azzinator3000

[azzinator3000]

୨ৎ My Masterlist ୨ৎ

Locked Doors

Content: Friends-to-lovers, secret relationship, intense sexual tension, college basketball AU.

Warnings: Mature Content (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Pazzi

Summary:

Azzi Fudd has one golden rule: don't like this too much. Especially not when "this" involves tangled limbs, whispered reassurances, and the intoxicating heat of Paige Bueckers' lap. They're UConn's star duo, aiming for a national championship, meticulously crafted for public consumption. But behind closed dorm doors, their long-standing "friendship" has morphed into something dangerously undeniable

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

[azzinator3000]

Locked Doors

Word count: 2K 

Content: Friends-to-lovers, secret relationship, intense sexual tension, college basketball AU.

Warnings: None

Pairing: Pazzi

CHAPTER 2: The Ten-Minute Rule

It had been a week. One whole, weird, awkward, spiraling week since she accidentally stayed over at Paige’s. Since she freaked out.

The girls were acting normal. Maybe too normal.

And Paige was… well, Paige. Smiling at her in that way that made Azzi’s stomach knot up, poking at her during practice, trying to be cute after they got into that stupid fight about the game last night.

Paige always thought she was right about everything, especially when it came to reading the court. And Azzi, stubborn as she was, hated being told she’d missed a pass or a screen, even when Paige was usually right.

And Azzi hated being mad at her. She really did. It felt wrong, like a fundamental part of her day was missing when she wasn’t completely in sync with Paige.

But also? She had a paper due. A real, actual, grade-defining, future-threatening paper for Dr. Miller’s Advanced Psychology seminar, and she could not afford to waste another second thinking about Paige’s stupid, perfect face, or the way her blonde hair fell just so, or the infuriatingly confident glint in her light eyes. 

She needed to focus, to claw her way back to academic sanity.

So she was sitting in her room, headphones in, laptop open, trying to focus. Trying to be a serious, responsible person who could just move on and get things done.

Except then there was this knocking.

Bang, bang, bang.

Azzi sighed. Ignored it. Paige could wait.

Azzi stared harder at the textbook, willing the words to sink in, even as her mind kept drifting to the heavy silence of the dorm room this morning, the way Paige had watched her, that intense, unreadable look in her eyes.

Bang, bang, bang.

She didn’t stop. Paige Bueckers, of course, was the most annoyingly persistent person on earth.

It was infuriating. And endearing. Which was the problem. Everything about Paige was infuriating and endearing.

Azzi yanked out one headphone. “I’m studying!” Her voice was tight with forced exasperation.

She knew she was being childish, holding onto this petty anger from the game, but a part of her needed the distance, needed the excuse to not engage with Paige’s relentless charm.

“I know you are,” Paige’s voice came through the door, muffled but still somehow smug. Azzi could almost see the smirk, even through solid wood.

Bang, bang, bang. The rhythmic thudding was almost hypnotic, a physical manifestation of Paige’s stubbornness.

It was ridiculous. They were college athletes, not five-year-olds on a playground.

“Seriously, I need to finish this. I told you I was busy, Paige.” Azzi’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the crack in her resolve.

She just wanted to be left alone, to pretend her heart wasn't doing gymnastics every time Paige breathed within ten feet of her.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad.” The words, even muffled, held a hint of vulnerability that snagged at Azzi’s chest.

Damn it. Paige always knew how to hit her soft spots.

Azzi groaned, burying her face in her hands. She loved Paige, but she hated her sometimes. She grabbed her phone and texted quickly:

I’ll be out in 10 minutes.

The banging didn’t stop. Paige was literally ignoring her text.

The annoyance flared again, hot and sharp. This was Paige, always pushing, always testing boundaries. Always getting her way.

She glared at the door. “PAIGE. GO AWAY.”

From the other room, KK shouted, her voice carrying clear as a bell, “Please let her in! I can’t listen to this anymore!”

Azzi rolled her eyes. Part of her was genuinely annoyed — the part that knew she needed to be a good, responsible student and not let herself get sidetracked by the human hurricane that was Paige Bueckers. But a much bigger part was… what? Touched? Warm?

Whatever. Stupid.

It was just… friendship. Intense, flirty, occasionally-making-out-in-bar-bathrooms friendship.

Nothing that would shatter her carefully constructed reality or ruin her reputation, or worse, Paige’s.

God, this was getting out of hand.

She finally got up and opened the door, arms crossed, trying to look stern even though Paige was already grinning at her like she’d just won something major, like she’d just sunk a game-winning three-pointer.

She leaned against the doorframe, all casual grace and golden blonde hair, those light eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What?” Azzi asked, pretending she wasn’t softening immediately. Pretending her heart wasn’t doing a stupid little flip.

Paige stepped in, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaning in like she was about to say something deeply important, her breath warm on Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi braced herself for another playful jab about the game. But then—

“Just wanted to say I miss you, baby,” Paige said, stupidly sweet, absolutely unserious, dragging out the “baby” like a fuckboy.

She pulled back just enough to watch Azzi’s reaction, that smug, knowing look on her face.

Baby. It was so casual, so flippant, so Paige. Paige always flirted like this. Always. With everyone, sometimes, but something about this time, this word, made Azzi’s stomach twist.

It felt like a direct hit, straight to that vulnerable, desperate part of her she kept buried deep. She felt a flush creep up her neck.

“You’re so annoying,” Azzi mumbled, turning away, pretending to rearrange books on her desk because she didn’t trust her face not to betray her. Not to show how much that word, carelessly tossed, had actually affected her.

How much she actually did miss Paige, even after a stupid argument.

“But you missed me too,” Paige teased, following her, bumping their shoulders together, her warmth seeping through Azzi’s shirt. “Admit it. You were bored without me.”

“You’re the worst.” Azzi tried for scathing, but it came out more fond than anything.

“You love me Fudd” Paige’s voice was a low hum, confident, absolutely sure. And that was the problem, wasn't it? Paige was always so damn sure.

Azzi sat back on her bed, trying to focus on her laptop screen even though her brain had clearly left the building, flying somewhere over the horizon with Paige’s carefree laughter.

Paige plopped down next to her, way too close, stealing a piece of gum off her desk like she owned the place, unwrapping it with a loud crinkle.

They bantered, like they always did.

Soft teasing, playful shoves, stupid arguments about which movie to watch.

Azzi tried to push for something serious, a documentary, anything to distract herself from the buzzing awareness of Paige’s thigh pressed against hers.

Paige, of course, insisted on a cheesy rom-com, something with explosions and a predictable happily ever after. They settled on something dumb, something easy, and somehow Paige ended up with her head half on Azzi’s shoulder, both of them crammed on the small bed, watching a movie neither of them were really paying attention to.

Paige’s arm was draped casually over Azzi’s waist, her fingers lightly tapping a rhythm on Azzi’s hip.

And Azzi hated that this felt perfect.

She just wanted to finish her paper. She wanted to focus on nationals. She wanted to not be utterly consumed by Paige Bueckers.

Azzi shifted slightly, trying to push those thoughts down, to create a microscopic space between their bodies, but Paige just snuggled closer, like it was the most natural thing in the world, her breath warm against Azzi’s neck.

Paige's fingers tightened ever so slightly on Azzi's hip, a subtle reassurance, a silent claim.

And from the other room, KK’s voice echoed faintly, muffled but clear enough to make Azzi’s stomach clench. “Oh, you ain’t mad now, huh? You went soft Azzi”

The casualness of KK’s comment, the lack of real surprise, sent a fresh wave of panic through her. She glanced at Paige, whose smirk only deepened, completely unbothered, as if KK’s comment was just another laugh line in their shared comedy.

Paige just smirked. “Told you you missed me.”

Azzi shook her head, fighting a smile she was definitely losing control over. “Shut up.”

But she didn’t move away.

“You know, for someone who put a ‘ten-minute rule’ on me,” Paige murmured, her voice a low rumble against Azzi’s ear, her lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, “you’re not very good at enforcing it.”

Azzi shivered, a response she desperately tried to suppress. 

The “ten-minute rule.” It had started as a joke, a desperate attempt by Azzi to carve out some solo study time, a boundary against Paige’s omnipresent energy. 

Just ten minutes, Paige, then you can come in. It was supposed to be her shield, her protection. But Paige had weaponized it, turning it into a countdown to intimacy, a game she always won. She’d bang on the door, text ridiculous memes, send pictures of herself making sad puppy dog eyes until Azzi finally caved. 

It was never ten minutes. It was ten minutes until Azzi remembered how much she loved having Paige around.

“It’s a work in progress,” Azzi mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, even as her pulse hammered against her ribs.

Paige’s fingers, still on her hip, started drawing lazy circles, sending tingles through the fabric of her sweats. It was an innocent touch, a friendly touch, but it was Paige, and nothing about Paige was ever truly innocent for Azzi.

“Mmm-hmm,” Paige hummed, skepticism thick in her tone. “Or maybe you just like having me around too much to really want me to go.” She leaned her head back, shifting slightly so her blonde hair tickled Azzi’s jaw. 

The scent of Paige—clean and faintly sweet, like the campus laundry detergent mixed with her own unique, intoxicating smell—filled Azzi’s senses, distracting her from everything. 

Her paper, the team, the impending national championship, the entire world outside this small, cluttered dorm room.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bueckers,” Azzi countered, but her voice was weak, wavering. She could feel the smile tugging at her own lips. It was a losing battle, trying to resist Paige when she was like this – soft and playful.

Paige chuckled, a soft, warm sound. “Oh, Princess, I’m not flattering myself. I’m just stating facts.” Her free hand, which had been resting on the bed between them, slowly stretched out, her fingers just brushing the edge of Azzi’s open laptop. 

Azzi instinctively tensed, watching her. Paige’s eyes, still fixed on the movie screen, seemed to hold a mischievous glint. “You know, you could always just admit it.”

“Admit what?” Azzi asked, trying to sound bored, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Paige finally turned her head, her gaze locking with Azzi’s.

Her light eyes were intense. “That you like me. Like, really really like me.” Her voice was a low murmur, just for Azzi, soft and dangerous.

Azzi’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat. She wanted to deny it, to laugh it off

She didn’t 

The movie played on, a distant, irrelevant soundtrack to the silent war raging within Azzi. She could hear the faint sounds of the dorm hallway, a door opening, laughter, the mundane backdrop to their intensely private moment. 

Someone could walk in at any second. The fear was still there.

She shifted again, this time not to create distance, but to subtly lean in. Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s lips, then back to her eyes, a silent question passing between them.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible. It wasn’t a denial. It wasn’t an admission. It was a plea. A plea for understanding, for patience, for a moment to breathe.

Paige’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more tender, but no less intense. 

Her fingers on Azzi’s hip tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent reassurance, a promise. “It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice a soothing balm against Azzi’s panicked heart.

And then, without another word, Paige leaned in, just a fraction of an inch, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Azzi’s temple. 

Azzi closed her eyes, biting down on the inside of her cheek. And Azzi knew, with a terrifying certainty, that she was falling. Hard.

[azzinator3000]

SAVE ME LESBIAN FLAG BIKINI AZZI FUDD, PLEASE SAVE ME

God she’s so fine, that white girl is GREEDY

[azzinator3000]

ur actually devouring the new fic omg

Thank you love, I’m excited to write the next one it got me giggling and kicking my feet fr

XOXO 💋

[azzinator3000]

Locked Doors 

Word count (so far): 2K 

Content: Friends-to-lovers, secret relationship, intense sexual tension, UConn season 2023/2024

Warnings: Mature Content (Minors DNI)

CHAPTER 1 - SOFT SPOT

Paige wasn’t sure what scared her more — that Azzi stayed the night, or that Paige kind of wanted her to. No, actually — not kind of. She wanted it. She definitely wanted it. 

Which was… a problem.

Because this wasn’t supposed to be like this. They had their thing, you know? Their rhythm. Their rules. Well, not rules exactly, because neither of them ever really said anything out loud. 

But there were rules.

Azzi was right there, asleep in her bed. Paige could hear her breathing, could see the soft light hitting her brown skin, the little rise and fall of her shoulders under Paige’s old t-shirt. God, she hoped she was wearing underwear. Paige was honestly too scared to check. 

A part of her felt dirty for even thinking it, for looking at Azzi like this, for wanting something so uncomplicated to suddenly become so messy and demanding. But the dirtiness was mixed with a thrill, a possessive burn in her gut. Azzi, here, in her bed, wearing her shirt. It felt… right. Too right.

And it’s not like this was the first time. This was college. They did this. That’s just what it was. 

Paige didn’t even know if Azzi liked girls, she never asked. She never asked because — well, she didn’t want to hear an answer that would ruin this thing they did. 

Maybe Azzi just liked her, and that was easier to sit with. The idea that Azzi was only drawn to her, Paige Bueckers, not the concept of girls in general, was a selfish thought. But it was a comforting one, a private vanity she clung to.

Paige knew she liked girls, of course she did. She always knew. She’d been messing around with girls long before Azzi ever showed up on campus. 

But that wasn’t something she could say, not out loud. Not as Paige Bueckers. 

Paige Bueckers? She’s a shooter. She’s clutch. She’s marketable. She’s not gay. 

Well, she is, but not in a way that fits the story people already wrote for her, the one with the clean, straight lines and the wholesome, All-American appeal. It was an unspoken contract, signed in endorsements and public appearances, that her private life would remain just that: private, and preferably, utterly conventional.

It was weird, right? That she was bothered people just assumed she was straight, but she also never really corrected them. She accepted that this was how it had to be. 

Except… then there was Azzi. Azzi, with her soft voice, her big heart, her perfect family, her laugh. Azzi, who Paige would do literally anything for. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t even a secret. It was just Paige and Azzi. That’s how they worked.

 Paige would tape over the windows to block the sun, but after Azzi started, well, showing up more often, she stopped doing that. She let the light in, even though she hated it in the morning, because Azzi was scared of the dark. Paige could never let her be scared. 

And now here they were. Morning. Quiet. Paige sitting there, hugging her knees to her chest, trying not to lose her mind, realizing Azzi slept over. Azzi stayed. That wasn’t their thing. Their thing was the stolen moments, the frantic rush, the quick, desperate relief, and then the return to their separate lives. Azzi rarely spent the night. 

And the girls? The girls definitely saw them. Paige vaguely remembered the door creaking open last night, the shuffle of shoes, someone whispering, and Paige trying to laugh it off, like it was nothing, like, haha, we just fell asleep. But no one really said anything. 

A soft rustle from the bed. Azzi stirred, a soft groan escaping her lips as she burrowed deeper into the pillow, her dark curls splayed against the white cotton. Paige’s breath hitched. God, she was beautiful, even rumpled and half-asleep. 

The morning light, which Paige usually abhorred, seemed to halo Azzi, highlighting the caramel tones of her skin, the gentle curve of her neck. Paige felt a familiar possessiveness clench in her chest, a primal urge to keep this sight, this moment, all to herself. She wanted to lean down, press a kiss to Azzi’s forehead, feel that soft skin against her lips. But she didn’t. Not yet. The rules, unspoken as they were, still held a subtle power.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the sunlight. For a moment, she looked disoriented, then her gaze landed on Paige, sitting on the floor by the bed, and a slow, sleepy smile bloomed on her face, dimple flashing. That smile. That fucking smile unraveled Paige every single time.

“Morning,” Azzi mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, a little hoarse. She stretched, arching her back, and the t-shirt rode up, just enough to reveal a sliver of toned midriff. 

“Morning, Princess,” Paige responded, her voice coming out a little rougher than she intended. 

But then Azzi’s face changed. Like, she remembered. Like her whole body tensed up all at once. 

“Wait—” she sat up, eyes wide now. “Oh my God. I stayed over.” Paige’s stomach dropped. This was it. The moment the fragile bubble burst. “Azzi, it’s fine.” Paige tried to keep her voice even.

But Azzi was already spiraling, grabbing her phone like that was gonna solve something. “No, no, no, this is bad. They’re gonna think—like, if the girls saw me leave this morning, they’re gonna think there’s, like, something going on.” Her voice was a frantic whisper, her eyes wide with genuine alarm. 

She glanced at the door, then back at Paige, her caramel skin looking paler in the bright morning light.

And Paige just blinked at her, sitting there like—what? You think they don’t already know? You think they didn’t know when we disappeared last night, mid-Jena’s dance moves? You think they haven’t known for years, since we were barely teenagers and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you at USA camp? Since your first UConn party?

Paige’s throat went a little dry. She didn’t know why. Maybe because she’d just realized Azzi was scared. Like, really scared. Like, this wasn’t just pretending-it’s-nothing scared. This was don’t-even-let-them-think-it’s-something scared. 

or Azzi, this was still just a casual hookup, a fun, illicit thrill with a friend. Paige felt a hot surge of annoyance, mixed with a deeper, more painful sense of embarrassment. 

“It’s fine,” Paige said quickly, forcing the words out, because Azzi was pulling on her shoes like she was about to sprint out the door, her movements jerky with anxiety. “I told them you were drunk. That’s why you stayed.” Lie. A complete, unadulterated lie. She hadn't said a word to anyone. 

The girls had let them be, as they always did. But Azzi’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. The tension drained out of her, replaced by a visible wave of relief. And Paige wanted her to feel better. Even if it meant lying. 

Azzi gave her this soft little smile, still half-flustered, but grateful. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Thanks, P.” She zipped up her jacket, grabbed her small bag, and gave Paige one last, quick, almost apologetic glance before hurrying out the door.

Paige just nodded, watching her go. The door clicked shut, leaving a silence that felt heavier, colder, than before. Paige wanted to scream, to break something. She wanted to grab Azzi and shake her.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, the spot where Azzi had been still warm, a ghost of her presence. She pulled herself up, her movements stiff, and headed out to the kitchen, a restless energy buzzing under her skin.

KK was there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone, eating dry cereal out of the box because, you know, of course she was. Aubrey was perched on a stool nearby, humming along to something in her headphones, probably already awake for hours, having finished her morning lifts. Ice was nowhere in sight, likely still passed out.

“Well, well, well,” KK grinned without looking up, a spoon clattering against the cardboard box. “Look who finally came out of her love nest.” Ice took off one headphone, a knowing smirk on her face. “Took you long enough, P. We were starting to think Azzi had you chained to the bed.”

“Don’t start,” Paige muttered, pulling open the fridge aggressively, the harsh fluorescent light doing nothing to improve her mood. She wasn’t even hungry. She just needed to do something, anything, to dissipate this frustrated energy. 

The thought of Azzi’s panic, the casualness of her exit, grated on her nerves.

“Okay, but like—” KK’s grin only widened, “—are you gonna tell us when the wedding is or should I just pencil in spring? We need a head count for the national championship party, might as well combine.” “Shut up.” Paige’s voice was sharper than she meant, laced with a bitterness she usually reserved for bad calls on the court.

She slammed the fridge shut, rattling the bottles inside.

KK raised an eyebrow, finally looking at her, her expression losing some of its playful edge. “Whoa. Okay. Relax. We’re just messing around.”

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t.” Paige’s voice was, icy. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“We literally do,” Aubrey interjected, leaning forward on the stool. “We heard you two stumble in last night. And we saw Azzi leave just now, looking like she’d run a marathon”

 “You don’t.” Paige’s jaw was tight. She knew they knew. She’d always known they knew. But Azzi didn't. And that was the problem. 

That was Azzi's problem, and now it was Paige's.

KK tilted her head, studying her, a rare seriousness in her eyes. “Okay. You’re mad. Like, actually mad.” She held up her hands, like, I’m out of this. 

“Whatever’s going on, it’s between you and Azzi. But don’t get all cold with us when we didn’t do anything. We’re literally just trying to support  whatever the hell that is.” 

Paige clenched her jaw. She knew that. She knew KK wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Paige wanted something that wasn’t hers to want.

This was supposed to be her senior year, her championship run, and instead, her heart was getting twisted into knots over a girl who saw them as nothing but a 'night rush.' It was messy. It was a distraction she couldn't afford.

Just then, the door to the room opened again, and Azzi came out, wearing her jacket, still looking a little shaken but smiling now, all soft and sweet again, like the panic from earlier never happened.

 She’d clearly just come back from her own room probably to grab something or just to make a point of leaving Paige's room properly.

“Hey, guys,” she said to KK and Ice, her voice light, innocent. Then her eyes found Paige’s. She brushed past Paige, lightly bumping her shoulder, a casual, friendly gesture that felt like a slap in the face. 

“You okay, P? You look… intense”

Paige looked at her, and yeah, her heart softened immediately, which was annoying. 

Like, seriously? Seriously? You’re just gonna melt like that? All that anger, all that frustration, it just… evaporated the moment Azzi’s eyes met hers. 

Paige Bueckers you’re pathetic

“Yeah,” Paige muttered, forcing the word past her tight throat. “I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter. 

Azzi smiled at her, real and bright, and Paige hated that it made her feel better.

KK watched the whole thing, chewing slowly on her cereal, her gaze shifting between Paige’s softened expression and Azzi’s guileless smile. Aubrey, too, had put her headphone back on, but she was definitely watching, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Huh,” KK said finally, once Azzi had turned to chat with Ice about their morning practice schedule. 

“So, you’re all sharp with us, but with her, you’re soft. Interesting.” 

Paige shot her a look, a venomous glare that usually made KK back off. “KK.” 

“Just saying.” KK shrugged, unbothered, her eyes twinkling. “Guess we know what your weakness is, Bueckers.”

But Paige couldn’t even stay mad because it was true. She was soft with Azzi. That’s how it worked. 

Paige could act all tough with the rest of the world, she could be the fierce competitor, the unyielding superstar. Azzi? Azzi was the soft spot. Always was.

[azzinator3000]

Locked Doors

Title: Locked Doors 

Word count (so far): 1.9K 

Content: Friends-to-lovers, secret relationship, intense sexual tension, UConn season 2023/2024

Warnings: Mature Content (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Pazzi

Summary:

Azzi Fudd has one golden rule: don't like this too much. Especially not when "this" involves tangled limbs, whispered reassurances, and the intoxicating heat of Paige Bueckers' lap. They're UConn's star duo, aiming for a national championship, meticulously crafted for public consumption. But behind closed dorm doors, their long-standing "friendship" has morphed into something dangerously undeniable

INTRODUCTION (December, 2023)

Azzi Fudd had decided: she really, really shouldn’t be liking this as much as she did.

She was trying to make sense of it in her head, but, honestly? Not that hard.

Maybe it was the tequila, still drumming hot in her body, like a bassline she couldn’t quite shut off. Maybe it was the pure, sharp joy of being back on the court with the Huskies after so long, slipping into that rhythm that felt like home. Maybe it was just that being near Paige Bueckers always made her lose every shred of common sense

Probably all of the above

That’s how she’d ended up here, sitting on Paige’s lap in her dorm room, like the next morning wouldn’t come and they wouldn’t both go back to that careful, careful dance where they swore it didn’t mean anything

Except, it did

It always did

And truly, there was no place Azzi liked being more than right here—her arms looped around Paige’s shoulders, her fingers tangled in Paige’s impossibly blonde hair, her body pressed against Paige’s chest. There was no place that felt more right than Paige Fucking Bueckers’ lap.

Which meant she was utterly, completely, fucked

She shouldn’t be wanting this so bad. She shouldn’t be wanting her so bad

Because the thing about Paige Bueckers? Everyone wanted her. On the court, off the court, on highlight reels, in sneaker deals. Paige was the girl. Tall, blonde, built like she was carved out of pure focus and sharp edges. She played like a storm and walked like she didn’t owe anyone her time. She was confident, she was controlled, she was… everything

The only problem was: Paige didn’t do this. She didn’t talk about feelings. She didn’t have girlfriends. Paige had been raised in a world where she was supposed to be perfect. Marketable. Carefully built for greatness.

So, when they touched—when they kissed—when they stumbled out of parties together and into the mess of each other—it always came with this quiet, heavy but.

But we can’t.

But it’s just for now.

But it doesn’t mean anything, right?

Azzi had been pretending that was enough.

But she was starting to wonder if pretending was just another way to break her own heart.

Their teammates knew—of course they knew.

KK would just roll her eyes whenever Azzi sat just a little too close to Paige on the team bus. Ice would nudge her ribs like we see you or just grin and say something just on the edge of teasing.

But no one said it out loud. Because Paige and Azzi didn’t say it out loud.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But Azzi was beginning to think yet was still coming. And when it did, she wasn’t sure either of them would know what to do with it.

But for tonight? For now?

Azzi leaned in, her breath ghosting over Paige’s lips, smiling like she knew exactly what she was about to ruin.

“Tell me to stop,” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist didn't just tighten; it became an anchor, pulling Azzi flush against her, no space left to breathe or think. And then Paige kissed her. It wasn’t a kiss, not really. 

It was a declaration, a guttural need pressed against Azzi’s mouth, claiming her. 

Paige’s lips were open, hungry, demanding, and her tongue was already there, sweeping inside, a desperate dance that left Azzi breathless and reeling. 

This was not the gentle exploration of friends; this was a storm, wild and consuming.

Azzi’s body arched, responding instinctively, her own desperate desire mirroring Paige's ferocity. She gasped into the kiss, a soft moan escaping her throat, and Paige devoured the sound.

There was no room for thought, no space for the "buts" that usually haunted them. 

Only sensation: the sharp taste of tequila and the cool whisper of mint on Paige's breath, the subtle scent of Paige’s shampoo, the soft friction of their clothes, the hard, unyielding muscle beneath her hands as Azzi’s fingers dug into Paige’s scalp, pulling her impossibly closer, deepening the kiss, chasing that feeling of blissful oblivion.

Paige shifted, a low sound vibrating in her chest, urging Azzi on. Her leg hooked around Azzi’s hip, a natural move, one they’d done a hundred times, on a hundred different couches, in a hundred different moods. It felt like coming home, even as it felt utterly dangerous. 

Paige’s hand slipped under Azzi’s shirt, cool fingers tracing the curve of her breast, then splaying wide over her lower back, pressing her closer still until Azzi could feel the frantic beat of Paige’s heart against her own.

This was December. The air outside was crisp, winter settling in. The Huskies were deep into their season, every practice, every game, a step closer to the national championship. The stakes were higher than ever, the pressure palpable.

And here they were, two of the best college players in the country, tucked away in a dorm room, risking everything for moments like these.

Azzi knew the narrative: Paige Bueckers, the golden girl, the current face of women’s college basketball, meticulously crafted for superstardom. And Azzi, the quiet powerhouse, the future of the game. Their careers, their public images, were meticulously managed. A whisper of this could unravel it all. 

Paige broke the kiss, just enough for Azzi to gasp for air, her forehead resting against Azzi’s. Her light eyes, usually so sharp and analytical on the court, were soft now, a little dazed, but burning with an unyielding hunger.

“I would never,” Paige breathed, her voice rough, hoarse, her gaze fixed on Azzi’s lips like they were the answer to every question. “I would never tell you to stop.”

“Think they’re still at the bar?” Azzi finally managed to whisper, her voice barely a breath. The words felt ridiculously mundane, but the question was urgent. They’d slipped away, two minutes after Ice had started dancing on a table, feigning exhaustion and an early night. 

“Probably ordering another round, Princess,” she murmured, her thumb tracing the curve of Azzi’s jaw, sending shivers down her neck. The pet name always made Azzi’s stomach flip. 

Princess. It felt possessive, intimate, everything they weren’t supposed to be. “We bought ourselves… maybe ten more minutes before KK decides to come hunt us down and ask why her favorite ‘friend’ is missing.”

Azzi laughed, a low, shaky sound that still felt a little too loud in the quiet room. She imagined KK, all five-foot-nine of her, stomping down the hall.

“Yeah, so we need to be quiet,” Azzi said, her eyes flitting to the door, then back to Paige.

The memory of the bar bathroom flashed through her mind—the sticky floor, the faint smell of disinfectant, the frantic, desperate scramble of their bodies against the cold tile, hands tearing at clothes, mouths devouring mouths.

They’d stumbled out, flushed and disheveled, pretending it was just the heat of the crowd, the effect of too many drinks. No one had looked twice. Or maybe everyone had, and simply chosen not to comment (as usual).

Paige’s gaze followed hers, then returned, darkening with a playful intensity. “Quiet? Is that a challenge, Princess?” Her fingers tightened, pulling Azzi’s hips forward, grinding them subtly against her own. Azzi gasped, a small, choked sound.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, a warning mixed with a plea. “They’ll be here any minute. We can’t…”

“Can’t we?” Paige cut her off, her eyes holding Azzi captive. She leaned in again, not for another full kiss, but to whisper against Azzi’s mouth, her breath hot and sweet. “Or do you just want them to hear, Azzi Fudd?” 

The sudden, jarring realization that their time was truly finite struck Azzi with a cold force. It wasn’t just the fear of being caught by the team; it was the larger, more existential dread of their expiration date. Paige was a senior. This was her last year at UConn, her final shot at the national title with this team, with Azzi by her side. After this, everything would change. 

Paige would go pro, the WNBA, a world of even harsher spotlights and greater scrutiny. Azzi would still be here, playing another year, leading the Huskies. The distance, the pressure, the inevitable public scrutiny—it would swallow whatever this was whole.

“We really need to be quiet Bueckers,” Azzi insisted again, her voice a little stronger this time, even as her mind still wandered. She pressed her fingers against Paige’s strong shoulder, a silent plea for restraint. It was a self-preservation instinct kicking in, a tiny part of her still fighting for control.

“Fine,” Paige said, but then her eyes narrowed

Azzi knew that look. It was the same look Paige got on the court when she was about to do something audacious, something that shouldn't work but always did. It was the look that said, I dare you.

Her gaze dropped to Paige’s lips, still slightly swollen, still looking utterly kissable. “What?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible. Her body was still on fire, every nerve ending alive and buzzing, a stark contrast to the silence she was now trying to enforce.

Paige leaned in, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “We have to be quiet,” she repeated, her voice a low murmur that seemed to wrap around Azzi. “But we don’t have to stop touching.” Her hand, which had been resting on Azzi’s knee, began to move, slowly, deliberately, up the inside of Azzi’s thigh. The heat of her palm seared through the soft cotton of her underwear, a direct line to Azzi’s core.

Azzi gasped, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening. The sudden, intimate touch was a direct assault on her precarious control. Every fiber of her being screamed to pull away, to regain some semblance of composure before the girls came back. 

“Paige,” she breathed, a desperate plea.

Paige’s grin widened, a silent, knowing triumph. “Shhh, Princess,” she whispered, her gaze locked with Azzi’s as her fingers moved higher, her touch light but insistent. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would we?”

Paige was pushing Azzi to the very edge of her control, demanding a different kind of quiet, a breathless, desperate silence born of raw, unadulterated sensation. Azzi could feel the tremor starting in her legs, the slow, agonizing build of desire that Paige always seemed to orchestrate with such effortless precision.

Each creak of the floorboards outside, each distant murmur from the hallway, was a stark reminder of their impending discovery, but even that fear, potent as it was, couldn't completely drown out the delicious, terrifying pull of Paige's touch.

Azzi closed her eyes, biting down on her lip, a silent battle raging within her, but for tonight, right here, on Paige Bueckers' lap, Azzi was ready to burn

[azzinator3000]

starting fresh with my fanfic account girlies, using this as my creative outlet

xoxo 💋