in the presence of literal best person ever Azzi Fudd, but does she really need to show all thirty-two teeth like that?) as she reaches the brunette.

Naturally, Azzi hugs the Australian (and Paige isn't upset about that of course because Azzi is allowed to hug people and because she knows without a doubt that the way Azzi hugs other people is nothing compared to the way she hugs Paige, with her arms wrapped tightly around the blonde's body and her head tucked right into the crevice of her neck like it's where she feels the safest) who beams a little too bright for Paige's liking but she lets it slide, especially because Arike's just come over to join her to go through passing drills and Paige is not about to give her teammates more ammunition to tease their "baby gay" (which by the way Paige thinks is ridiculous because she's been gay for a hot minute now -and she definitely been gay longer than Nai- so really in her opinion she's a "grown gay") about how atrociously down bad she is for Azzi (which she is, proudly so, just in case anyone was wondering!).

Paige can't quite make out the conversation they're having as they break apart, but she hears Georgia giggle (a little too loud if you ask her) and then Azzi laughs (a beautiful sound that echoes warmly against Paige's ears but not nearly as perfect as the one she makes when it's Paige who elicits that lovely bout of laughter from her lips).

It happens in the flash of a second, between the ball leaving Paige's hands and finding it's way to Arike's (the universal sign for incoming disaster as Paige is quickly learning but will never say out loud). There's a blur of red in her peripheral and Paige swears she's not being dramatic, but it feels like the arena goes a little cold when her gaze drifts back to the courtside seats.

Georgia Amoore has disappeared.

But her presences still lingers, short and chaotic.

Because Azzi, her Azzi, who had previously been wearing a cute little white UConn top that defined her oh-so-lovely biceps and had been cropped just enough for that bellybutton piercing (the bane of fifteen year old Paige's existence and the object of all of post-sixteen year old Paige's desires) to peek out right underneath it, is now wearing a Mystics jersey.

Not just any Mystics jersey.

Georgia fucking Amoore's #8 Mystics jersey.

And Paige quite literally and figuratively sees red.

She blinks a couple of times, waiting for her own vision to be proven wrong. But nothing changes. Azzi's still right there.

Still in red.

Still in a Mystics Jersey.

Still in fucking #8.

Paige doesn't hate a lot of things (except for anyone who has the audacity to even blink in Azzi's direction with the wrong intentions that is) but in that moment she hates the color red (god who had let her wear red in her pregame outfit? that must have been some cursed foreshadowing) and she really hates the #8 (no seriously, she's going to have to text Jana and threaten to disown her from her will if the Egyptian doesn't immediately change her jersey number)

Azzi for her part, is the picture of innocence as she settles back into her seat, as if she hasn't done anything, as if she hasn't just thrown the cosmic balance of Paige's life off-kilter by wearing that offending item.

God, Paige is going to ruin her (when, she's not really sure, considering they're going straight back to Dallas after the game and Azzi has to fly in the opposite direction of that -a thought Paige is suppressing as far to the back of her mind as it will go- but it's going to happen; besides Paige is known for her efficiency for a reason, she doesn't need particularly long, just the two of them alone in the semi-secrecy of a locked bathroom somewhere in this wretched building)

And if the smirk dancing but never quite settling on Azzi's lips is anything to go by, the brunette knows it too (welcomes it even, as if both of them aren't currently running on about two hours of sleep and unspeakable amounts of caffeine to keep them functioning right now after getting reacquainted with each other's souls last night).

Arike can barely hold in a laugh when she spots Azzi and her jersey (Paige briefly wonders if there's a fine for burning opposing player's jersey and then consoles herself with the fact that if there is, it's nothing she can't pay out of pocket considering the length of the zeroes in her bank account is definitely larger than Georgia Amoore's fucking vertical) as she's walking over to greet another familiar face, before dapping up the brunette and then promptly returning back to Paige with a shit-eating grin.

"You gonna let that slide?" the vet asks coyly, the laughter palpable in her tone.

Paige doesn't respond, her focus solely on her girlfriend (and it's a sin that said girlfriend still look to entirely perfect even dressed in enemy attire that Paige wants to rip off her body for partially non-sexual reasons) who continues to smile cavalierly in her direction.

"Are you seriously wearing that?" Paige mouths, pointing at the jersey adorning her girlfrien'd perfect body (what she really wants to scream, is take it the fuck off)

Azzi raises her eyebrows as she shrugs, blinking almost naively (as if there isn't a hidden challenge of make me spelled out in the dark brown of her irises)

Paige purses her lips, narrowing her eyes, not quite a glare (because she's jealous and posessive but not stupid and she would never glare at the princess) but enough that it makes Azzi bite her lip, (which should be illegal because now Paige really wants march over and kiss her until that perfect lip routine of hers becomes a distant memory) not in fear, never that, but something else.

Something far more carnal that makes Azzi fidget in her seat and clench her thighs together.

It's subtle, something nobody else would notice but Paige. Because it's only for Paige, has only been for her since they were teenagers and just beginning to understand what that feeling was.

And Paige doesn't smirk, doesn't let anything show as she gets back into the rhythm of the passing drill with Arike, but something flares inside of her. (and no it isn't just pure horniness jesus fuck she has a game to play okay?)

Satisfaction.

And that innate feeling of knowing what is hers, will always be hers.

Because Georgia Amoore could win these harmless battles, but Paige doesn't even have to step into the battlefield to win the war.

Azzi could wear any jersey, any number, any color.

But fate itself had carved Bueckers into her heart, and even an Australian can't fight destiny.

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It would be criminal not to post

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I'm so hyped that you're writing :')

me too! sort of! trying to give myself internal deadlines but i wont dare share them for fear of disappointing people

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Bucketsandbueckers left, no more trouble! So sad :(

Love your writing too please don’t ever leave us

wait do nawttttt fret i am not a big enough writer to have hate anons in my inbox, nor would i ever stop writing just because a loser told me to <3333 but to the person/people that freaked her out enough to have her delete her account (and to the countless other weirdos who have caused several other writers to stop) just know that you're a freak <3 and that theres a special place in hell for people who hide behind anonymous pages to spread hatred!