dontrllycaretbh

[dontrllycaretbh]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Title: Almost Honest

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: explicit sapphic content (18+), dom!Azzi, sub!Paige, fingering, spit kink, semi-public (locker room), teasing, locker room smut, emotional manipulation (sexy), praise kink, light degradation, post-game tension, enemies-to-everything, bench makeouts, Azzi finally snapping, years of repressed pining, “this is nothing” lies, unspoken feelings and extremely spoken orgasms (don’t read this if your elle)

Summary:

Paige has a girlfriend.

Azzi has no patience left.

After years of playful taunts and dangerous glances, one post-game moment pushes everything over the edge. What starts with a dare turns into a kiss, and what starts as a kiss becomes something much, much messier — on the bench, in the locker room, under the weight of everything they’ve never said out loud. Azzi doesn’t need to ask if Paige wants this. She already knows.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The hotel room smelled like lavender detergent and victory sweat. Paige was on the floor, back against the bed frame, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. Azzi had kicked off her slides and was pacing around the room like she couldn’t sit still.

“You gonna text her?” Azzi asked, like it was casual. Like her voice wasn’t dipped in gasoline.

Paige didn’t look up. “Who?”

Azzi smirked. “Your girlfriend. What’s her name again? Emma? Emily? Something with an E and zero flavor?”

“Elle,” Paige muttered.

“Right. Elle.” Azzi drew the name out like it was sour in her mouth. “She the one who sends you dry goodnight texts and claps when you tie your shoes?”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck is your problem tonight?”

Azzi stopped pacing. She looked at Paige, head tilted, like she was analyzing a puzzle. “You. You’re my problem. You walk around acting like you’re satisfied with her when I know you’re not.”

Paige stood up now, jaw tight. “Don’t.”

Azzi took a step closer. “Don’t what? Tell the truth? Babe, she doesn’t even know how to look at you. I’ve seen it. You shrink around her.”

“I don’t,” Paige snapped, but her voice cracked.

“You do,” Azzi said, softer now, like a slow pull on a thread. “You get quiet. Careful. You don’t flirt. You don’t laugh like you do with me. And you sure as hell don’t look at her the way you’re looking at me right now.”

Paige’s chest rose and fell. “You’re baiting me.”

Azzi shrugged, stepping closer until they were inches apart. “Maybe. But if it wasn’t working, you’d walk away.”

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi leaned in, her breath warm against Paige’s ear. “I bet she’s never even made you want to be bad.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship.”

Azzi laughed, low and wicked. “Please. If she satisfied you, you wouldn’t be standing here trying not to kiss me.”

Paige’s fists clenched. Her voice came out breathy, shaken: “You’re an asshole.”

Azzi grinned. “And you’re a liar.”

The silence was thick. Heavy with everything they’d never said out loud. Paige stared at her, furious — and aching. Azzi’s expression softened, just barely.

“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” she said, voice quieter. “But don’t lie to me. Not when we both know what this is.”

Paige swallowed hard. “This is nothing.”

“Then prove it,” Azzi whispered. “Walk away.”

Paige didn’t.

Instead, she closed the distance, grabbed Azzi by the collar, and kissed her like it was a punishment — for Azzi, for herself, for every moment she pretended she didn’t want this. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was months of held-back heat and self-denial crashing into a moment that felt like it might ruin everything.

When they pulled apart, Paige’s voice was wrecked. “Fuck.”

Azzi smirked, lips swollen. “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Next day

The gym was loud with sneakers and whistles and too many bright lights for a morning practice. Paige was already sweating — not from the drills, not really — but from the moment she saw Azzi walk in.

Same black tight shorts. Same locked-in bun. Same smug look she always wore when she knew Paige hadn’t slept.

Azzi didn’t even say good morning. She just tossed her bag down, locked eyes with Paige, and smirked like she still had last night’s conversation playing on a loop in her head.

Paige looked away first.

Coach split them into teams. Of course. Azzi on the opposite side — red jersey, full grin, already pulling her hair tighter like she was about to go for blood.

And she did.

Azzi was hell all practice. Full-court pressure, constant cutting across Paige’s lane, always guarding her just a little too close. Not fouling — never that — but close enough that Paige could feel her breath on her neck when she turned for a jumper.

“You gonna shoot?” Azzi muttered during one possession, barely loud enough to be heard. “Or are you saving all your bad decisions for off the court?”

Paige missed the shot. Badly.

Azzi laughed under her breath and jogged back on defense like it was nothing.

Paige wanted to deck her.

Next play: Paige drove baseline, tried to cut left. Azzi was already there, bumping her hip, hands up, body heat burning through the thin fabric of Paige’s tank.

“You’re playing mad,” Azzi whispered.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Azzi said. “And it looks good on you.”

Paige passed out of the drive and walked away before she said something that’d get her benched.

But Azzi didn’t stop.

Between drills, she was all friendly with everyone but Paige. Laughing, clapping, shooting threes with her eyes closed. She even bumped knuckles with kk at the water table. Paige watched it happen from across the court — and nearly bit through her own mouthguard.

End of scrimmage, Geno called a free throw challenge. Pressure shots, silence in the gym.

Paige stepped up. Missed the first. Rimmed out.

From the sideline, Azzi let out the smallest, most unnecessary whistle.

Paige glared at her.

Azzi tilted her head, then mouthed, “Shaky hands.”

Paige sank the second, but barely.

Practice ended in a haze. Everyone clapped it off, good energy, good sweat.

Except Paige, who stayed behind to shoot. Over and over. Ball after ball — most hitting back iron. She couldn’t feel her own rhythm anymore. Azzi had stolen that too.

“Want a rebounder?” came the voice behind her.

Paige froze.

Azzi was leaning against the wall again, arms crossed, water bottle in hand. Same exact pose as last night. Same quiet smirk. But this time, her voice was gentler.

“You looked a little off today.”

Paige didn’t turn. “You’re an asshole.”

Azzi shrugged. “And yet you’re still here.”

Paige finally turned, sweaty and angry and tired. “What do you want from me?”

Azzi just looked at her. Really looked.

“I want you to be honest.”

“With who?”

Azzi stepped forward, real slow. “Start with yourself.”

Paige stared at her for a long second, chest still heaving from the reps. Then she shook her head, like shaking something off that wouldn’t leave.

And without another word, she grabbed her ball and walked out of the gym.

But Azzi smiled anyway.

Because she knew Paige heard every word.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The locker room was humid with steam and sweat and the kind of silence that hums when everyone’s too tired to talk. Sneakers squeaked. Showers hissed. But Paige sat alone at her locker, towel around her shoulders, head in her hands.

She thought staying late would help her cool off.

It didn’t.

She could still feel Azzi in her skin — that stupid smirk, the soft baiting, the way she played her like a game she’d already won.

The door creaked.

Footsteps.

Paige didn’t even have to look up.

Azzi.

Of course.

She strolled in like she owned the place, hair damp, phone in hand, still in her sports bra and shorts. Barefoot. Calm. Dangerous.

“You always this dramatic after practice?” Azzi asked, voice casual like she hadn’t spent the last two hours pushing every single one of Paige’s buttons.

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi came closer.

“You mad because I locked you up, or mad because you let me?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Azzi tilted her head, eyes locked. “Talk to you? Touch you? Remind you what you’re trying so hard to forget?”

Paige stood fast, towel dropping to the bench. “You need to stop.”

Azzi didn’t move. “You sure?”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“And I’m not the one who kissed anybody.”

That stopped her. Air punched out of her lungs like a foul call she didn’t see coming.

“You baited me,” Paige said.

Azzi stepped closer. “You took the bait.”

“I was tired. I was pissed. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

Azzi’s voice was soft now. So soft it made Paige want to scream.

“Yes, you did,” she repeated, closer now, low and slow and cutting. “You kissed me because you wanted to. Because she doesn’t get you. Not the way I do.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “You think you know me?”

Azzi leaned in, so close their foreheads almost touched. “I know you can’t stop looking at me.”

Paige blinked once. Twice. Her breath caught.

“You hate it,” Azzi whispered, “but you like it more.”

Silence.

The words were a knife, slicing through Paige's resolve. She grabbed Azzi's hand, pulling her closer, the gap between them nonexistent. "Fine," she hissed, "you want to play? Then let's play."

Their kiss was a declaration of war. Teeth clashed, tongues dueled, and their mouths were a mess of passion and anger. It was raw, it was dirty, it was everything Paige had been trying to ignore.

Their hands roamed, greedy and urgent. Paige's fingers found the hem of Azzi's sports bra, pulling it up to expose her full, dark nipples. She pinched them lightly, eliciting a gasp from Azzi that was music to her ears. The sound of skin on skin, the slap of flesh, filled the room as their bodies collided, a cacophony of need.

The taste of mint toothpaste and sweat mingled between them as they kissed, their mouths open and hungry. Paige's heart hammered in her chest, each beat echoing through her entire being. This was wrong, she knew it, but it felt so right.

Azzi's hand slid down Paige's stomach, her fingertips brushing the damp fabric of her shorts. Paige moaned into the kiss, her legs parting instinctively, inviting the touch.

"You're so wet," Azzi whispered, her voice a dark promise.

"Don't talk," Paige growled, pushing her down onto the bench.

Their hips ground together, the friction a sweet agony that only served to stoke the fire between them. Paige's hand moved to Azzi's throat, a gentle squeeze that made her eyes roll back. "Shut up," she murmured, her voice thick with want.

Azzi's fingers danced over the seam of Paige's shorts, teasing the outline of her core. Paige's hips bucked, seeking more, needing it like she needed air. The locker room was a blur, the world outside forgotten as they drowned in each other.

Their conversation was a symphony of gasps and whimpers, a back and forth of dirty words and pleas. "Please," Paige whispered, the word a benediction and a curse.

"Tell me you want it," Azzi demanded, her voice low and urgent.

"I want it," Paige admitted, the words a broken record in her head.

Azzi's hand slid under the elastic, her fingers finding their way to Paige's slick heat. The sound of her spit mixing with Paige's arousal was obscene in the quiet room.

"Tell me you're mine," Azzi murmured, her thumb circling Paige's clit.

"I'm yours," Paige gasped, her body arching off the bench.

Their kiss grew sloppier, their movements more frantic as Azzi's fingers worked their magic. The tension in Paige's body coiled tighter and tighter until she was a spring ready to snap.

And then she did.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her and leaving her trembling and gasping for breath. She collapsed onto Azzi, her head buried in the crook of her neck, her heart racing like it was trying to escape her chest.

"Fuck," Paige whispered, the word a prayer and a confession.

"ur so fucking pretty when you come," Azzi said, her voice a purr.

They stayed like that, tangled in each other's arms, the locker room spinning around them. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air, a stark reminder of the line they'd just crossed.

When Paige finally pulled away, she was met with Azzi's knowing gaze. The challenge was clear: Now what?

But for the first time in what felt like forever, Paige didn't have an answer. All she knew was that she'd never felt more alive than in the chaos of this moment, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

The silence was deafening.

"You can't keep doing this to me," Paige whispered.

Azzi's smile was slow and smug. "But you love it."

Before Paige could respond, she was kissing her again, her tongue pushing its way into Paige's mouth, demanding and insistent. Paige moaned, her own anger and confusion mixing with the desire that had been building for so long. She felt herself giving in, her body betraying her even as she tried to hold onto the last shreds of her relationship.

"Spit," Azzi murmured against her lips, her hand moving to the back of Paige's head, pushing her down.

Paige hesitated for a moment, then did as she was told. She spat into Azzi's open mouth, watching as she swallowed it down with a hungry look in her eyes. The act was so filthy, so wrong, but it only served to make Paige's pussy throb with need.

"Ride me," Azzi ordered, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down Paige's spine.

The blond took a shaky breath and straddled Azzi's lap again, the warmth of her pussy pressing against the fabric of her shorts. She felt like she was drowning in the heat of it, in the way Azzi's hands roamed over her body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.

"You want it, don't you?" Azzi whispered, her thumb tracing Paige's lower lip, her other hand sliding down to cup her ass.

Paige nodded, unable to form words. She was lost in the sensation of Azzi's mouth on hers, in the way her body was responding to the other girl's touch. It was messy and raw and everything she'd been denying herself for so long.

As if reading her mind, Azzi reached up and yanked down Paige's shorts, exposing her to the cool air of the locker room. The blond's pussy was already glistening, begging for attention.

"Fuck me," Paige managed to say, her voice barely above a whimper.

And so Azzi did. She slid two fingers into Paige, her thumb still playing with her clit, her mouth never leaving hers. Paige's hips bucked, her legs trembling as she took the rough, demanding rhythm that Azzi set.

Their kiss grew sloppier, spit mingling between them, their breaths coming in ragged pants. The sound of Azzi's fingers sliding in and out of her, the wet smack of their skin, filled the small space around them.

"I'm going to make you come," Azzi murmured, her eyes dark with lust.

"Please," Paige begged, her voice a desperate whine.

The tension grew, their movements more frantic, until Paige's orgasm hit her like a freight train. She cried out, her body convulsing as Azzi continued to fuck her through it, her mouth never leaving hers.

When it was over, Paige collapsed against Azzi's chest, her heart hammering in her ears. The locker room was a blur around her, the world outside a distant memory.

"What have we done?" she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of what they'd just shared.

Azzi's only response was to kiss her again, a soft, gentle kiss that was at odds with the raw passion of moments before. "We're not done yet," she murmured.

And Paige knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that she was right. This was just the beginning.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[dontrllycaretbh]

I CANNOT POST, like i have the fic ready i just cannot post, my fingers won’t let me

[dontrllycaretbh]

just wanna say if i spam like all of ur posts, im not sorry 🫶🏾 I JUST CANNOT READ SOMETHING AND NOT LIKE IT IM SORRY (even if it’s u ranting)

[dontrllycaretbh]

You should make a masterlist, I love your fics

thank u lovely!!! i’ve wanted to make it, i just genuinely don’t know how 😭😭

[dontrllycaretbh]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Title: Dripping offense

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: explicit sapphic content (18+), spit kink, first-time touch, mutual masturbation, dom!Azzi / sub!Paige dynamics, fingering, soft praise, erotic vulnerability, flushed confessions, breathy tension, years of longing, slow unraveling of innocence, first orgasm, squirt mention, unspoken love, emotional safety in a physical moment

Word count: 4,111 words

Summary:

In a quiet hotel room after the game, Paige admits she’s never kissed anyone—never even touched herself. Azzi doesn’t laugh. She listens. She guides. And in the soft hush between them, curiosity turns into trust, and trust into something wetter, deeper, harder to name.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The hotel room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The muffled sounds of teammates down the hall—laughing, arguing over snacks, bumping music—were just white noise now. Paige was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still in her Uconn warm-ups, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Azzi was lying on her side across the other bed, propped up on one elbow, scrolling half-heartedly through her phone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The game had ended hours ago, but their adrenaline hadn’t quite faded yet.

“You ever think about… like, what your life would be like if you weren’t an athlete?” Paige asked, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Azzi looked up from her phone. “Yeah. All the time actually.”

Paige laughed. “You’d be like a really intense librarian or something.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You think I give off librarian vibes?”

“You give off…organized chaos. Like you’d run a super strict library but still sneak your friends in after hours.”

“That’s fair.”

The conversation drifted for a bit. They talked about music, what classes they hated the most, and how the hotel had the weirdest vending machine options. Then it got quiet again. A different kind of quiet.

Paige sat up, hugging a pillow to her chest. She looked hesitant, like she was weighing something in her mind.

Azzi noticed. “What?”

Paige bit her lip. “…Can I tell you something? Kinda personal?”

Azzi rolled over to face her completely. “Of course.”

Paige looked visibly embarrassed, and was blushing a little bit. Her face turned red, and she looked like she really didn’t want to admit what was coming next. “…Um…n-neither…neither a girl nor a boy…I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Azzi blinked, then smiled gently. “Oh.”

“I mean—not like I didn’t want to. I just…never really found the right time. Or the right person,” Paige said quickly, her words rushing. “And I guess I’ve always been kinda awkward and shy. It’s not like I

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” Paige continued, her voice quiet, eyes darting down to her hands. “I’ve just… I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I had to focus on basketball, or school, or whatever else was right in front of me. And whenever it came to, like… relationships, or stuff like that—I just froze.”

Azzi nodded, sitting up slightly on her bed, giving Paige her full attention. There was no teasing in her expression, just quiet understanding.

Paige exhaled shakily, clearly relieved to have finally said it aloud. “And yeah, if I’ve never kissed anyone… I guess that means I haven’t… you know.”

Azzi tilted her head, just watching Paige softly.

“…Had sex,” Paige clarified, flustered. Her face turned even redder. “Not with a guy. Not with a girl. Not with anyone.”

There was a long pause before Azzi finally broke it with a warm, careful voice. “Paige, that’s not weird.”

“It feels weird,” Paige said quickly. “I mean, who goes to college, commits to Uconn, and still hasn’t even had their first kiss? Everyone always talks like they’ve done everything already and I’m just sitting here pretending to know what they’re talking about.”

“You’re not behind. You’re just… on your own timeline.” Azzi smiled softly, leaning forward. “There’s no checklist. No deadline.”

Paige looked at her, visibly trying not to tear up—not from sadness, but from the safety she felt in Azzi’s calm, grounding voice. “It’s just lately… I’ve been feeling kind of lonely. Like, not just physically—emotionally too. I’ve started noticing things. Thinking about things more. Like… wondering what it’d be like.”

Azzi stayed silent, letting her speak.

“I’ve seen stuff on TV or in movies—people kissing, being close, touching each other—and I never used to care. But now, I don’t know… I’ll see something and think, ‘That looks nice. I wonder what that feels like.’” She swallowed. “I’ve just never wanted to try it. Not with anyone. Until now.”

There was a beat.

Azzi’s eyes met hers. “Until now?”

Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yeah…with you.”

The silence hung heavy now, not uncomfortable—but charged with something delicate. Paige looked like she wanted to crawl under a pillow and disappear, but also like she’d just jumped off a cliff and was waiting to land.

Azzi didn’t look away. Her voice was gentle, but direct. “You excite me in ways I didn’t expect, too,” she admitted. “And I don’t want you to feel ashamed about anything you haven’t done. You’re not missing anything. You’re just starting to explore what you want.”

Paige gave a nervous smile, eyes still a little glassy. “There’s…one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never even…” Paige trailed off, her face going scarlet now. “I’ve never touched myself.”

Azzi blinked, surprised—not in judgment, but in the raw honesty of the moment. “Like, ever?”

Paige shook her head, quickly. “Nope. I don’t know. It just never felt like something I needed to do. Or maybe I was scared I wouldn’t know how. Or feel weird afterward. I don’t know.”

Azzi hesitated, then sat up straighter, choosing her words carefully. “Can I…maybe guide you? Not touch you—just talk you through it. If you want. Only if you want.”

Paige looked stunned by the offer, but also like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She nodded shyly, holding her breath. “I think I do. I trust you.”

Azzi smiled softly, her voice steady but warm. “Okay. First thing… lie back. Just breathe for a second. This isn’t about performing. It’s just you getting to know your body. Don’t rush anything.”

Paige followed her voice, nervously lying back against the pillows. Her breathing was a little shaky, but she was listening.

“You don’t even have to go anywhere near…there, right now. Just start by touching your stomach. Let your hands explore. Think of it like learning how to be comfortable in your own skin.”

Azzi kept her voice low and soothing, making sure Paige was calm, checking in with her eyes, her body language. There was no pressure. Just guidance. Comfort. Trust.

“You move at your own pace. You stop whenever you want. There’s no right way to do this.”

Paige exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, one hand resting lightly on her own stomach now. Her face still burned red, but there was something new there too—peace. Curiosity. Safety.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Just breathe, Paige," Azzi said, her voice a smooth melody in the quiet. "Let your hand wander a little further down."

Paige's hand shakily traced the path from her navel to the waistband of her shorts, her skin tingling with anticipation. Her eyes remained shut, her mind racing with thoughts of the unknown. This was the closest she'd ever come to this kind of intimacy, and it was with someone she never thought would be the one to guide her through it.

"Take your time," Azzi coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "There's no rush."

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric, and Paige's breath hitched. The soft hairs of her core met her fingertips, and she paused for a moment, unsure. The sensation was weird but somehow familiar.

"It's okay," Azzi whispered. "You can go slower."

Encouraged, Paige's hand slid further down, her fingertips grazing the slick folds of her core. She gasped, the sensation electric. It was as if she'd just found the key to unlocking a secret garden.

"Now, I want you to be really honest with me," Azzi instructed. "Does it feel good?"

"yeah…fuck" Paige murmured, the word slipping out before she could think to hold it back. "It feels... really good."

"Good," Azzi said with a smile in her voice. "Now, I want you to get a little wetter."

"How?"

"Use your saliva," Azzi suggested. "Spit into your palm and rub it over your hand."

The idea of it was strange, but Paige was eager to please. She opened her eyes to see Azzi watching her with a gentle curiosity, and the sight of her friend's encouragement bolstered her courage. She did as she was told, the wet sound of her spit hitting her palm echoing in the stillness.

"Now," Azzi continued, "Spread it over your fingers. It'll make it easier."

With trembling hands, Paige did as she was instructed, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. The wetness was a new sensation, and she felt a thrill run through her as she touched herself more intimately.

"That's it," Azzi praised, her voice a purr of approval. "Now, let's see how it feels."

The tension grew with every second, every breath. Paige's body was a canvas of sensations, and she was painting a picture she'd never seen before. She was about to explore the deepest part of herself, and she had no idea wh

Her hand hovered over her core, the wetness of her saliva making her skin slick and slippery. With a deep breath, she touched herself for the first time.

"How does that feel?" Azzi asked, her voice low and soothing.

"Wet," Paige murmured, her eyes still closed. "Sensitive."

"Good," Azzi said, a smile in her voice. "Keep breathing. Keep going."

And so, Paige did, her fingertips exploring her folds, finding the spot that made her gasp and bite her lip. The room spun around her as she grew bolder, her movements becoming more deliberate, more sure.

"Your breathing is changing," Azzi noted. "That's good. It means you're getting closer."

The air grew thick with anticipation as Paige's breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her hand grew more insistent, her thumb circling that magical spot that sent jolts of pleasure through her body.

"Do you want to go further?" Azzi asked, her voice a gentle whisper. "Or would you like me to show you?"

The question hung in the air, a silent invitation to see azzi in a way she’s never seen her before. But she knew she was ready. With a nod, she whispered, "I want you to show me."

Without breaking eye contact, Azzi stood up, the graceful movement of her body leaving Paige captivated. She reached down and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own shorts, slowly sliding them down her toned legs. The fabric whispered against her skin as it fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing.

"Look at me," Azzi said, her voice a gentle command. "This is how it's done."

The sounds of wetness filled the room, a rhythmic symphony that grew more intense with every second. Azzi's legs were spread wide, giving Paige a clear view of the slickness that coated her folds, the way her fingers slid in and out with ease. It was mesmerizing, like watching a dance she'd never seen before.

"It's okay to be wet," Azzi said, her voice a little louder now, a little more urgent. "It's natural."

With that, Paige felt a strange thrill as she leaned over and spit into her palm again, the sound of it wetting her hand echoing in the quiet. She mirrored Azzi's actions, sliding her own hand into her shorts, feeling the heat and the wetness of her own desire.

They stayed like that, a silent tableau of exploration and curiosity, their eyes locked as they touched themselves in unison. The sound of their breathing grew louder, a symphony of want and need that filled the space between them.

"Look closer," Azzi whispered, her breathing ragged. "See how wet I am for you."

Paige leaned in, her heart racing. She could see the swollen flesh of Azzi's clit

"Does it feel good when I do this?" Azzi asked, her thumb brushing over her clit in a way that made her gasp.

"It does," Paige said, her voice a little shaky. "It feels... amazing."

"Then do it," Azzi told her. "Do it to yourself."

Their eyes never left each other's as Paige followed suit, her thumb finding that magical spot that seemed to hold all the answers she'd ever been looking for. The feeling was indescribable, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

"Look how beautiful you are," Azzi said, her voice thick with arousal. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by Azzi's words, Paige's eyes fluttered open, meeting her friend's gaze. The air was thick with a tension that was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. She could see the desire in Azzi's eyes, the way they searched hers for permission to take this further. And in that moment, she realized she didn't just want this to be about her anymore.

"Can I...can I do that for you?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned in, and Paige felt the warmth of her breath on her cheek. But instead of closing the distance, Azzi held back. "You can spit in my mouth," she suggested. "It's something I like."

Surprise flickered in Paige's eyes, but she felt a strange excitement at the idea. It was so intimate, so raw, and yet it didn't feel wrong. She leaned in, her own breath shallow and rapid. The first spurt of saliva was awkward, the sensation of her spit landing in Azzi's open mouth foreign and thrilling.

Their eyes remained locked as they shared this silent, erotic moment. It was a dance of trust and desire, a bond forming between them that went beyond friendship. The saliva mingled between their lips, but they didn't kiss—not yet.

"Now, I want you to do it to yourself," Azzi said, her voice a low purr.

Paige nodded, the act of spitting in Azzi's mouth somehow empowering. She leaned back against the pillows, her hand still buried in her shorts. She watched as Azzi mirrored her actions, her thumb moving in slow circles around her own clit, the wet sounds of their shared pleasure filling the room.

With a deep breath, Paige spit into her own palm, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks at the sheer intimacy of it all. The saliva was a bridge between them, a shared experience that was both erotic and innocent. She brought her hand back to her core, the wetness making her movements smoother, more deliberate.

As they touched themselves in sync, the air grew thick with the scent of arousal. The sound of their breathing grew louder, their bodies moving in a silent rhythm.

The moment was a crescendo of sensation, each stroke of Paige's thumb against her clit a note in a symphony of pleasure. The wetness grew, their shared breaths turning ragged as they both approached the edge of something new.

"Keep going, Paige," Azzi urged, her voice tight with restraint. "You're almost there."

The encouragement spurred Paige on, her eyes still on Azzi's as she felt the tension coil within her. Her hand was a blur of motion now, her thumb pressing harder, faster. And then it hit—a wave so powerful, so unexpected, that she couldn't hold back a cry.

Her body convulsed, muscles tightening as she squirted, the wetness soaking her hand, the sheets beneath her. She'd heard about it, read about it, but to actually experience it was like nothing she could have ever imagined.

"Oh my God," she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "I just... I just did it fuck.”

The sight of Paige's pleasure was intoxicating, and Azzi could feel her own climax building. The sound of the wetness was like a siren's call, urging her own hand to move faster, more urgently.

"Keep watching me, Paige," she whispered, her voice strained with desire. "I want you to see how good it feels."

Her eyes remained locked on Paige's face as she leaned over, her fingers sliding out of her core. She reached for the wet spot on the bed where Paige's juices had soaked through, and without breaking eye contact, she brought the fabric to her lips.

The salty taste of the water mingled with the faint sweetness of the sheets, and she sucked the liquid into her mouth, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Paige's eyes widened, and Azzi knew she had her full attention.

"holy fuck azzi, that was the hottest thing ever” Paige murmured, her voice thick with awe.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, the act of sharing their pleasure in such a raw, primal way bridging the gap between them. Azzi felt a sense of belonging she hadn't known was missing.

"Do you like that?" Azzi asked, her eyes dark with lust.

"I do," Paige said, her voice shaky. "It's... it's really hot."

with Paige's response, Azzi leaned in closer, her tongue snaking out to lick at the damp fabric. The taste was faint, but it was enough to send another jolt through her.

"Keep watching," she whispered, her hand moving back to her own core, the need to want to put her own fingers there. "Keep watching”

Their eyes remained locked as they pleasured themselves, the room filled with the sounds of their shared passion. Paige watched as Azzi's fingers moved in and out of her core , her own hand mimicking the motion.

As the tension grew, so did the wetness, and Azzi felt the need to be closer—to share in this moment fully. She slid onto the bed, her own legs spreading to give Paige a better view. “you ready?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[dontrllycaretbh]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚

Title: just for tonight (pt1?)

Pairing: masked!Paige bueckers x masked!Azzi Fudd(fem/fem)

Warnings: aching softness, masked longing, forbidden kisses under chandelier light, first-time vulnerability, internalized shame, whispered confessions, too-close breathing, stolen touches, lace and trembling hands, beauty that hurts to feel, yk sophie and benedict bridgerton but gay 🙂‍↔️

Word count: 3940 words

Summary:

In a ballroom carved from gold and expectation, two masked girls meet beneath a ceiling of stars and chandeliers. Paige aches in silence. Azzi hides in elegance. Between them—soft glances, shared shame, and a kiss that tastes like truth.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The candlelight flickered off chandeliers like liquid gold, casting dancing shadows across velvet gowns and painted fans. The music was all violins and elegance, echoing through the marble arches of the estate.

And yet, Paige felt nothing but trapped.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Her corset was tight, but not nearly as tight as the ache in her chest. She hovered near the edge of the ballroom, wearing her mother’s borrowed mask — porcelain white with swirls of soft blue — and sipped wine she didn’t want. All around her were couples twirling and laughing, lords exchanging pleasantries, women fluttering their lashes.

She wasn’t like them. And she hated that she knew it.

Across the room, Azzi lingered in similar discomfort. Her dress was slightly too grand, her posture too rigid. She looked like she belonged. She always did. But the mask — a rich black trimmed in silver — gave her freedom. Or maybe the illusion of it. Behind it, she didn’t have to be someone’s daughter, someone’s future wife.

She could just… be.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Their eyes met across the ballroom like something scripted — a slow, uncertain lock of gaze. Neither of them smiled. But something flickered.

Paige moved first, drawn not by intention but something deeper. Azzi tilted her head slightly as she approached, like she was trying to guess what game was about to begin.

“You look like you want to be anywhere but here,” Paige said, voice barely audible over the waltz.

Azzi laughed — quiet, tired. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’m Paige,” she added. No surname. No titles. Just that.

Azzi looked her over, intrigued. “Azzi.”

There was a pause. Not awkward. Just… careful.

They found their way to another room where the shadows were kind and the music quieter. For a while they said nothing — just watched the stars from the window.

“I think women are…” Paige started, then trailed off. Her cheeks flushed beneath her mask.

Azzi turned toward her slowly. “Beautiful?”

Paige nodded, eyes wide. “Yes. I mean — too much, sometimes. Like looking at a painting and it sort of… hurts.”

Azzi exhaled. A laugh. But not unkind. “I know what you mean.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. The silence between them thickened, tinged with unspoken things.

“I used to think something was wrong with me,” Paige whispered. “Like I was broken. Why would I… feel this way when I’m not supposed to?”

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “Same. I pray about it sometimes, and I don’t even believe in all that.”

Paige gave a half-smile. “What do you pray for?”

“To wake up and not notice the curve of a girl’s neck. The way she bites her lip. The way I want to kiss her and feel her melt against me.”

Paige’s breath hitched. Their faces were close now — hidden by masks, by candlelight, by the fantasy of not being seen.

“Do you think it’s even… possible?” Azzi asked suddenly, voice so low it barely reached Paige’s ears. “For women. Together. Like that. I mean, I’ve imagined things, but I wouldn’t even know how it works.”

Paige shivered. “Me too. I think about it. But I feel like I’m not allowed to.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her mouth. “We’re wearing masks,” she said.

“What?”

“No one would know. Just for a second.” Her voice trembled — not with fear, but possibility.

Paige hesitated. Then nodded.

The kiss was soft. Tentative. A brush of warmth and nerves and wonder. It wasn’t perfect — noses bumped slightly, their timing awkward. But the second kiss was better. Deeper. Their hands found waists, fingers gently bunching up silk and lace. Paige whimpered quietly when Azzi’s thumb grazed her cheek.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

When they pulled apart, both girls were breathless. Staring.

“I didn’t think it would feel like that,” Paige whispered. “I didn’t think I’d feel… right.”

Azzi swallowed, eyes wide. “Me neither. But I do.”

The music swelled again in the ballroom behind them, but the sound felt distant. Like another world.

Here, in the shadows, two masked girls had kissed, and maybe — just maybe — it meant they weren’t broken after all.

��� ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The kiss lingered on both of them even after it ended — a ghost on their lips, a pulse in their chests. Paige’s hand was still lightly resting on Azzi’s waist, like she didn’t know if she was allowed to let go.

“I didn’t think… that would feel so…” Paige’s voice cracked softly.

“Real?” Azzi offered.

Paige nodded. “I always thought I was just imagining it. That I’d built it up in my head. That it wouldn’t feel like anything.”

Azzi looked away, the corners of her mouth twitching in something like relief. “I know. I used to think I was the only one. That no one else thought about it. About girls. Kissing them. Touching them.”

She paused. Then:

“Wanting to… go further.”

Paige blinked. Her throat went dry. “You’ve thought about that too?”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed, even beneath her mask. “Of course I have. But I’ve never— I mean, how would that even work?”

They both went quiet.

Azzi rubbed her palms together nervously. “Like… no one talks about it. All we ever hear about is men and women. What they’re supposed to do. What goes where.” She looked at Paige, searching her expression. “But girls? Us? They act like we don’t exist.”

“I used to think maybe we didn’t,” Paige said quietly. “That I wasn’t really… anything. Just broken.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Neither are you.”

Azzi looked down. “Still. I don’t even know where I’d begin. I mean… I’ve read things, stories. About what men do. But with women—”

“There’s no guide,” Paige finished.

They shared a soft, tentative laugh — the kind that breaks tension, not connection.

Paige leaned her shoulder against the wall behind them, eyes lifting toward the crystal chandelier above. “Do you ever… think about it? With a woman? Like, all of it?”

Azzi bit her lip. “Yes.”

Her voice was quiet, but not hesitant.

“Like what?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

“You don’t have to say. I just— I’ve never talked about this with anyone. And you feel safe. And we have masks, and… I want to know.”

Azzi was quiet for a long moment, fingers twisting in her skirts. Then, slowly:

“Sometimes I imagine… her hands. On me. Not just gentle, but knowing. Like she’s memorized me. I wonder if it would be different than with a man. If she’d know what would feel good — because it’s her body too.”

Paige swallowed, pulse racing. “I think about that too. And her mouth. I wonder what it would feel like.”

“To kiss down,” Azzi said, “all the way.”

They both blushed furiously — but neither backed away.

“I think about what it would be like to be naked,” Paige said, quieter now. “With another woman. Not for a man to look at. Not to be pretty. But just… to be seen.”

Azzi nodded. “And to be touched like that. Like she wants to know what makes me fall apart.”

Another pause.

“I didn’t know we were allowed to feel this,” Paige whispered.

Azzi smiled, a little sadly. “Maybe we aren’t.”

“But we do.”

“Yes. We do.”

A long silence stretched between them. But it wasn’t empty — it was full. With years of shame, questions, hidden journals, pressed flowers, confusing feelings, and soft dreams they never told anyone about.

Paige stepped a little closer. “Would you want to try again?”

“The kiss?”

Paige nodded.

Azzi nodded back.

This time it was slower. Deeper. The kind of kiss that tasted like trembling truths and cautious hope. Their hands found each other’s waists, then backs, then cheeks — fingertips memorizing unfamiliar territory.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Their foreheads still touched. Neither girl moved. The quiet between them was thick now — not with silence, but with too many feelings pressing to the surface. Paige’s hand trembled where it rested on Azzi’s shoulder, and she was sure Azzi could feel it.

“I feel sick,” Paige whispered, breath warm against Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

“I feel— I don’t know—” She pulled back just a bit, just enough to breathe. “That felt good. Really good. And now I feel… dirty. Like I ruined something.”

Azzi swallowed hard. “I know. I know exactly what you mean.”

She took a step back, looking away, and suddenly the room felt bigger. Colder. The music in the background became sharp, almost mocking.

“I spent years convincing myself I’d grow out of it,” Azzi said, voice low and brittle. “That it was just a phase or a sickness or… loneliness.”

“I used to cry after I looked at women,” Paige said, a bitter laugh catching in her throat. “I’d stare at someone’s lips too long or imagine kissing her neck, and then I’d lie awake and promise I’d never think about it again.”

Azzi met her eyes. “And then you do.”

Paige nodded. “And then I do.”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Masked. Hidden. Exposed.

“I liked kissing you,” Paige said, her voice shaking. “And that’s the worst part. I liked it more than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Azzi’s mouth quivered. “It felt right. And that’s what makes it so awful, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Paige breathed. “Because if it feels this good, then… maybe I’m not confused. Maybe I’ve always known.”

The word neither of them had said hovered between them like smoke: wrong.

“I keep waiting for the part where it disgusts me enough to stop,” Azzi admitted. “But every time I try, it just feels like I’m cutting pieces of myself off.”

Her eyes glistened now, but she didn’t wipe them. She just let it be.

“I want to do it again,” she said. “And I hate that. I hate how much I want it. I want your mouth on mine. I want your hands under my dress. I want to know how it works. I want to feel it all. And I want to cry at the same time.”

Paige moved closer again, her lip trembling. “I feel like I’m falling apart in a beautiful way. Like… everything I’ve denied is crawling out of me and begging to be real.”

Azzi reached out and gently took her hand.

“You’re not disgusting,” she said, voice soft but firm.

“Then why does it feel like I am?”

“Because the world is wrong. Not us.”

A tear slipped down Paige’s cheek, and Azzi reached up and wiped it away with the back of her gloved hand.

“I don’t know what this means,” Paige whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Azzi said. “You’re allowed to not know. You’re allowed to feel this. Even if it scares you.”

They stood in the quiet corner, the masquerade carrying on behind them like some distant performance. Here in the dim light, they weren’t girls pretending to be perfect. They were just… human. And for the first time, that felt like enough.

“I want to kiss you again,” Paige said, her voice shaking. “Even if I hate myself tomorrow.”

Azzi leaned in, her words feather-light: “Then let’s only be ourselves tonight.”

And when their lips met again — trembling, soft, desperate — it wasn’t clean or perfect or safe. But it was real. And maybe, for now, that was all they needed.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Their lips had parted, but they stayed close, breathing each other in.

Neither spoke for a moment.

It was Paige who broke the quiet first, voice soft like the rustle of silk:

“That kiss… it was different.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Different how?”

Paige looked down, brushing her fingers nervously along the edge of her mask. “It wasn’t just lips. There was… more. I didn’t mean to — I think I— I used my tongue a little. And I didn’t know if—”

Azzi blinked, then smiled — not teasing, but tender. “I noticed.”

Paige flushed scarlet. “Was it… wrong?”

Azzi shook her head. “No. I liked it. I didn’t know I would. I thought it would feel weird. But it didn’t. It felt—”

“Too good?”

Azzi nodded.

They both laughed, quiet and breathless, the kind of laughter that comes after saying something they thought they were never allowed to say.

“I never knew people actually used their tongues,” Paige admitted. “I thought that was just a thing they said in those books I wasn’t supposed to read.”

Azzi looked at her carefully. “Have you ever… done that before? With anyone?”

Paige shook her head. “No. Never.”

“Me neither.”

Silence again, but it was warmer now. Softer.

Paige bit her lip. “Do you think it would feel good if we… tried it? Like, really tried?”

Azzi’s breath caught. “I don’t know.”

She stepped a little closer. “Do you want to find out?”

Paige nodded slowly. “Only if you want to.”

Azzi’s hand brushed along her jaw, just below the mask. “I do.”

And so they leaned in again — slower this time, more aware, more deliberate. Paige’s lips parted slightly before they even touched, and Azzi mirrored her, tentative. When their mouths met, it was open and warm, a gentle press that deepened like a question being answered.

When Paige’s tongue flicked softly against Azzi’s bottom lip, Azzi gasped — a tiny sound, but real. Honest. She opened her mouth a little more, let Paige explore — just the edge of her tongue, the shyest brush, like learning to breathe underwater.

Then Azzi responded, her tongue moving against Paige’s, slick and warm and strange and intoxicating.

The kiss grew messier. Hungrier. Still unsure, but bold in its uncertainty. Their hands gripped each other’s waists tighter, bodies pressing closer like instinct. There was no rhythm, no technique — only feeling, raw and overwhelming.

When they finally broke apart, lips damp and cheeks flushed, both girls were panting softly.

“That…” Paige swallowed hard. “That was…”

Azzi nodded, dazed. “Yeah.”

Neither of them could speak for a while. Their foreheads touched again.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” Paige whispered. “I didn’t know my whole body could feel it.”

“I didn’t know kissing someone could make me feel like I was doing something sacred and sinful all at once,” Azzi murmured. “Like I’m discovering something and betraying it at the same time.”

Paige laughed weakly. “I feel like I should be ashamed. But I just want to do it again.”

Azzi’s voice broke a little: “Me too.”

They didn’t know what came next. Not in the world, not in the story, not in themselves. But for now, they had a secret. A truth. And the taste of each other still on their tongues.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

I mean they knew they’d never see each other again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[dontrllycaretbh]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Title: In the Paint, On Her Knees

Pairing: Paige bueckers x Azzi fudd

Warnings: Explicit sapphic content (18+), spit kink, fingering, semi-public setting (locker room), teasing, dom!Azzi, sub!Paige, excessive flirting, public embarrassment (loving), mild praise/degradation, filthy locker room smut, banter, dirty talk, confessions, years of pining, Azzi snapping (finally), james and lily potter type of love 🙂‍↔️

Summary:

For three years, Paige has been the campus gay disaster — loudly and publicly asking Azzi out mid-basketball practice, in group chats, and once via megaphone. Azzi’s always brushed her off… until one day, in the middle of a sweaty one-on-one match, Azzi snaps. Turns out, she’s been waiting just as long — and she takes control

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Three Years of Chaos

Paige had never been subtle. Not about anything, really, but especially not about Azzi.

It started freshman year — Paige, standing center court during basketball practice, waving a bright pink poster that read “Azzi, go on a date with me!” in marker so thick it bled through the posterboard. The whole team stared, some snickering, others just blinking in disbelief. Azzi rolled her eyes, but Paige caught the barest hint of a smile.

Next came the group chats — constant, relentless. “Hey Azzi, I bet you’d lose a game against me if we played for a date,” Paige typed, followed by a slew of emojis ranging from basketballs to winks to hearts. Azzi ignored the message but always read them, lurking silently as Paige’s notifications kept pinging like clockwork every afternoon.

Then, there was the infamous megaphone incident. Right before the final four game , Paige had smuggled a megaphone into the gym and shouted, “Azzi, date me or I’ll never pass your locker again!” Geno nearly had a stroke, and Azzi’s glare could have stopped a freight train. But again, Paige saw that flash of something—amusement? Fondness? She wasn’t sure, but it fueled her fire.

Despite the public embarrassment and the endless teasing, Azzi never outright said no. She brushed Paige off with quick retorts, sarcasm, and a wall of cool detachment. But Paige had noticed the way Azzi’s eyes lingered a little too long, or how her smirk softened when Paige caught her watching.

Years of flirting, of daring and denying, led to countless locker room exchanges filled with sharp wit and sharper glances.

“Still pining for me, bueckers?” Azzi teased once after practice, tossing Paige a towel.

“Maybe,” Paige grinned back. “But you make it so hard to give up.”

Azzi’s smile faded just for a moment—enough for Paige to catch the secret behind the teasing. Azzi wasn’t indifferent. She was just waiting. Waiting for Paige to push harder, to finally break through.

And now, standing face to face in the sweaty heat of a one-on-one match, Paige could see it in Azzi’s eyes—something different. Something ready to snap.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

2 weeks later, Practice, 3:42 PM

“Hey Az!” Paige yelled from across the court, breathless and already a little pink from their scrimmage. “Will you go out with me yet?”

Azzi didn’t even look up as she pivoted, dribbled, and sank a clean shot. “Still no.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” Paige pretended to write something down on her arm with her finger. “Just crossing off Thursday’s rejection. Only two more to fill out this week before I hit my quota.”

From the bleachers, one of their teammates yelled, “Paige, take the L!”

“Never!” Paige called back. “I never lose”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

One-on-One, 4:10 PM

It was just them now. Practice had ended, the others long gone. Paige had stayed behind to “get extra shots in,” which really meant “get extra Azzi time.”

Azzi was sweaty. Sharp. Deadly focused. And unfairly hot.

Paige was already halfway to combusting and trying not to let it show.

They played in silence for a few minutes — until Azzi faked left, spun around her, and sank a three-pointer like it was nothing.

Paige collapsed onto the court in melodramatic agony. “I’d let you break my ankles and my heart.”

Azzi, catching the ball on the rebound, raised a brow. “Are you ever not flirting?”

“Only when I’m unconscious.”

She stood, winded but grinning. “Be honest. You like it.”

Azzi hesitated. Just for a second.

And then: “Locker room. Five minutes.”

Paige blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Wait, seriously? No trick? No fake-out?”

Azzi stepped closer, dropped the ball with a heavy thud. “You’ve been running your mouth for three years, Paige. Time to see if you can do something useful with it.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Locker Room, 4:18 PM

It smelled like floor cleaner, deodorant, and victory. Paige was still catching up — mentally and physically — when Azzi pressed her back against the lockers and kissed her like she was trying to erase all those years of denial in one go.

It was hot. Messy. Urgent. Azzi’s thigh pressed between Paige’s legs, and Paige moaned before she could even think.

“Wow,” Paige gasped. “You kiss like you’ve been mad at me this whole time.”

“I have been,” Azzi growled. “You’ve been infuriating. You and your stupid jokes. Your ridiculous posters.”

“The megaphone was iconic,” Paige wheezed. “People still talk about it—”

Azzi shut her up with another kiss. This time, her hand slid under Paige’s jersey, cupping a breast, thumb flicking over her nipple.

Paige whimpered. “I swear to God if I’m dreaming, I’m gonna die in my sleep and it’ll be worth it.”

Azzi grinned against her mouth. “You want to be useful?”

Paige nodded frantically.

“Then open your mouth.”

Paige obeyed instantly.

Azzi leaned in and spit into it — warm, slow, filthy.

Paige groaned, swallowing it without breaking eye contact.

Azzi’s voice was low and smug. “Knew it.”

“You—what?”

Azzi shoved a hand down the front of Paige’s shorts. “You think I haven’t seen how you look at me every time I spit on the court?”

“I’m normal—” Paige gasped as Azzi’s fingers slid through her soaked folds. “I’m very normal—oh fuck—”

Azzi curled her fingers and Paige saw god.

“Been teasing me for years. But now I get to ruin you.”

“God, please ruin me—”

Azzi pushed two fingers in, deep and slow, then rubbed her thumb over Paige’s clit with precision that made her knees buckle.

“You’ve been dripping for me since sophomore year,” she whispered. “So wet for me now. Like you’ve been waiting.”

Paige sobbed out a moan. “I have—Azzi—please—”

“Beg better.”

“Please let me cum, I’ll shut up forever, I’ll stop asking you out in the quad, I’ll burn the megaphone—”

Azzi kissed her again, biting her lip. “Come for me baby, make me happy.”

And Paige did. Loud. Shaking. Practically collapsing into Azzi’s arms as pleasure rolled through her in waves.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

4:34 PM

They were sitting on the bench now, Paige in Azzi’s lap, both half-dressed and still breathing hard.

Paige nuzzled into her neck. “So… does this mean you’re finally my girlfriend?”

Azzi chuckled. “One orgasm and you’re already claiming me?”

“Please, I’ve been claiming you since I wore the number 5 on me.”

Azzi snorted. “Fine. But if you so much as touch that megaphone again—”

“I swear it’s retired. I’ll replace it with whispering sweet nothings directly into your mouth.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and kissed her again, this time soft and slow.

“Let’s get out of here before someone walks in and sees you drooling on me.”

“Too late,” Paige said dreamily. “Been doing that since day one.”

Azzi groaned. “God, I should’ve ruined you sooner.”

[dontrllycaretbh]

okay so quick question, how the fuck do u guys make 3 one shots a day with 8k+ words???? like it takes me 3 days to make one and even then i be asking chat gpt if its good and how to make it better like …. give me yall’s secret cus im genuinely dying over here 💔💔💔

[dontrllycaretbh]

Title: slow drip, soft burn

Pairing: Azzi fudd x paige bueckers

Warnings: consensual spit kink, explicit sapphic smut (18+), first time, mutual pining, tension-heavy friends-to-lovers, tongue kissing, light dom/sub vibes, quarantine intimacy, emotional vulnerability

Summary:

Stuck in quarantine with your best friend, a quiet kiss turns into a messy confession—and a kink you didn’t expect becomes the most intimate thing you’ve ever shared.

The room was quiet except for the steady patter of rain against the window — soft, steady, like a heartbeat. The city beyond their windows had stilled days ago, the streets empty, sirens distant and rare. Power flickered occasionally in the building across the street, but their little corner of the world was still glowing — one warm lamp casting golden light over the cozy sprawl of rumpled sheets and thrown pillows.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up loosely, sleeves covering her hands, nervously twisting the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. Her knee bounced once, then stopped. Then again. The silence was bearable, but dense — like the thick fog of unsaid things between people too close for comfort, or maybe too close for denial.

Azzi sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, knees brushing Paige’s from time to time. She was staring down at the carpet, like the shifting shadows in the room might spell out what to say next.

Neither of them had left the house in two days. They weren’t sick, not physically. Just stuck. With nowhere to go, the walls had shrunk around them, and all that closeness had started pulling old feelings to the surface — the kind they hadn’t named out loud yet.

Then Paige whispered, “Azzi… can I ask you something weird?”

Azzi’s head lifted, the soft fall of her dark hair catching the light. “Of course. What’s up?”

Paige licked her lips. Her voice was low and tentative. “Have you ever… thought about us?”

Azzi blinked. “Like…?”

“Like not just teammates. Or friends.” Her cheeks flushed. “I mean, we’ve been cooped up here for weeks now, and maybe I’m going stir crazy, but I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. And… not just thinking.”

Azzi swallowed. “You mean like dating?”

Paige hesitated, eyes flicking down. “Yeah. Or… touching. Trying things.”

The silence came again, but it was a different kind now — buzzing, hot.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” Azzi said after a long beat. Her voice had gone softer, deeper. “Not just lately. Before. For a while.”

Paige looked up slowly, eyes locking on Azzi’s. “Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Azzi smiled faintly. “Because you’re you. And I didn’t want to lose that. But now we’re here. Stuck. Alone. And if I’m honest… I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t want you.”

Paige’s breath caught. She shifted forward, knee brushing Azzi’s again. “What if we just… tried something?”

Azzi tilted her head. “Something?”

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Kissing. Touching. Seeing where it goes.”

Azzi stared for a second, then nodded once, slowly. “Okay.”

Paige leaned closer, lips just inches away. “Okay?”

Azzi murmured, “Yeah. Try us.”

Their mouths met softly — just lips pressing, unsure but electric. Paige’s hand came up to cup Azzi’s jaw, and Azzi leaned into the touch like she’d been waiting years. Their lips moved slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, tasting.

Paige pulled back, flushed and breathless. “That felt… better than I imagined.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “God, same.”

They stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths mingling.

“I want to tell you something,” Paige said, voice hushed and playful.

Azzi gave her a crooked grin. “Tell me.”

Paige bit her lip, glancing down. “It’s… a kink. Something I’ve never told anyone.”

Azzi raised a brow, intrigued. “Yeah?”

Paige’s cheeks went crimson. “I’ve thought about spit.”

Azzi blinked. “Spit?”

Paige nodded, nervous but determined. “Like… you spitting in my mouth. Me doing it to you. I don’t know. It’s messy and raw and kind of… intimate. I want to try it.”

Azzi’s chest rose with a sharp inhale. “Wow. That’s… okay, yeah, that’s really hot.”

“You think so?” Paige asked, eyes wide.

Azzi nodded, moving closer. “Yeah. It’s primal. And weirdly tender, too. Like you’re giving someone something of yourself.”

Paige’s lips curled into a grin. “Exactly.”

Azzi smirked. “Then let’s try it.”

Without another word, Paige swung a leg over and straddled Azzi’s lap, the shift of her weight pressing them together in all the right places. Her thighs braced on either side of Azzi’s, and their eyes locked — heat swirling between them like lightning in a bottle.

Paige leaned in, and Azzi tilted her head back obediently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, voice thick with anticipation.

Azzi parted her lips, breath shallow.

Paige let her mouth open, and a warm string of spit slipped from her tongue into Azzi’s waiting mouth.

Azzi swallowed with a shiver, her hands grabbing Paige’s thighs instinctively. “Holy fuck.”

Paige kissed her again, deep and wet, spit mixing with the soft drag of tongue and teeth. The kiss turned messier, hungrier — hands tangling in hair, grinding close through their clothes.

Azzi’s hands slipped beneath Paige’s tank, exploring the curve of her waist, the dip of her back. Paige gasped when fingers brushed under her bra, arching into the touch.

“You feel so good,” Azzi murmured.

“So do you,” Paige breathed, hips rolling.

Clothes started coming off — slowly, reverently, as though every inch of skin was a gift. Azzi’s sweatshirt was peeled away, followed by Paige’s top, both of them left in nothing but underwear and flushed skin, mouths never far apart.

Paige pushed Azzi gently back onto the bed, straddling her again, then trailing kisses down her chest, her stomach, pausing just above the waistband of her sweats.

“Can I taste you?” she asked, looking up with hooded eyes.

Azzi nodded frantically. “Please.”

Paige peeled the sweats down, revealing soft skin and slick heat. She leaned in, tongue flicking out, tasting her slowly. Azzi moaned, hand in Paige’s hair.

Paige spit softly onto Azzi’s folds, letting it drip down before licking it up, savoring every shiver she caused.

Azzi’s thighs trembled. “Fuck, Paige—don’t stop.”

Paige hummed against her, hands pinning Azzi’s hips down as she licked deep and slow, tongue circling Azzi’s clit again and again.

Azzi gasped, the tension coiling tight. “I’m close—please, please—”

Her orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through her body with violent grace. Paige didn’t stop until the last aftershocks faded, and even then she kissed her thighs like they were sacred.

Azzi pulled her up and flipped them, mouths meeting again, hands greedy now.

She tugged Paige’s panties down, kissed her way between her thighs, and whispered, “Your turn.”

She spit softly onto Paige’s wet heat, watching it glisten before licking it up, tongue circling, teasing.

Paige bucked against her mouth, hands gripping the sheets. “Azzi—fuck, oh my god—”

Azzi kept going, gentle and firm, fingers joining her mouth, working in perfect rhythm until Paige came undone with a sharp, choked cry, thighs trembling.

They collapsed together after, tangled and sweaty and dazed.

For a long time, they didn’t speak. Just breathed.

Then Paige laughed softly against Azzi’s neck. “So… we’re definitely more than roommates now, right?”

Azzi grinned. “Yeah. Definitely.”

————-

First smut 🫩🫩

[dontrllycaretbh]

Title: out of bounds

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!referee!reader

Warnings: intense eye contact, mutual pining, one-sided thirst that maybe isn’t so one-sided, light swearing, ref/player boundary flirting, suggestive banter, dangerously close breathing distance

Summary:

You’re just trying to keep the game under control when Paige Bueckers — Dallas Wings star and certified chaos magnet — decides your foul call is personal.

You knew this game would be a mess the second Paige Bueckers stepped on the court.

She didn’t walk, not really. She glided. Like she owned every square inch of the floor. High ponytail bouncing, sleeves pushed up, face unreadable except for that glint in her eye — that “I’m here to fuck shit up” glint.

You’d reffed her before. Once, in preseason. She’d barely acknowledged you.

But tonight?

Tonight she was loud. Aggressive. Flashy. And if you were being honest — which you weren’t, at least not out loud — she was magnetic.

Which made this moment 10x worse.

Because now you’d just called her for an offensive foul, and she was storming toward you like she wanted blood.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she growled, practically nose-to-nose with you at half court.

Her voice was raspy from yelling all night. Her jersey clung to her shoulder blades. There was a bead of sweat tracing a path down the side of her neck, and you had the very inconvenient urge to watch it.

You took a breath. You were the professional here.

“Lowered shoulder. Initiated contact,” you said evenly. “Clear charge.”

“She flopped,” Paige snapped, pointing dramatically back at the defender, who was still on the floor. “She threw herself into a trust fall!”

“She drew contact.”

“I’m allowed to drive! That’s not a foul — that’s me playing fucking basketball!”

You raised your eyebrows. “You done?”

She stared you down, jaw tight. “Are you?”

You swallowed. Because she had that look — the wild, unfiltered fire behind her eyes that said she wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not ever.

But God help you, she was so damn hot when she was pissed.

Not that you’d ever admit it. To anyone. Ever.

“You wanna keep going?” you said, keeping your tone steady. “I can make it a tech.”

“Ohhh,” she said, taking one infuriating step closer. “Gonna hit me with the whistle again?”

Your heart did a dumb little skip. “Don’t test me, Bueckers.”

“You’re itching to blow that thing.”

Was she flirting?

Was she flirting?

You glanced at the scorer’s table, willing someone — anyone — to call a timeout. To intervene. To break whatever weird electric current had locked the two of you in this personal bubble of stubbornness and stupidly attractive tension.

Instead, the game clock ran, the crowd roared, and Paige stood in front of you like a dare dressed in a Wings jersey.

“You think I’m soft?” she asked, lower now, voice just for you.

You blinked. “What?”

“You said it was a charge. You think I’m not tough enough to finish through contact?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” she shot back. “You’ve been calling me tight all night. Every bump. Every glance. You’ve got it out for me.”

You blinked again. “You think I called that because I’m… what? Targeting you?”

“Not targeting,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Watching.”

Your throat tightened.

She leaned in, just slightly. “You’ve been watching me all game.”

“I’m a ref,” you said, flat. “That’s my job.”

“Yeah?” she smirked. “Then why do you know I switched my ponytail to the left side at halftime?”

You flushed. Visibly.

Paige grinned like she’d just hit a buzzer beater.

“Go sit down,” you said, voice a little too sharp now. “Bench. Cool off.”

“Oh, so now you do want space.”

You nearly gave her a technical just to get her away from you — and from the burning heat in your chest.

She started to turn, then paused.

“But hey,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder. “Keep watching. I’ll make it worth it.”

And she winked.

WINKED.

You stood there, frozen mid-breath, as Paige jogged back toward the bench like she hadn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire in front of 17,000 people.

Someone behind you chuckled. “Ref’s about to pass out.”

You honestly weren’t sure they were wrong.

Fourth Quarter.

Dallas was up by three. Two minutes left. The arena shook with energy. You tried to focus, but every time you glanced at Paige, she was already looking at you.

Once, during a free throw, she licked her lips and winked again.

Another time, she adjusted her jersey in slow motion, eyes locked on yours like it was intentional.

At one point, she muttered something to her teammate and looked right at you when they both laughed.

You were losing it. Absolutely spiraling. And the worst part?

She knew.

Postgame.

Dallas won by five. The buzzer sounded. Fans erupted. You blew your final whistle and turned to hand off your clipboard to the league official—only to find Paige standing there. Waiting.

“Still mad about the foul?” you asked cautiously.

She grinned. “Nah. You were right.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“About the charge,” she said, like it was nothing. “I was off balance. I lowered my shoulder.”

You blinked again. “You gaslit me for five solid minutes and nearly took out your coach yelling.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I like the way you yell at me.”

You nearly swallowed your tongue.

She took a step closer — closer than allowed, closer than reasonable — and held up something small and folded.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, “but… if you ever wanna grab a drink and yell at me off the clock—” she winked again, “—you’ve got my number.”

You took the paper. Stared at it.

Then stared at her.

“I thought refs weren’t supposed to fraternize with players,” you said, dry.

She smirked. “Good thing you’re off duty now.”

And with that, she turned and jogged off — high-fiving fans, teammates, sweaty and smug and absolutely unfair.

You looked down at the paper in your hand.

Her number. Her name.

And at the bottom, in handwriting just a little too cocky:

“Still watching?”

You laughed.

Yeah.

You definitely were.

[dontrllycaretbh]

The cost of quiet pt.3

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Warning: emotional confrontation, swearing, messy grief, identity struggles, years of repressed love boiling over

Summary: You finally tell Paige the truth after the breakup. She’s still hurt, still guarded, but this time… she doesn’t walk away.

You found her again.

Not in some dramatic sprint down a tunnel this time. Not under fluorescent lights or behind media barriers. Just… on the hotel rooftop, leaning on the railing like the whole city below could somehow explain what went wrong between you.

You hesitated at the door.

It was late. Quiet. The kind of quiet that should’ve felt peaceful but instead felt heavy. Full. Ready to break open.

She didn’t look up when you stepped onto the patio. Didn’t need to — you saw her shoulders tense, just barely.

You moved anyway.

“Paige,” you said, softer this time. Not breathless. Not desperate. Just… hoping.

She stayed still. Her voice, when it came, was low.

“You really can’t let things die, can you?”

You winced.

“I had to see you.”

“Why?” She still wouldn’t look at you. “So you can feel better?”

“No. So I could—” you stopped. Swallowed. “So I could finally tell you the truth.”

That made her turn. Slowly. Deliberately. Her eyes found yours, and for a second — just a second — the wall between you cracked.

“I already know the truth,” she said. “You don’t love me enough to be brave.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I do love you. I just—”

“Don’t.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t feed me that again. I’ve heard that line too many times.”

She stepped toward you. No space for comfort. No space for lies.

“You love me,” she said. “But only when it’s convenient. When no one’s looking. When it doesn’t cost you anything.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but it felt hollow.

Her eyes flashed. “Isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

She exhaled, shaky. Angry. Heartbroken.

“I gave you everything,” she said. “Years of hiding. Years of making myself smaller just so you wouldn’t have to feel big feelings in public.”

“I never asked you to—”

“You didn’t have to ask,” she snapped. “You just expected it.”

Silence.

“I was so fucking proud of you,” she went on, quieter now. “Even when I hated how much it hurt. Even when people asked if I had a boyfriend, or who I was dating, or why I was always third-wheeling with your teammates. I never said a word. Because I thought someday it’d be different.”

You blinked back tears. “It can be different. I want it to be.”

Her laugh was sharp, painful. “Yeah? You want it now that it’s too late?”

“No.” You took a step forward. “I want it because I’m done being scared.”

She looked at you — really looked. And for once, you didn’t flinch.

“I posted it,” you said, quietly. “The picture of us. The one from the lake. The one I always said I wasn’t ready to share.”

Her breath caught.

“And I wrote it out, too. Not just a caption. I told people the truth. That you’re not just some friend. That you’re the person I love. That I was too much of a coward to say it out loud until I almost lost you.”

The silence between you stretched. Shifted. It wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of all the things you’d never said when you should have.

She crossed her arms, defensive again, but her voice had softened.

“You really did it?”

You nodded.

“I didn’t do it to win you back,” you said. “I did it because it was long overdue. Because I couldn’t stand looking at myself anymore. Because I want to be the kind of person who deserves you.”

Her eyes brimmed with something — disbelief, maybe. Or heartbreak in slow motion.

“You don’t get to flip a switch and make everything okay,” she said. “This isn’t a movie. This is real. It was real. For me.”

“It was real for me too,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t know how to let people see that. I thought if I could keep you hidden, I could keep you safe. Keep me safe.”

“And now?” she asked, almost too quietly.

“Now I know I was wrong,” you said. “Now I know that love doesn’t mean anything unless you’re willing to stand in it, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s messy. Even when it costs you.”

She didn’t speak for a long time.

Then: “Do you still have it?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The necklace,” she said. “The one you gave me after my surgery.”

Your heart skipped. You reached into your pocket and held it up. The silver chain caught the faint glow from the city lights.

She reached out and took it. Fingers brushing yours. Her touch was cautious. But not cold.

She held the necklace in her palm like she didn’t know what to do with it anymore.

“You were the only person who saw me cry in that hospital,” she murmured. “I thought that meant something.”

“It did,” you said. “It still does.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared down at the chain, running her thumb over the tiny pendant like it held all the answers.

“I want to believe you,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I don’t know if I can trust you not to disappear the second things get hard again.”

You stepped closer — not enough to touch, but enough for her to feel the weight of your words.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Not anymore. If you let me… I’ll prove that.”

Another long silence.

Then, finally — finally — Paige lifted her eyes to meet yours again.

And in them, you saw it.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But a flicker of something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Hope.

“I’m not promising anything,” she said.

You nodded. “I’m not asking for that. Just… don’t shut the door.”

Her jaw clenched, like she was holding back the flood.

Then — almost silently — she nodded once.

And you knew, in that moment, that the cost of quiet had been high.

But maybe, just maybe…

It wasn’t too late to start speaking.

[dontrllycaretbh]

girllllllllllll

please drop part 2 of cost of quiet

Title: The cost of quiet pt.2

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Warnings: heated argument, messy emotions, years of tension boiling over, swearing, slow emotional unraveling

You chased her down.

Didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just moved — through the crowd, down the tunnel, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun the shame still clinging to your skin.

Confetti stuck to your sneakers. The taste of regret stuck to your tongue.

You found her near the back exit, just past the media row. Alone. Hoodie up. Shoulders tight. Back turned.

“Paige,” you said, breathless.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even look at you.

You stepped closer. “Please—”

“Don’t.”

Just that. One word. Cold. Sharp. Like glass breaking.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh my God,” she snapped, spinning on you. “Stop saying that.”

You froze.

“You didn’t mean to,” she mocked. “You panicked. You weren’t thinking. I wasn’t ready. You’ve had the same excuse since we were nineteen.”

Her eyes were wet, but her voice was a storm. “It’s been four goddamn years, and you’re still scared. Still acting like loving me out loud is some kind of crime.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said too fast, too defensive. “I’m not. I just—”

“Just what?” Her voice cracked. “Just don’t want to deal with what comes after? The headlines? The tweets? The questions from your family you still haven’t come out to?”

You said nothing.

She laughed — hollow, bitter. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s not fair,” you managed. “You know what I’ve been through.”

“And you know what I’ve waited through,” she shot back. “Every birthday. Every win. Every off-season. Every time I had to smile while people asked if I was single and pretend the person I loved wasn’t standing right next to me, saying nothing.”

You stepped forward. “I’m here now.”

“No, you’re here now because you feel guilty.”

She wiped at her cheek with her sleeve, eyes burning into yours.

“You only ever show up when I’m already halfway gone.”

That gutted you. Worse than anything.

You tried again, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked at you then, for real — and it wasn’t anger in her face anymore. It was grief.

“But you did,” she whispered. “You always do. And I let you. Because I kept hoping one day you’d love me enough to stop hiding.”

You stepped closer. “I do love you.”

“No,” she said, stepping back. “You love the idea of me. The private version. The version that fits into your world behind closed doors.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then prove it.” Her hands trembled. “Walk out there and tell the world we’re together. Tell them what we are. Say it out loud. Right now.”

You hesitated.

And that was enough.

Her silence filled the tunnel like thunder.

“Exactly.”

She grabbed her bag, shoved past you. Her shoulder hit yours hard, and it felt like a goodbye.

“Paige, wait—”

She turned once more, just before the door.

“Maybe I don’t want to be someone you only fight for after you lose them.”

Then she was gone.

And you were alone.

[dontrllycaretbh]

bark

Fat girls are hot.

You agree. Reblog.

[dontrllycaretbh]

athena 19.05’. wlw. blk. woc. based in the netherlands. kk arnold enthusiast, juju watkins, azzi fudd & angel reese. dutch/somali/english. the neighborhood enthusiast. 18+ only (sorry babes)

[dontrllycaretbh]

Title: The cost of quiet (pt.1?)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Warnings: soft heartbreak, unspoken tension, closeted relationship, post-championship emotional gut-punch

Summary: The UConn Huskies just won Nationals. Everything should be perfect. But when Paige leans in to kiss you — in front of the cameras, in front of the fans — you pull away. You didn’t mean to hurt her. You just weren’t ready. The problem is… she’s been ready for years.

It should’ve been the happiest moment of your life.

You were standing on the biggest stage in college basketball, drenched in confetti, adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. The scoreboard glared your victory. The arena shook with cheers. Coach Genno’s voice rang in your ears — proud, loud, grounding.

And then you felt her.

Paige.

Her arms wrapped around you like gravity. You didn’t even hesitate — you hugged her back, like instinct. Like you always did. Like home.

But then she pulled away, just slightly, just enough — and leaned in.

Her lips were right there, so close. The look in her eyes wasn’t one of celebration. It was raw. Real. Tired of hiding.

And before she could close that last inch, you stepped back.

Not far. But far enough.

You saw the flicker in her expression — from joy to confusion to shame — all in a heartbeat. You hadn’t said a word, but you didn’t need to. The message was clear. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of the cameras.

And then, as if to cover it, you turned toward Coach Geno and gave him a high five, smiling too wide, too forced. You pretended not to feel Paige staring at your back. Pretended not to hear the hollow silence between her footsteps as she walked away.

You didn’t even look.

But you wanted to.

God, you wanted to.

⸻

From the corner of the court, Paige stood frozen as KK jumped onto her back, laughing, shouting about how they just won freaking nationals! Paige tried to laugh, too — tried to fake it. But her throat burned.

She kept glancing back at you, standing next to Coach like nothing happened.

Like she hadn’t just tried to kiss the person she’s been in love with for almost five years.

⸻

Later, in the locker room, the noise faded but the tension stayed.

Paige didn’t talk to you.

Not during the celebration speeches. Not when everyone started filming TikToks. Not even when you slipped away from the cameras to stand against the far wall, quiet as ever. That used to be your place — silent but near her.

Now, it just felt far.

When the live stream happened a year ago — when KK accidentally caught you and Paige lying tangled up on the couch during a late-night team movie — things had never been the same. You’d pulled away even harder. Publicly, at least.

Privately? You still curled into her arms. You still whispered I love you into her neck. You still kissed her like the secret was a promise.

But for Paige, the secret stopped feeling romantic a long time ago.

It started feeling like a cage.

⸻

By the time most of the team was out celebrating, you found her alone in the hallway near the buses. Hoodie pulled over her curls. Bag at her feet. Eyes red.

“Paige,” you said softly, breath catching.

She didn’t look at you. Just asked: “Do you know how hard it was not to cry on camera?”

You winced. Took a step forward. “I panicked. I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she said, cutting you off. “You were thinking. You always think. You think so hard you forget to feel.”

That landed. Because it was true.

“I just…” you tried. “I wasn’t ready.”

“You’ve been saying that for four years.”

Silence.

She looked at you now, really looked. Her voice shook — not angry, just tired. “Do you know how much it hurts? To love someone this much and feel like they’re ashamed of it?”

Your chest tightened.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said, quickly. “I’m just scared. Of all of it. What people would say. What it might mean for us. For you.”

“And I’m scared of pretending I don’t know what your mouth tastes like every time someone asks if we’re just teammates,” she snapped, eyes wet again. “But I still show up. Every day. I chose you, and I’m standing here. Alone.”

You stepped closer.

“I do love you, Paige.”

She shook her head. “I know. But it’s not enough anymore if you’re only going to love me in the dark.”

She bent down, picked up her bag, and brushed past you.

You stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking, scared of what i could lose forever.

[dontrllycaretbh]

Should’ve let it ring pt.2

pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: heavy screaming, swearing, anger-fueled heartbreak, harsh words, emotional immaturity, deeply toxic confrontation

synopsis: You thought she’d ignore the call. Instead, she calls you back. Not to talk. Not to cry. But to tear you apart — because this time? She’s done letting you humiliate her.

Your phone rings.

Unknown number. But you know exactly who it is.

You answer without thinking.

“…Hello?”

There’s a half-second of silence before—

“Are you fucking serious?!”

The words hit like a slap. Paige’s voice is venom, raw and laced with fury.

“I—Paige—”

“No. SHUT UP. You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to breathe right now.”

She’s yelling. Not sad, not shaky — just furious. Pure rage.

“You think that was funny? You think I’m some dumb little joke you can call at one in the morning to say you love me like it’s content for your friends?!”

You freeze. Your heart’s pounding, your ears ringing.

“Paige, I didn’t—”

“No. You did. You planned it. You dialed my number, said I love you, and hung up. And for what? A fucking tiktok trend?!”

Her voice cracks from yelling so hard, but she doesn’t stop. She’s foaming now.

“You humiliated me. You knew exactly what that would do. You KNEW I’d pick up. Because no matter what, I always fucking answer when it’s you.”

You flinch, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I wasn’t trying to humiliate you—”

“BULLSHIT”

She’s screaming now.

“You used me. You used how much I loved you. You knew I never stopped. And you played with it like it was funny. Like I was a fucking prop in your dumb-ass group chat.”

“I didn’t think—”

“NO. You never think. That’s the problem.”

There’s silence on your end. Nothing you say is going to stop this. So you just let her burn it down.

“You think just because you’re sad or scared or miss me, that it gives you the right to crawl back in like that? That I’ll just be waiting?”

“Newsflash: I was. And I hate myself for it.”

Your breath catches.

“You know what I did after you called? I stood there. For ten minutes. Waiting to see if you’d call back. I replayed it. Over and over. I thought it was real. For five fucking seconds*, I let myself believe it.”

“You let me believe it.”

Now her voice is breaking. But she’s not crying — she’s spitting poison through her teeth.

“You’re not just careless. You’re cruel.”

Your lips tremble. You whisper, “I’m sorry—”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Click.

Call ended.

And you just sit there. Silent. Shaking.

Because you didn’t just lose her.

You made sure she’d never let you try again.

[dontrllycaretbh]

PLSSSSS (i will now)

pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: angst, prank gone wrong, unresolved tension, mild emotional damage

synopsis: What happens when you call your ex late at night to prank her with the tiktok trend ‘calling your ex to say goodnight’?

‘Should’ve Let It Ring’

The car is dark except for the glow of the phone screen lighting up your face. You’re hunched in the backseat, hoodie up, surrounded by your equally unhinged friends, and someone’s already filming because of course they are.

“Okay okay okay, shh—I’m calling her,” you whisper, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in your contacts.

Everyone around you snickers into their sleeves.

“She’s gonna melt,” one says.

“Nah, she’s gonna fold.”

“Or block you,” someone else coughs.

You hit call.

Ring.

Your heart thumps once. Loud.

Ring.

Why are you nervous? It’s just a prank. A little “goodnight, I love you” after months of not speaking. Nothing serious.

Click.

“…Hello?”

Her voice is soft, low, but not sleepy. Alert. Immediately on guard.

You clear your throat. Put on your serious voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to say goodnight. I love you.”

Silence.

Dead, cold silence.

Your friends are already gripping each other, shaking with stifled laughter. Someone’s biting the collar of their shirt, trying not to scream.

“…What the hell are you talking about?”

You blink.

That wasn’t in the script.

“I—uh, I just wanted to say—”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Paige snaps. “What do you mean you love me?”

The car goes dead silent. One of your friends mouths, ohhh shit

You force a chuckle. “I don’t know, I was just thinking about you.”

She exhales sharply. “At 11:47 p.m.? After two months of radio silence? This is how you want to start a conversation again?”

Someone starts recording. You glare, waving them off.

Paige keeps going.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

You hesitate. “What? No—”

“Because it feels like a joke. And I’m not really in the mood to be someone’s late-night fucking entertainment.”

You glance around the car. Everyone’s still watching. You can’t bail now.

“Okay, damn, relax. It was just a—”

“A prank?” she cuts in, voice colder now. “Of course. That tracks, forgot how childish you are. ”

You wince.

“Look, Paige, chill. I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously—”

“Oh, sorry,” she snaps. “My bad for assuming a 1 a.m. ‘I love you’ from someone I used to fall asleep next to meant something.”

That shuts you up.

The car is silent.

Then Paige says, low and flat:

“Don’t call me again. Goodnight.”

Click.

The call ends.

Your phone screen goes dark.

Nobody laughs. Not this time.

You sit there, stunned, while your friends exchange glances. One finally breaks the silence.

“…So, do we delete the video or…?”

You don’t answer.

Because for a second, you forgot why it was supposed to be funny.