itsstavy13

[itsstavy13]

busy woman (unless you call tonight)

pairing: dallaswings!paige bueckers x corporate!fem!reader summary: you were a busy woman with color-coded spreadsheets and calendars– no time for feelings! until a missed connection at gate 18 starts haunting the corners of your mind, at least. contains/warnings: slow burn-ish, missed connections/chance encounter, very soft angst, mutual yearning, reunion, fluff. not proofread! let me know if i missed any warning! word count: 4.1k a/n (pls read): okay so i know i have tons of requests but i feel so uninspired to write them lately (i think im burnt out from writing besties) so i tried finding something that would inspire me to get my mojo back and ig here it is?? my peace offering to anonnies hahahaha im sorry T^T i hope this will do until my next request update!! now playing: Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter

This day could not get any worse.

Well, that’s what you’re hoping for at least. 

You’re currently slumped in an airport seat with the posture of someone who’s been awake for too long and is running on 6 cups of caffeine. The voice of the flight attendant crackles through the megaphone, and you brace yourself like it might to tell you something new, something you’re desperate to happen.

It doesn’t.

“...Flight 5001 to New York has been delayed again due to weather. We appreciate your patience…”

You shut the noise out after that. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t feel any bit of patience in your body. You feel like crying, smushing your face into your carry-on. 

Your phone is at 9%, and unfortunately for you, the powerbank in your bag is pretty much drained too. Your laptop is dead while your data’s running low, meaning you can’t finish the report due for tomorrow’s meeting. Even the overpriced granola bar you’ve packed is gone, eaten too early out of anxiety. What makes this worse is that you’re alone– your coworkers are on different flights, and as fate would have it, theirs didn’t get delayed.

You seriously wonder what on earth you did for you to deserve this. It’s not like you’re a bad person, and you’re a responsible citizen who doesn’t miss out on paying taxes and other fees. You CLAYGO, try to cut down on things that can harm the environment– you’re a model employee, for goodness’ sake! And yet, those who slack off don’t have it worse than you do. 

A frustrated huff leaves you again, and you push your head back against the cold metal seat. The ceiling lights are flickering above you like even the airport’s tired of trying too.

At this point, you’ve reread the same three emails on your phone over and over again because, well, they’re the only thing you can look at. You can’t scroll through social media since you’re data’s one reel away from disappearing on you, and there’s only so much people-watching you can do before the boredom returns to existential dread. 

“You look like you’re about to have a full breakdown any minute from now.”

The voice cuts through your internal spiral, light and amused.

You turn your head to the right and see the person, clad all over in gray clothing. Their legs are stretched out, the hood of their jacket pulled all the way over their head. You didn’t even notice them sitting beside you.

She glances at you from beneath the hood, and you see a small grin and unmistakable blue eyes. The face is slightly familiar, and you stare a second too long to be able to piece her identity together.

It’s Paige Bueckers.

You’re not big on sports– heck, you’re hardly updated with the competitions and leagues of the sport you play– but you’ve heard of her name once or twice from the media. You’re aware that she’s a basketball superstar, arguably one of the most famous players of her generation.

You have no time to fangirl over a celebrity you barely watched though, and you’re pretty much too irritated to ask for an autograph you’d probably regret not getting in the future. That’s why, before you could stop yourself, you’re already haughtily answering her, “That’s because I am.”

Paige Bueckers is silenced, obviously stunned with your tone. You expect her to call you out for it, and maybe even move seats, far away from you. But instead, she laughs after a minute of contemplation and scrutinizing you. 

“I get ya,” she says, grin widening now, like she’s even more amused with your attitude. “This is actually a cursed gate, Gate 18. Every time I fly through here, there’s a delay.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, curious about her and how she responded. 

“Then why keep flying through here?”

She only shrugs. “I’m pretty stubborn.”

That makes you laugh, catching her and you yourself off-guard. The tension in your chest finally cracks just enough to let some air and relief through you. You lean back again, facing the ceiling. 

You can hear the thunder rumbling from a distance, but you’re focused on the surprisingly comfortable silence that has settled between the two of you.

Then, Paige leans over, offering her phone. You look at her inquisitively, and she asks you, “Is there anything you need? Like hotspot or music?” She gives you a small smile. “I promise I got good taste in music.”

You stare at her for a hot minute, then glance down at the phone. “...Hotspot and a powerbank would save my ass right now,” you mumble, almost embarrassed. “Only if it’s not gonna cost you much, though.”

Paige rummages through her own carry-on then hands you both a powerbank and her phone. She taps a few times then flips it so the screen with the QR code is facing you. “Knock yourself out. Unlimited everything.”

Your eyebrow jumps at that, but a smile is tugging the corners of your lips, pretty much entertained with this celebrity stranger. 

“Okay, flex.”

She only smirks at you as you take the powerbank and scan the code. “Perks of the job.”

Your phone is connected not too long after, and relief washes all over you. Notifications start rolling in again– all the emails, personal messages, and a few missed calls. You swipe them away and head straight to another application to continue editing your presentation. 

As silence settles back in, Paige takes another look at your direction, casual but as interested as a young kid peering into adult matters. “Big meeting soon?”

You let out a sigh and nod at her. “Yeah, tomorrow morning. Can’t miss it unless I wanna deal with a crapstorm and possibly a penalty from the boss.”

Paige whistles, the sound low. “Oof. That serious?”

“Yeah.” You put your phone down, realizing it’s kind of rude to not look at her while she’s talking to you. You twist your body towards her direction and fix your sitting posture, and finally see Paige face-to-face. 

Damn. She’s kinda cute.

“You good?” she asks, but there’s a lazy, playful grin on her face now, likely realizing how she shut you up with just the sight of her face.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Yes, I’m good. And yes, it’s that serious. I head a big and crucial department in the company, and we’ve been prepping for this for months. It’s an important pitch to some people higher up the food chain, and if I’m not there– well, I don’t exactly trust all the others to know by heart, the way that I do.”

She nods slowly, and she’s speaking in a softer tone now, “This delay really can screw everything over.”

“Exactly.”

You let the weight of that hang in the air. It’s not even just the flight that’s messing with everything right now. This delay symbolizes many other things, from your efforts being wasted, to a system that’s seemingly rigged against you no matter how hard you work your ass off.

Paige stretches out her legs again. She’s resting her chin on her shoulder now as she’s watching you. “You talk about this like it’s life or death.”

You shrug, even if it’s hardly something to shrug about. “It kind of feels that way sometimes.” Then, after a pause, you add, “Damn. Saying that out loud makes me feel pathetic.”

She shakes her head immediately. “Nah, you’re not pathetic. You’re just… really entangled in it. Like, it’s your baby, or something… Am I making sense?”

You chuckle at her attempt. “Somehow.”

“What do you actually do, by the way?” she asks. “What’s your day-to-day?”

You try to explain with less jargon and give the condensed version of your monotonous life. You tell her about coming up with monthly strategies, describe your weekly deliverables, and tons of emails you have to respond to. You mention a funny anecdote about managing teams that does the job of making your harsh task sound light to an outsider.

Paige doesn’t look bored, so that maybe tells you being a storyteller isn't out of the box if you ever get fired after tomorrow. She’s listening closely, eyebrows slightly knitted in concentration as she tries to understand your foreign world.

When you finish, she simply says, “That sounds really exhausting.”

You huff. “‘Cos it is.”

She offers you a crooked smile. “You ever think about quitting and running away to sell fruit shakes somewhere in a beach, east of the country?”

“Every Friday, around four pm, maybe.”

Paige laughs, and it’s not a mocking one, just bright and understanding. “Let me guess: that’s when the fourth back-to-back meeting for the day finishes, and your soul finally leaves your body?”

“You do get it,” you quip with a smile.

She lets out another laugh. “Yeah, I do. I have media meetings, PR stuff, and brand sessions where they try to tell me who I’m supposed to be. Unfortunately, it’s not just playing games and putting on my favorite sneakers.”

You soften at that. 

You expected her to be some untouchable personality– someone who’d never understand why you’re barely holding it together after a flight delay. But Paige Bueckers is more than just any other celebrity, apparently. She’s here, in front of you, opening up enough to let you know how human she is as well.

She ends up opening Netflix on her iPad, to a comfort sitcom that you instantly recognize the moment the intro sequence plays. It’s been months since you last watched an episode, and you’re honestly grateful– it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Paige offers an earbud with an expectant look and waits for you to take it. And you do.

The show starts playing between you, and your slide deck is completely forgotten on the side. She shifts beside you, slumping more against the bench and stretching her legs out in front. You mirror the movement without realizing, and the two of you unknowingly look like a lazy couple, just waiting the storm out in a second-rate airport.

It’s easy, in a way that nothing else has been today.

At some point– after the second episode, maybe– she nudges a slightly squashed protein bar toward you, the wrapper half-opened. You take it without comment, breaking off a piece and chewing slowly. The taste is bland, but the kind gesture and your rumbling stomach sure make it tastier.

Time stops dragging momentarily. 

The storm outside still rumbles occasionally, but with how you are right now with this nice stranger, the sound has faded into the background minutes ago. Your phone is clutched loosely in your hand, and you’re supposed to be answering those emails or reviewing your personal script for tomorrow’s meeting. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your head falls ever so slightly as you watch the screen, and a slow ache begins forming behind your eyes. It doesn’t register until now how worn out you actually are. The next thing you know, you’re blinking slower than usual, your head dipping gently once in a while. 

You straighten yourself quickly, cheeks burning, when you catch yourself swaying more to your right, where she’s seated. “Sorry,” you mutter, suddenly too aware of how close the two of you have become.

Paige doesn’t flinch. She just gives you another amused smile. “You’re good,” she tells you, voice low. “You can sleep if you want.”

You shake your head in refusal. “Won’t be able to get up if I do.”

She hums softly in agreement, straightening in her seat now too. “I get that.”

Silence settles between the two of you again, but there’s something held in it, like the air is holding its breath for what’s next to come.

Then, the speakers above you crackles again, this time more harsh and intrusive than you last remember it being.

“Flight 5001 to New York is now boarding. Again, flight 5001 to New York is now boarding.”

The both of you flinch slightly at the announcement, pulled back into reality as if someone had yanked the curtain open on you. You two look at each other, not really saying anything else yet. You’re just unplugging the earbud and your cord from her powerbank, before handing them back. She takes it wordlessly as well, and your breath hitches at the very slight contact between your fingers.

It’s not much, nothing too electric, but you feel it anyway.

You then stand, adjust your coat and shoulder your bag. Paige stands too, slower, more relaxed. She stretches her arms over her head and lets them fall back to her sides with a soft exhale.

Then, you two pause, continuing to stare at each other as if that could convey everything you want to tell her, ask her, right now.

Paige’s gaze lands on your phone, like she’s considering asking for something– your number, your socials, anything.

But nothing is said. Nothing is asked.

She just gives you a soft, shy smile– the kind that makes something stir in your stomach wildly. You can only offer one in return.

Paige lifts her hand in a wave, and you do the same before stepping toward your gate.

There are no promises and no expectations between the two of you. There’s just the warm and content feeling of being in a safe bubble for a short moment, before going back to your fast-paced worlds.

As you walk away, you don’t look back, but you still think about her the whole way to your seat. And even when the plane lifts off and the city begins to shrink beneath you, the weight of her gaze follows you into the sky.

It’s been a some weeks since the incident at the airport.

It’s long enough so that the ache of a missed connection can dull to a certain point, but still not enough for you to forget about it entirely.

You didn’t expect to think about her after that flight, much less still be thinking about her until now, after a whole month has passed.

But you do. Not constantly– just in the quiet pockets of each day. Even when the world keeps moving, and your schedule is more packed than ever, you somehow have moments wherein your mind lingers in Paige-related scenarios and thoughts. 

You think about her when you’re driving to and from work and the local sports radio is on. She’s stuck in your brain as soon as anyone in the breakroom mentions basketball passing. When you’re alone in yet another hotel room, scrolling mindlessly through channels, you still end up at ESPN, watching some WNBA game that doesn’t have her team playing.

Your memory of Paige as your head almost rested on her shoulder is soft, almost out of focus, but you’re sure it happened. It’s real enough to you that sometimes, you still remember how her laugh sounded when you grumbled about your flight and the things going on at work.

But, oh well, life goes on.

Your inbox continues to be a mess, and your calendar is packed with meetings again. You pretty much slid back into your routine with ease, often pretending that the airport thing never happened. It makes things easier too, to just think of it as a strange blip in your very controlled and linear life. She was a passing moment, you just insist when your mind finds the image of her smile again.

But sometimes, when the nights are quiet and the hotel room feels cold and unfamiliar, you wonder… Does she ever think of you too? 

And in those moments, the ache returns– small, persistent, and harder to ignore.

You arrive in San Francisco with a full itinerary and no time to entertain anything else besides work.

The company you’re consulting for has flown you in with barely any breathing room. The moment you get to your hotel, you only have 30 minutes before you’re about to be thrown into back-to-back meetings, presentations, and dinners by your assistant. 

Once Day 2 finishes, your hotel room is more of a crash pad than a space for reflection and rest. 

“I hate this fucking job,” is all you can mutter under your breath once you exit the hotel and go to a nearby convenience store, hoping to find a fulfilling ready-to-eat meal. 

You don’t even notice at first.

You’re walking through the aisle, checking your phone with one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. There’s a familiar hum of white noise– your clacking heels, low conversation, ding of the bell above the store’s doors. Then, a voice– sharp, bright, and extremely familiar– cuts through that.

“Are you stalking me, or is this just fate again?”

You freeze.

When you glance up, you almost drop everything you’re holding. Right in front of you is Paige Bueckers, again, standing at the other end of the aisle. She’s wearing a simple t-shirt and sweats, and that same lopsided grin that lives so rent-free in your brain.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you breathe out, but your lips are already curling upward.

Paige starts walking towards you, arms slightly raised like she’s as surprised as you are.

“We’re playing against Golden State tomorrow. I figured you’d show up again somehow. You clearly have a thing for airports and cities I’m in.”

You scoff softly, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m here for work, genius. And I’m not stalking you!”

“Yet.”

You let out a laugh, a quiet and incredulous sound. Of all places, of all times, this is where you run into her again, but somehow, it feels just right– for you two to be standing in front of each other again.

Before you can say anything else, Paige tilts her head a little and asks, “You free tomorrow night? You should come to the game.”

You hesitate. If she just knew how much of a mess your schedule is: you have a report to finalize, hundreds of backlogged emails labeled with “[URGENT],” then there’s that client dinner to attend. Everything about your life right now screams ‘no’ to anything else besides work.

But… is this really the life you’d like to live? Paige Bueckers is literally here, with you, offering you to come watch her play. She’s looking at you like that rainy night at the airport, full of interest and anticipation.

“Seriously,” she follows up, “I can get you a ticket. Good seat. No pressure, but…” she shrugs, “it’d be cool to see you there at the sidelines.”

The part of you that’s usually so good at saying no folds.

“Okay,” you say, then blink, in disbelief that you had actually said that. 

You don’t know what you’re doing. You barely know here. But you also remember how you both easily slipped into a warm conversation. You remember how the silence between you that night was anything but comforting.

After some terrible acting through the phone about your stomach being botched, your assistant finally let you go with a warning and hung up to reschedule your meetings for the next day.

You show up to the game twenty minutes early, wearing your work clothes and a cap just in case the jumbotron catches your face and a coworker happens to be watching. 

You feel like a fish out of water, surrounded by fans in jerseys and sneakers, incredibly knowledgeable about the players and their sport. Some have their own foam fingers, and others are holding handmade signs. The energy in the arena is incredibly exhilarating that even a non-sports fan like you can’t help but clap and cheer at the athletes doing their warm ups.

You sink into your seat, hands curled around a cup of overpriced soda, your large tote bag wedged awkwardly between your feet. 

You didn’t expect that Paige would get you courtside seats. You weren’t even entirely sure where Paige said she’d leave the ticket until a hotel staff delivered it himself right at your doorstep. 

Now, here you are, pretending to be someone who knows what the stats the courtside reporters are currently talking about mean. You truly tried to listen and understand so that you’d at least have an idea, going into the game, but after a solid three-minute time period, you’re now just mindlessly watching the people in the arena while counting the minutes until the game starts.

Then, you see Paige.

She’s at the far end of the court with the rest of the Dallas Wings during pregame drills, with her hair tied up, jersey slightly untucked. Focus is etched across her face like any other athlete on the court, but when her eyes scan the stands and land on you, she breaks out of it.

She doesn’t wave or call attention to herself. She only gives you the briefest nod, and a small, almost imperceptible smile. It makes you feel like you two are in on something no one else knows, and it immediately disarms you.

The game starts with a burst of movement and noise soon after, and before you can fully process that small exchange, the crowd roars to life. The arena transforms into something even more electric than it already was during the warmups.

You don’t expect to enjoy the game as much as you do– honestly, you thought you’d be zoning out after the first quarter and politely check emails from under the seat. But truly, it’s impossible not to get swept up in the energy and the rhythm of it all.

You cheer when the crowd cheers. You gasp when someone lands what you assume is a hard foul. You flinch when Paige hits the floor once, then find yourself watching her more than any other player on the court.

It’s only then you realize for yourself that Paige is a damn good player. Even if you’re no analyst, you can easily tell that she’s quicker on her feet than the rest, and the gears in her head are always turning for possible plays to call out. She makes it look effortless, and now that you’re watching her, something loosens in your chest. 

It’s refreshing to be in another kind of chaos– a refreshing one. You don’t appreciate until now how much you needed to be out of consecutive in-person and Zoom meetings, tight schedules, and endless tasks to accomplish. That, once in a while, being immersed in the thrill of a game and the hum of a crowd, can make all the difference.

By the time the buzzer sounds and the Wings seal their win, your throat is actually sore from yelling, and you’ve completely forgotten about your emails.

As the team huddles at the sides and fans slowly file out, a man in a dark t-shirt approaches you. He doesn’t look like security, but definitely someone official.

“Miss y/n?” he greets politely, glancing at your lanyard. “Miss Paige Bueckers asked if you could come with me.”

You blink a couple of times, unsure if you heard it right, but you follow the man anyway.

He guides you down a corridor behind the bleachers, through a maze of side doors and restricted access signs, until finally, you’re waiting in a private lounge. 

As you wait alone on the couch, there’s an itch at the back of your mind that tells you to check your phone and see what your tomorrow looks like. It tells you to respond to that calendar reminder you snoozed earlier, but you don’t. Instead, you wait in silence, subconsciously expecting in excitement.

Paige steps out after several more minutes of waiting, towel slung over her shoulders and hair still damp from a shower. Your breath catches the way it did back in the airport, when you had your first good look at her.

“Hi,” she says, eyes lighting up in a way that feels impossibly familiar, like no time has passed at all. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You smile back, trying to ignore how fast your pulse is racing right now. “You said you’d get me a ticket. Kinda rude not to show up.”

Paige laughs, the same soft and warm laugh that has your stomach churning with butterflies. 

“Fair,” she replies, grinning widely now.

There’s a moment, one that’s long enough for something to stretch between you again, one like back at the airport. You still don’t really know her, not the way people normally get to know each other, but you know– you feel– the connection is here, stubborn and real.

“So,” she begins, glancing at the hallway behind her like there’s a question she’s debating. “I was thinking… If you’re free, maybe we could grab some dinner? Or lunch out tomorrow? Just us… to, y’know, actually talk more.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something responsible– something about an early morning meeting or missed deliverable– but it never makes it past your lips. 

Because if Paige Bueckers wants to be penciled into your calendar, you’ll move things around.

You’re a busy woman, unless she calls you tonight.

images except the dividers belong to respective creators; found in pinterest. links: https://pin.it/32YJOmUAL; https://pin.it/4pWvwbvb0; https://pin.it/2lvozRh5b.

[itsstavy13]

SNOOZE — p. bueckers ix.

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

warnings: fluff? sprinkles of domestic shit. sexual content/smut. idk what else.

word count: 7590

notes: live reactions and reblogs are more appreciated than just likes cuz i actually put my sweat and tears into this through a writing slump just for u guys

masterlist

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @lilpaigeyherbo @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist @avvwritesstufff @vintagebueckers @naeswrrldd @thaatdigitaldiary

The morning came way too slow for Paige.

She’d barely slept. Just tossed and turned in her hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of last night on an endless loop. She could still feel Soraya’s lips on hers. Still taste her, like it was haunting her. The faint scent of her shampoo, that warm and expensive perfume she wore lingering in the air between them, and the way Soraya’s skin had felt under her fingertips. The way her breath had hitched when Paige’s hands roamed her body.

Everything about Soraya pulled her in like gravity and the more she pushed her away, the harder Paige wanted to close the distance.

By the time they’d gathered in the lobby to check out, Paige was running on little sleep. The moment she saw Soraya step out of the elevator, something tightened low in her stomach.

Their eyes met, just briefly at first. Then again and again. Sometimes one of them broke it quickly, other times their gazes held longer than they probably should have.

Soraya’s stomach twisted with slight wariness. Had anyone noticed? Had any of their teammates somehow seen the way she had barely pulled Paige inside her hotel room doorway the night before? Had they seen thr way she had kissed Paige like she’d been starving for it? She doubted it. Or at least she hoped so.

She wasn’t ready for curious glances, or whispered questions, or judgment that she knew was just in her head. Not from teammates she barely even knew yet and not when she wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself. Soraya had no idea what she was even doing.

By the time they loaded onto the bus, Soraya walked past Paige with a glance so subtle it could have been missed entirely. Her face was unreadable as she slipped into a seat beside Maddy, who was already sitting quietly near the back of the bus. Maddy had always been calm, steady and constant, not loud and energetic like some of their other teammates. She wasn’t intrusive, just easy and Soraya appreciated that. They’d entered this league together, fresh meat in a highly competitive world, navigating it side by side. That kind of natural bond didn’t need constant conversation to uphold.

Paige sat two rows ahead of them. She couldn’t resist the urge. As the bus doors shut close and the vehicle rolled forward, she shifted slightly in her seat, looking over her shoulder just enough to steal a glance at the older girl.

Soraya was sitting there, bare faced and effortlessly beautiful in her dallas wings hoodie, plain grey sweats hiding her legs. The cool air of the Minnesotan morning hadn’t caught her off guard, she had dressed for it, knowing it’d be different from the dallas heat.

Paige’s throat dried. God, even like this—no makeup, no heels, no glimmering dress— she was still so fucking beautiful. But shr didn’t let herself stare for long. She turned her head back toward the window, the road and landscape blurring as the bus drove towards the airport.

Soraya, who was fully aware of the glance, had been looking down at her phone, feigning disinterest. But she’d felt the burn of those blue eyes on her. She always did.

At the airport, as Soraya stepped off the bus to grab her suitcase, Paige was faster. She pulled it out of the trunk before Soraya could even reach for it.

For a second, she hesitated. She almost kept it in her hand. Almost offered to carry it all the way through the airport, but thought better of it. It was too much and too obvious. The last thing she wanted was to make Soraya pull away again.

She held it out instead. “Here.”

Soraya took it with a small, polite smile. Barely noticeable, but there. And Paige felt stupidly proud of herself for earning it.

The walk through security went by quick. Charter flights meant no crowds, no chaos. One of the few perks they only recently gained.

When they boarded the plane, Soraya reached up to store her carry-on. Once again, Paige stepped in before she could. She stepped in smoothly, taking the bag from Soraya’s hands and pushing it up into place. As she did, her top lifted slightly, exposing a glimpse of her stomach and the v-line cutting down beneath her waistband.

Soraya’s eyes flicked there involuntarily, a quick glance she couldn’t stop in time.

And Paige had caught her. She turned her head with perfect timing, catching Soraya’s stare dead on. The corner of her mouth curved into a knowing smirk that made Soraya snap her gaze away almost immediately, pretending to adjust her hoodie.

They settled into their seats soon after, the plane eventually lifting into the sky. Soraya tried to focus on her phone, but her legs itched to move. After about half an hour, she finally unbuckled her belt and stood to stretch. It was more of an excuse than actual discomfort, if she was being honest.

But instead of returning to her seat, she casually dropped into the empty spot next to her rookie.

Paige glanced sideways at her, eyebrows raised just slightly. She didn’t say anything right away, just waited.

Soraya nodded toward the iPad resting on Paige’s lap, earbuds in her hand. “What are you watching?”

“Grey’s Anatomy,” Paige answered, still watching her like she was waiting for the catch.

Soraya nodded again, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp, almost teasing. “Never seen it. Is it good?”

Paige blinked. “Are you serious right now?”

Soraya tilted her head a little, meeting her gaze fully. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The deadpan delivery nearly made Paige shiver. ‘God, she’s so hot when she does that.’ The stoic face, the steady eye contact—it was enough to knock the breath right out of her.

Paige let out a quiet breath, trying to ground herself. “Well. You’re watching it now.” She paused, before adding, “I’m rewatching season one, so you’re not missing much.”

Soraya surprised her by simply nodding. “Okay.”

That one word sent a tiny jolt through Paige’s chest. The blonde fought the urge to smile too wide. She hadn’t expected her to stay. Or to give in so easily. She tried not to let the surprise show, simply queued up the first episode instead of resuming where she left off. Somewhere in her mind, she wanted Soraya to have the full experience. She wanted to share something—even if it was just a stupid TV show—for as long as she was allowed to have her close.

For the next hour or so, they sat side by side, Paige softly explaining plot points whenever Soraya leaned in with a quiet question. Eventually, neither of them said much. The show played, the plane hummed quietly around them, and the world outside blurred into nothing.

At some point, Soraya’s head naturally fell against Paige’s shoulder. And not long after, Paige’s head rested lightly on top of hers.

They both drifted off like that. The shared earbuds connecting them, breaths slow and even, bodies leaning into each other.

Most of the team remained disinterested. Minding their own business, chatting softly or dozing off.

Except for Dijonai, Arike and NaLyssa. All three of them exchanged subtle looks from their own seats, silent but fully clocking the scene playing out in front of them.

Soraya Mensima loved to stir the pot.

Quite literally.

And, here she was, arm working in aggressive circular motions as she near to pounded the cassava and unripe plantain mixture into a firm paste.

Soraya couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly rested. The last time she’d gotten more than 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. The last time she hadn’t had a nightmare or dreams that didn’t leave her feeling uneasy and uncomfortable after waking up.

Her head throbbed, her muscles ached and she could swear that her brain was starting to lag and fog. It was as if nothing made sense, but everything did make sense simultaneously.

But instead of lying down in bed next to her cat that was wholesomely purring for once—letting Soraya know how much she’d missed her the past couple days—she stood in front of her stove.

The scent of spices curled around the kitchen, warm and familiar. Almost comforting. She’d only attempted making ghanaian fufu once, and that was several years ago. By the time she’d finished, her arms ached and her stomach was growling so loud, her family could hear it from outside the kitchen.

It was one of those days, where your heart and soul ached for the past. Where nostalgia knocked at your door and you struggled to open the door for it. To invite it in and embrace it.

Growing up with an algerian mother, and a ghanaian father who passed away before Soraya could form a genuine bond with him, the girl had always felt like she’d been robbed of half of her. The other half of her identity, and not just in the form of a parent, but the culture as well.

Moving to the west had only intensified that feeling.

She never fully belonged anywhere—never fit in. Torn in half, it was as if no side truly claimed and embraced her. Always in the middle.

Though, she wore it with pride. Both of her identities. There wasn’t a time where Soraya Mensima wasn’t utterly proud of where she came from, how she was raised and how hard she’d worked to make it where she was today.

By the time Soraya was done, the kitchen was a mess.

Sticky pots and dirty pans in the sink, red sauce on the marble counter and splattered on the floor tiles from the wooden spoon falling a few times too many. Soraya couldn’t help but sigh as she lowered herself and got on her knees to wipe the ground with a wet kitchen towel. Sighed even louder while rinsing the dirty dishes and tossing them into her dishwasher.

Soraya ignored the way her head spun faster than she was used to, and the way her vision blurred for a few seconds too long. ‘I just need some cold water’ she told herself.

But as she moved towards the fridge and her knees buckled under her, she tightly curled her hand around the handle of her fridge, regaining balance. She blinked rapidly, but it only did little to restore her clear vision.

It wasn’t until Soraya fully sat on the cold floor, propping her upper half up with the flat of her palms and taking deep breaths, before she felt confident enough to lift herself up again.

Soraya shook it off the moment she was back onto her feet, pouring herself a cold cup of water with extra ice cubes, which she quickly chugged down.

She simply chalked it down to her hypothyroidism. It wasn’t the first time it decided to mess with her unannounced, throwing her off balance and bed-ridding her for the rest of the day. And it wouldn’t be the last, that’s something she was sure of.

A short while later as Soraya sat on her couch to restore her energy and coordination, she suddenly became painfully aware of the two big pots on top of her stove. Even more so, the emptiness and loneliness that lingered around her, haunting the apartment like a ghost that vowed to stay. She’d made so much food that she barely had the appetite for just for the sake of nostalgia and now it sat there—overwhelming and prominent.

Soraya thought about it for a little. Let every emotion flow through her—every thought, every urge, every feeling.

And eventually, her hand trailed towards the phone that lay beside her on the velvet couch. She scrolled through her contacts, somehow convincing herself that it’d be quicker and easier than the ‘hassle’ of typing the contact name into her search bar, and internally cursed at how many numbers she’d accumulated throughout the years.

Managers, coaches, teammates, friends, business partners and only a few relatives. Most of those numbers remained untouched, collecting dust in her contacts list.

Finally, her eyes landed on the one she’d been searching for all along.

Soraya remembered exactly when she’d changed the girl’s self assigned contact name. It wasn’t long after Paige had left her apartment. Soraya hadn’t even waited for the body to turn cold before she replaced the silly nickname and emoji with her full government name.

She thought it’d help. Help her compartmentalize, help her remember that their bond was meant to be professional—but that didn’t seem to work.

With a shaky thumb and hesitance that was near to suffocating her, Soraya pressed down on the call button, and she tried to steady her breathing as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Thri—

“Hello?” A husky voice rang through the other line, snapping Soraya out of it.

She could feel her heart rate picking up for no real reason, other than the fact that Paige had answered her call so quickly. As if she’d been anticipating it.

“Uh, hey.” Soraya breathed out, her tone soft and airy. She hadn’t figured out what else to say yet.

“What’s up?” The sleep in Paige’s voice was evident, and Soraya wasn’t sure how she hadn’t picked up on the moment the girl spoke.

“Were you taking a nap?” She asked.

Paige only hummed in response.

“Oh, fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you; it’s okay, go back to sleep.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Needed to get up anyway, so I should thank you,” Paige chuckled lowly, “So, what’s up? Why did you call?”

Soraya couldn’t help but be distracted by the rasp in her voice. ‘Is this what she sounds like every morning when she wakes up?’. She quickly shook those thoughts off.

“I called because,” the older girl trailed off, trying to find the words. Why was she so nervous around Paige all of a sudden? It made no sense to her. Just 48 hours prior to this she was grinding against her and making out with her, and now she couldn’t even properly speak her mind.

Soraya took a deep breath, hoping to ground herself before she continued. “I made too much food without realizing and to be honest, I don’t think I can nor do I wanna eat all of this by myself.”

It was quiet for a few seconds, enough to fill Soraya with doubt and regret.

But then Paige spoke again, “Are you inviting me over for dinner?”

Soraya could practically hear the smirk in her voice and she sighed in dramatic defeat. “I guess. But I made fufu, so if you can’t handle spicy food, don’t come.”

Paige was already sitting up in her bed, “Oh, I can handle it. Trust. I’ll be there in 20.”

“Cool.” The brunette replied with faux nonchalance.

And as they both hung up, neither of them could fight the smiles tugging at the corners of their mouth.

Soraya stayed curled up on the couch, still feeling the exhaustion linger in her bones. The dizziness had dulled, but a faint haze still clung to her head. Not enough to knock her down, but just enough to keep her aware of how much her body was begging her to slow down.

What was supposed to be a quick twenty minutes felt like an hour by the time the chime on the wall finally rang. She sat up with a quiet sigh, slipping her feet into her fuzzy slides before shuffling toward the door.

Leaning forward, she pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“You gonna let me up or what? I look like a creep standing here while your neighbors are watching me,” Paige’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with playful impatience.

A quiet chuckle escaped Soraya. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. They’re not gonna eat you.”

“Probably not,” Paige shot back without missing a beat, “but I’m tryna come up and eat.”

Soraya shook her head, biting back a grin as she buzzed her in, unlocking the building door before she stepped back. Being on the second highest floor, she knew it’d take a minute or two before Paige made it up.

Eventually, the doorbell rang—three quick chimes in a row. She frowned slightly at the pattern, taking notice of it instantly.

Her heart gave a small, involuntary kick. She drew in a breath, steadying herself before reaching for the handle and pulling the door open.

The door inched open, revealing Paige dressed in a simple, grey two piece sweatsuit and her golden hair tied into her signature bun.

Soraya had no clue how to greet her. Should she hug her? Did she even want to hug her? Or should she just step aside and make space for Paige to enter? Despite being in control here, she didn’t necessarily feel like she was. Not with her.

“Come in.” She stepped aside, choosing the safest option.

Paige stepped inside with a small grin, ignoring the way her heart skipped for a reason she didn’t care to analyze. Being in Soraya’s apartment again after everything felt strange, and too unfamiliar in its familiarity. Her gaze briefly landed on the deep green velvet couch, but she quickly looked away before the memory could fully creep in and turn her cheeks warm.

“Looks just like how I left it,” Paige said, tucking her hands into her pockets in an attempt to ease whatever tension might’ve been hanging between them.

Soraya rolled her eyes lightly, almost amused. “Yup. It’s been like... a few weeks, tops.”

“Felt like years.” Paige shrugged. She wasn’t just talking about being in Soraya’s apartment. She meant being part of her life—the little parts of her day outside of basketball. Driving her around. Looking out for her. She missed all of it more than she’d admit.

And Soraya caught that. How could she not? There was a small, familiar pang in her chest before she cleared her throat and took a slow breath through her nose. “You hungry?”

Paige let out a quiet laugh, amused by the question, as if she hadn’t rushed over the moment Soraya called. It wasn’t just about the food—God, it wasn’t just that. She missed her. Missed being around her, missed the comfort of whatever fragile thing they’d started building before it started slipping through her fingers like dry sand.

“Just a little,” Paige teased, pulling one hand out of her pocket to hold up her thumb and index finger, leaving a small gap between them.

Soraya chuckled quietly again, but this time, her eyes never left the blonde. “I gotchu.”

Soraya stood at the stove, gently reheating the spicy stew that had gone lukewarm after sitting untouched for over an hour. The rich aroma filled the small kitchen.

Paige, who’d originally settled onto the couch, found herself getting up after just a few minutes. She couldn’t sit there—not with the flood of memories pressing in, like an old movie reel spinning too fast. She needed a distraction. And she needed to be near Soraya.

“Can I help?” Paige asked softly, stepping into the kitchen. She came up behind Soraya, standing a little too close. Close enough to catch the warm notes of her perfume even through the heavy scent of simmering spices.

Startled by the proximity, Soraya glanced over her shoulder, blinking. “No, it’s okay. You can just sit until I call you.”

But Paige only shook her head. “Nah, I wanna help. Tell me what to do.”

Two simple sentences. But somehow, they made Soraya’s skin prickle with heat. Not from the stove, but from Paige’s quiet insistence and her closeness. She swallowed, trying to steady her breath.

“Uh, alright… You can set the table and grab whatever you want to drink from the fridge.”

She didn’t exhale until Paige finally stepped away toward the fridge, giving her some much needed space to breathe.

As Paige opened the fridge door, her voice lifted with sudden excitement. “Wait, is that Shirley Temple?”

Soraya glanced over, humming with a nod before turning her attention back to the stew.

Paige grinned wide, rubbing her hands together like a kid in a candy store as she pulled the large pitcher of rosy pink soda out and placed it on the table. She started exploring the cabinets for plates, cups, and utensils, opening the wrong ones more than once, prompting Soraya to redirect her with a soft chuckle each time.

The kitchen filled with the soft clinking of dishes, light laughter, and low conversation. The whole scene felt oddly domestic and natural. Like something they’d done a hundred times before.

Once the table was finally set, Soraya carried the heavy pot over and gently placed it in the center. The deep red stew shimmered beneath the warm lights, the aroma richer than ever.

“Hold on,” Soraya paused, spinning back toward the counter. “We’re forgetting something.”

She returned with two small bowls of water, placing one next to each plate.

Paige blinked at them, brows drawing together. “What’s that for?”

“It’s to dip your fingers in,” Soraya explained, a small laugh escaping as she sat down. “This is probably gonna get a little messy. Not exactly the best thing to eat on a first date.”

There was a beat of silence before Paige tilted her head, voice calm but deliberate. “Is this a date?”

The question landed heavier than it should have, making Soraya freeze for a split second. Her face grew warm, but she pushed it down, brushing it off with a shake of her head, trying to sound unaffected. “No… I’m just saying.”

Paige nodded, trying to mask the brief flicker of disappointment as she pulled out her chair and sat down across from her.

And for a moment, the only sound between them was the quiet clinking of silverware and the gentle bubbling of stew.

They sat across from each other, plates full, steam rising from the deep red stew. Soraya reached for her own portion of fufu, expertly pinching a small piece between her fingers and rolling it into a neat little ball before dipping it into the stew. She lifted it to her mouth effortlessly, glancing up to see Paige watching her movements like she was studying for an exam.

Paige furrowed her brows, trying to mimic what she’d just seen. She grabbed a bit of the soft pounded fufu, but it stuck awkwardly to her fingers, refusing to roll into anything remotely round.

“Like this?” she asked, her voice tinged with hesitant amusement, holding up a lumpy, uneven piece that flopped slightly in her hand.

Soraya bit back a grin. “You’re getting there.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, determined. She tried again, this time managing a slightly better shape before dipping it into the stew. She raised it to her mouth with a bit too much caution, but finally took the first bite.

For a moment, all seemed well. She even hummed in appreciation. “Damn. That’s really good.”

But then it hit her.

The spice snuck up like an ambush—warming her tongue, then setting it ablaze. Her eyes widened slightly as the heat bloomed across her mouth and crept up to her cheeks. She blinked, swallowing hard, trying to keep her expression neutral.

Soraya watched it all unfold with amusement she couldn’t be bothered to hide. She saw the way Paige’s nose twitched like it was threatening to run, the way her face flushed a shade deeper, her eyes beginning to glisten. She was trying so hard not to break.

“You good over there?” Soraya asked, her tone light but teasing.

“I’m great,” Paige managed, forcing a grin. “It’s… a little spicier than I expected, but it’s fine. I got this.”

She quickly reached for her glass of Shirley Temple, taking a big sip. But the carbonation only made it worse, bubbling and prickling against her already burning tongue. Paige closed her eyes briefly, trying to play it cool, but Soraya caught the little stifled cough that followed.

That was it. Soraya couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a soft, melodic laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really thuggin’ it out, huh?”

Paige laughed too, the tension easing between them as they both dissolved into giggles.

“It’s too good to stop,” Paige said, her voice slightly strained but genuine. “I didn’t come all the way here to tap out. My taste buds just need to toughen up a little, that’s all.”

Soraya’s heart softened, watching her push through, all to impress her—though she never would’ve been offended if Paige had stopped after the first bite.

“You know,” Soraya smiled, “you don’t gotta prove anything to me.”

“I know,” Paige said, eyes locking with hers for a brief moment that felt a little heavier than before. “But I kinda want to anyway.”

Soraya tried to bite back another smile.

When they finished eating, Soraya moved to start clearing the table, but Paige was already one step ahead of her, stacking the plates.

“I got it,” Paige said simply.

“You don’t have to—” Soraya started.

“I want to.”

There was no room for argument in her tone. Not forceful, but firm enough. Paige took the dishes to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

Soraya leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment. “You sure?”

Paige glanced over her shoulder with a faint grin. “Sit down.”

Soraya let out a quiet breath, almost smiling. She grabbed her drink and retreated to the couch, watching Paige from across the room.

The running water filled the quiet, punctuated by the soft clinking of plates. Paige moved carefully, almost focused, as if washing dishes was some kind of offering. A small, gentle way to take care of Soraya.

Soraya studied the scene from her spot, her head resting against the back of the couch. The simple domesticity of it made her chest feel warmer than she expected.

“You’re doing them too slow,” she called out quietly after a minute.

“I’m being thorough.” Paige didn’t look back, but Soraya could hear the smile in her voice.

Soraya chuckled under her breath.

The water shut off. Paige dried her hands and finally turned around, her expression prideful. “Done.”

Soraya raised her glass slightly, half in thanks. “They better be squeaky clean.”

Paige’s smile lingered, softer now. “They are. Trust.”

Eventually they both stood in front of the door, Paige grabbing her car keys and slipping back into her shoes.

In all honesty, Soraya didn’t want her to leave so soon. But it was getting late, the sun had long set and tomorrow was a new day of hard work. She’d get to see her again soon.

“Alright, well… Drive safe, ‘kay?” Soraya’s voice came out softer than expected. Warmer.

And Paige didn’t miss it.

“I will, don’t worry.” She smiled, glancing at Soraya with gentle eyes. “Alright… I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Soraya nodded, but instead of stepping back, she took a small step forward. Before Paige could process it, Soraya’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

Paige froze for half a second, caught off guard. But then her body eased into it, arms instinctively sliding around Soraya’s waist. She inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume, her pulse quickening.

The hug lingered a few seconds too long to be casual. To not mean something to both of them.

When Soraya finally pulled back, her hands lightly brushing down Paige’s arms, she offered a tiny smile. “Goodnight.”

Paige could only nod, barely finding her voice. “Night.”

Her heart was still hammering as she stepped into the hallway, the soft click of the door behind her echoing louder than it should’ve.

Most of the other teammates had already gone home to their partners, pets and the comfort of their own paces.

Soraya, however, wasn’t one of them.

She remained, occupying the weight room, training just as hard as she’d done ever since practice started early in the morning. It had to have been around seven in the afternoon, maybe six. She’d lost track a while ago.

Though, she wasn’t by herself.

Paige tried to focus on her own set, pressing the dumbbells up in steady reps, but her attention kept slipping.

The rookie couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting towards Soraya, eyes locked on the girl’s form as she lowered herself into squats. Hands tightly curled around the barbell that was propped on top of her shoulders, elbows tucked correctly. Her form was one of the best ones that Paige had seen so far.

And every time Soraya lowered her body, Paige couldn’t help but let her gaze trails towards the curve of her ass.

’Focus, you horny fuck.’ She’d tried to snap herself out of it. But that proved to be hard when every time Soraya came up from her barbell squats, a quiet exhale left her lips—almost like a soft groan—and even though her headphones blocked out most of the weight room noise, Paige couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t unsee the way Soraya’s body moved, strong yet fluid, her form flawless.

It was starting to make her head spin.

“Psst. Paige.”

Her gaze snapped up, locking with Soraya’s, who was already looking at her from across the room with a small smirk.

“Can you spot me? I wanna bench press,” Soraya called, setting her barbell back into place.

“Yeah, sure,” Paige answered immediately, getting up and making her way over. As she stood behind Soraya while she settled onto the bench, Paige teased, “Pretty sure you’ll be fine without me.”

Soraya let out a quiet chuckle, hands curling around the barbell. “Probably. But I’m tryna challenge myself today. Better safe than sorry.”

Paige nodded, watching carefully as Soraya started her first set with two 25 pound plates on each side. The bar moved smoothly and effortless.

“Can you add another two 25s?” Soraya asked after racking the bar again.

Without question, Paige grabbed the plates and loaded them on, trying her best not to stare at how Soraya’s chest rose and fell under her snug sports bra. She blinked quickly, redirecting her attention.

Soraya lifted the bar again, lowering and pressing it without any real strain. Paige couldn’t help but shake her head.

“Two more,” Soraya said, exhaling.

Paige’s brows drew together. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” Soraya hummed. “I usually do 170. But like I said, I wanna push it today.”

Paige hesitated briefly, but nodded. “Whatever you want.”

She added the last pair of 25s, bringing the total up to 200 pounds. As Soraya arched her back and gripped the bar, Paige positioned her hands close, hovering just above the barbell, fully locked in.

Soraya lowered the bar slowly. A deep groan rumbled from her chest as she pressed it back up, her arms visibly trembling now. Her eyes squeezed shut, muscles tense with effort. Paige was hyper aware of every second. The bar, her breathing, the way Soraya’s body strained beneath the weight. And yet, somehow, her mind kept drifting places it shouldn’t.

After a couple more reps, Soraya racked the bar with a controlled exhale, a wide grin spreading across her flushed face. She sat up, turning to Paige with bright eyes.

“What did I say?” she teased, giving Paige a light smack to the stomach with the back of her hand.

Paige laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Yeah, alright, alright. You did good.” The pride in her voice was obvious, and Soraya felt her chest warm at the sound of it.

“Your wanna switch?” Soraya asked, tilting her head, and Paige nodded.

Soraya stood behind Paige at the bench, watching her lower the weights back down to 150 before taking Soraya’s place as she gripped the barbell and began her set. The heavy weight moved smoothly in her hands, barely testing her. Soraya licked her lips without realizing, tracking every controlled motion as Paige pressed the bar up and down with steady breaths.

Eventually, Paige set the bar back into place and turned her head toward Soraya, still lying flat against the bench.

“C’mere.”

Soraya didn’t hesitate, stepping around to stand beside her.

Paige’s gaze swept up her figure before landing on her eyes. “Can I lift you instead?” she asked, voice dripping with teasing confidence.

Soraya raised an amused brow, a grin threatening her lips. “What’s wrong with the barbell?”

“Not good enough,” Paige replied, fully smirking now. “I’d enjoy bench pressing your pretty ass a lot more.” She licked her lips slowly, eyes shamelessly tracing Soraya from head to toe.

Soraya felt her heart pick up, heat spreading beneath her skin as she fought the smirk on her own face. With a quiet breath, she echoed Paige’s words from the day before, “Whatever you want.”

She stepped in closer, standing right by the bench, already crossing her arms over her chest. Paige didn’t waste a second, placing one hand against Soraya’s stomach, the other just above her knees and carefully adjusting her hold before smoothly lifting her off the ground.

Soraya let out a surprised little laugh as Paige settled her weight horizontally across her hands, belly down. “Okay, okay—” she giggled as Paige began to lift and lower her steadily, as if she weighed nothing.

Every time she was pushed upward, Soraya caught fleeting glimpses of Paige’s smirking face below her, eyes sparkling with amusement and something warmer. Then she shot her a cocky, playful wink. Soraya rolled her eyes with a breathy chuckle, but she couldn’t fight the heat low in her stomach.

Suddenly Paige picked up the pace, pressing her up a little faster.

“Paige—!” Soraya squealed, half laughing, half shrieking.

“You’re light,” Paige said, grinning wide, the weight of her gaze almost heavier than her hands. “Could do this all day.”

Shortly after, Paige lowered Soraya back down slowly, but instead of fully letting go, she let Soraya land softly onto her lap. The gentle drop sent a small shock through Soraya, who let out another breathless giggle, now straddling Paige’s thighs.

Paige’s hands remained steady on her hips, fingers curling just slightly as their eyes met for a lingering beat. Neither of them spoke, there wasn’t much to say when the air between them was already thick enough to speak for itself.

Then Paige’s voice cut through, low and velvety. “Actually,” she tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Sit on the bar.”

Soraya blinked, caught off guard. “The bar?”

Paige smirked, nodding toward the bench press. “Yeah. Facing me.”

The request alone made Soraya’s lower stomach flutter. A faint blush crept up her neck, but she didn’t hesitate for long. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head with a breathy laugh as she removed the weight plates and climbed carefully over Paige’s head.

Paige adjusted herself, letting Soraya swing one leg over, then the other, until she was perched carefully on top of the barbell, her thighs spread as she faced Paige directly. Her hands found the sides of the machine to steady herself, heart pounding as she tried to fight the flustered grin threatening her lips.

“Ready?” Paige asked, already curling her hands under Soraya’s thighs, gripping her gently but firmly.

Soraya bit her lip, nodding once. “Don’t drop me.”

“Never.” Paige’s smirk was impossibly smug as she lifted Soraya off the bar with ease.

The rhythm was slow at first. Soraya rising and lowering in steady motions, her hands gripping the frame, head tilted slightly downward, eyes flickering between the way Paige’s arms flexed beneath her and the steady pull of Paige’s gaze locked directly on her.

With every upward press, Paige’s face was nearly flush against Soraya’s core, her breath ghosting against the thin material of Soraya’s shorts. Every descent brought the plush of Soraya’s ass down softly against Paige’s chest, the warm pressure of their bodies meeting in ways that drove both of them crazy.

The tension tightened between them with each motion. Soraya’s thighs tried to instinctively squeeze slightly the closer she came down, her breath hitching faintly every time Paige’s face hovered inches from her heat.

Paige licked her lips slowly, blue eyes darkening with each controlled lift. “You’re so much better than any barbell,” she muttered under her breath, the weight of her voice sending shivers through Soraya’s already burning body.

Soraya’s hands clenched tighter against the machine as her breathing grew uneven. “Yeah, I can tell.” Her voice came out quieter than intended, shaky with the warmth spreading through her like wildfire.

Paige didn’t respond this time, only smirked and pressed her up again, letting the silence between them pulse with electric heat.

The blonde gently helped Soraya back onto the floor, releasing her grip as she let her catch her balance. She sat up straight, head tilted slightly to look up at Soraya, who was already gazing down at her.

The silence between them was charged. Their eyes locked, and it was as if they were having a full conversation without saying a single word. There was no playfulness this time, only raw heat, a silent exchange of permission and want.

Paige’s hands slid back up, curling around Soraya’s hips, slowly tugging her closer until she was standing between her spread legs. Her voice was soft, almost dreamlike. “Wanna kiss you.”

The words barely hung in the air, thick with desire.

Soraya’s pulse quickened. She told herself this was the moment she should step away, that she should stop it before it escalated into yet another thing they couldn’t take back. But the longer Paige looked up at her like that—those flushed cheeks, darkened eyes, lips parted—the less she cared.

Her hands found Paige’s shoulders, grounding herself. “Yeah? How bad?” she whispered, voice breathy, teasing, testing.

Paige’s smirk was slow and hungry, her grip on Soraya’s hips firming slightly. “So fucking bad.”

Soraya swallowed, eyes flickering over Paige’s face, drinking in every detail like she was trying to memorize her. ’God, why did she have to be so beautiful?’

A quiet curse slipped from her lips. Fuck it.

She leaned down, one hand sliding to Paige’s jaw, tilting her chin up before finally closing the small space between them. Their mouths met. Slow at first, tender, but it didn’t take long before it deepened, turning messier, hungrier. Like they both had been waiting for this too long.

Soraya climbed into Paige’s lap without breaking the kiss, straddling her thighs, pressing herself closer. Paige groaned softly, hands gliding over Soraya’s back, up her spine, tracing her body like she couldn’t get enough of touching her.

Their kisses grew more desperate, open mouthed and breathless. Paige sighed into Soraya’s mouth as Soraya tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of her neck, earning a low hum from the blonde.

The weight room, the world, everything else faded behind the heat of their bodies pressed together, the taste of each other’s lips, the heavy sound of their breathing filling the quiet space.

Paige's lips never left Soraya’s as her hands slid lower, gripping beneath her thighs before lifting her with ease. Soraya instinctively wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist, gasping softly as she was pinned against the nearest wall, the cold surface biting against her back.

The gasp was all Paige needed. She deepened the kiss instantly, tongue slipping in to meet Soraya’s, their mouths moving together in a hungry, messy rhythm. Every moan, every quiet breath was swallowed between them.

Paige’s grip tightened, grounding Soraya against the wall as their kiss grew filthier, needier. Soraya’s fingers curled tighter behind Paige’s neck, but after a few desperate minutes, she let one hand fall. She tapped against Paige’s forearm, breath shaky, before tugging lightly at her wrist—wordlessly asking.

Paige understood immediately. Her hand shifted, pressing firmer into Soraya’s backside to hold her steady as she slipped her free hand between their bodies.

Her fingertips ghosted over Soraya’s gym shorts, teasing, barely touching. Soraya’s breath hitched, her lips parting as she buried her forehead briefly against Paige’s.

Paige’s voice came out low, cocky, and breathless against her ear. “Right here?”

Soraya let out a soft breath, nodding faintly. “Don’t make me say it.”

That made Paige grin against her mouth. Her hand pressed fully now, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over Soraya’s clothed core, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric. Soraya’s hips rolled against the movement automatically, breathing heavy, her grip tightening in Paige’s hair.

“Fuck—” Soraya whispered brokenly, her voice hitching as Paige’s fingers pressed a little harder, slow but torturously steady.

The weight room felt too quiet now—except for the sounds of their breath, their lips, and the soft friction between Paige’s hand and Soraya’s desperate body.

Neither one cared who might walk in.

Paige’s fingers kept their torturously slow rhythm over Soraya’s shorts until she couldn’t take it anymore. Not when she felt how wet the fabric was beneath her hand. Her breathing came out shallow, her own arousal buzzing through her veins like static.

“Damn, you’re soaked,” Paige murmured into Soraya’s ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. The teasing lilt in her voice sent a full body shiver through Soraya.

Instead of getting flustered or shutting her down, Soraya met her gaze. Steady, burning and completely unashamed. She nodded, biting her lower lip before she whispered, “Mhm. For you.”

The answer made Paige’s head spin. Her cocky smirk faltered for a second under the weight of how much that turned her on.

Without another word, Paige’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of Soraya’s shorts, past the thin line of her panties, finally meeting her bare, dripping heat. Her fingers slid through the wetness, exhaling sharply as her fingertips glided over her folds.

“Fuck,” Paige breathed, her voice rough. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Soraya just smiled faintly, a low breath escaping her as she clung to Paige’s shoulders.

That was all Paige needed. She let two fingers slip inside her in one smooth motion, burying them to the last knuckle. Soraya gasped sharply, her head tipping back against the wall. Paige’s thumb found her clit easily, starting small, tight circles as her fingers began to pump in and out, slow at first but gradually building a rhythm.

“Fuck, look at you,” Paige whispered, watching the way her body reacted with every movement. “So fucking perfect.”

Her words were filled with reverence, like Paige was dead set on worshiping her right there against the wall. Every roll of her wrist was deliberate, calculated, like she had something to prove—and she did.

She wanted to ruin Soraya. She wanted to make her crave it. To make sure that after tonight, Soraya wouldn’t be able to look at her without remembering this.

Soraya’s breathing grew shakier, her hips moving involuntarily to meet Paige’s hand as the pleasure started to build fast and hot. “Don’t stop—” she exhaled, breath hitching.

Paige leaned in, lips brushing against Soraya’s jaw as her fingers curled. “I won’t. Not ‘til you come for me, mama.”

Soraya whimpered softly, the coil in her stomach tightening dangerously with every pass of Paige’s thumb, her legs trembling slightly around Paige’s waist as the pressure built.

And Paige could feel how close she was. How badly her body wanted to give in.

“C’mon, baby,” Paige whispered against her lips. “I gotchu.”

The rope finally snapped, Soraya’s body jerking against the wall as she came with a breathless cry, her nails digging into Paige’s shoulders. Paige held her through it, never slowing her hand until Soraya fully unraveled in her arms.

When Soraya finally sagged against her, limp and breathless, Paige pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple, her chest heaving.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. But when Soraya finally managed to look down at her, eyes still hazy, she whispered with a small, teasing grin.

“…you might actually kill me.”

Paige grinned back up at her, utterly wrecked in the best way. “Not yet.”

Soraya was still catching her breath, heart pounding against her ribcage, but her lips found Paige’s again, slow and hungry. Desperate for more. Her voice came out as a breathy mumble against the blonde’s mouth.

“Wanna do you right too…” she whispered, fingers lightly tugging at Paige’s waistband, making her intentions very clear.

Paige was all for it. Her lips curved into a smirk against Soraya’s, hands gripping her waist tighter. “Yeah?” she breathed, voice low and eager, “Right here?”

But before anything else could happen, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from outside the weight room. Both of them froze.

Paige reluctantly set Soraya back down on her feet, still steadying her by the hips as they both listened for a moment, holding their breath with hidden smiles on their faces. The footsteps grew distant again, but the interruption had already sobered them slightly.

Soraya cleared her throat softly, stepping back just enough to put a bit of space between them in case anyone walked in unexpectedly.

Paige let out a soft chuckle, still looking at her with hooded eyes. “Already running away from me?” she teased, voice dripping with playfulness.

Soraya rolled her eyes, lips curling into a faux annoyed grin. “Shut the fuck up”

With the heat still simmering between them, they eventually made their way out of the weight room, stealing one last long hug before parting ways in the parking lot.

Paige followed Soraya to her car, standing back as she made sure Soraya got in safely and drove off. Only then did she head toward her own car, the smirk still tugging at her lips as she climbed inside, her mind replaying every second of what just happened as she finally drove off into the night.

extended taglist 🐆 — @thelightknight21 @private-but-not-a-secret @angryflowerwitch @jieysiee @angelliicc @paigebaby5 @ttytttt-gndgnvbm @syraxbigfanfr @forward1212 @niya500 @wosolipa @enchantingesme @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @ksimsplayer @hggbiijj @pupbistro

[itsstavy13]

Bragging Rights

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings/ Washington Mystics

Summary: Rivals on court, lovers off — only one gets bragging rights.

A/N: thank youu bby for the help….✨✨

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav

“You nervous?” Paige whispered beside me, her pinky grazing mine under the hotel duvet.

It was past midnight and the city outside our shared room in D.C. hummed quietly. My phone sat face-down on the nightstand, untouched since dinner. We didn’t need distractions tonight — not with what tomorrow meant.

I turned my face toward hers, catching the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones. Even after three years together, and playing beside her for almost all of college, this girl still made my heart stutter.

“A little,” I admitted. “First game against you. First game where we’re on opposite sides of the court. It’s like… UConn civil war.”

She chuckled, soft and low. “Lover vs lover. Rookie vs rookie. Edwards vs Bueckers.” A pause. “You know the headlines tomorrow are gonna eat this up, right?”

“Oh, they already are,” I said, letting my head fall back into the pillow dramatically. “Aaliyah was cackling in our group chat about it this morning.”

Paige rolled over onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “You ready though?”

I turned to face her too. “You know I am. But it’s weird not being on your bench. Or hearing you call for me when I sub out. Or seeing you point and smirk at me when you hit a three.”

Her eyes softened. “I miss that too. A lot. I miss your hand in mine during the anthem. I miss walking back to the dorms with you after film. Miss you sitting on the counter stealing my hoodie when I’m cooking.”

“Good thing FaceTime exists.”

She leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Not the same as you in my arms.”

I grinned. “Cheesy.”

“You like it.”

I did.

The next morning was chaos.

The league announced we’d be doing a joint pregame presser. Apparently, they couldn’t resist the storyline — the three UConn girls now divided, all starting, and very much the center of attention.

Paige and Aziaha from the Wings.

Aaliyah and me for the Mystics.

The media room buzzed with energy when the four of us walked in, each of us sporting our team warmups and very different colored shoes.

Reporters lit up like Christmas.

“Okay, okay,” one of them started, laughing, “there are a lot of angles here, but I’ll just start with the basics: how does it feel going up against each other after years of being teammates, especially for Y/N and Paige?”

Paige grinned and nudged her mic. “We knew this day would come. Didn’t expect it to be so soon, though.”

I laughed. “Yeah. And definitely didn’t expect to be doing a joint press conference about it.”

Another reporter raised a hand. “Y/N, Paige — any bragging rights or bets on the line?”

Before either of us could answer, Aaliyah leaned into her mic, expression mock-serious.

“No PDA unless one of them drops 20,” she declared. “If neither does, no kiss at all. But if Y/N outscores Paige, she gets a courtside kiss on the cheek.”

Paige blinked. “Lili has spoken for the both of us, I guess…”

I nudged her leg beneath the table. “Better lace up, babe.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, it’s like that?”

Aziaha leaned back with a grin. “This is gonna be good.”

As we filed toward the tunnels afterward, Aaliyah pulled Paige and me aside.

“No funny business,” she warned, mock stern. “No forehead kisses. No hand-holding. No whispers.”

Paige groaned. “Can we at least do our pregame handshake?”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes, then sighed. “Fine. But you either do it now or wait ‘til tip-off. Cameras will eat it up.”

We exchanged a look.

“Tip-off,” we said in unison.

The gym buzzed at capacity. The crowd had energy that reminded me of Gampel on a championship night. All eyes were on us — not just because we were rookies, but because we were those rookies. Paige and me. The couple. The headline.

During warmups, I locked eyes with her across the court. She gave me a wink, then hit a smooth left-wing three. I narrowed my eyes and sank my own shot from the right.

We didn’t speak until we stepped up to center court.

“Now?” she whispered.

I nodded.

Our handshake was quick — the same one we used to do in college. Fist bump, snap, pinky lock, finger heart. The crowd lost it when we did it. So did Aaliyah, shouting from behind me: “I said no PDA!”

“Handshake doesn’t count!” I called back.

Then the ball went up, and it was game on.

The first half was intense.

We traded buckets, traded blocks.

I managed a couple nice drives and even caught a slick behind-the-back pass from Aaliyah that turned into a three.

Paige responded with a jumper and a couple jaw-dropping assists that made the crowd gasp.

“You guarding me now?” she teased during a switch.

“Always.”

Midway through the third, I got called on a reach-in — which sent Paige to the line.

She blew me a dramatic kiss before shooting.

“Ma’am,” I deadpanned, “that’s PDA.”

She smirked as she sank both free throws.

Late in the fourth, it got wild. Down by two, I hit a step-back three over Paige with 14 seconds left.

“You’re welcome for the highlight reel,” I muttered.

She didn’t say anything — Chris used his time out, that gave them possessions of the ball.

With 13.4 seconds in the game Aziaha inbounds it to Paige, and without too much thinking.

Or hesitation, she smirked at me and then hit a CLUTCH three in my face to tie it at 84.

And then—she leaned in as I was frozen with shock and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“I want the bragging rights,” she whispered. “And I’m gonna get ’em.”

I come fully out my shocked daze and shoved her shoulder playfully. “Nah babe, that’s all me. I gotta humble you after your two-game streak.”

Overtime felt like a battle of wills.

The Wings were hitting everything early.

Paige fed Aziaha for a corner shot and scored on a pull-up, putting them ahead 88-84.

But then… we rallied.

Shakira hit a midrange. I drove, got fouled, hit both free throws. 88-88.

With 12 seconds left, I in-bounded, got the ball back, faked a give-and-go, and kicked it to Sonia in the corner.

Splash.

91-88.

Paige tried to tie it, but her three rimmed out.

Chaos.

Bodies on the floor.

Sonia came up with it and held tight as the buzzer sounded.

Game.

We won.

My final stat line: 21 points, 10 boards, 6 assists.

Hers: 20 points, 9 boards, 7 assists.

I found her midcourt in the mess of hugs and cheers and chaos. She smiled.

“You got me,” she said, proud and out of breath.

“I got you,” I said, cupping her jaw and kissing her — quick, but lingering just enough.

Aaliyah whooped from behind us. “Okay, okay! Y/N earned it!”

The crowd ate it up.

Cameras flashed.

The league’s official account had already tweeted something about UConn reunion turned rivalry and love and buckets in the District.

At the postgame presser, it was madness.

A reporter asked, “Y/N — how does it feel to outscore your girlfriend and win the game?”

I bit back a grin. “Feels like I dropped buckets and got the girl.”

Another reporter laughed. “You going to use that as your Instagram caption?”

Paige leaned into the mic. “She already told me she’s been saving it in drafts since the schedule dropped.”

They were right.

I posted it an hour later:

“Dropped buckets and got the girl 💋”

📸: Me hitting that three

📸: Paige kissing me midcourt

📸: Scoreboard

📸: Us postgame, her hand around my waist

📸: A kiss on the lips, blurry and backlit by stadium lights

The comments? Exploded.

@uconnwbb: We taught them well.

@wnba: Lover vs Lover. But always Team Love 💕

@aaliyah.edwards: Don’t say I never gave y’all anything 😭

@paigebueckers: I’m demanding a rematch. And I’m dropping 30 next time.

I commented back: “You can try, baby 😘”

And just like that, basketball Twitter had a new favorite couple rivalry.

And me?

I had the win, the bragging rights, and the girl.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[itsstavy13]

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER ONE

content: language, light alcohol use, the line between a slow burn and a fast burn is incredibly thin and cam and paige brought a ruler to measure it, unbelievably messy

wc: 6.3k

notes: super excited to start writing this for y'all 🫶 this has been in my drafts since february and im so happy that everything is finally falling into place for it. i will probably go back to eventually add a playlist but i was feeling very uninspired on that front sooo 😕 just know reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine and vibes by chase atlantic are the two main songs for this fic. i don't have as much of this prewritten like i did irp and i go back to class on the 30th so i have no idea what updates r gonna look like 💔 pls be patient w me but i love chatting w y'all so don't hesitate to send an anon 🫶 if i missed anyone on the taglist lmk, i still dont know how it works LMAO but i hope you guys love camille as much as i do (and as much as y'all loved tess) and as always lmk what y'all think and enjoyyy 🙂‍↔️

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog

Camille has always loved draft night.

There’s something so bittersweet, yet so impossibly exciting about it. She attended her first one in 2019 to support her Stanford teammate, Alanna Smith, who was drafted 8th overall to the Mercury. Cam was a rising junior when she heard Alanna’s name be called, when she watched her walk to the stage and pose with the jersey, when she realized just how monumental it is.

Draft night is one of those things that creep up on you. It’s easy to think about how long it takes, to sit there while the teams “make” their selection, as if they didn’t already know whose name they would be calling. In fairness, it’s a lot of sitting and waiting and watching highlight tape and analysts discussing the same things in different fonts.

She has great size, a true beast in the paint, they’d say. Or variations of, Her shot is clinical. The ball is through the net before you can get a hand up to defend. She’s dangerous in transition. A menace on defense.

Camille, honestly, doesn’t pay attention to that part. She pays attention to the people. That’s always been her thing. When she watched Alanna get drafted, she noticed the way her shoulders sunk in barely concealed relief. She noted the order in which she hugged the people at her table, the way she closed her eyes and held onto them a little tighter.

It’s bittersweet to know that the draft may take you far away from these people – your friends, your family, the teammates and coaches that held you up when everything had seemed so impossible. But it’s exciting, to watch these girls wipe away their tears, to hold their chin up and march across the stage like it was something they were destined to do as soon as they picked up the ball for the first time.

Cam likes that part where it sinks in. When they realize they’d truly been drafted to one of the most competitive leagues in the country, when the smiles come quicker than the tears. It’s that strong feeling of pride that keeps her coming back to watch these girls lift their jerseys.

Cam might not know a lot of them. She didn’t know Jackie well, or Phee, or Tearia, or Arike – but she stood and cheered as if they were her own teammates. Whether it was a conscious realization or not, they’d all had the same dreams of playing professional basketball. Draft night was something that just took them one step closer to that goal.

The 2020 draft was streamed online, and there wasn’t anyone from Stanford that had been selected for it that year, but Cam hosted a small, intimate watch party with her teammates.

And the 2021 draft? That one was hers. Her table consisted of her parents, Antoine and Valerie, her older sister Colette, and Coach VanDerveer. Her teammates filled the seats in the back and when Cam was selected first overall to the Dallas Wings, the room had exploded into an applause so raucous that you’d think Cam just scored a game winner.

She doesn’t think she’s an explosive player by any means. She’s calm. Confident. Dangerously consistent, known more for the leadership and poise that she brings to the court. At 6’2, she’s most comfortable in a versatile point-forward role, and while her offense is amazing, her defense is even better. Cam was the unanimous pick for the 2021 Rookie of the Year, so she thinks she might be doing something right.

Cam still went to the drafts. She greeted the new rookies, congratulating them and welcoming them into the league in a far kinder way than the other vets would (she likes to think she was preparing them for all of the Griner screens they’d get hit by). She made a conscious effort to prioritize the Wings rookies, knowing first hand how daunting it can be to go from the college season to suddenly being thrown in with the big dogs. It was less about networking and more about genuinely trying to make the rookies feel like they belonged.

It might be the younger sister in her. She’d spent so much of her life looking up to Coley – literally and figuratively since Coley was both three inches taller than her and somehow the coolest person she knew. She’s always a little bit in awe of everyone she meets.

To Cam, to go from being the one who used to look up to others to now have people looking up to her – that means a lot. It’s a role she takes seriously, even though Arike teases her about becoming the frontman of the unofficial Dallas Wings welcome squad.

Her rookie contract expired at the end of the 2024 season, although the front office had her in discussions for an extension. Cam wasn’t completely sold on returning. With a vacancy in the GM position, the head coach position, as well as the fact that Cam did not know what direction they were going in during the free agency period – okay, Cam might be hating a little too much. Dallas was her home, but things weren’t looking great, and she had offers from Atlanta, Connecticut, Phoenix, and Las Vegas.

Then Dallas won the draft lottery, which meant they’d get the first pick. Which unofficially translated to getting Paige Bueckers, which meant under the right GM, the right coach, and some good free agency moves, the Wings – hypothetically – wouldn’t suck as much. Insert new GM Curt Miller, then head coach Chris Koclanes – Camille honestly could not wrap her head around the fact that Curt passed on Lisa fucking Leslie for a USC assistant coach, but she was willing to give him a shot.

They would draft Paige Bueckers. The new staff promised as much. Through trades, they were getting Ty Harris, NaLyssa Smith, and DiJonai Carrington, and they signed Myisha Hines-Allen out of free agency. Despite a promising offseason period, Cam was sure she had her decision as soon as the lottery results were official. She signs the contract extension – just a one year deal given the new league negotiations – and that’s how she finds herself repping the Wings at the 2025 WNBA Draft.

“Camille Roman, as I live and breathe,” Rickea coos dramatically, and Cam grins as she allows herself to get swept into the interview. “If I had a dollar for every tall, Stanford baddie named Cam I knew, I’d have two dollars, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice, right?”

Cam nods solemnly as Rickea holds the microphone out for her. “Nai would kill me if I didn’t mention it, but for the record, I would like to point out that we are bad and educated,” she says into the mic, making direct eye contact with the camera.

“I know that’s right,” Rickea hums approvingly, before a slick grin appears on her glossed lips. “Emphasis on bad. Tell me about your fit.”

“Well, I just saw Kiki Iriafen walk by, so I’m feeling a little underdressed,” she starts, which makes Rickea laugh. Cam peers down at her outfit, pinching the fabric of her black bomber jacket modestly, pulling the lapels to reveal a simple white crop top. She’s wearing a pair of baggy black cargos that hang low on her hips, revealing toned muscle from hours in the gym. “This fit is a Cam Roman original. Uh, jacket’s from…my closet. Crop top also from my closet.”

“Are the pants also from Cam’s closet?” Rickea asks sarcastically.

Cam grins proudly. “These are actually from Coley’s closet. I stole them when I watched her play the Rise on Thursday – shout out to the Orlando Valkyries, by the way.” Then, with mock sadness, she adds, “In another life I’m a libero.”

“Still no luck convincing your sister to pick up a basketball?”

“Coley is unfortunately married to volleyball,” Cam replies, much to Rickea’s amusement. “I’m working on it, though! I keep trying to tell her that a Roman frontcourt would be nasty but she’s just not seeing the vision.”

“Dozens of WNBA players across the country just breathed a sigh of relief,” Rickea narrates. “Centers, your jobs are safe.”

“For now,” Cam interrupts.

Rickea nods in agreement, an unserious frown on her lips. “For now.” The two of them share a brief laugh before Rickea straightens up, eyeing her next interviewee from her periphery. “Alright, Cam, one last question and I’ll let you get out of here. It’s hard to beat the 2024 draft class–” Cam narrows her eyes at Rickea, who flutters her eyelashes innocently, although the both of them grin, “–but what are your first impressions of the 2025 class? What do you see from them?”

“Oh, energy,” Cam answers immediately, not having to think too hard about it. Rickea nods, listening. “I think this is a class that will surprise many people and will form the core of a lot of teams. Everyone jokes about their first ‘welcome to the league’ moment from a vet but I wouldn’t be surprised to see any of these rookies getting scrappy and giving that energy right back.”

Rickea’s grin is a little mischievous as she asks, “Any rookie in particular who might give you a run for your money?”

Camille smiles innocently, knowing exactly what Rickea means by this question, but she plays coy. “If I do my job right, then the league should be very scared of my rookies.”

Rickea thanks her, giving her a quick hug before she greets Georgia Amoore. Cam wanders around the orange carpet for a brief minute to say hello to some of the other rookies – Saniya Rivers, Hailey van Lith, and even Kiki again, who makes a joke about Stanford baddies that Cam can’t help but laugh at.

Cam doesn’t see the one rookie she’d spent the better part of the night looking for, which doesn’t shock her. She’s sure that Paige is somewhere outside getting hounded by photographers and reporters. Making her way through the room in which the draft is being held, glancing minutely at the crowd assembled and the families located at the center, Cam finds the backstage area set up for rookies to do media in.

Camille greets the workers warmly, accepting a Dallas Wings hat from one of them, and fits it snugly over her head. She gets dragged into a few media segments, answering more or less different variations of the same questions – What are you most excited for this upcoming season? Can you comment on the offseason trades? She even gets asked a less than subtle, Paige Bueckers is projected to be the number one pick tonight. What elements of her game set her apart from the rest of her peers? Cam answers that one with a response she’s sure she hand-selected from the Communication 101: Mastering the Art of Dodging the Question textbook, but everyone moves on when the draft officially starts.

Cam watches from a television set up in the back. The camera pans across a few of the draftees – Paige Bueckers herself, then Dominique Malonga, then further back to the audience where the entirety of the UConn women’s basketball team sits with their phones raised and wide grins on their faces. The sight makes Cam crack a smile, too, reminding her of her own draft where her Stanford teammates filled the audience to support her.

The commissioner, Cathy Engelbert, leaves the stage to await the Wings’ first pick, which amuses Cam because she knew they knew who they were drafting as soon as the draft lottery results were announced. While she waits, her phone buzzes, distracting her from the analysts’ commentary, and she glances down to find the team group chat alive with commotion.

Rike: Thank you God!!! 🙏🙏🙏

Maddy: Arike 😭

Nai: where’s the rookie welcome party

Already knowing that DiJonai is referring to her, Cam rolls her eyes, but angles her body towards the television to snap a quick selfie of her, Wings hat pulled low over her brow and the analysts discussing Paige’s game mechanics in great detail. She sends the selfie in chat, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Cam: I can’t wait for us to draft 2025 Rookie of the Year Sonia Citron

Lyss: girl

Lyss: be so fucking for real

Nai: oh i am so sick of ur ass

Cam grins to herself, not having the time to respond back. She slides her phone into her pocket and refocuses on the television screen as the commissioner returns to the podium. A hush falls over the crowd. Cam knows who they’re drafting. Cam knows that she knows she’s being drafted. Despite that, she can’t help but feel a flicker of nerves coiling low in her belly. 

Draft night is always a monumental moment. One rookie can change the future of a franchise forever. Just a few syllables spoken into a microphone and a jersey held up for the entire world to see can change a rookie’s life in seconds.

Cam is anxious – it’s a simmering, bubbling excitement that makes her want to hit the gym as soon as the last pick is called. The idea of playing with such an elite player — the idea of playing with Paige — makes her almost giddy, and Cam knows that she isn’t the only one on the Wings who thinks that.

They’d never had much of an opportunity to meet outside of the rare occasion in which Paige showed up to a WNBA game, or the summer she showed up to All-Star weekend. Cam was drafted the spring before Paige’s sophomore year so they’d just barely missed each other collegiately.

But now, Paige is about to be drafted by Cam’s team. Cam isn’t stupid. She knows Paige is a once in a lifetime generational player. She’d go as far to say that she’s their missing piece. Between Paige, Arike, Cam, NaLyssa or DiJonai or Maddy, and Myisha or Teaira or Luisa, they compose a roster that, under the right leadership, could genuinely go so far. And as much as Cam wants to win, she would love to do it with these girls right here.

Cam isn’t anxious just because she can taste the beginning of something new. Something promising – something that might turn this franchise around for the better. The anxiety reminds her of how she’d felt when she was moments away from being called number one, too; when the Wings had thought she was their franchise piece. And, sure, they had some success under her, but there was always just something missing.

Cam was a leader. She was the glue, but as good as she was at keeping things together, she could only stretch so far. She was consistent – maybe devastatingly so.

The thing about entropy is that chaos has to increase or remain consistent. The thing about Camille is that she’s not chaos. The thing about Paige Bueckers is that Cam knows she’s probably the perfect amount of chaos that will simultaneously set the league ablaze, stabilize it all at once, and make things just dangerous enough to fill their mouths with the addicting taste of adrenaline.

That is terrifying because the one emotion that burns a little brighter than the anxiousness is a fierce protectiveness. Paige is made for this, for the league, for the noise, for everything. She’s grounded in her faith and her mentality. She’s probably the most league-ready rookie in the entire draft class and that’s what makes Cam so fearful – because Cam was once hailed as the most-league ready rookie, too, and trying to pretend that she was almost killed her. Cam has lived it. Learned it. Grew from it. And as much as she knows that Paige is capable and can handle herself, Cam also knows that the stakes are so much higher now.

She’s not a stranger to it – the feeling of everyone constantly wanting more from you. Praising you when you have amazing games, downplaying your talent when you have decent games (yet uplifting other players and calling them generational for putting up the same numbers), wondering if your team had scouted wrong or made a mistake when you have an off-game.

In the league, it’s difficult to discern what is real – or who is real – when everyone wants something a little different from you, if you’re truly trusting the right people, if you’re truly trusting yourself.

Cam doesn’t want Paige to get lost in that. Not in the way she had when she was a rookie. She doesn’t fully believe that she’s ready for this narrative because no one ever is. There’s no amount of prayer, or media training, or support that ever truly makes you ready for it.

Being on top of the world is complicated because it’s so easy to forget who you used to be before you clawed your way to the peak. Before your fingers bled and scabbed over from the calloused rocks. Before every bone in your body ached, not because of the constant exertion it takes to stay up here, but because of a sort of exhaustion that calcifies in between your tendons and ligaments and buries itself in the soft tissue between your joints.

Being great is hard. Being great and being true is even harder, and all Cam ever wanted was for someone to tell her that she didn’t have to dive into the deep end just to prove that she could swim.

So when Cathy finally says the words, “With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select…Paige Bueckers, University of Connecticut,” there is only one thing that Cam knows for sure:

This season is going to change her life. That thought doesn’t scare her as much as it should.

In retrospect, maybe that thought should have scared her.

Cam likes to think of herself as sensible. Level-headed. She’s always the voice of reason on the court when one of her teammates gets a little too heated trying to argue a foul call with a ref. Cam enjoys a good time, but she’s not reckless. She knows better. Her parents were both Olympians – she had eyes on her long before she picked up a basketball and the attention only grew when both she and Coley started getting recognized for their proficiency at their respective sports.

That’s all to say she was responsible. She knew how to play the game, how to divert the media, and what she reasonably should not be doing so she didn’t draw any unnecessary attention to her or her family.

Now, she’s realizing there might be some flaw in her otherwise immaculate decision making, because everything just goes downhill after the draft.

Paige Bueckers, the rookie of the hour, makes her way backstage, Wings hat tucked pristinely over her head. Cam can’t help but soften at the sight, unmistakable pride swelling in her chest – Paige’s smile is tender, a little loose, but her eyes are wide and excited. She almost looks like a kid on a sugar rush and it’s an expression that Cam knows well. It’s that expression that makes flying out to the draft every year so worth it.

Cam takes in Paige’s draft fit with a raised brow. She’s wearing an all black suit that sparkles in the light, and she bites back a smile at the exposed skin at her chest. “Number one pick in the draft and you can’t afford a shirt?” she asks teasingly.

Paige huffs, sounding more like a breathless laugh, and her eyes sparkle. “NIL ain’t what it used to be,” she jokes.

Cam laughs, too, holding her arms out, and Paige wraps her up in a hug. “Welcome to the Wings, rook,” she says softly, meaning every word, and she feels Paige’s entire body relax. When they break apart, Cam stuffs her hands in her pockets, bouncing on her heels, and Paige stares at her with something that might be an overwhelmed wonder. “Just so you know, I’ve been working on my rookie hazing rituals. Maddy said the tar and feathers were a hard no, but we all agreed that the first round of drinks are on you.”

“Oh, so I was just drafted for my Amex, huh?” Paige says unseriously. 

“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Cam responds, feigning sadness and trying not to grin. “I don’t know if we’ll have room for you on the roster, but maybe you could put those TikTok dances to good use and figure something out for halftime.” Paige stares at her unbelievingly before eventually, the corner of Cam’s lips twitch from the effort of keeping her face neutral.

The blonde’s expression melts, her shoulders relaxing with something like relief – like the Wings aren’t so unfamiliar after all. They’re already bantering like they’ve been friends for years. Paige is one of those basketball players that has a good working relationship with everyone, but the fact that friendship can come so quickly undoubtedly makes this transition easier for her.

“You’re not gonna take it easy on me, are you?” Paige asks, amused.

Cam gives her a gentle nudge with her elbow, her smile softening. “C’mon,” she says knowingly. “You’re a Husky. Something tells me you wouldn’t like easy, anyways.”

Something in Paige’s expression flickers, almost as though she hadn’t been expecting that response, almost as though she’s seeing Cam in a different light now. “I wouldn’t,” she agrees. Her tone is a little quieter, but her eyes still sparkle with that post-draft high, an excitement that doesn’t quite go away.

It’s at that moment that one of the media coordinators waves Paige over, wanting to run a couple segments and get some shots and interviews for the league page. Before the blonde can go, Cam rests a tentative hand over her wrist, stopping her, and when they meet eyes again, it’s like she loses all of her confidence.

She clears her throat, trying to find the words. She has a million statements at the tip of her tongue, but the one that comes out is, “I’m happy you’re here.”

Fuck. Even though Paige’s cheeks flush and her smile turns tender, Cam winces and sighs, because that was not supposed to be her opening line. “We all are,” she’s quick to correct. “You’re not gonna find a better group of girls anywhere else in the league. We’ve got your back, always. And…I know that you’re capable. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. But trust me when I say this transition can be difficult.” Cam bounces on her heels again, a nervous smile lighting up her face, her voice softening. “Just…don’t hesitate to reach out. Or ask for help. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all me.”

The both of them are silent for a moment. Paige studies her carefully, as if searching her features for something. Cam isn’t sure what she’s looking for, but she hopes her rookie can see the earnestness, the assurance that no matter what, she’s ten toes down behind her.

Then, Paige’s smile grows, unrestrained if not a little bashful. “Thanks, Camille,” she says, the use of her full name causing a matching smile of Cam’s own to appear on her face. “I really appreciate that.”

Simply, she nods, extending her arms again, and she and Paige fall into one last hug. The media coordinators are getting impatient now. They break away quickly and Paige starts to follow one of them further backstage, but she spins on her heel, a palm reaching up to stabilize the lapels of her blazer as she calls out to Cam. “Nike’s throwing an after party for me later,” she says. “You should come by. First round’s on me, right?”

Huffing in amusement, Cam stuffs her hands in her pockets again if only to give them something to do. She cocks her head a little, thinking it over – she has an early flight back to Dallas in the morning to speak at UTA, then she has an afternoon workout with a trainer. She knew she would be a problem if she stayed up too late partying, but when she takes in Paige’s expression, the slight confidence mixed with a strong look of hope, she finds that she’d never truly had a backbone to begin with.

“I’ll see you there, rook,” she confirms, trying not to feel too proud of herself when Paige’s grin brightens. Finally, she disappears around the corner, and Cam exhales sharply as she redirects her attention back to the TV.

Cathy’s just now returning with the selection from Seattle, stepping up to the microphone again, but all Cam can think about is her rookie. Paige had said that Cam wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Part of Cam wonders if Paige was aware of the fact that Paige wasn’t going to make it easy for Cam, either. All it took was one look, one hopefully asked question for Cam to change her plans entirely.

The scary part? Cam wasn’t even sure if she minded all too much.

The subsequent afterparty smells like spilled liquor, the heady undertone of weed, and the musk of sweat. Cam has to dodge a few dancing bodies when she finally walks in, tucking her jacket closer to herself so as to not soak in any of the sloshing alcohol, and she presses herself up to the tips of her toes to try to look for the woman of the hour. The lighting is dim, strobe lights flashing, and the music courses through every inch of her veins. She’s confident that she’ll wake up tomorrow morning with the sound of the bass still reverberating through her ears.

People in various stages of inebriation are packed tightly together, which makes it difficult for Cam to squeeze her way to the front, but she manages to make it through the most contested sections. When she reaches the front of the room, she finds Paige at the center of a large circle, holding a huge tray of shots in her hand, and she has a grin on her lips as she passes them out.

Her wings cap is tucked over her head – some things never change, Cam thinks – although she’s redressed in an oversized, white button down and sparkling gray dress pants. Cam looks her up and down, figuring out pretty quickly that the ensemble is a full Nike get up, which makes sense considering the sponsor of her afterparty.

Paige catches sight of her, her grin widening, and the circle of people surrounding her join in on cheering for Cam as she’s gently pulled to the middle, towards Paige. Cam flushes under the attention and rolls her eyes – although she’s secretly pleased by the reception. “You made it!” Paige calls over the bass, offering her a shot glass. Her expression is soft, not wanting to make an assumption about whether or not Cam drinks, but she accepts the shot glass anyways, clinking it against Paige’s with a teasing smile.

“Not sure if it beats staying in and binging whatever’s on the hotel TV, but I figured I should make sure my rookie doesn’t get too plastered,” Cam jokes.

“Your rookie, huh?” Paige hums, eyes wide and mischievous. “Didn’t know I was already claimed like that.”

“You need someone responsible,” Cam retorts. “Rike and Lyss are bad influences. Nai would dress you up like a Labubu.”

Paige laughs, and she and Cam throw back their first shot of the night – well, Cam can’t be too sure if it’s Paige’s first, but that’s neither here nor there. Paige takes her empty glass, sets it on the tray, then wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her flush against her body. Yeah, Cam thinks, definitely not Paige’s first shot, but she’s smiling in amusement as Paige calls for the attention of their little circle.

“Everyone, this is Camille,” she states. Then, glancing once at Cam, the hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “My vet. Her drinks are on me, aight? No funny shit.”

“I think the drinks are on Nike–” someone attempts to say, but Paige raises her hand, cutting them off, and everyone around them laughs.

“Drinks on me,” Paige says again, just so there’s no confusion. She squeezes Cam’s shoulder as everyone dissipates. Her hand drops to the small of her back, guiding her through the room to the bar. “What you drinkin’?”

“Surprise me,” Cam responds. “I trust you. No whiskey or I’m gonna make your ass run suicides at camp.”

Paige grins, something like you think so little of me. She calls the bartender over and orders two Dirty Shirleys. Cam huffs under her breath, amused, and Paige nudges her with her elbow. “What happened to allat trust?”

Cam raises her hands in surrender. “No judgement here. I just respect the fact that you can stare a bartender in the eye and ask for juice.”

“Wow,” Paige drawls. “I see how it is. You buy a girl a drink and this is how she repays you.”

“You bought me a Capri Sun.”

Paige sniffs dramatically. “I always imagined I’d get my welcome to the league moment by running face first into an Alyssa Thomas screen. Never thought it’d come from being bullied by my own teammate.”

Cam laughs as the bartender slides their drinks over. “Are you always this much of a drama queen?” she asks playfully, tapping the sides of their glasses together.

Paige takes a long sip before she responds, her eyes slipping shut like this is the best thing she’s ever tasted. A smirk appears on her face as she says, with a shrug of her shoulder, “If the crown fits.”

Cam rolls her eyes, taking a tentative sip of her drink, too. And – okay. Maybe Paige was onto something, because it’s not that bad. Cam’s never been one for strong drinks, more of a lightweight than anything else. But these? They’re dangerous. Cam could easily see herself downing five of them without thinking about the alcohol content.

“Good, right?” Paige asks, not even bothering to hide her knowing grin.

“I don’t think you should worry about getting hit by an AT screen,” Cam states, which causes Paige’s brows to raise, unsure of where she’s going with that. “That big ass head of yours would just cushion the fall.”

Paige gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like Cam’s words have genuinely wounded her. “I’mma let that slide, Cam, just ‘cause I know you like me. I’m growing on you–”

“–like a fungus–”

“– and I’m your rookie,” she finishes. Cam can’t help but smile at that. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

Cam tilts her hat backwards, and Paige swats her hand away as it messes up her hair. “I’m toughening you up for the real world,” she teases. “Veteran duty.”

Paige raises a lazy brow, something reminiscent of a challenge in her eyes. “So this is business?”

“Isn’t it always?” Cam retorts.

A slow smile spreads across Paige’s lips. “Aight.” Paige has a determined look in her eyes, one that Cam’s not quite sure she’s familiar with. But she doesn’t have the time to question it before Paige’s hand finds the small of her back again, leading her through a crowd that parts easily for the both of them. “First song of the night’s all yours. Figure it out, then we’re dancing.”

“Bossy,” Cam mutters under her breath, not expecting Paige to catch it, but she does.

“I know what I want.”

Cam huffs, biting back a laugh. She leans in closer to the DJ, yelling over the music already playing, and he flashes her a sharp grin as he works on transitioning into the next song. She lets Paige guide her back towards the dance floor, but when the opening lines of “pushing P” reverberate throughout the room, the blonde turns to her with an amused look on her face.

“You think you’re funny?” Paige asks, but her smile is loose, welcoming Cam into her space. Her eyes are dark under the lighting in the room and the low brim of her hat. “Or you tryna tell me somethin’?”

“Can’t tell you anything if you keep running your mouth, right?” Cam says.

Paige only nods, taking another sip from her drink, and the look in her eye makes Cam think that she’s just started something that she’s not sure how to finish. Between the atmosphere in the room, the taste of the drink on her lips, and the way Paige is embracing the party, Cam doesn’t think that she does want to finish it.

It’s easy to get lost in the music, in the heady scent of adrenaline, liquor, and victory in the air, in the way Paige leaves just enough space in between their bodies to make it look like she doesn’t want this. But Cam knows. It should be enough to make her back away, to make her remember that she’s the veteran and Paige just got drafted to her team less than three hours ago.

Cam has spent so long restraining herself, trying to be perfect in so many senses of the word. The perfect daughter, the perfect teammate, someone who maintains order instead of welcoming chaos. That lifestyle was safe. Comfortable. Secure. Stale. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a party. Nothing wrong with celebrating a rookie who’s worked so hard to even be here in the first place.

For the first night in a long, long time, Camille isn’t really thinking, certainly not about things like the consequences of her own actions. She’s thinking about how much fun she’s having, even if it means accidentally monopolizing Paige’s attention. She’s thinking about how good her drink tastes, and when she goes back for her fourth of the night, she orders a second one, too, bringing it back to Paige, who’s sporting a pretty flush under the dim lighting in the room. She’s thinking about how promising this next season is, about the fact that they could genuinely go so far.

One dance turns into multiple. The drinks are flowing, the vibes are high, and she can feel the music in her veins. She can feel Paige’s eyes on her when she gets overheated, shrugging out of her bomber jacket.

Cam is loose, the liquor flowing pleasantly through her body, and when the night begins to wind down and Paige’s hand is settling over her back again, murmuring something about heading back to her room, Cam agrees – because why wouldn’t she? She’s warm all over, not from the alcohol, and she’s drunk and giggly when she slips her hand into Paige’s, their thighs pressed tightly together in the Uber.

It feels good – that’s really all she’s thinking about right now. And when Paige leads her into her room, her palm burning hot over her waist, Cam lets her pull her in, her lips dragging across her skin.

Things like consequences or repercussions are a tomorrow morning thing. Right now – all Cam is concerned about is whether or not her rookie is as good with her mouth as she is at running it.

Cam wakes to her alarm. She doesn’t need to see the time to know it’s freakishly early in the morning. She can feel it in her bones, in the way the exhaustion sticks to her like glue, the way she feels as though she’s only had her eyes closed for twenty minutes rather than the full eight hours of sleep she’s accustomed to. Her hand reaches out to where she’s sure her nightstand is, but she meets air. She fumbles through the sheets, sure that her phone is simply lost somewhere, but she comes up empty, there, too.

It’s not until she registers the warmth of a body against hers that she realizes how badly she’s just fucked up.

Paige Bueckers, eyes shut peacefully, flush on her neck, arm slung lazily across Cam’s bare waist – bare waist! – groans into her shoulder. “Turn it off,” she grumbles, breath fanning across skin. Cam freezes, feeling her heart begin to race and her mind spin.

She’s so overstimulated that she could probably scream. Paige’s legs are tangled with hers, the warmth of body lulling her into a sense of peace, but anxiety swirls in her gut and her alarm is still fucking ringing.

“Fuck,” she whimpers out loud, pushing both of her palms to her eyes.

This was not how the draft was supposed to go. She was supposed to be there to say hello to Paige and Aziaha and Madison and JJ. She was going to do some media segments, solidify her title as the Rookie Welcome Officer, and then she was going to take her ass back to her hotel room, take a hot shower and unwind. 

Camille was not supposed to get herself invited to Paige’s afterparty, let alone go to it in the first place. She wasn’t supposed to take shots with her, drink with her, dance with her (although as the previous night’s memories come back to her, she’s certain there was some dancing on her – okay, yeah, not the time or the place to get caught up in that).

Most importantly, Camille wasn’t supposed to fall into bed with her either. That’s kind of the reason why alarm bells are ringing in her brain, and it has nothing to do with the 5am alarm she’d actually set on her phone so she can catch a flight.

She just slept with Paige Bueckers. Number one overall draft pick, twenty-three year old rookie to Cam’s twenty-six year old senior, Paige Bueckers. The Wings’ newest starting point guard. Her rookie, who she’d claimed the moment Cathy Engelbert spoke her name into the microphone. Cam was supposed to mentor her, guide her, help her adjust to professional life so soon after the end of her college season. Camille was not supposed to let her stick her hand down her pants.

She’s so unbelievably fucked. Sure, she resigned, but she could still get waived. This could have detrimental effects on the locker room. Detrimental effects on whatever beginnings of a friendship that she and Paige were supposed to be forming in the middle of sticking their tongues down each other’s throat. Cam was so excited for the beginning of the season, but now, all she can think about is the fact that she’s probably ruined it before Paige even put her jersey on for the first time.

Paige murmurs something under her breath again. Cam, already in full panic mode, pushes the blonde off of her, sending her sprawling onto the other side of the bed as she rises to her feet. “The fuck?” Paige mutters, undoubtedly bothered as she fights for consciousness.

Cam has to fight a wave of vertigo as she scans the floor for her pants, where her alarm is still ringing. Finally locating them, she rips her phone out of her pocket and silences her phone. Slowly, she turns back to the bed, where Paige is staring at her with wide eyes, the blanket pulled up to her chest. “Oh,” she whispers, some sort of clarity returning to her expression.

Oh is right. Because both she and Paige just did something that Cam isn’t entirely sure they can come back from, and they have no one to blame but themselves.

[itsstavy13]

noctuary #7 - p.b x tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē:

a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: canon typical violence, veryyyyy brief mention of violent physical relationships

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be

notes: why did I take 20 days to write this…life hit hard. Anyways, we’re nearing the end!!!! Woohoo!

Prev. Chap Here

THE NEXT TIME you see her, it’s the hottest day of the year.

You can feel it the moment you wake up. Your pyjamas are thrown across your room, limbs sticky with midnight sweat, hairline damp.

You begrudgingly slip out of your sheets, bare legs meeting the humid air.

Days were slow in Jackson. No more bonfires, or late night smokes. You worked, you came home. Nika had gone on patrol for a day or two with Aubrey, and ran errands while she was back.

Paige had been incredibly busy helping around the camp, and you’d barely said a word to her since she’d barfed on your lawn and slept over.

The stagnancy brought some good things too. Like your house, for one, that was finally starting to feel like home. You grew to appreciate the way the wood creaked beneath your feet, the way sun shone through your bedroom window.

Bare with the exception of a worn out tank and even more worn, lacy white underwear you managed to snag, you hum as you walk to your kitchen, taking your time as you drink your morning water and prep a quick breakfast.

The house is so quiet all the time, aside from the noises it makes on its own. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about the sound of another pair of feet on your floorboards, or another body under the running water of your shower. You’d heard the noise once, and never forgot it.

It should’ve unnerved you more that day, but it didn’t. You can’t quite forget that either.

How right it felt.

You shake your head in hopes of banishing the thoughts, walking to your couch with your breakfast in hand, when there’s a knock on the door.

Your eyes narrow.

It’s six-thirty in the morning, you don’t have to be at the barn till seven-thirty. There isn’t any reason for someone to be at your door.

Quietly, you approach the door, grasping the knife off of your plate for good measure. On your tip toes, you peek out of the peephole in the wood.

She’s standing there, hands in her pockets, head cocked, lip between her teeth in wait. Blonde hair messy, un-brushed and in scraggly waves that end past her shoulders.

You’re about to turn away when she opens her mouth.

“I know you’re there, horse girl.” She taunts, eyes staring down. “I can see your feet through the cracks.”

You let a groan out. “Isn’t it a little early, Paige?”

“You’re up anyways.” She smiles. “You gonna open the door?”

“Can you come back later?” You sigh, staring between your un-eaten breakfast and bare-naked legs.

“I’ll be fast.” She pushes. “Real quick.”

You consider. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to fuck off. But for whatever reason, she makes all the difference. The knife in your free hand doesn’t hurt either.

Carefully, you creak the door open, twisting a little awkwardly to keep most of your lower half behind the door. She doesn’t so much as drag her eyes down there.

“You look a lot nicer when you’re not puking on my front lawn.” You snort. It’s true, she does look nice. Baggy, blue jeans held up by a thick brown leather belt. White tank, tucked in. Blue flannel, sleeves rolled up. Proper farm girl, enough to give you a run for your money.

“Moment of weakness.” She hums, smile still on her face. It’s mischievous, goading, even.

“What do you want?” You frown.

“I remembered I told you we’d patrol,” she shrugs. “So, let’s go.”

“Today?”

“You busy?” Paige grins.

“I might be.” You smile in return.

Paige raises a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “Doing what? Braiding Sue for the fortieth time and bartering with Nika for lingerie?”

“Careful.” Your eyes narrow.

Her cheeks turn pink the moment you say it, eyes breaking from yours like a nervous teenager. “I’ll give you like, twenty minutes to eat and change.” She mutters.

“Forty-five.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Forty.”

“It takes you forty minutes to eat and change?” She laughs incredulously.

“I take advantage of the fact that I get to enjoy my mornings now.” You huff.

“Well, if you’re gonna take that long I might as well wait inside with you.” She says. Her face is casual, no hint of emotion. Her only tell is her eyes, which sneakily dart downwards, glancing over the lacy trim of your underwear, and the bare expanse of your legs.

“Nice try.” You snort, slamming the door shut in her face. “I’ll take thirty.”

You hear her chuckle behind the door, and immediately shiver.

Despite how hot it is outside, your legs are covered in goosebumps.

You eat standing up, scarfing down your meal in 10 minutes flat before running to the bathroom to wash up, throwing your hair into a style that keeps it out of your face and freshening up.

Then you’re rushing around your room, frantically plucking things to throw in your backpack. It’s already mostly packed with essentials—hunting knifes, old rags, flasks of alcohol, extra clothes—you rush to add some fresh water and emergency food, before running back downstairs to get changed.

What should you wear? It’s sweltering outside, you’re sweating even with just your tank and panties. You can’t wear shorts, so you settle for worn out jeans that hang a little too low, and a breathable cotton top that shows some midriff when you stretch your arms—just for extra ventilation.

You’re double checking your bag for the tenth time when you pause by your bedside table, considering something in particular.

You slide open the table drawer, eyes meeting the plastic baggy you kept for company, four pre-rolled joints sitting in wait inside the clear film.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Twenty-five, let’s go!” You hear Paige call, muffled from the distance

You grab the plastic baggy and stuff it in your backpack, running up the stairs and hurriedly slipping your shoes on as you open the front door again.

“I said thirty.” You huff, finally managing with your shoes and stepping out beside her.

“See how good you are when you push yourself?” Paige grins. “You can be fast when you want to be.”

You just roll your eyes at her.

“Don’t be salty.” She hums. “Five minutes is almost nothing.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes, Paige.” You glance at her slyly. She just shakes her head with a suppressed smile, shoving past you slightly as she begins to walk out of your lawn.

You follow close behind her.

YOU FOREGO RIDING horseback—you don’t know how, and she doesn’t like it much anyways.

Instead you leave with nothing but the weight of your backpack, and her stare on your shoulders.

“We won’t be going far without horses.” You hum.

“We could if we wanted to take up a few days.” Paige chirps.

“Right.” You slow down, waiting for her to walk beside you. “I can’t believe you walked that far when you found me.”

She just shrugs.

The run is blazing, hot and bright on your skin as you and Paige walk further and further from Jackson’s massive gates. The grassy ground stretches for miles on miles, green and healthy from rainfall a few days prior.

The air smells like dirt and cedar as you let her take the lead, boots crunching on the ground beneath you with every step.

You don’t force any conversation, instead allowing the day to take its course. It’s like you have a billion things to say to her, but no way to articulate each point.

You want to ask her questions, you want to pry. You want to know what she’s like when she’s not being Jackson’s-Lifesaver-Paige, hear it from her mouth—why she leaves for days, like it’s just a few hours—and you want to know why she likes you enough to take her with her.

When the grass grows less barren, and the trees start to cover your sight, you settle with, “Where are we going?”

She’s still beside you, eyes straight ahead. “There’s a camp a little father out that needs some maintenance.”

“Camp?”

Her eyes meet yours, bright blue and slightly squinted due to the sun. “Jackson has these small camps near the city, they’re like checkpoints or emergency stops for people coming in or out.”

“Is this one far?” You ask.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “If we were on horses we’d almost be there.”

You nod, returning your gaze to the trees and the grassy path you’re following. The sun shines between every leaf, speckling the ground with golden spots against the green.

She’s still looking at you, you can feel it on your face. She stares subtly, eyes glancing down every now and then.

Finally, you have enough, and you turn to catch her staring.

You raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.” She purses her lips. “Just thinking.”

Now it’s your turn to stare, watching curiously as she peels her eyes from you slow as molasses, like it’s hard for her to pull away. You can see it on her face, she is thinking.

You fight the urge to ask her what it is that she’s got her mind on.

“What kind of maintenance do we have to do when we get there?” You ask.

“Basic restock.” She hums, tapping her backpack. “Stuff like medical supplies, non-perishable food. Essential stuff.”

You nod.

“Basic clean up too.” Paige adds, half glancing at you. “People leave those places looking like a crime scene. Plus, sometimes the odd straggler gets in.”

“Human? Or infected.”

Paige shoots you a serious look. “Both.”

“And when you say clean up…” you frown.

“Nobody can live in those camps.” She says. “Either they leave or come to Jackson. Infected aren’t so lucky.”

You nod.

“The camps can be really nice.” She adds. “The one we’re going to is. You’ll like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paige nods.

“S’too bad we won’t be there to long then.” You hum.

There’s a glint in her eye as she smiles. “We can take as long as we want.”

“Paige,” You snort, “really? Geno knows where he sent us, we can’t take too long of it’s that close by.”

“He won’t know of we take a little detour on the way back.” Paige shrugs. “Or maybe the place is a shitshow, and we need to stay longer.”

“Paige.”

She glances at you, tongue darting out to wet her lips. The sun makes her skin shine, she looks brighter than she did before.

“You won’t get in trouble.” Paige says, her tone serious, sure. “And if you do, which you won’t by the way, I’ll take the blame.”

You can’t help but blanch a little at the statement, at the way she affirms your worries without you even having to say anything. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s not your fault.” Paige huffs, but you hear something beneath her words, “because it’s what I do.”

You stare at her a little too long, thinking about her. About her life. You footsteps are in sync with here on the grassy path.

“Are we almost there?” You ask.

She bites her lip to hold a laugh.

“Easy.” She hums lowly. “You’ll know.”

You snort. She smiles.

You both keep walking.

The path is long, a perfect clearing between densely packed cedar trees that fill the air with a fresh scent. You’re sweating your ass off even with your breathable clothes. Paige must be sopping under her flannel and tank.

“Aren’t you hot?” You pant.

“I’ve been told that.” She shrugs, before promptly yelling when you nudge her.

“I’m serious.” You frown. “It’s too hot out to be wearing layers.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, shoving her backpack off and rolling her shoulders back as she slips off the flannel. “You right.”

“See?” You stop to wait. “You’re sweaty as hell.”

“Just say you want me to lose the layers.” She scoffs, shooting you a cheeky look, which you ignore.

She slides the fabric off of her shoulders and down her arms, folding the material and shoving it into her bag. Her biceps pop against the thin white tank. Normally that would deter you, but your eye has been caught by something else.

“Paige, what the fuck.”

“What?” She asks, glancing up at you confused before following your line of vision. She peeks at her forearm.

Against the white of her skin, there’s a large, spindly gash. It’s still raw, just barely starting to scab at the corners.

“Oh.” She hums. “Yeah, that.”

The wound twists as she shoulders her backpack again. She looks at you plainly.

“Hello?” You grit your teeth. “Where’s that from?”

“Last patrol I went on.” Paige shrugs. “S’not a big deal.”

“Paige, that looks painful.” You frown, grabbing her arm. Her eyes widen in surprise, watching you intently as you inspect the wound.

“How did I not notice this?” You mumble, thinking back to when you last saw her. She had slept over at your house, worn your clothes, sat beside you on your front yard, and you hadn’t noticed.

“I didn’t notice it either.” She says, still surprised by your worry. “It only started bothering me when I went home after your place. Must’ve been the adrenaline. Or the weed.”

“You should cover this up.” You bite your lip, sucking in a breath at the thought of her leaving this uncared for.

“That was the point of the flannel.” She deadpans.

“Not what I meant.” You frown.

“It’s not a big deal!”

“Paige—“ you start, but you stop just as fast. There’s a crackle in the distance, familiar enough to make your stomach drop.

Paige stiffens, sliding her arm from your grasp to grip the pistol in her waistband without a word. You similarly grapple the knife Paige lended you for the patrol.

“Can’t use this right away.” She mutters. “If there’s a lot of em then the noise will attract them to us.”

“You don’t have a silencer?”

“It does a shit job.”

You nod tightly, eyes trained ahead. You can hear them clearer now, up ahead. There must be a few.

“Keep walking.” Paige hushes.

You raise a brow in question.

“We have to go that way. The camp is just up ahead.” She adds.

Carefully, you follow her lead. The trees don’t lower in density, bright green leaves at every turn, but you see it the closer you get. Dark wooden logs, stacked against each other. Old windows, pointed roof.

Two clickers on the front lawn.

“Ready!” She calls out to you, but they’re already running, jaws slung open, saliva flying from their rotten lips.

One reaches Paige first, growling as it lunges for her. You try your best to stab it, but the other knocks you off your feet, straight to the grassy floor.

“Fuck!” You groan, scrambling to get up before it mounts you. You hear a similar struggle close by, the sound of grass under Paige’s body as she grunts against the infected. It’s on top of her, mouth open, ready to bite.

You’re torn back to your own fight in an instant. The clicker flies at you mouth first, teeth bared scarily close.

You swing with all your might, slashing its neck and splattering blood all over you in the process. You try your best to keep your mouth closed despite your staggering breathing.

A little ways beside you, Paige flips atop the clicker, slapping its face with the barrel of her gun. Its jaw cracks on impact, the noise echoing through the woods.

There’s another click as she points the gun to the flailing creatures temple, safety off, eyes wild, lips spitting stray hairs out of her mouth,

You run over frantically before her finger can pull the trigger, stabbing the clicker in the heart. The blade makes a squelching noise as it pierces through the rotting flesh. It stops fighting in an instant, reduced to faint twitches and groans.

Paige loosens, exhaling through her mouth with relief as she lowers her armed hand. She blows a strand of blonde away from her face.

“I had that.” She mutters.

“Would’ve attracted god-knows-what else with the noise.” You mutter. “Fuck, look at your arm!”

She glances down at the arm that holds the gun. The long, scabbing wound from before has reopened from the fight, and deep red blood trickles down her elbow.

“It’s fine.” She scoffs, eyeing you up and down. “You look worse than I do.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask if it bit me?” You raise a brow, glancing down at your bloody state. You can feel it on you, covering at least half of your face and neck, drenching your shirt.

“I know it didn’t.” Paige sighs, getting off of the clicker. “I watched you.”

Your stomach dips a little at the comment, at how simply she says it. You say nothing, opting to stare at your surrounds instead.

“I’m gonna patch you up.” You say.

“I can do it.” She snorts. “You need a shower. C’mon, let’s head in.”

“Is that it?” You ask.

“If there were more, they would’ve heard us by now.” Paige mutters, stepping forward towards the camp.

You can see it clearer now without the distractions. It’s big, and beautiful. Deep, rich wood. Wraparound porch. Old, sun-stained windows. Nothing like what you had in mind for a camp.

“C’mon!” Paige calls out, and you realize she’s waiting by the front door.

Wordlessly, you hurry after her.

THE CAMP IS like something out of a story book, fully furnished, lights yellowed but working, water running and warm.

Most of all, the place is clean.

You’d expected a crime scene. The place was guarded by clickers after all, and you know these camps were checkpoints of safe houses for travellers or people on patrol who may need to hide out. You figured there may be a mess, some sign of struggle or injury, maybe.

But no, there’s nothing. The floors are clean. There’s no garbage around. No gauze, used and strewn. Not a chair out of place at the table.

Paige speaks first.

“This is so weird.” She mutters, mostly to herself, as she steps into the house. The wooden floors creak under her feet. “Huh.” She says as she surveys the place the same way you did.

“It’s really nice.’ You breathe. “Like nobody has been here.”

‘I’ve never done maintenance on a safe house where there wasn’t a mess.” Paige swallows. You follow her into the house, gawking at the sheer beauty of the place.

You let you finger trail on the kitchen counter as you pass it. Not even a spec of dust comes up.

Paige’s backpack falls limply to the ground as she steps past the beautiful, long, wooden dinner table, and begins to step downstairs.

“Wait here.” She says. “Gonna see if this place needs a restock.”

You nod, watching her disappear down the staircase. When she leaves, you take the chance to turn around and take in the place. The windows are huge, one is almost floor to ceiling with a sliding door that leads to a massive, wooden balcony.

“Whoa.” You whisper to yourself, approaching the glass carefully.

Just past the porch is another staircase that leads to a dock. And the dock leads to a small, but beautiful lake.

This camp is a lake house.

“What the fuck!” You hear from downstairs, and you immediately jump in surprise.

“Paige?” You call out.

She comes running up in a split second, brows furrowed.

“This place is fully fucking stocked!” She huffs with exasperation.

“Really?”

“Yes!” She groans. “What a fuckin’ waste.”

“You sure this place is a safe house?” You cut in, glancing back outside.

She starts to say something else, but softens at your expression. Carefully, she steps to stand beside you in front of the window.

“It’s nice, right?”

“Too nice.” You mumble. “You guys made this?”

She just shakes her head. “Not this one, no. This place existed before Jackson. Before the infected did, too.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah.” She hums. “Geno said it was a vacation house.”

“Vacation.” You snort, glancing between Paige and the lake. “Forgot people back then could do stuff like that.”

“Well, people who stay here can too.” Paige grins, holding your eye.

You bite your lip in thought. She stares at you, and then your clothes.

“You got another shirt to wear?” She winces. “There might be clothes here if not.”

“I brought stuff.” You mumble, cowering slightly from her gaze. “Should I wash off..or do you…your arm. Let me—“

“Go.” She laughs, pushing you slightly. “You can clean me off after, since you’re so desperate. Just—wash off first.”

“Okay.” You frown. “Where do I..”

“Right, you haven’t been here,” she snorts, “down that hall, door on the left.”

You send her a grateful nod, shouldering your backpack down the dim-lit hall and through the left door. The bathroom is unlike one you’ve ever seen. The light crackles on with some effort, but the water from the shower runs warm. The bathroom fills with a slight fog as you peel your bloody clothes off of you, thankful that your jeans and undergarments stayed un-stained.

You step into the hot shower, sighing in relief as the water hits your skin and rinses off the blood and sweat. You’re still a little self conscious—the shower is only blocked off by clear glass, but it’s soon covered by fog. It’s not like Paige would come in anyways.

By the time you’re finished, you feel much better. You step out of the shower and towel yourself dry, before stepping toward the sink.

You swipe at the mirror to clear some of the condensation, peering at your face, your damp hair and skin, every blemish and pore. It’s the weirdest thing, that you suddenly feel the need to look nice. To look clean.

Those things never mattered before, you didn’t have time for it to matter. Somewhere between your banishment from your old camp, and your introduction to Jackson, that had changed.

And here you were, leisurely taking hot showers in a lake house, taking your time in the mornings, and wearing lace underwear.

And feeling warm at the attention that all of those things attract.

You feel your face getting hot like a little kid. Shaking the thought off, you shimmy yourself into fresh clothes and leave the bathroom.

As you walk to the living room, you see Paige crouched behind the kitchen counter. She stands up at the noise of your feet on the floorboards, her skin flushed red and her hair wet, soaking through her white tank.

“You took a shower too?” You ask, tossing your backpack as you sit on the counter.

“Yeah.” she says, eyes darting from your thighs spread on the kitchen counter to your face. “There’s two washrooms.”

You scoff. “This is insane.”

“If anyone asks, we had to hide out for the night.” Paige grins, kneeling back down to reach the cabinets under the counter.

You watch as she takes things from her backpack—gauze, disinfectant, sutures, bandages—and packs them neatly into first aid kids before storing them in the cabinets.

“They’re all stocked on food.” Paige grumbles from beneath you. “But a little low on this shit.”

“Good we came then.” You shrug.

“Nah.” She hums. “Would’ve been fine without the restock to be honest. No clue what Nika was on.”

“Nika?” You tune in, brain snagging on her name. “What about her?”

Paige glances up at you for a moment. From her stance on the ground, her eyes look so wide, peering at you like you’ve never seen before. She glances back at her hands before you can compute it.

“She told Geno that she passed by the place when she last went on patrol, and that it was a total mess.” Paige snorts. “Got him to put me on it. She even said it was so bad that I’d need help.”

You almost blanch at the statement. Nika, that sneaky little shit. She’d been egging on something between you and Paige, and here she was interfering in any way she could.

“Right.” Is all you say. Paige glances up at you again, curiously, before her hand grasps your calf.

“Uh—“

“Scooch.” She says, lifting your dangling leg so she can slide under. She’s still working at the cabinets, but now she’s between your legs under the counter.

You almost choke on your breath. She doesn’t even look up.

Your heart beats a little harder, you can feel it in your fingertips.

“Almost done.” She mumbles. “Then we can relax. You know, you don’t even need a vacation. You braid hair everyday.”

“Oh, shut up.” You squeak out, trying to get ahold of yourself. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“I was hoping to get your adrenaline going, you know.” She smirks. “I thought a little action might be a good introduction to patrol.”

“I’m fine with this too.” You say, a little too low, too sultry. She just smiles.

“Is it, though?” Paige says. “You’re an adrenaline junkie. Nothing’s had your heart racing since you got to Jackson.”

“Not true.” You shoot back. She looks up at this, one brow raised, lips parted. Daring you to say something that toes the line.

“Oh yeah?”

“We just had a fight outside.” You shrug. “That got my heart racing.”

She drops her gaze, shaking her head with a grin, knowing you got her. “That was nothing.”

“Yeah, could’ve been better.” You nod.

Without warning, she rises up to her full height between your legs.

“All done.” She smiles.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Uhm, your arm.”

“Oh yeah.” Paige says, holding out her arm. “I showered, so that washed the mess away.”

“Pass me one of those kits.”

She grabs one from below and hands it to you. You grab the disinfectant spray and bandages, taking her arm with your hand.

“This might sting.” You smile. She just nods, eyes not even on your hands, but rather your face. Your lips.

You ignore it, spraying the alcohol, biting your lip as she winces. Her other hand leaves her side and grips your thigh—briefly—before finding the counter edge and opting for that instead.

“Sorry.” She bites out.

“S’fine.” You choke, dabbing the excess disinfectant before starting with the bandages. Still grasping her arm, you carefully wrap the bandage around the wound before safety pinning it securely.

Every time you glance at her, she’s already looking at you.

“Done.” You whisper, letting go of her.

She looks at her arm, then you again.

“Thank you.” Paige says.

She stays between your legs for a moment, and you feel your chest heave. Breathing seems harder, heavier, when she’s close like this.

She finally steps back.

“I’m gonna sit outside before it gets too dark.” She mutters, blue eyes barely dancing around you. “Are you…gonna…”

“Yeah.” You tut, a little too fast, “I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” She grunts.

You just try and relax before you embarrass yourself.

EVENING IS FINALLY SETTLING by the time you make it out. It took a lot of mental strength and effort, honestly. You were a little shaken after the debacle in the kitchen.

But weirdly enough, it felt wrong to leave her outside alone. And the view from the house’s dock is magical.

The sun begins to set on the water, docile and only rippling when the odd fish swims too close to the top. Orange and pink paints the sky, dark blue just chasing after it. May flies hoard random spots in the sky. Bull frogs croak from the cattails near the edges of the lake.

She doesn’t turn to look at you when you sit next to her on the dock, legs dangling just short of the water.

“Fuck, it’s not out here.” You groan.

“Thought you weren’t gonna come.” Paige hums.

“I wasn’t.” You shrug. “Changed my mind though.”

She sneaks a look at you, then. At your face, and at your hands which hold your plastic baggy of joints and a lighter.

“You gonna smoke?”

“I dunno.” You say. “I will if you will.”

Paige takes a deep breath in, and you see the cogs turn in her head before she says. “Nah. I won’t.”

You’re a little taken aback, stung, even, at the rejection.

“You going sober on me?” You half laugh, poorly disguising your surprise.

“No.” She chuckles dryly. “I just feel like we always high when we’re talking seriously.”

“And you wanna see if it holds when we’re not?” You finish her thought.

“Just curious.” She mutters, but you know this is more serious than she’s letting on.

After a moment of silence, you toss the lighter and baggy behind you, further up the dock.

“Fine by me.” You shrug. “That was my stash for when I can’t sleep, anyways.”

She doesn’t respond, and you don’t keep talking. Silence fills the air, but it’s not thick or uncomfortable. It’s careful. You watch the water. She pretends to.

Finally, she decides to break. “How’s your leg?”

“My leg?”

“Your calf.” She nods. “Remember? You got cut?”

“Oh.” You nod, swallowing at the memory. “Yeah. When we met.”

You bring one leg up, touching the obvious valley of skin that scars you. Paige’s eyes follow those movements.

“It’s good.” You nod. “Much better, after I got help in Jackson. Just left a nasty mark.”

“Does that bother you?” She asks.

“I dunno. It’s not my worst scar. Just my most recent.”

She nods, glancing at her arm. “I guess this one’ll scar pretty bad too.”

“Only if you keep opening it up.” You scoff.

Paige smiles slightly.

“Do the scars bother you?” You ask.

“No.” She hums. “Everyone’s got ‘em. Sometimes it’s the way you get them that hurts more.”

“Don’t I know it.” You scoff.

She pauses at that, looking at you.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks.

“You already are.”

“About…how things were before Jackson.” Paige mumbles.

You look at her, heart dipping at how careful she’s being.

“Okay.” You nod.

“How did you…” she swallows, “how did it find you? Were you born into it?”

“No.” You shrug. “Basic story, honestly. I dunno where my dad’s at, my mom n’ me were alone. She owed someone a big favour, ended up paying it off to that community. Eventually she couldn’t keep up with the work. When she died I was collateral. They took me in, and I started where she left off.”

Paige nods tightly.

“My turn.” You blink. “Were you always in Jackson?”

She shakes her head. “Most of my life, yeah. I was born in Minnesota, actually. My mom and I lived there for a while in this commune, but she heard from a friend of a friend that there was an actual functioning city in Wyoming.”

“Big trip.”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughs. “Lost mom along the way. Met Azzi. We made it together.”

“Cute.” You mumble.

“Cute?” She raises a brow.

“Fuck.” You straighten. “Not—not your mom…I’m sorry about that. I meant the Azzi part…sorry.”

She laughs. “It’s fine, I know.” Her knee nudges yours, and doesn’t move back. Your legs immediately cover in goosebumps.

“So…Azzi.” You swallow.

“What about her?” Paige snorts.

“I dunno. She’s your only ex. It’s still shocking to me that you only have one, I guess.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why.” Paige frowns. “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugs. “Just…no point in thinking about the past.”

“Yeah.” You nod.

It’s quiet again. You curse yourself for the word vomit.

“On the topic of future,” Paige goes on, “what’d you see for yourself in a Jackson?”

You scoff. “No idea. I’ve been on survival mode for so long, it’s weird to imagine the future at all.”

Paige nods. “Yeah, lots of people are like that.”

“You’re not?”

“I try not to.” She shrugs. “But I dunno what the future holds, so we’ll see.”

“What do you imagine for yourself?” You ask.

“If all goes well, I’ll take over running the place when Geno and Dawn are gone. I’ll be away a lot, though. Expanding Jackson, making it bigger. And I’ll get married in the old theatre.”

“Married?” You gape.

“We have weddings all the time in Jackson.” Paige smiles.

“Wow.” You blink. “I totally forgot that was something…people did.”

Paige turns to you now, mouth agape. “You’re telling me nobody was together at your camp?”

“Well—people were together.” You snort. “But married? Like, exchanging rings and/or had a celebration married? Hell no. I mean, everyone our age barely even dated.”

“The fuck does that mean.” Paige gawks.

“Like…most of the younger ones. Like, our age, weren’t really committing to shit.”

“So you just…hooked up with whoever?”

“Yeah, basically.” You shrug. “I mean, most of us had favourites. But nobody was exclusive.”

“That is the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Paige’s eyes screw together. She’s truly confused by this. You realize she must be the insanely loyal type.

“Is it?”

“Yeah?” She huffs. “Like…why?”

“Some thing that I just talked about…not thinking of the future.” You mutter, a little embarrassed now. “I guess…none of us really expected to live as long as we were. Every assignment was like a chance, you know? Everyone just wanted to take shit out on each other, live through each other.”

“Well.” Paige swallows. She’s really trying to understand for you. “Was it…fun? At least?”

“No.”

“No?”

You smile at her sadly. “No. It was toxic. Competitive. Aggressive, most of the time. Fucking was supposed to be an escape, but it ended up being an outlet, and then another way for us to hurt each other. Physically and mentally.”

Paige’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Like…there were certain people you knew to stay away from.” You huff. “The…violent ones. Everything else was like a game, you know? The person you’re hooking up with is doing it to hurt the last person, and you’re doing it to forget the next person. Or to forget you almost died the day before. Or to feel like you’re still in control.”

“Nobody fucked for love?” Paige mumbles.

“I’m sure people did.” You sigh, playing with your hands. “But I don’t think it ever lasted long.”

Paige opens her mouth then closes it.

“What?” You ask.

“I just…” she stutters, “did you?”

“Fuck for love?” You raise a brow.

“Love anyone.” She says. “In general.”

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “Really, I don’t know.”

Paige searches your face, taking in your body language, the way you talk about it all like it’s nothing. She looks sad, so sad.

“It’s fine.” You wave her off. “Things are different in Jackson. I dunno if I’ll ever get married, but it’s nice to know people do.”

“Why wouldn’t you get married?” Paige asks.

You bite your lip. The answer is stuck in your throat, itching like a virus that burns your airways.

“I dunno.” You choke out. “I dunno if I’m…like…”

Ready? Able? Deserving? Easy?

“You’re a lot easier to love than you think.” Paige interrupts.

Now it’s your turn to gape.

“Sorry—“ she looks away from you. “Just…the shit you’re used to is so fucked up. You…love isn’t supposed to be impossible. Hard, yeah. But everyone deserves it.”

Your heart is hammering, and your throat honestly goes dry at her words.

“You deserve it.” Paige urges. Her hand is so close to yours on the dock. Too close. Not close enough.

“I hope so.” Is all you can mutter.

Her eyes meet you again, soft as a feather.

“I think you’re easy to love too.” You offer.

She scoffs. “I’m not.”

“Really?”

“I’ve got problems.” Paige snorts.

“Shit, Paige, everyone does.” You laugh in return.

“Really, though.” She says seriously. “I wanna be with someone for the rest of my life. But I dunno if anyone can handle me.”

“What is there to handle? You raise a brow.

She stalls for a moment. You let her consider.

The sky is darker now, blue against the deep water. Stars begin to speckle the sky.

“I’m…” Paige begins. “Everyone sees me one way. I see myself another way.”

You nod, giving her time to elaborate. Whatever it is she’s about to say, you have a feeling it’s what you’ve noticed all along.

“I just feel like—“ Paige groans, hands covering her face briefly, “fucking crazy sometimes. Like I’m about to break. It’s why I’m always on patrol.”

She rubs her eyes harshly, unable to meet your gaze. “Everyone thinks I’m some fucking hero because I’m always out, killing infected, bringing supplies, running errands for anyone who asks. But it’s more selfish than that. I’m just a coward, I leave because my head goes quiet when I’m away from it all. And then people just expect more.”

You can see how this has been weighing on her, you see it in the way her eyes squint and her brows furrow, how her lips quiver but her eyes don’t well with tears.

“I feel like a fraud, you know?” She laughs shakily. “I leave when things get tough, and everyone calls me a hero. Raises their drinks to me. Talks me up.”

“You think nobody will love you because of that?” You ask.

“I think nobody knows me because of that.” She urges. “And you can’t love someone you don’t know.”

“And you can’t tell anyone? You can’t say what you just told me?” You continue.

“I don’t know.” Paige says honestly, meeting your eye. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s easier with you, either. It just is. Shit spills out of me, weed or no weed. It’s pathetic, honestly.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” You frown. “And you’re certainly not a coward.”

“Don’t lie.” She scoffs. “You noticed it before I even said it.”

“I noticed how accommodating you are.” You frown, leaning closer towards her, legs bumping hers.

“I noticed how much you cared for a total stranger with a chopped leg and a shitty attitude. I noticed how much you noticed me. How much you thought about me. How much effort you put into everything.”

“You hated me for it.” Paige scoffs.

“I hated being cared about.” You correct her. “And you understand now, why I felt that way. Why it felt wrong to me. But somewhere along the way I realized if it was coming from you, it was real.”

You hold her stare, those bullet-blue eyes against yours.

“Was all of that because of pressure?” You ask. “Or was it because it’s who you are?”

“Okay.” Paige whispers. “Quit talkin’ me up.”

“I don’t do that.” You smile. “I just tell the truth.”

“Don’t I know it.” She grins, and you smile back, heart skipping a beat.

“I mean it.” You nod.

“Mhm.” She mumbles. “You know, I really hate how I end up spilling my guts to you every time we’re alone.”

“Yeah, well. I hate how you always try. Even when I act like I don’t want you to.”

“You make it obvious.” Paige smirks.

“Make what obvious?” You hum, feigning obliviousness.

Her eyes part from yours and steer towards your lips again. You find yourself doing the same, glancing at the white of her teeth between her parted mouth. Soft, pink lips, slightly chapped, plumped from the dryness. Her tongue slips out to wet them, as if she can read your mind.

She’s too close for comfort. Somewhere between the staring she leans forward, slowly, like she’s afraid of what you’ll do. You don’t do anything. You let it happen.

Her pinky grazes over yours: careful, curious, soft.

Your nose brushes against hers. She tilts her head slightly.

Her blonde hair grazes your cheek. Paige’s blue eyes disappear, fluttering shut between closed lids.

The moment your mouth does so much as graze hers, your stomach drops. You pull away in an instant, and her eyes fly open.

“I’m exhausted.” You say shakily, getting up from the dock. “Can we sleep?”

Paige swallows, and you see her disappointment simmer in her expression.

“Yeah.” She coughs out. “Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Your heart dips, unsurprised but hurt nonetheless. You simply nod, grabbing your stuff and walking up the dock towards the house.

Paige turns back to the water.

THE BEDROOM IS huge, wooden floor to ceiling, old windows covered by ugly curtains. You watch Paige’s back from the glass, before shutting them and darkening the room.

You didn’t see another bedroom upstairs, just one. The bed is kingsized, enough room for two people. It’ll have to do. You just hope you’re asleep before she gets here.

You shakily get under the covers, curling up into a ball on the left side of the bed, back to the door, face in your hands.

You don’t know why it’s so hard, why after all the conversation, you just can’t allow yourself to let go any more than you already have. You will yourself not to cry into your pillow.

Instead you lie awake for what feels like hours. After a while you assume she’s found somewhere else to sleep. The thought makes you feel even worse.

And then you hear footsteps behind the bedroom door. And the shadows they make against the crack of light.

You quickly turn away from the door. It creaks open a moment later, and you hear her steps come closer.

There’s a shuffle, a sigh. Then a dip in the bed, on the right side. A good distance from you.

You hear her breathing. It’s uneven. Off beat to yours.

It doesn’t slow in the minutes that pass. She’s just as awake as you are.

You inhale, exhale, will yourself to be okay.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble against the pillow. You feel her stiffen on her side of the bed.

“You don’t have to be.” Paige croaks, just as quiet. “I shouldn’t have…especially after what we talked about…it just…I was being selfish again.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper.

“Okay.” She mumbles.

A beat passes. Then two, then three, there’s no noise except for her breathing and yours, and the sound of the house. And the cicadas outside.

“Can I be selfish too?” You whisper softly.

Paige shifts, sitting up a little.

“Can you…” you start shakily. “Uhm…”

Paige doesn’t say a word. She just knows, exactly the way you were afraid of all this time. Wordlessly, she shifts over to your side of the bed. You feel her knees behind yours, her head on your pillow, her arm carefully resting over your body. Her warmth stretching over yours.

Eventually, you fall asleep.

You hope she does too.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld @hellokittyfeenie @lively-blues @surferandskater5

[itsstavy13]

SLOW SIMMER - FOUR

dallas!paige x privatechef!azzi

note : sorry it took so long , i needed to do a lot of thinking so i can keep this story interesting lol

—————————————

“so… how’d you feel about everyone?” paige asked as she and azzi cleaned up the kitchen.

it was around 11:20 when everyone left the bueckers household. the girls had stayed late, running extra games, and azzi ended up bonding with dijonai and maddy over leftovers and side conversations.

azzi smiled to herself, thinking about what they talked about. “i already love them. they’re funny—especially dijonai. she has no filter,” she laughed, the memory still fresh.

paige chuckled, rinsing out a bowl before putting it in the cabinet. “that’s good to hear,” she said, leaning on the counter. “i thought you were gonna hate them.”

azzi finished cleaning a cup, then mirrored paige’s stance, their eyes locking across the kitchen. “hate is a strong word. i don’t think i could ever hate anything.”

paige gave her a look. “trust me, you hate something.”

azzi played along, leaning in slightly, a small grin on her lips. “and you know this how?”

paige leaned in just an inch closer, her voice dropping. “i know a lot of things. don’t tempt me.”

azzi’s heart fluttered. paige’s tone was soft, low, but teasing. her eyes flickered to the blonde’s lips before returning to her eyes. “yeah?”

paige didn’t budge. “yeah.”

just as azzi opened her mouth to say something, paige’s phone dinged. the sharp sound broke whatever was building between them. both girls flinched back a little as paige sighed and checked her phone, her expression instantly shifting.

“what happened?” azzi asked with a soft chuckle, noticing the way paige’s whole vibe changed.

paige didn’t answer right away. she looked at azzi, then back at her screen. “it’s just… someone i used to talk to. she can’t take a hint that we don’t talk anymore.”

azzi hummed, her smile fading slightly. she didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know if she wanted to. still, it didn’t hurt.

not really.

not yet.

but it felt weird.

‘i don’t blame her,’ she thought, then immediately shook the thought away.

the phone rang again, and paige rolled her eyes before answering with a sharp, dry, “what’s up, bro?”

azzi nearly burst out laughing—she’d never heard paige sound so unbothered.

on the other end, a girl scoffed. “don’t answer the phone like that, i can’t call you no more?”

paige’s tone flattened. “no, you cannot, actually. what do you want?”

then came the bomb.

“girl, you know you miss this pussy. stop playing with me, paige.”

azzi’s eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth. she hadn’t expected that. not out loud. not now.

paige froze, clearly just as stunned. azzi made eye contact with her, silently mouthing, i’m gonna go. goodnight.

paige gave a tight nod, sighing heavily as she turned away to keep talking. “watch ya mouth, ‘cause you don’t even know what you talkin’ ‘bout.”

azzi slipped down the hall, quietly shutting her bedroom door behind her.

she didn’t know why hearing that girl bothered her so much.

but it did.

it left a weird twist in her stomach, a tightness in her chest.

because something about that call made her feel like…

whatever her and paige were building—

wasn’t just theirs.

not yet.

and azzi didn’t want to admit how much that bothered her.

she just got some clothes out to shower with, today was long.

she was about to go to the bathroom but when she opened the bedroom door, paige was standing there.

the blonde froze, clearly not expecting azzi to come out at the exact moment she planned on coming in.

azzi froze too, one hand still on the doorknob. “oh,” she mumbled, eyes locking with paige’s.

“hey,” paige said quietly, rubbing the back of her neck. her expression was softer now, different than it was a few minutes ago when she answered that call.

“hi,” azzi replied, stepping back slightly to let her pass. “did you need something?”

paige didn’t move right away. she looked at azzi, then glanced toward the floor before finally meeting her eyes again. “i wanted to say sorry… about earlier.”

“you don’t have to,” azzi said quickly. “it’s not my business.”

“maybe not,” paige nodded. “but it still felt… weird. and you didn’t deserve to hear that.”

azzi looked at her, unsure what to say. the hallway was quiet, a thick silence hanging between them.

“it’s not like i’m mad,” azzi finally said. “i just… wasn’t expecting it.”

paige stepped a little closer, her voice dropping again. “i’m not talking to her anymore. i haven’t for a while. that call? it wasn’t anything.”

azzi nodded, her voice softer. “okay.”

paige noticed the way azzi’s fingers curled slightly around the doorknob, like she didn’t know whether to stay or go.

“i didn’t mean for it to mess up the night,” paige added.

“you didn’t,” azzi said. “it was a good night.”

they stood there for a second longer, quiet again. then paige tilted her head slightly, her eyes gentle. “you were heading to the bathroom?”

azzi nodded.

paige stepped aside. “go ahead. i’ll be out here.”

azzi gave her a small smile, walking past her.

but even as she entered the bathroom, paige’s voice echoed in her mind.

that call wasn’t anything.

so why did it still feel like something?

-

next day, azzi woke up with the whole scene from last night still replaying in her mind.

the phone call.

the hallway conversation.

the way paige looked at her.

the way she felt.

it was fucking with her brain.

but she had to pull herself together.

this wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

she was here to cook. not to catch feelings.

so she got up, showered, and got dressed—something simple, something comfortable. her apron hung over her arm as she made her way out of the room, trying to clear her head.

what she didn’t expect to see was emma, paige, dijonai, lyss, and arike sitting in the front room. their faces were serious, low voices murmuring back and forth like they were mid-discussion about something important.

emma was the first to notice her. she looked azzi up and down with a soft smile, lifting a brow. “well if it isn’t the chef herself.”

all heads turned.

azzi suddenly felt warm under the pressure of so many eyes.

especially the blue ones.

she stood there for a beat, then forced a small smile. “hey, everyone.”

paige didn’t say anything right away, just looked at her. her gaze wasn’t cold—but it wasn’t easy to read either.

“hey, azzi,” dijonai greeted, patting the empty seat beside her. “come sit. we’re talking about something important.”

emma chuckled, shaking her head. “we’re not dragging her into it just yet. she just woke up.”

azzi glanced at paige again, her chest tightening a little.

“you okay?” lyss asked, catching the slight hesitation in her posture.

“yeah,” azzi nodded quickly. “just a little tired.”

emma stood up, brushing off her jeans. “i was just checking in before heading out. needed to talk to paige about a few things.”

azzi nodded, her hands tightening slightly around the fabric of her apron.

“you cooking this morning?” arike asked, eyes hopeful.

“i was planning to,” azzi answered, a little more gently. “what are we feeling?”

paige finally spoke then, voice soft. “surprise us.”

and for some reason, those two words carried more weight than they should have.

“paige, you love surprises don’t you?” lyss joked, her tone teasing as she threw an arm around dijonai’s shoulders.

paige glanced over at her, unimpressed. “don’t start.”

dijonai smirked, nudging lyss. “nah, she definitely do. remember that time at the team dinner—”

“nope,” paige cut in quickly, holding up a hand. “we are not doing story time right now.”

emma laughed as she grabbed her bag. “i’ll let y’all get back to embarrassing each other. azzi, i’ll text you later, alright?”

“okay,” azzi said softly, offering her a wave as emma made her way out the door.

as soon as it closed behind her, the room shifted a bit. still light, but quieter. azzi moved to the kitchen, her hands already reaching for the pan on instinct.

behind her, paige was watching—she always seemed to be watching lately. the girl who was once just her private chef had somehow started taking up more space.

not in a bad way.

just… noticeable.

“so what kinda surprise are we getting?” arike called from the couch, breaking the silence.

azzi smiled faintly as she opened the fridge. “a good one, hopefully.”

and somehow, she wasn’t just talking about the food.

she heard footsteps behind her and glanced to the side—paige had walked into the kitchen, leaning on the counter like she always did when she was trying to act casual.

“you sleep okay?” the blonde asked, her voice softer now that it was just the two of them.

“yeah,” azzi said, pulling out eggs and some fresh spinach. “woke up kind of in my head, but… i’m good.”

paige nodded slowly, then let a beat pass. “about last night…”

azzi kept her eyes on the cutting board as she cracked an egg, careful and calm. “you don’t have to explain again. it’s fine.”

“i know i don’t have to,” paige said, watching the way azzi moved, “but i want to.”

azzi finally glanced up at her. “okay. then talk.”

paige hesitated, like she was trying to find the right words. “i haven’t talked to that girl in months. it was just one of those people who pops back up for attention, you know? i shut it down as soon as i could. i didn’t want it to mess anything up.”

azzi’s eyes lingered on hers for a second. “why would it mess anything up?”

paige looked at her—really looked. “because… i don’t want you thinking you’re just another person in my space.”

azzi blinked, surprised by the honesty. her heart did that weird flutter again, the one she swore she wasn’t supposed to feel.

“…well,” she said after a moment, turning back to the stove, “if you keep talking like that, i’m gonna burn these eggs.”

paige laughed quietly. “can’t have that.”

azzi smirked, focused on the skillet. “exactly. i’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

the moment settled into something easier—something warm. and while the rest of the girls in the living room teased each other and scrolled their phones, in the kitchen, something quiet but real was beginning to take shape.

“hey— where’s maddy?” azzi asked, glancing toward the living room as she flipped the eggs.

paige turned her head to look too, only just realizing the absence. “yeah, where is maddy?” she called out to the three girls on the couch.

“oh, she’s with her boyfriend,” arike replied casually, not looking up from her phone.

“fiancé,” lyss corrected, grinning. “get it right, boo.”

“same difference,” arike mumbled, rolling her eyes as she leaned back deeper into the couch cushions.

lyss laughed, stealing the throw pillow beside her. “she said she’ll be here for dinner, though. told us not to eat without her.”

azzi raised an eyebrow from the stove. “dinner? we making plans already?”

paige shrugged, leaning her elbow on the counter, chin in hand. “only if you’re cooking.”

“of course i’m cooking.” azzi smirked, “what else am i here for?”

“your sparkling personality,” dijonai teased, sending her a playful wink.

azzi just laughed, shaking her head. “y’all are a mess.”

“and yet you love us,” dijonai grinned.

paige smiled to herself quietly, her gaze lingering on azzi longer than it should’ve.

yeah.

she really did.

“i’m a loveable person. i love everyone.” azzi said with a small shrug, turning back to the stove like it was just a casual statement.

“mmhm,” dijonai drawled from the couch, “but do you love paige?”

paige nearly choked on her water.

azzi froze for a split second—hands still, jaw tightening just slightly—before laughing it off. “i said everyone, didn’t i?”

arike hollered. “that’s a safe ass answer, chef. i see you.”

lyss grinned, nudging dijonai. “you tryna stir the pot before breakfast’s even done?”

“girl, i stir everything,” dijonai said proudly. “food, drama, tension. i’m well-rounded.”

azzi just shook her head, flipping the eggs with a smirk. “y’all are too much this early.”

“you love it,” paige said quietly, still smiling as she watched azzi from the side.

azzi didn’t look at her, but she heard it.

and she felt it.

“maybe,” she muttered under her breath, the tiniest grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

paige heard that maybe—soft, almost too low to catch—but it echoed loud in her chest.

she leaned a little closer across the counter, chin propped in her palm, blue eyes steady on the girl standing at her stove like she owned the whole damn place.

“what was that?” paige asked, teasing, even though she heard her just fine.

azzi didn’t turn around, just kept flipping the eggs and plating the rest of breakfast. “nothing,” she said casually, but her ears were a little pink.

“nah,” lyss called out. “that wasn’t ‘nothing,’ fudd. what you say?”

“yeah, come on now,” dijonai added, grinning. “we all heard something that wasn’t ‘i love everyone’ just now.”

azzi finally turned, setting a plate in front of paige and grabbing another for arike. “i said maybe,” she admitted, locking eyes with the blonde for a half-second. “now eat.”

“mmm. mysterious,” arike grinned as she took her food. “i like her.”

“i been said that,” dijonai muttered, already halfway through a bite.

paige, though, didn’t say anything.

she just stared at her plate for a moment—then up at azzi again.

“thanks,” she said softly.

azzi nodded once. “you’re welcome.”

but as she turned back to the kitchen, that grin wouldn’t leave her face.

and paige?

she was already thinking about dinner.

paige kept eating, but her mind wasn’t fully on the food anymore—even if it was damn near perfect. she was chewing slower, eyes following azzi as the chef moved around the kitchen like it was second nature now.

it wasn’t just the way azzi cooked.

it was the way she made the space feel… soft. warm.

like a home paige didn’t realize she’d been missing.

“yo.” arike’s voice broke through her thoughts. “you good?”

paige blinked. “huh?”

arike raised a brow, a fork mid-air. “you zoned out hella hard just now. you was over there chewing like it was a love song playing in your head.”

lyss and dijonai burst out laughing.

“she’s in deep thought,” lyss said dramatically. “probably imagining her last name on wedding invites.”

“shut up,” paige muttered, but her grin gave her away.

azzi glanced back, eyes flickering between the group and paige. “what’s going on over there?”

“nothing,” paige replied quickly. too quickly.

“mhm,” dijonai smirked. “nothing except our girl here making heart eyes at the chef.”

azzi blushed immediately, turning back to the sink. “y’all are exhausting.”

“you love it,” paige echoed softly.

azzi’s hand paused over a dish for half a second before she kept going.

the room filled with laughter and clinking forks, the smell of breakfast still hanging in the air.

but under it all, something new was brewing—

and it wasn’t just what was on the stove.

“so, azzi.” dijonai spoke, resting her elbow on the counter like she was about to start trouble.

azzi looked up, her brows raised. “yes?”

“you got any plans today?”

azzi thought for a second, sipping on her water. “not that i know of. why, what happened?”

paige’s head turned slightly, eyes narrowing in suspicion as she chewed slowly. she knew that tone in dijonai’s voice. it always meant something.

“good,” dijonai grinned. “because we’re taking you with us.”

azzi laughed softly, intrigued. “where are you taking me?”

“yeah,” paige chimed in, tilting her head, “where are you taking her, nai?”

“chill, p.” dijonai smirked. “you can come too. it’s nothing crazy. we’re just gonna hit the little vintage market downtown and maybe stop by that smoothie place arike’s obsessed with.”

“you didn’t even like that smoothie place last time,” arike said with her mouth full.

“shhh,” dijonai waved her off. “azzi hasn’t been yet. it’s a bonding trip now.”

azzi smiled, her interest piqued. “alright… i’m down. sounds fun.”

“great,” dijonai clapped her hands once. “we’ll leave in like an hour. wear something cute.”

paige leaned over, nudging azzi lightly with her shoulder. “you always wear something cute.”

azzi looked at her, surprised, lips parting to say something—but dijonai cut in.

“aht aht—none of that flirty stuff yet. we on a group trip.”

paige rolled her eyes while azzi just blushed and turned back to her water, smiling into the glass.

this was gonna be a long day.

but probably a good one.

-

azzi kept it simple—she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard, but she still wanted to look good.

she pulled on a pair of green cargo jeans that sat just right on her hips, pairing it with a black tube top that hugged her figure in all the best ways. her goddess braids were pulled up into a bun, but a few curls had fallen out, framing her face in a way that felt effortless.

a soft makeup look—light blush, glossed lips, lashes just enough to bat—

and gold hoops to finish it off.

when she stepped out of her room, the conversation in the living room quieted a little too fast.

paige, who had been mid-scroll on her phone, looked up—then kept looking.

“okayyy,” lyss said, dragging the word out with a grin. “chef said outside today.”

“you look good, fudd,” dijonai added. “like, you trying to get chose good.”

azzi blushed, brushing them off with a laugh as she reached for her bag. “it’s just cargo pants.”

“mhm,” arike said, standing and grabbing her keys. “and i’m just 5’9”. let’s roll.”

as everyone headed to the door, paige lingered, walking beside azzi with a smile that felt soft—genuine.

“you really do look good,” she said under her breath.

azzi looked over, smiling back. “thanks. so do you.”

neither of them said anything else.

but they didn’t really need to.

they all piled into dijonai’s car, the group loud and already full of chaotic energy. dijonai slid into the driver’s seat, tossing her phone into the cupholder as she called out, “azzi, shotgun.”

azzi was about to politely decline, but before she could even say anything, she heard lyss behind her.

“wha—baby, i always sit in the front,” lyss said, dramatic as ever, watching azzi reach for the passenger door handle like her title was being stolen.

dijonai turned around with a deadpan expression. “it’s not gonna kill you to sit in the back for a day. calm down.”

lyss folded her arms as she pouted, mumbling under her breath, “this car ain’t even got real legroom in the back.”

“your legs short anyway,” arike teased, already buckled in behind dijonai.

“let azzi have her moment.” paige chimed in.

lyss gasped. “wow. okay. betrayal from all sides.”

azzi, laughing softly, finally got in and shut the door. “y’all are funny.”

dijonai looked over at her once they were settled in. “they do this every time. don’t take it personal.”

“oh i’m not,” azzi replied, smiling. “this is fun.”

dijonai grinned as she started the car. “good. you better get used to us.”

and just like that, they were off—windows down, music blasting, voices overlapping—azzi’s first real day out with the crew.

and so far, it felt right.

“so what’s up with this smoothie place? i love smoothies,” azzi asked, glancing over at dijonai as the car rolled through a yellow light.

the older girl had on black sunglasses, her jaw set like she was driving in a Fast & Furious sequel.

“first of all,” dijonai started, eyes not leaving the road, “this spot is it. fresh fruit, they don’t use that fake-ass syrup. and they put this granola crumble on top of the smoothies-in-a-bowl that’ll make you rethink your whole life.”

“they do be hittin’,” arike added from the back, chewing gum loudly. “i ain’t even like smoothies like that ‘til i came here.”

“same,” paige chimed in, turning to look at azzi. “i get the dragonfruit one. fire.”

lyss leaned forward from the backseat, her arm hanging between the front seats. “azzi, don’t listen to them—get the pineapple mango one with the extra honey. that’s the best.”

“see? already starting,” dijonai muttered, smirking. “you’re gonna have to make your own decision, fudd.”

azzi laughed, her gold hoops catching the sunlight as she shook her head. “this sounds like serious business.”

“it is,” paige said, tapping her phone like she was preparing a whole review. “smoothie politics in this car are intense.”

“y’all lucky i like y’all,” azzi teased, looking out the window as they turned into the lot. the spot was small but cute—plants in the windows, people sitting outside with bright bowls and even brighter drinks.

“welcome to the jungle,” dijonai grinned as she parked.

“don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

they all piled out of the car, the sun warm against their skin as they headed toward the shop. the smell of fresh fruit, honey, and something faintly tropical hit azzi immediately.

“this place smells good already,” she muttered, taking it in.

“just wait,” arike said, holding the door open with a little bow. “ladies first.”

azzi chuckled, stepping inside with the others. it was cozy but vibrant—plants hanging from the ceiling, a chalkboard menu with colorful writing, and a few shelves of granola and pressed juices off to the side. the energy felt local, personal… kind of like the food azzi liked to make.

“i’m telling you,” lyss whispered as they walked up to the counter, “one bite and you’re gonna understand why i almost fought arike last time over the last açai bowl.”

“she’s not lying,” arike added, arms folded. “i didn’t get the last one. and that still hurt.”

paige stood beside azzi, glancing up at the menu. “you want me to help you pick?”

azzi looked over at her, their shoulders nearly touching. “nah, i think i wanna try that pineapple mango one lyss was raving about.”

lyss pointed at her from the back of the line, “you will not regret that.”

they all placed their orders, laughing through it as arike fumbled her card and dijonai made a big deal out of getting two bowls “just in case one doesn’t hit.” while they waited, they found a spot outside at a corner table under a shaded umbrella.

azzi sat between paige and lyss, and for a moment, it felt like she’d been part of the group forever.

“so,” lyss started, poking at her straw, “now that we’ve all officially adopted you, what are your weekend plans lookin’ like?”

azzi looked around the table, everyone waiting, playful curiosity in their eyes. she smiled softly, realizing she didn’t mind being asked.

“honestly?” she said, pulling her hair back into place. “no plans yet.”

“good,” dijonai nodded. “you do now.”

“good,” dijonai nodded, popping the top off her smoothie bowl. “you do now.”

“oh, word?” azzi laughed, raising a brow. “y’all just assign plans to me now?”

“absolutely,” lyss said, already halfway through her drink. “you’re one of us now. no escape.”

arike leaned across the table, spoon in hand. “we’re thinking a beach day. well… more like a lake day, technically. there’s this spot about 30 minutes out. not too many people, chill vibes, good scenery.”

“and snacks,” dijonai added, pointing her spoon at azzi. “which is where you come in.”

“i had a feeling this was food-related,” azzi muttered, shaking her head with a smile.

“i mean,” paige said, leaning back in her chair and turning her cup in her hand, “if we’re all gonna be outside for hours, wouldn’t it make sense to have, like… gourmet sandwiches?”

“gourmet sandwiches?” arike snorted. “you bougie now?”

paige gave her a dry look. “have you had azzi’s sandwiches?”

arike raised her hands in surrender. “point taken.”

azzi laughed, covering her mouth. “fine. i’ll make something. but y’all better bring the drinks and entertainment.”

“done,” dijonai nodded. “you focus on the food, we got the rest.”

they all clinked their cups together like it was some kind of unspoken contract. and just like that, azzi had weekend plans. not because she asked for them—but because this group had a way of pulling you in.

paige leaned close again, voice low just for her.

“sorry in advance if they get too loud or competitive.”

azzi turned her head slightly, their faces just a little too close.

“i think i’ll be okay,” she whispered back.

“they feel kinda like family already.”

paige’s lips curved into something soft—real—not the camera-ready kind of smile azzi had seen on tv or in press photos. this one was for her.

“that’s good,” paige said, still holding her gaze. “they can be a lot, but… they’re solid people.”

azzi nodded, her eyes flicking down to her smoothie for a second, then back up. “i can tell.”

their moment was broken when lyss let out a dramatic groan from across the table.

“can y’all stop whispering and start planning the vibes? like… what kind of music are we bringing? cause if y’all think i’m listening to country the whole ride—”

“girl, no one listens to country,” dijonai deadpanned.

“you’d be surprised,” arike chimed in.

“uh huh, and you be the main one knowing the lyrics when it come on,” lyss shot back, pointing at her with a plastic spoon.

“okay but let’s not act like azzi don’t give off r&b picnic playlist energy,” maddy added as she rejoined the group with her drink in hand, having finally arrived.

“mads! i thought you weren’t coming back until later on?” dijonai asks as she sipped her drink.

maddy shook her head, “something told me to check arike’s location so i came here.”

azzi laughed, leaning back in her seat. “wait- r&b picnic?what does that even mean?”

“it means you got the vibe,” maddy said, sliding into the last empty chair. “like, the soft vocals, sunset lighting, wine-in-a-jar aesthetic. that’s you.”

paige, now clearly enjoying this, raised a brow. “wine-in-a-jar?”

“you know exactly what i’m talking about,” maddy smirked.

azzi shook her head with a grin, letting their banter wash over her. she wasn’t used to being so naturally folded into a friend group—let alone one that felt this easy. this seamless.

it was like they’d known her longer than just a few days.

paige must’ve sensed something in her silence because she bumped her knee against azzi’s gently under the table.

“you good?”

azzi glanced at her, then nodded. “yeah. i’m really good.”

and for the first time in a while, she actually meant it.

they stayed out there for a while—long after the smoothies were finished and the bowls were scraped clean. the conversation drifted from music and weekend plans to random “would you rather” questions, embarrassing college stories, and heated debates over which disney channel original movie was the best.

azzi didn’t speak all the time, but when she did, the girls listened. laughed. pulled her in even tighter.

it wasn’t just paige making her feel welcome—it was all of them.

eventually, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a soft golden light over the patio. arike stretched her arms dramatically. “alright, i need to get back before i pass out.”

“same,” lyss yawned, tossing her empty cup in the trash. “we still on for the lake?”

“yes,” dijonai confirmed. “saturday morning. we meet at mine.”

“i’ll bring the speaker,” maddy added, already typing something into her phone.

“i’ll bring towels and extra sunscreen,” lyss said.

“i’ll… bring myself,” arike shrugged, earning a few laughs.

paige turned to azzi as everyone stood and started filing toward the car. “you need anything for it? i can pick up ice or coolers if you don’t have enough.”

azzi smiled, pulling her braids back into place. “nah, i think i got it covered. i’ve done a few beach picnics before.”

“of course you have,” paige smirked, nudging her playfully.

“chef life,” azzi shrugged, then paused. “but… thanks. really. this was fun.”

“you don’t gotta thank me,” paige said, holding the car door open for her this time. “you’re stuck with us now.”

as they drove back, azzi looked out the window, her face lit by the warm pinkish light of the sunset.

she couldn’t explain it, but something about today shifted things inside her.

she didn’t know what it meant yet. but it felt… right.

like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

[itsstavy13]

halley’s comet

synopsis: on a rainy afternoon in the campus library, you meet paige bueckers by chance. what starts as a quiet moment turns into something soft and unexpected — a slow-burn connection that feels a little like fate, even if she doesn’t believe in it.

content warnings: soft romantic tension, slow burn, themes of emotional vulnerability and openness, lowercase intended.

authors note: i really like how this turned out, lmk what you think !

WORD COUNT: 2.9k info. masterlist. taglist.

paige never put much stock in fate. she didn’t believe in signs, or divine timing, or whatever people meant when they said meant to be. that kind of thinking belonged to dreamers and poets — the ones who found meaning in broken clocks or streetlights flickering at just the right moment.

she preferred plans. structure. routine.

get up. go to practice. finish class. get it done.

repeat.

don’t stray too far. don’t get distracted.

so when she ended up in the library on a tuesday afternoon — not because she had to be there, but just because the rain felt too heavy to walk through without purpose — it felt like a pause. a detour. but not a sign. not anything more than a quiet place to sit and be still for a while.

it was mostly empty. the second floor always was. paige liked the way it wrapped around you — tall windows, rows of shelves, the occasional whisper floating by but never lingering. she sank into a chair near the back, stretched out her legs, and let the rhythm of the rain tapping on glass lull her into something soft and shapeless.

she wasn’t reading. not really. her eyes skimmed the words on the page, but none of them stuck. her thoughts drifted, slow and unhurried, like everything inside her had finally exhaled for the first time that day.

and then she heard it.

a hum. quiet. warm. a little off-key in a way that made it feel real. not a playlist, not a ringtone. a person.

you.

you didn’t notice her at first — not when you turned the corner with a coffee tucked between your arm and your ribs, a stack of books in your hands, and a bag that kept slipping off your shoulder like it had a vendetta against you. you looked like someone who’d taken on too much without really meaning to. maybe that’s what caught her attention.

you were muttering something under your breath — maybe a lyric, maybe a complaint, maybe both — when one of the books slipped. it hit the floor with a quiet thump, and your coffee wobbled dangerously.

paige stood up instinctively.

you blinked up at her, startled, as she knelt to grab the fallen book. and when you smiled — crooked, sheepish, like yeah, that was embarrassing but also kind of funny — paige felt something flicker in her chest. not big. not explosive. but definite.

“you okay?” she asked.

“i swear i’m usually more graceful than this,” you said, laughing softly.

paige handed you the book, her fingers brushing yours. your skin was cold from the rain, or maybe hers was just warm from sitting still too long. either way, the contact lingered in her memory for longer than it should have.

you found a spot a few tables down, but you didn’t disappear. every now and then, you glanced over. and so did she.

when she finally got up to leave, you did something paige didn’t expect: you looked up and said, “hey — if you ever want the window seat, just say the word.”

your smile was a little braver this time.

paige smiled back. “i think i like it better when someone’s humming.”

and that’s how it started.

quietly.

softly.

like a comet passing overhead — brief, unexpected, but unforgettable.

after that, the library became something else.

you showed up on tuesdays, sometimes thursdays, always with too many books and a coffee that steamed up the lenses of your glasses. paige started choosing her corner based on where you sat. she told herself it was coincidence the first few times. routine. just like everything else.

but then she started bringing two granola bars instead of one.

and taking her earbuds out.

and looking for you the second she walked in.

the third time, she brought you a book.

it wasn’t much — a small poetry collection she’d picked up from the free shelf near the front. she didn’t even know if you liked poetry. but the cover made her think of you — all soft blues and rain-colored edges — and she figured it was worth the risk.

“i don’t know if it’s your thing,” she said, setting it down on your table, “but it felt like you.”

you opened it right there, gently, like it might fall apart if you didn’t handle it right.

you didn’t say anything for a moment. then you looked up and said, “thank you. i’ve never had anyone bring me a book before.”

and that stuck with her too.

the first time you sat next to her instead of across the aisle, neither of you acknowledged it. she just pulled her legs in to make room, and you placed your coffee between you. your shoulder barely touched hers when you shifted, but she felt it anyway — that small, electric jolt that made her chest tighten and soften all at once.

“you’re quieter today,” she said.

“i hum when i’m nervous.”

she glanced over. “nervous now?”

you smiled without looking up. “a little.”

she didn’t know what to do with that. but it stayed in her head the rest of the day.

she learned things about you in pieces.

you liked reading at night, especially when it rained. you loved sweet coffee but never finished it before it went cold. you always carried pens but rarely used them. you doodled in the margins of your notebooks. you wore sweaters that always hung a little loose, and your socks never matched.

you made the world feel slower. lighter.

like maybe not everything needed to be planned.

sometimes, when it got too quiet, you’d lean over and ask her what she was thinking. and paige — who’d spent her whole life not talking about feelings unless they came in the form of a win/loss record — started answering.

it was raining again the day it shifted.

you were both at your usual table. your hair was still damp from walking in without an umbrella, and she handed you a napkin from her pocket without saying a word. your fingers brushed again.

“what are you thinking?” you asked her, voice barely above a whisper.

paige looked at you. really looked. your lashes were clumped together, your nose slightly pink from the cold, your smile soft like you knew something she didn’t.

she swallowed. “that i want to kiss you.”

your breath caught — barely, but enough.

“okay,” you whispered.

so she did.

not right there in the library, no. she waited until you both stood up to leave, and you paused by the door, turning to say something else, maybe something ordinary. and she didn’t let you. she leaned in, kissed you slow, steady, like she had all the time in the world.

you tasted like coffee and rain and something sweet she hadn’t figured out yet.

and when you kissed her back, it felt like the stars didn’t need to align after all.

maybe they already had.

she walked you home that night.

you didn’t let go of her hand the entire way.

and somewhere deep in paige’s chest, something shifted.

not loud. not blinding.

but soft and steady.

like a comet, circling back again.

right on time.

© bueckersworld

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @slt4kavanagh @kl0verk @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @youmeandjennessey @asapeveryday @avvwritesstufff @rand0mmmgg

[itsstavy13]

MHA…. Dallas i think it’s time we have a chat…

[itsstavy13]

white mustang

synopsis: paige pulls up in her white mustang and invites you on a late-night drive, saying she’s been thinking about you. the two of you ride through the city in silence until you finally admit your feelings, breaking the promise you both made to keep things casual. your confession hangs heavy in the air, and paige, unsure and afraid, chooses to walk away — leaving you alone. days later, you run into her again by chance, and the tension between you reignites. you share a charged, intimate moment in the mustang, the same car that once drove you apart, and in the aftermath, paige chooses to stay — this time, ready to try for real.

warnings: angst, smut — mdni, dry humping (please bring ts back 🙏), fingering (r!receiving), desperate!paige, slight mean!paige

WORD COUNT: 2.9k info. masterlist. taglist.

the streetlights flicker on one by one as the sky bleeds into a dull purple. you’re sitting on the cracked curb, just watching the night settle around the quiet neighborhood. the air is thick and still, like the world’s holding its breath. you don’t know how long you’ve been here, but your thoughts are tangled up, twisting and pulling at something you’ve been trying to ignore.

the sound of a car engine pulls you out of your spiral—a low rumble that grows louder, then softer, until you see it. paige, in her white mustang, gliding down the street like she owns the night. she slows, pulls up beside you, and the window slides down with a smooth click.

“hey,” she says, voice calm but maybe a little nervous. “felt like driving. thought maybe you’d wanna come with.”

you don’t hesitate. something about the way she’s looking at you, like she’s been thinking about you too, pulls you in. you slide into the passenger seat, the familiar smell of leather and her perfume wrapping around you like a quiet comfort.

the engine hums to life, and the city blurs past in streaks of light and shadow. she doesn’t say much at first, just lets the car carry you both through the streets, windows down just enough for the night air to touch your skin.

“been thinking about you,” she finally admits, eyes on the road but voice soft like she’s sharing a secret.

your heart thuds hard, the words hanging between you heavier than the night. you swallow, then turn to look at her. “i’ve been thinking about you too.”

she glances over, surprise flickering across her face, but she doesn’t say anything more. instead, she takes a turn onto a quieter road, away from the glow of streetlights and the hum of the city.

you both sit there, the silence filling up with everything you want to say but don’t know how to say.

“i can’t keep pretending it’s nothing,” you finally whisper, voice shaking more than you’d like. “we said it was nothing. that it was easy. but it’s not. it’s always been more.”

paige’s eyes search yours, and you see that flicker of something—maybe fear, maybe hope. “you shouldn’t say that,” she breathes. “not when we both promised.”

“yeah, well,” you say, your voice breaking, “i’m done pretending.”

for a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. then she looks away, jaw tightening. “maybe some things are better left alone.”

the words hit harder than you expect. “so what now?”

she takes a breath, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “i think i need to leave you alone. for a while.”

your chest aches, and you don’t argue. the car becomes colder somehow, the white mustang no longer a refuge but a reminder of the distance growing between you.

when she pulls up to your place, you don’t say goodbye. the door shuts quietly, then the engine roars and she’s gone, leaving you alone with the weight of your confession.

days pass slow and hollow. you catch yourself reaching for your phone to call her, but you stop before you do. maybe some things aren’t ready to be fixed.

then one afternoon, you see her again. standing under the neon glow of a diner, rain slicking her hair, the white mustang parked nearby.

her eyes find yours immediately, and for a second, it feels like nothing’s changed.

“hey,” you say softly.

“hey,” she replies, a tentative smile tugging at her lips.

she steps closer, the space between you charged with all the things left unsaid. the rain starts to fall again, heavy and warm, and neither of you moves to go inside.

“why didn’t you call me?” you ask, voice cracking, barely holding together the storm in your chest.

she doesn’t answer. her eyes flicker down to your lips for a second, jaw clenched like she’s choking on everything she couldn’t say. then suddenly, she grabs your face and kisses you hard—like she’s angry, like she’s sorry, like kissing you is the only way she knows how to speak.

the rain is relentless now, soaking into your clothes, your hair, everything, but you don’t move. neither of you do. it doesn’t matter. not when she’s kissing you like she’s starving and you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted.

your hands tangle in the fabric of her soaked shirt, pulling her closer, closer, until there’s no air between you. her teeth graze your bottom lip, her breath coming hot and ragged against your mouth.

then she spins you around and presses you against the side of her car, her grip rough, hands sliding down your sides with a kind of urgency that sends heat spiraling low in your stomach. she touches you like she’s memorizing the map of your body—like she’s terrified she’ll forget it if she stops.

your hands roam across her chest, down her torso, fingertips slipping under the hem of her shirt, skin to skin. your gasp catches between her lips when her hands trail down your waist and slide over your hips, slow and sure.

her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, teasing just along the edge of your underwear. she leans in close, lips ghosting over your jaw.

“you drive me crazy,” she whispers, her voice ragged, full of frustration and need. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

you part your legs just slightly, inviting her in without words, but when her knee slips between your thighs and presses against you, you can’t help but let out a soft moan.

your hips shift instinctively, grinding down against the pressure of her leg. “paige—” you breathe, but she cuts you off with another kiss—deeper this time, wetter, full of heat.

“just—shut up, okay?” she mutters against your mouth. “i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean any of it. i can’t hide this anymore. i can’t keep fucking pretending like i don’t love you. like i don’t crave you every goddamn day.”

her voice cracks on the last part. it’s raw. real. and it undoes something in you.

you kiss her again—slower this time, but just as desperate. your hands move to the back of her neck, threading into her damp hair.

“don’t push me away again,” she whispers against your skin, her voice smaller now, almost a plea.

you rest your forehead against hers. “i’m not going anywhere.”

she kisses along your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, her lips soft and reverent, and your body arches into hers like instinct.

her hand slides back down, this time with purpose, fingers undoing the button of your shorts, then the zipper. you gasp when she slides her hand inside, brushing over your underwear, teasing you gently through the thin fabric.

your thighs tremble when she dips past them, fingers finally slipping under and finding you wet and aching. you whimper, head falling back against the car. her mouth follows you, kissing along the side of your throat, breathing you in.

“fuck, you’re soaked,” she murmurs. “and not just from the rain.”

her fingers glide through your folds, slow and deliberate, spreading you open. she rubs lazy circles over your clit, drawing soft, breathless moans from your lips, your hips rocking into her touch.

then she slides two fingers inside, deep and smooth, curling them up just right. you cry out softly, your hand grabbing at her shirt, the other buried in her hair.

she watches you with hungry eyes, her breath caught in her throat. “wanted you for so long,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, then the hollow beneath your ear.

her fingers begin to move, a steady rhythm that pushes you higher, each stroke precise, like she knows your body better than you do.

your legs shake as she pins you against the mustang, the rain masking the quiet, needy sounds spilling from your lips.

“yeah, that’s it,” she growls, her voice gravelly, lips pressed to your ear. “give it to me. let me feel you fall apart.”

you’re close—too close—the knot in your stomach tightening with every thrust of her fingers. you press your hips into her hand, chasing it, needing it.

“c’mon, baby—come for me,” she breathes, her pace quickening just enough to push you over the edge. “please—i need you to.”

you moan her name, your whole body tensing before it releases, your climax crashing through you like a wave. she holds you through it, kissing you, whispering against your lips, grounding you in the middle of the rain and heat and everything you are to her.

she doesn’t pull away. she just stays there with you, forehead pressed to yours, fingers still inside you, her other hand holding the back of your neck.

“you’re mine,” she says quietly. “i’m done pretending you’re not.”

your breathing slows, your pulse still fluttering against your skin. paige’s hand gently slips away, but she doesn’t move far. instead, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go.

the rain continues to fall, softer now, and you both just stand there—soaked, shaking, but finally still.

you bury your face in her neck, your fingers curling into the back of her shirt. for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest eases, replaced by something warmer. something whole.

“you meant it?” you whisper. “what you said?”

she nods slowly. “yeah. every word. i’m so tired of running from it.”

you pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “so don’t.”

her lips curve into a faint, wet smile. “i won’t.”

you both get into the mustang after a while, clothes dripping, hair stuck to your foreheads, laughter breaking through the silence when your soaked thighs stick to the leather seats. she reaches across the console, taking your hand again, lacing her fingers through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and maybe it is. maybe it always was.

because tonight, the mustang didn’t drive you apart.

tonight, it brought you back.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ um, hi. i know this was supposed to be posted a while ago, but yk. shit happens, and a lot of it did. but i’m back, hopefully for awhile.. 😭😭 lmao

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @slt4kavanagh @kl0verk @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @youmeandjennessey @asapeveryday @avvwritesstufff @rand0mmmgg

[itsstavy13]

holy shit

[itsstavy13]

fuck chris koclanes

[itsstavy13]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

PAIGE BUECKERS X READER

| parings: paige bueckers x reader!

| synopsis: a physical game leaves you bruised and furious, and paige is the only one who can calm you down. back at the hotel, the tension that’s been simmering between you all season finally boils over.

| warnings: smut, fingering, oral f!receiving, praise kink, dominant!paige, tension, possessiveness, cursing, mentions of injury, game violence, and emotional intimacy,

| word count: 2.7k

| author’s note: yall wanted this one so here you go, also i wrote this like two months ago 😭.

──────────────────────

it’s been chippy all game.

it’s what you expect going against texas.

physical team, good shooters, shit refs. it’s the kind of combination that makes you want to put your fist through a locker.

they're ranked, scrappy and come to play.

and for some reason, their starting guard has had it out for you since tip-off.

the first couple plays, you let it slide. a shoulder here, a shove there. nothing new, but by the time you’re five minutes into the third quarter with a sore hip and a stinger in your arm, it’s personal.

still, you try to keep your head down. geno’s always on your ass about that, don’t lose your cool. don’t let them bait you.

but it’s hard. it’s so hard.

and when she bodies you again on a cut, this time full-on sending you to the floor, elbow to your ribs—you snap.

you’re on your feet before your ass even registers the hardwood.

"you got a fucking problem?" you bark, chest heaving.

she smirks like she’s been waiting for this moment all game.

"maybe i just don’t like how you play."

"yeah? how about i show you how i fight."

she steps forward, and you're stepping too, ready to shove her right back into the damn bleachers—

but arms are on you. pulling you back. not the ref, not your teammates—

"yo," a voice says low, right in your ear. “hey. chill. breathe.”

you glance back. it’s paige.

both arms wrapped tight around you from behind, holding you in place. her hands flat on your stomach, grounding you.

"she’s not worth it," she murmurs. "eyes on me. breathe, baby."

you do. barely.

the ref whistles again. offsetting techs. geno is pissed.

“you, out," he snaps, pointing to the bench. "cool off. paige you too. sub."

you don’t argue. not because you’re okay with it, but because paige is still holding your hand as she pulls you toward the bench with her.

"you good?" she whispers once you sit, leaning in close, hand covering her mouth like she’s telling you top-secret plays.

"i’m fine." your voice is clipped.

"don’t lie to me," she says. her gaze is soft, but locked on you like she can see everything you're trying not to show.

“they were calling everything until that," you mutter. "but when i get decked, it’s nothing until i stand up for myself?"

"i know," she says. “refs have been garbage since the jump, but don’t let it get in your head. you were cooking before that shit.”

you’re icing your arm. paige glances down at it.

“does it hurt bad?”

“i said i’m fine.”

she hums, unconvinced.

you both sit in silence. the energy between you is thick—electric, even in stillness. you look over at the same time. hold eye contact. her blue eyes are intense, like she’s still thinking about pulling you off that girl.

you look away first.

—

paige checks back in with three to play. you stay on the bench a little longer.

but you don’t miss it.

that girl—the same one who shoved you, says something as paige runs past her. paige doesn’t say much back. just a short sentence. firm. her jaw clenched.

you don’t know what she said, but whatever it was, it shut the girl up real fast.

and paige? she scores eight points straight after that.

—

uconn wins.

the bus ride back to the hotel is chaos. everyone’s talking shit, celebrating, arguing about calls.

but you’re quiet. sore. still buzzing from the adrenaline.

you almost don’t notice paige at your side until she nudges your arm gently.

"ice said she’d swap rooms tonight."

you blink at her.

"you wanna stay with me?"

"i want to check on you."

you nod. she doesn’t say anything else. she just grabs your bag for you and waits.

—

it’s quiet in the room, just the soft hum of the air conditioning and whatever random netflix show you landed on. something to fill the space.

you’re curled up with an ice pack again. paige is next to you, legs stretched out, close enough to touch, but not quite.

you haven’t said much since you got back. you’re still stuck in your head, still replaying the game, the fall, the look on her face when she held you back.

“hey," she says suddenly. “how’re you feeling?”

you glance over. her hair’s pulled into a loose bun. she’s still in her uconn hoodie.

"better," you say.

"you sure?"

"yeah."

she hums again like she still doesn’t believe you.

“you were good tonight,” she says after a second. “even when you were pissed. it was… kinda hot.”

you blink. then raise an eyebrow.

"hot?"

“what, i can’t say that?"

you glance at the tv, then back at her. "thought we weren’t talking about that shit anymore."

she shrugs. "maybe i changed my mind."

you smirk. “so now you think me nearly getting into a fight is sexy?"

"no," she says. “i think you standing your ground, playing through all that contact, being so in it, that was hot.”

you look at her. her gaze is locked on yours.

"you looked good out there," she adds, voice lower now. "like really good."

your breath catches.

"you looked good too."

she shifts a little closer. her knee brushes yours.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

you don’t know who moves first. maybe both of you.

but suddenly her mouth is on yours, and you’re kissing like you’ve wanted to for months. no hesitation. no pulling back.

it’s hungry. messy. real.

her hands slide up your thighs, under your hoodie, fingers splaying across your waist like she’s staking her claim.

"let me take care of you," she murmurs against your lips.

you nod. she pushes you back onto the bed, gentle but sure.

her mouth moves down your neck, sucking a mark just above your collarbone.

"still sore?" she asks, pulling your shorts down.

"a little."

"tell me if anything hurts."

you nod again, breath catching as her fingers trail over your inner thigh.

then her mouth is on your pussy.

slow at first, letting you feel every flick of her tongue, every kiss she places on sensitive skin.

you arch into her. she grips your hips, holding you steady.

"fuck, paige…"

"you sound so pretty when you say my name like that."

you’re writhing now, hand tangled in her hair.

"more," you beg.

she groans softly. "you want more?"

"please p."

she slides two fingers in, while her mouth keeps working.

you cum fast, body shaking, hips bucking up into her face.

she doesn’t stop until you’re whining from the sensitivity, pulling her up to kiss you again.

"jesus christ," you mumble, breathless.

"been wanting to do that since summer," she says, grinning.

you laugh, still catching your breath.

"what now?" you ask.

she leans in, kissing your jaw.

"now we sleep," she says. “and tomorrow, we do it again, just maybe without the fight this time.”

you smile.

"we’ll see."

—

you think you’re done. you should be done.

but paige doesn’t move.

she’s still lying between your legs, head resting on your thigh, arm draped across your waist. she’s tracing slow, featherlight circles over your bare stomach, and her breath is warm against your skin.

you glance down at her.

"what’re you doing?"

"thinking."

"about what?"

"how good you taste."

your entire body twitches.

"paige."

"mm?" she looks up at you, all sweet and innocent, but there’s nothing innocent about the way her fingers trail lower again.

"you already—i thought we were sleeping."

"i lied."

before you can argue, her mouth is on you again, slower this time, deliberate.

"fuck—"

you grab the sheets, back arching.

she hums like she’s enjoying a second course.

"can’t help it," she murmurs against you. “you’re too good like this."

you whimper when her tongue flicks a spot that makes you see white.

"shit, paige. it’s too much, i just—"

"no, you can take it."

her voice is soft, but firm.

"come on, baby. gimme one more."

you don’t know how she’s got you this wrecked this fast.

maybe it’s because you’ve been holding this in since summer. maybe it’s because she knows exactly what she’s doing. maybe it’s because she keeps talking to you like that.

“you’re shaking,” she says, dragging a finger through your wetness. “look at you, all fucked out already.”

you moan. it’s embarrassing how close you are again.

"i can’t—"

"yes, you can," she whispers, slipping her fingers back in, slow and deep. “be good for me.”

you cry out, thighs trembling.

"that’s it," she coos. "that’s my girl."

you cum again, this time harder, your whole body tightening under her as you moan her name like a prayer.

she doesn’t rush you. she kisses the inside of your thigh while you come down, rubbing soft circles over your hip, grounding you.

finally, when your breathing evens out, she crawls back up beside you, slipping an arm under your neck and pulling you close.

you don’t say anything for a minute. just lie there, curled against her, flushed and wrecked and warm.

"so," you mumble, voice scratchy, "you do this for all your teammates?"

“mmh yeah if they look like you.”

"you’re ridiculous."

"you’re welcome."

you pause.

"...i might not be able to walk at practice tomorrow."

"guess i’ll just have to carry you."

you look up at her.

"you’re insane."

"and you love it."

you try to glare at her. she kisses your forehead like she didn’t just make you see stars twice in a hotel bed.

"get some sleep," she whispers, already pulling the blanket over you both.

"only if you stay right here."

"wasn’t planning on going anywhere."

[itsstavy13]

ᴜɴᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 : 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘢 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 : 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 ,, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 .. ?? 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 ☆ : 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 . 𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺’𝘢𝘭𝘭😭. 🗝️ : 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘦

“and now… starting at guard…”

you were half-listening to the announcer as your team was being introduced. it was game one of the season, and your rookie nerves were already kicking. not because it was your first pro game—no. it was because she was here. sonia.

your girlfriend.

your everything.

you hadn’t seen her in what? a month? almost two? the longest you’d ever gone without at least seeing her face was during finals week last year—and even then, one of you always ended up sneaking into the other’s dorm with a smoothie and a hoodie.

but this? traveling, practices, media, training camp... life had been relentless.

you could feel it in your chest every night, the ache of not having her next to you. no whispered jokes under the covers. no lazy sundays with her tangled around you. just blurry facetime calls, missed texts, and “i miss you” voice notes you replayed like songs.

“—number 22, for the Washington Mystics… SONIA CITRON!”

you didn’t mean to smile. you tried not to. but the second she jogged out, hair pulled back, face glowing under the arena lights—your heart folded like paper.

her eyes scanned, like she knew where to find you. and when they landed on yours?

god.

that smile.

you mouthed, “hi, baby.” and she bit back a grin, mouthing, “you look so good.”

tip-off came fast. you locked in—or tried to. but the moment you were across from her, matching up on defense, it was game over.

“you tryna guard me like that?” she teased, low enough for only you to hear.

“girl—you the one putting your hand on my waist,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“just making sure you don’t go nowhere.”

you bumped her hip lightly, trying to keep it playful. but your fingers brushed, and neither of you moved for a second too long. it was like gravity. no, like home.

“missed you,” she whispered during a free throw.

you blinked at her, soft smile pulling at your lips. “missed you more.”

when she posted up on you, her palm slid across your back like muscle memory. you leaned into it for just a second. not long. just long enough for her to know you felt it too. the ache. the comfort. the you-and-her-ness of it all.

you both played well—surprisingly. somehow the presence of each other made you sharper. stronger. but between the plays were those tiny glances, those stolen moments. her eyes on yours after a three. your hand brushing hers on a rebound. her fingers lingering on your arm when helping you up from a fall.

after the buzzer, she didn’t even go to her bench. she came straight to you.

“you okay?” she asked.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah. now i am.”

you hugged right there at half court. tight. like time owed you both something. and when she pressed a kiss to your cheek, you knew this wasn’t just some on-campus love that faded in the pros.

this was real. this was worth it.

“sleepover tonight?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

she grinned, eyes soft and knowing. “your hotel or mine?”

🤍𝐝𝐭𝐬 :: @𝐣𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 ,, @𝐧𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝟖 ,, @𝐟𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ,, @𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐫 ,, @𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐲𝟏𝟑 ,, @𝐲𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐬𝐯 ,,

[itsstavy13]

౨ৎ MY SHIRT, YOUR SHIRT, OUR SHIRT, WHATEVER ; PAIGE BUECKERS !

➪ summary: paige gets back to connecticut from the national championship, making her way to her girlfriend without a second thought. and when she sees her (trying) to order a shirt, she scolds her, saying she could have hers

➪ pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

➪ warnings: none, not proofread per usual

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ emma's notes: in honor of the one nonnie asking me to get this reuploaded (i was not going to complain!) thank you guys for the love on this fic - i know it was a favorite of my p fics on the old blog

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

It was late when Paige knocked on her door, exhausted to the brim, but her lips were still pulled up into that wide smile of hers that made her giggle at just the thought of it. 

Y/n had woken up from the sound, stumbling over to open it and immediately matching her grin, pulling her into a hug, “You did it.”

Paige couldn’t help but smile wider at her soft words, dropping her belongings and wrapping her arms around her torso, grip tight as ever. She buried her head in her shoulder, and y/n could feel the fabric of her shirt dampen, her hand coming up to run through her hair to calm her. 

“I’m so proud of you, you did amazing, not just tonight. The whole year, the past five years. I couldn’t be any prouder, P.”

She stayed silent for moments after her small speech, relishing the fact that she was in y/n’s arms and she was in hers. This was her safe space; she was her safe space. Winning the championship felt great, but celebrating it with her felt even better. 

When she finally pulled away, her hands cupped her cheeks, bringing her into a kiss, grinning at the small gasp she let out. Y/n’s hands slipped to her hips, resting comfortably against them, gripping her sweatshirt. 

Paige’s forehead rested against hers, staring at her with the happiest expression she had ever seen on her face, causing y/n to replicate it on hers. 

“I’m so happy.”

“I can tell. Congratulations, champion.” She flicked the brim of her hat, and it flew off from the force, exposing her messy hair and glasses. “Don’t you look adorable?”

Paige blushed at her teasing, her head immediately going back into the crook of her neck, hiding the redness. All y/n could do was laugh, dragging her inside and kicking her stuff in with her foot, shutting the door behind her.

She collapsed on the bed, watching as Paige changed into clothes that didn’t smell like sweat and the airport. Y/n pulled out her phone, scrolling through Fanatics to buy herself a shirt, she hadn’t been able to do it beforehand, too busy texting her congratulations to the team and talking with Paige. 

Paige crawled into her bed behind her, her arms finding their place around her middle, pulling her  flush against her and resting her forehead on her shoulder, “What’re you doing?”

“Just some shopping.” Her hand came up to scratch at her scalp, Paige sighing contentedly at her actions. 

She lifted her head just enough to get a peek at her phone, eyes narrowing at all the apparel that had ‘National Champions Huskies’ written across them. She rolled her eyes, arms tightening around her, “If you wanted a shirt, you could’ve just asked to wear mine.”

She turned around so she was facing her, poking her cheek softly, “That’s your shirt, P. I wanted my own.”

“Yeah, but you know how much I like it when you wear my shirts.” It was y/n’s turn to blush, her cheeks heating up as she stared at her. “As soon as I wash it, you’re wearing it, yeah?”

“Fine. But I’m still gonna get my own.” 

She tutted softly, reaching for her phone and pulling it out of her grasp, “No. My shirt is your shirt, it’s our shirt.”

She let out a tiny scoff but was unable to keep the smile off her face, “Whatever.”

“C’mon, sleep time. I’m sleepy.” 

Y/n softened, nodding her head and allowing her to pull her closer, her head resting against her chest, and Paige’s head resting against hers. She fell asleep quickly, the lingering sleepiness from before taking over her. 

And just before she fell asleep, Paige ordered her a shirt of her own, one that matched hers, because who was she not to get her what she wanted?

PB5 MASTERLIST ; WNBA MASTERLIST ; OTHER MASTERLISTS

JOIN THE TAGLIST ; MY NAVIGATION

[itsstavy13]

Sunny - Paige Bueckers x reader

➳ Stuck in a toxic relationship reader finally realizes what love should feel like when Paige shows her what it means to feel safe, seen, and cared for.

➳ Warnings: (emotional abuse), (gaslighting), (manipulation), (financial control), (toxic relationship), (anxiety), (trauma recovery), (non-graphic threatening behavior)

➳ Word count: 11.804k

➳ Navigation Post - here!

The first meeting was… awkward, to say the least. It was a week after the draft, no one was supposed to be in the training facilities but you. The job of the day was to get B-Roll footage of the place, stuff that can be used and recycled for social media, and show the facilities to the viewers without anybody there. So with a coffee in hand, and headphones on, you made your way through the building - starting in the offices then the medical and treatment rooms before getting to the court. 

The first thing Paige saw when she entered was someone mid dance with big headphones on and a phone in a tripod pointing around the big indoor court.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Oh yeah, the headphones. 

Slowly, as if she was approaching a wounded animal, Paige made her way over to you, softly tapping your shoulder. But her careful try was useless as you let out a yelp, stumbled over the tripod before it fell over and ripped off the headphones mid fall. But like in a cheesy rom-com you never hit the ground as the pretty blonde in front of you caught you by the elbow, keeping you up.

“Uh… hi?” she tried again.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that! I think you gave me a heart attack!” your chest moved up and down rapidly, trying to work through the initial shock.

“You’re fine,” she grinned, ��didn’t even fall. Thanks to me.” The wink was too much to comprehend as you were still trying to catch your breath. “I thought this place was locked anyways.” She continued.

Finally you got a grip back on life, standing straight and picking up the tripod, “Yeah, but I work here, one of the media girls.” As if to get your point across you motioned to the phone, checking for cracks. “I’m allowed to be here. You on the other hand...” The teasing smile on your face was a stark contrast to the panic Paige saw before. 

“Guess we’re both rule-breakers.” You nod in agreement before coming to your senses and rapidly shaking your head, “Nuh uh, I’m allowed to be here!” The blonde laughed,” You know who would say that?” 

“Who?” 

“Someone that’s not supposed to be here.”

An offended gasp filled the empty court, as you crossed your arms over your chest and eyes narrowed in mock betrayal. “I’ll have you know I’m very professional. I only enter empty gyms in artistic circumstances.”

Paige hummed, a smirk on her face “Mhmm. Artistic. Sure.”

“What, you don’t think my danc-” Your personal phone buzzed in your pocket - loud, urgent. Paige notices the furrow in your brows and how your smile slips for just a second as you glance on the screen. 

[6 texts from: Jared]

➤ Where the hell are you ➤ Answer me ➤ You said you’d be back 30 mins ago ➤ I’m not playing with you rn

“Uhm. Sorry I gotta go.” Paige blinked at you, “What, already?”

“Yeah. Got what I needed.” You shoved your phone into your bag, rushing to pack up your tripod without looking at her. “Court’s all yours.”

She tilted her head, long hair swishing gently to one side, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, no worries!” The smile on your face seemed… off. “I’m just on a very tight schedule of mild chaos.”

You started backing away, already halfway to the tunnel exit.  “Oh, and Paige?” She perked up, still watching you carefully. “Yeah?” 

You gave a weak little grin. “Next time, bring coffee. Scaring people earns you caffeine tax.”

Then you turned and walked off, your steps a little faster than before. Paige stood frozen, her gaze trailing you until you disappeared around the corner.

She frowned.

Something didn’t add up.

And for the first time since she got to Dallas, Paige Bueckers wasn’t thinking about basketball.

–

Meeting Paige for the second time was a lot more like you had originally planned it. First day of training camp. The entire facility was buzzing like a hive, excited, nervous - especially the rookies. They already had a press conference the day before, as well as a photoshoot, so now the fun could begin. This was also your first day with the full, new team, the last few functions had been covered by your colleagues. 

Sneakers squeaked and whistles echoed through the big indoor court as coaches yelled instructions and teammates tried to communicate with each other over the music. 

It was day 1 and you were already sweating, obviously not from playing basketball but from running around the gym trying to get shots of everyone. It was way too warm to wear a hoodie, but you couldn’t change that now. 

“Sunshine!” Maddy Siegrist called out to you across the court, she was entering her third season. “You get a shot of me doing that sick reverse layup or do I have to redo it?”

The smile on her face was cheeky enough to get a laugh out of you. “Got it in burst mode, Maddy,” you said, adjusting the camera around your neck, the strap getting uncomfortable after a time, “I even got your ugly concentration face if you wanna see it again?”

“Rude,” Maddy said, grinning. “See if I let you get my good side again.”

“You have a good side?” DiJonai chimed in, drawing a laugh from the group.

Paige couldn’t stop staring, not in a creepy or weird way, she was just... Observing. She saw how you zipped around the court like you belonged there, bantering with her new teammates as they called out ‘sunshine’ to get your attention on them, hoping you’d get a good shot of them attempting something.

You were cracking jokes and all smiles, you were - on. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way you bolted out of the gym just a couple of days ago, the way your entire demeanor had drastically changed at one look at your phone.

“Alright, grab some water, catch your breath for a second!” Chris, the head coach yelled out. Naturally the blonde drifted over to where you stood on the sidelines, two water bottles in her hands. 

Let me guess,” she said casually. “You’re gonna post the worst picture of me, huh?” You didn’t jump this time—but your eyes flicked up in surprise, not expecting anyone to come up to you as you reviewed shots on your camera.

“Well, you did come into the league with a reputation. Gotta keep expectations realistic,” you teased, your camera already swinging up toward her, getting a horrendous angle on her as you crouched down to put a lens away.

“I literally just got here,” Paige said flatly, not impressed at all at the flash that went off.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

She smirked. But then your phone buzzed — three short, sharp vibrations in your pocket. You didn’t even look at it this time. Just silenced it with a practiced thumb swipe and tucked it back into your bag like it didn’t matter.

But your shoulders had gone tense. And Paige caught it. Of course she did. "You alright?" she asked quietly, not joking anymore.

You looked at her a beat too long, then blinked and smiled. That same, slightly-too-sunny smile.

“Yup. Golden.” You gestured vaguely toward the team. “Now hydrate, Rookie. You’ve got a whole training camp to impress me.”

“Me impress you?” Paige’s eyebrows shot up as she opened one bottle and handed it to you before opening her own and taking a big gulp.

“Exactly.” You winked and took a sip. “I’ve got the camera. That means I control the legacy.”

With the back of her hand Paige wiped her mouth while chuckling. “So I gotta earn your approval and try not to look stupid on the internet?” 

Your head tilted as you shrugged. “Basically, yeah. High-stakes game. Emphasis on not looking stupid online.”

She gave you a glance as she nudged your water bottle, telling you to take another sip before closing her own. “And what do you get out of this?”

Your mouth opened for another sarcastic answer but you got interrupted by new buzzes of your phone. These seemed louder, more intense, more persistent. 

“I get to make magic,” you shrugged before lifting the camera again and pointing it at her face. “Now go stand near the hoop and look natural.”

Paige didn’t move right away. She just watched you. Watched how quickly you slipped the mask back on. Then, finally, she turned and jogged off toward the baseline, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t make me look short.”

You laughed, the sound carrying across the court. “Better grow an inch then, Bueckers!”

Before Paige could fire something back, a voice called her name from the free throw line - “P! We need a fifth!”

She lingered just long enough to catch the way your smile dropped before jogging back onto the court.

–

Game days have always been hectic, stressful and chaotic. But not the bad kind of chaos but the kind that makes your blood rush with adrenaline and the smile stay on your face for so long that it hurts. The exciting kind of chaos, where you felt your heart in your throat - you lived for days like this, camera in one hand, press badge around your neck, running on caffeine and nerves.

The first game of the season was against the Las Vegas Aces at Joyce Center Notre Dame, Indiana. The Pavillion was already buzzing with fans and students as you slipped past security and into the tunnel. Today's fit was all black, trying to be as much in the background as possible. Comfortable, invisible. You liked it that way - a photographer's uniform.

Players were warming up on the court. Media circled like sharks. Lights were blinding. Music thundered. It was all familiar.

And still—your hands were a little shaky.

“Sunshine!” NaLyssa jogged over, her warm-up jacket half on half off. “Tell me you’re getting my walkout? I want tunnel footage that looks like I’m about to drop 30.”

You grinned. “Only if you do drop 30. I have integrity, Smith.” She threw a quick ‘I gotchu’ in your direction before running off again. In her stead, Paige emerged from the locker room in full uniform, earbuds in, head low. The rookie buzz was thick around her. She was trying to look calm. She wasn’t and you knew it.

Your eyes met. And for a second, neither of you moved. She gave you a tiny nod. Not a smile. Just... acknowledgment.

You lifted your camera. Snapped one quiet photo. Caught her mid-stride, jaw set, spotlight just catching her cheekbone. It would be a great shot. Her shots always were. 

Then it happened again, your phone buzzed. No subtle ping just sharp, angry vibrations again. You checked the screen, instinctively.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Where are you. ➤ I saw your story. ➤ You think I’m fucking stupid?

Your fingers clenched so tight around the phone you nearly cracked it. The heat drained from your face. You backed up into the tunnel. Just for a second. Just to breathe.

“Hey.”

Paige’s voice cut through the noisy atmosphere, shutting it all out. She must have put down her bottle, headphones and towel on the bench before following you the few steps into the darker tunnel. Her brows were furrowed, and she looked like she wanted to say something. Same look she wore at camp. Like she knew something.

“You good?” she asked. You nodded too quickly letting out the fakest laugh she had heard from you as of yet. “Yeah. Just... bright lights. Low blood sugar,” you waved it off, “You know, media girl problems.”

She didn’t laugh. She just watched you. And then, like she couldn’t help it, she leaned closer, keeping her voice low.

“Is someone messing with you?”

The question felt like a slap — not because of the words, but because it was the first time someone asked it out loud.

You blinked. Then smiled — brittle and brilliant. “Nope. Just showtime jitters.” You raised your camera again, angling the lens so she couldn’t see your face. “Now go be a star, Bueckers.”

You didn’t see her eyes stay on you. Didn’t see the way she lingered. Didn’t hear her whisper to herself as she walked back toward the court: “Liar.”

–

The hotel room was quiet, almost too quiet after the loud crowd at the game. Due to an odd number of staff you had gotten your own room while most others were paired up. It was quiet like before a storm. Your gear bag was still packed next to the door, you hadn’t even taken your shoes off or changed out of your outfit.

The game ended with a loss for the Dallas Wings but that wasn’t too bad, it was only the first of the season with an entirely different team. For you it had been a good game, the footage was clean and you can feel the energy in them. 

And yet here you were, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed like a glitch in the system.

The only light came from your laptop, halfway open and flickering with edits of the night’s media dump. You were supposed to be uploading clips. Sending previews. Drafting captions.

Instead, you were staring at a single photo - Paige mid-drive, focused, powerful. You had caught her in perfect motion, backlit by the bright lights.

Your phone buzzed again.

[5 texts from: Jared] ➤ You think I don’t know where that hotel is? ➤ I’m not an idiot. ➤ Answer me. ➤ I said ANSWER ME. ➤ You think this little game makes you better than me?

You watched the messages roll in, but didn’t answer. You sat your phone down on the nightstand, the screen down, but it kept buzzing. You could feel the angry vibrations through the cheap wood like a second heartbeat. 

Instead of checking it you stared straight ahead in the dark room, jaw locked and chest feeling way too tight. You kept swallowing. But it didn’t work. 

Then—like some dam had quietly cracked - you reached up and wiped your eye. Just once. Then again. And suddenly, tears spilled fast, like they had been waiting their turn all day or even longer.

You didn’t sob. You didn’t scream. That would require energy you didn’t have. You just leaked, silently, as your shoulders folded in and your shaking hands pressed to your face.

The kind of crying that didn’t look dramatic. Just tired. Just… done. The ugly kind. Your laptop screen timed out. Darkness flooded the room. Still, the phone kept buzzing.

Eventually, you turned it off. Not silenced. Not ignored.

Off.

You slipped on your team issued hoodie, grabbed your room-key and left the dark room. 

The stairwell was stuffy and dim, lit by one flickering bulb, but you kept climbing.

One flight. Then two. Then the heavy metal door to the roof gave way with an eerie creak, making your bones shudder.

Cool air hit your face, sharp and quiet.

Up here, the world felt a little farther away. Just lights in the distance, the hum of AC units, and a faint breeze that tugged at your sleeves. You needed a moment before pulling your phone out and dialing while leaning on the metal railing.

The line rang once—then connected.

“Finally,” Jared’s voice snapped through like a blade. “You screen me all night just to call me now?”

You didn’t say anything. Not right away. You stared out into the blur of headlights and halos. And all of a sudden the air wasn’t refreshing anymore. It was just cold, metallic and heavy. 

“Well? You gonna speak or just breathe heavy?”

“…Hi, sorry I was working,” you murmured. Your voice was so soft it barely reached your own ears.

“Working. Sure. Where the fuck is my money?” You winced and curled up in your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head trying to shield your face from the cold wind. Tears stinging in your eyes.

“It was supposed to be yesterday. You promised me yesterday.”

“I know,” you said quickly, automatically. “I tried to move it early, but-”

“I don’t want your excuses. You think I’m just sitting here waiting around while you play dress-up with basketball Barbies and your little media job and feel all important?”

You didn’t even hear the door creak behind you, as it opened further than you had left it open. You just lowered your voice even more, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this right now.”

Jared didn’t even hear it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. “You made a commitment. You’re not just gonna flake because you got a new backdrop for your sad little life. You owe me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

A pause.

“I’ll get it to you. I just… I need a little more time.”

He laughed - that hard, bitter kind of laugh that made your blood feel cold.

“You’re always saying that. You always ‘just need time.’ I should’ve known better than to count on you. You always act like you’re doing me a favor - you should be grateful I haven’t shown up and taken it myself.”

Something behind you shifted. A soft scuff of sneakers. But still, you didn’t turn, didn’t hear it or just didn’t care.

“I’ll fix it,” you said. Quiet. Small. Mechanical.

There was silence on the line for a beat. Then Jared spat, “Yeah. You better,” and the call went dead.

You stayed frozen. Just stood there, phone still in hand, like it might ring again.

From the shadows near the exit, Paige had stopped mid-step. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop - she was just looking for air, same as you. But now she stood still, watching your hunched figure against the skyline.

She didn’t interrupt. She just looked. Saw. She saw the real you.

And after a long moment, she turned and slipped quietly back down the stairs.

–

The restaurant looked warm and inviting - bright but not in the blinding way. Bright in a golden way, that made everyone look a little softer than the harsh lights on the court. The team had taken over the back of the place, pushed 2 long tables together to fit everyone semi-comfortable. After all, basketball players do need a bit more space than ‘normal sized’ humans. 

You were late, not fashionably late, but a hurried late. 

It was NaLyssa that had texted you earlier “You’re coming, no excuses. We’re family now.”

It took longer to get there than you had expected or wanted. Without a car you depended on Jared in that department. But he was already irritated that you were going out, so why would he drive you? He only accepted after you offered to pay for his gas at the nearest station. So after getting gas he had dropped you off  two blocks away. After watching his car (which was really yours but that’s a different story) drive off, you walked the last bit fast, heart pounding the whole time like it might outrun your nerves.

Slipping through the door of the restaurant you felt a bit out of place in some jeans and a hoodie, so you tried to blend in with the shadows. 

“Heyy, she made it!” Maddy shouted, lifting her glass. A small round of cheers rose up.

Bye bye shadows.

DiJonai waved you over, patting the empty seat beside her. The one opposite Paige.

You smiled tightly and offered a quick, “Sorry, sorry. Hope I didn’t miss dessert.”

“Please,” DiJonai said, sliding a menu in front of you. “You missed the world’s slowest appetizer order. Sit. Eat.” You sat. Your hoodie still smelled faintly like the car. You didn’t take it off.

The waiter came over, and when he asked what you wanted, you barely looked at the menu. “Just the… house salad, no dressing. Thanks.” There was a beat - just long enough for someone to notice. “You sure?” NaLyssa asked gently. “They’ve got good pasta here. You love pasta.”

“I’ll steal bites from all of you,” you deflected with a small smile. “Professional moocher.”

They laughed. The tension moved on. But Paige didn’t.

Her sharp eyes stayed on you as you made good on your promise, eating a fork full of someone's Carbonara and stealing a piece of garlic bread. Laughing at DiJonai’s commentary on wine snobs. Listening as Maddy tried to impersonate the head coach and nearly choked on her soda, sending the whole table into a fit of laughter. 

A laugh so good it made your stomach hurt and eyes well up with tears as you tried to get some air.

At some point, Paige leaned forward to pass you a piece of steak from her plate without saying anything. Just set it on your bread plate and kept talking to JJ beside her. Some roasted potatoes followed soon after.

You didn’t look up. Just ate it. Quietly. Gratefully.

When the others started to order dessert you had excused yourself to the bathroom, quickly freshen yourself up and opened your hoodie for once, all the laughing and good food had warmed you right up. 

The others were just finishing up their main course when you got back to eat your salad. “You’ve seriously been here for thirty minutes and haven’t checked your phone once,” Paige said across the table, a teasing edge to her voice. “You’re not even pretending to look bored. Didn’t even take it with you to the bathroom.”

Your brows shot up as you lifted your fork with some arugula on it pointing it accusingly at the blonde across from you. “What, are you timing me? It’s getting a little creepy, Bueckers.”

She shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips. “I notice things.”

That made your smile twitch into something crooked. You swallowed. “Maybe I’m just trying not to look like the chronically online media gremlin.” Maddy leaned in from two seats down. “Too late. You were posting game reels before tipoff.”

“Exactly. I earn my gremlin status.” You tapped the edge of your water glass. “But this? This is sacred. Food is sacred.”

Paige’s brow rose as she pointed at your sad little side salad. “That’s what counts as sacred now?” You gave her a flat look. “I’m taste-testing my way across the team’s orders. It's a curated sampler.”

“She’s scamming us,” DiJonai said, shaking her head. “I lost half my truffle fries five minutes ago.”

“Don’t let her near the steak,” Arike warned. “She does this thing where she’s like, ‘Oh, just a bite’, and then it’s gone.” You threw your hands up, mock-offended. “I’m being framed. You’re all just bad at food security. God forbid a girl just has a big palette.”

That earned another round of laughs from the table, loud and joyful - the kind of sound that made you forget to flinch.

Across the table, Paige was still looking at you. Chin resting on one hand, her strikingly blue eyes sharp and unreadable - until she smiled, softer this time. “Still,” she said. “No phone. Proud of you.” You tilted your head at her. “Why’s that worth a merit badge?”

She shrugged, but didn’t look away. “Just nice to see someone here. Not halfway gone.” You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to keep it light. “So what’s your excuse? You haven’t checked yours either.”

Paige tapped the screen of her phone on the table - dark. “I don’t have anyone blowing it up.” Her tone was too casual, like it didn’t matter. “Guess I’m not that interesting.”

“Or you have bad reception,” Maddy offered, ever helpful.

Everyone laughed again, and Paige finally looked down, brushing her fingers over her phone. Then she flicked her gaze back up to you.

“Okay - picture time before anyone leaves.” Quickly you got up, digital camera in hand before DiJonai pulled you back down again. “Sunshine, you’re in this one.”

Groans echoed from around the table as everyone shuffled closer together, pulling faces, leaning in. DiJonai tugged you into the shot and Paige leaned just close enough to bump shoulders over the table.

You managed to smile for the photo - a real one. And when you finally glanced at your phone after dinner?

No new messages.

–

The streets were quieter now, dark and cold. The happy buzz of the restaurant laid behind you. You’d waved everyone off with a smile, a joke, a “see you tomorrow,” and started toward the nearest bus stop like it was just routine.

But it wasn’t routine, at  least not for someone having a death grip in a camera bag and a press badge stuffed deep in your handbag. You missed your car in moments like these, but you’re getting used to it. 

You’d barely made it to the corner when a car pulled up alongside the curb. The window rolled down.

“Get in.”

You turned - a little too fast - only to see Paige in the driver’s seat of a black rental. One hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the door.

You blinked. “I’m good. I like public transport. Very... civic. You wouldn’t understand, superstar.” She gave you a flat look. “It’s 11:30. The next bus is in 20 minutes and you have your holy camera with you.”

You shifted your bag higher and just looked at her.

“Get in the car, Sunny,” she said, a touch of amusement threading through the firmness, you could see it in her eyes.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was too easy. Too kind. Too close. Still, your legs betrayed you, already moving before you gave yourself permission. You slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

You swallowed, “Well, uhm, thank you for saving me from my death march,” your voice was too dry to be funny.

“Someone’s gotta keep your freeloading ass alive,” she quipped while glancing at you but quickly going back to concentrating on the road.

You smiled, lips twitching. “You’re getting funnier. Is that part of the rookie training?”

“Only the advanced course.”

She parked when you gave directions, easing into the curb in front of your building. It looked a little smaller than usual under the yellow streetlight. You hated that. It looked… weird. With the passenger door open and one foot already on the pavement you thanked the blonde, ready to head in.

“I’ll walk you up!” Her seatbelt was already unbuckled and her hand on the door handle. “Oh no, you won’t,” you caught yourself and went a bit softer, your eyes not as wide anymore, “it’s okay, really. I got it.”

Paige turned to you, one eyebrow pulled up “Why wouldn’t I walk you up?”

You exhaled, trying to convince yourself of your reasoning. “Because it’s a six-flight walk-up with a buzzer that doesn’t work and a neighbor who thinks I’m growing weed because I own succulents. Trust me, it’s not a vibe.”

She didn’t laugh this time. Just looked. A beat passed.

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

Paige leaned back slightly. “You always like this when someone’s nice to you?”

You glanced over. “I’m fine with nice.”

“Are you?” You paused, hand still on the door. Another silence. Then, finally, she said, “Text me when you’re inside.”

That stopped you. “I don’t have your number.”

“It’s in your DMs.” You turned to look at her. She gave you a small, unreadable smile. “Good night, Sunshine.”

But before you could finally leave you starting digging in the pockets of your hoodie and came up with a small wad of bills, hastily smoothed out in your palm, desperately trying to ignore the blonde's confused face.

“Here,” you mumbled, trying to press it into her hand. “Gas money.” Paige blinked, looking at the crumpled twenties like you’d handed her a live bird. “What?” she said, equal parts amused and confused.

“For the drive,” you insisted, pushing it toward her. “It’s a rental. And gas is, like, criminal now.” She leaned back in her seat, both hands up. “You’re not paying me to drive you home. I’m not an Uber.”

“Still,” you said, your voice a little too sharp, “just take it.” She shook her head, a soft, incredulous laugh escaping her. “You really hate owing people, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

She didn’t push. Just gently closed her hand around yours and pushed it back toward your lap.

“You can pay me back by not acting like I'm doing you a favor.”

You hesitated. Then, reluctantly, stuffed the money back into your hoodie. Sort of.

And once you were out of the car and inside the building, she waited until you had unlocked the very front door and entered the building, then drove off.

The building door barely hit the lock before you pulled out your phone. She hadn’t been lying. The message was already there.

[3 texts from: @paigebueckers] ➤ Just in case the bus ghosts you again (xxx) xxx-xxxx. ➤ Or you need someone who doesn’t talk loud on rooftops. ➤ 🕶️☀️

You stared at it for a moment. Then hit “Save Contact.”

Back at her place Paige went to grab her water bottle and get out of the car when she saw it - the money.

Still crumpled, still soft from your hand. Shoved into her center console cup holder. She stared at it for a long second, then sighed. “Jesus,” she murmured to herself. 

She didn’t move it right away. Didn’t throw it out.

Just… left it there.

Like it meant something.

—

The gym was emptying out fast, and it wasn’t long before the only thing you could hear only the hum of the lights and the bounce of a stray ball. You’d already packed all your gear together and carried it over your shoulder. Jelly, was the best way to describe the way your body felt.

You hadn’t even planned on joining the girls in the locker room, just ducked your head in to ask Maddy what shot she wanted sent to her phone - but next thing you know you got dragged in, the camera bag nearly slipping from your shoulder. 

“Come on, Sunshine,” she said with that mischievous grin, “you’re basically one of us now.”

You gave a weak protest, laughing quietly. “Pretty sure staff isn't supposed to be in here.”

“Guess you’ll have to report yourself, then.”

That’s how it started. A two-minute question turned into sitting on an overturned crate near someone’s cubby, camera bag still on, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes heavy. No one bat an eye at you being in there, letting you relax a tad, until your stomach grumbled - loud enough for Maddy to raise an eyebrow.

“Damn. Did you eat today?”

You hesitated. Big mistake.

“Hey!” Maddy called out to the room, turning in her seat. “She didn’t eat today.”

“What?! Are you serious?” That was Nai, halfway through braiding her hair. “Girl, it’s like 4PM.”

“I had a bar earlier- ”

“Was it a real bar or one of those pressed sadness bricks you always pull outta your bag?” The team mobilized like a tactical unit, or at least something close to it. In seconds, there were protein bars, drink bottles, and packets of fruit snacks being thrown your way like offerings to a minor deity. You blinked at the pile forming in your lap and the mess around you.

“You guys don’t have to- ”

“You work for us,” DiJonai said, tossing you a chocolate peanut butter bar. “You’re part of the machine now. The machine stays fed.”

You gave a grateful smile. Small, but real as you didn’t fight it further, just too damn tired. Cheeks warm with quiet gratitude as you tore open the first wrapper. 

Across the room from you in her cubby was Paige, towel thrown around her neck as she took off her knee pads, she looked busy but her eyes never escaped you. You looked so small.

You didn’t see her clock, how your hands shook slightly when you tried to open a bottle. You didn’t notice her chewing her lip when you blinked a little too long between bites.

But she noticed.

Eventually, she walked over, lightly brushing a loose bottle cap off the bench beside you. She nudged an open water bottle your way. “That one’s mine. Cold.”

You took it with a grateful nod and looked up at her, “I’m good, I swear.”

She raised a brow. “You look like you’re about to fold like a lawn chair. Drink it.”

You did.

“So,” Arike drawled. “Your boyfriend let you starve all day, huh?”

The room went still. A beat too long.

Your face snapped up, but your mouth stayed shut. You let out a breathy chuckle, like it was funny. “He’s not- It’s fine. He’s just… busy.” You didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

The older players shared a look. Maddy opened her mouth to shift the mood, but Paige cut in first, casually. “Her boyfriend doesn’t work for a W team. We win. We feed people.”

The others whooped. Just enough distraction to deflect the heat, letting the girls hype each other up one last time for the day. You smiled, forced but functional. You took a bite of the bar Paige gave you. It tasted like cardboard and warmth.

She sat beside you on the edge of the bench, just close enough that your elbows brushed.

She didn’t tease you, just handed you another wrapper, already peeled slightly open.

—

A week later the weight room was buzzing a day before the next game - clanks of plates, low grunts, and the dull thud of medicine balls against the far wall. Lights buzzed overhead, bright but not clinical. Music thumped from a corner speaker, rhythmic and bass-heavy, but muffled by the girls chatting.

You were framing a shot, trying something different seeing as the weight room gave you different possibilities than the practice court, crouching to capture JJ’s silhouette as she lifted. None of you heard the door creak open, no one paid him any mind as he made his way through the room.

“Hey Babe.”

Jared. He was too close, you could feel his breath in your ear, uncomfortably warm as it sent shivers down your spine.

When did he get here?

Once you could finally move you were able to turn around and face him. Jared stood just behind you, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets like he belonged there, like this was a casual drop-in. He even smiled, that crooked, boyish grin that used to make your knees weak and now just made your stomach turn.

The room had gone quiet. Not silent, the music was still going but the girls stopped chatting and subtly tried watching the interaction out of the corner of their eyes. Except Paige, who was full on staring at the train wreck directly in front of her.

“Jared! Uh, hi! What are you doing here?” Your voice was tight, but quiet.

He looked around the room, ignoring the curious looks he got, “This is where you’ve been hiding all day?” He nodded towards your camera equipment in the corner, “Saw your little video earlier. On their Insta? Real artsy, baby.” What was supposed to be a petty compliment just sounded sarcastic instead.

“I, uh, thanks. But, uhm, you can’t just walk into the team areas like this.” You had pulled him in closer by his arm, so close that your bodies nearly touched as you quietly tried to suggest that he should get lost.

“I tried calling.” He shrugged, stepping closer before he continued, voice sweet again, soft. “Look, I get it. You’re busy. I just...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want to make a scene. I just... kinda needed to talk for a sec.”

Your throat tightened as Paige watched you like a hawk.

“Can’t it wait? I’m working?” Your voices had gotten really quiet now, neither Jared or you noticed how one of the girls had stopped the music, now silencing the room to listen in as they pretended to workout, most of the other staff had already left.

“I wouldn’t be here if it could.” His voice had turned quiet. Sharp. “I, uh… I just left my doctor’s office. They wouldn’t run the test without the co-pay.”

Your stomach dropped. “What test?”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “It’s probably nothing. Just chest stuff again. Tightness. They said I should’ve come in sooner, but you know how it is…”

Your face went cold.

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he added quickly. “I almost didn’t say anything at all. But now I’m sitting outside Walgreens trying to figure out how to cover the lab work, and I thought... if you could spot me, just one more time…”

You nodded, and when your hands didn’t move fast enough, he reached for your purse like he always did. “I’ll pay you back Friday,” he said, a little softer as he took out all the bills that were left. “You know I always do.”

You didn’t notice Paige until she was a few steps closer, towel slung over one shoulder, a water bottle in her hands. “Everything good?” she asked casually, but her eyes flicked between the two of you.

“All good,” you said too fast, taking your purse back from his hands. “He was just, just on his way out.” Jared offered a smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry about that.”

He lingered a second longer than he needed to, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “You’re still the best, you know that?”

Then he turned and left. You didn’t even breathe until the door clicked behind him and he was finally, really gone from the space you had once felt safe in.

Paige was still watching you. “Lab work?”

You looked down at your camera, fiddling with the lens cap. “He’s been feeling off for a while now. Chest problems are scary, he’s been to a lot of Doctors for it.”

“And they don’t take insurance?” You swallowed, your eyes desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with the blonde. “He said they wouldn’t run it without him paying up front.”

A long silence passed.

Then Paige said, without looking at you, “You always pay when he says it’s urgent?” You didn’t answer. Not really.

Just said, “It’s easier.”

—

The place wasn’t even on google maps, one of those bars that looked like it might have once been a gas station or a tire shop. Squat brick, single red neon sign humming a half-lit “OPEN,” and windows so fogged over they might as well be painted black. Inside, the floor was sticky and the music was classic rock on shuffle.

It was perfect.

Maddy pushed the door open with her hip, DiJonai following close behind. “I swear to God,” she muttered, “if I get tetanus from the pool table, I’m blaming you.”

“You can’t get tetanus from felt,” Arike deadpanned.

“That sounds like a challenge," Maddy said.

Paige was the last to walk in of the small group that had decided to grab some cheap drinks and greasy food after a gruelling late film session. She hadn’t even looked up until Maddy elbowed her in the ribs and nodded toward the bar.

And there you were.

Behind the counter. In a low cut black T-shirt and jeans, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Your forehead was a little sweaty from the heat, or the pace, or both. You moved like someone who had done this a thousand times - pouring, swiping, dodging elbows and flirting with drunks just enough to earn better tips.

That top certainly helped for the tips as well.

For a while none of the girls said anything. Just stood there in stunned silence as they watched you shake off an uncomfortable customer.

“Wait,” DiJonai blinked. “Is that sunshine? Like, our sunshine?”

“Yup,” Paige said quietly as her eyes locked with yours. You didn’t freeze, didn’t drop anything, didn’t run, but the smile you gave was practiced. Not fake, exactly. Just... careful.

“Hey,” you said over the bar as they approached. “Didn’t know you guys knew this place!” Your voice was loud over the loud music.

“We’re versatile,” Lyss grinned. “Athletes by day, dive bar connoisseurs by night.”

You laughed, and it was real enough. “What can I get my favourite girls?” They placed their orders, teased you a little, tipped heavy despite your protests.

You stayed in motion, but Paige watched you closely. The way you rubbed your eyes between orders. The slight limp in your left leg. The silence between your words when you thought no one noticed. At one point, you ducked under the bar to grab a case of beer and came up too fast, smacking your shoulder on the counter. You didn’t even wince. Just kept moving.

The team stayed for maybe an hour. They didn’t push. Didn’t ask why you were working a second job, or why you never mentioned it, or why you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. They just let it be.

But Paige didn’t leave. Of course she didn’t. 

The other girls had eventually paid (and tipped even more, ignoring your refusal) and left, laughing about their sore stomachs and how they would regret the bad pizza tomorrow. Paige stayed, told them she’d uber home in a bit and no one questioned it - because they all knew.

DiJonai patted her arm with a smirk whispering a “Get our girl home in one piece, will you?” in the rookie's ear before filling out.

At first you didn’t notice her lingering gaze, too focused on the new barback who stocked the cooler wrong, and a regular who tried to play Journey for the 3rd time on the jukebox. But when you glanced up from drying a pint glass, she was still there, alone at the end of the bar, half-finished drink in hand, eyes on you like she’d never really stopped watching.

The crowd started thinning out now, just a few stragglers playing darts and a couple on their third round of something brown and bitter while staring into each others souls. It was the kind of hour where everything slowed down, the volume dropped just enough to hear your own thoughts. Which was worse most days.

You walked over and leaned on the bar. “Still here, huh?”

She raised a brow, her eyes challenging you. “You’re surprised?” All you did was shrug. “Most people don’t find this place worth staying.” Paige tilted her head with that annoying, cocky smirk. “I’m not most people.”

You huffed a tired laugh. “So I’ve heard.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a second as she watched you fiddle with your hair, annoyed by the loose strands. “Your eyes were too sharp for someone that tired. This wasn’t new.”

Then, quietly she asked, “How often are you here?”

You leaned back, wiped your hands on a rag that had long lost its purpose, way too stained to really be any use. “Depends. Weekends are the worst. But I fill in when someone flakes.”

“And after media days? Practices?”

You gave her a smile, soft and vaguely apologetic. “Turns out passion projects don’t cover rent.” Paige didn’t laugh at your weak attempt at a joke. She just looked down at her drink, then back up at you.

“You could’ve said something.”

Before you could answer, your manager called from the back office, saving you (because really, what were you supposed to say?). “Closing time! You’re good to clock out.”

You gave Paige a quiet look and gestured toward the front door. “Wait by the door? It’s quieter there. I’ll walk with you.”

-

Ten minutes later you came out with a hoodie pulled on. Paige’s hoodie. Backpack on one shoulder, your camera bag slung over the other. The rookie had to grin, you really didn’t go anywhere without that bag, huh?

Paige stood near the dumpster, hands in her pockets. When you reached her, she noticed the envelope in your hand: plain white, thick.

You didn’t try to hide it.

Instead, you peeled it open, quickly counting bills with practised ease. You shoved a few twenties into your worn wallet, then glanced around before lifting the false bottom of your camera bag and slipping the rest inside.

When you looked up again, Paige wasn’t staring. She was just... waiting.

Patient. Steady. Like she always was.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, even though you both knew it was. She let you grasp at your excuses before she gave a small nod. “Is it enough?”

That caught you off guard.“What?”

“The cash. The extra hours. All of it. Is it enough?”

You paused, still stunned by the question. “It has to be. I’m getting there.”

She let the silence settle between you, “You always take care of everyone else.”

You tried to make it a joke. “Bad habit.”

“Yeah,” Paige said softly. “But who takes care of you?”

You didn’t hesitate to say “I do” but your voice was shaky. Sometimes yourself just wasn’t enough. But that’s all you had.

You just looked at her, like really looked at the blonde, and for the first time in a while, you felt the weight of someone holding your gaze, not demanding anything from you, not draining you.

Just... being there and seeing you. 

“Come on. I’m getting us an uber.” There was no room to protest, so you accepted with a small smile and thankful nod.

—

The Laundry room was brightly lit by those annoying buzzing tube lights that keep flickering like in a bad horror movie. A window was cracked near the ceiling and let in stale air and the sound of distant traffic, but not much else.

Your back already started hurting after the first load of laundry, now at the third it was even worse. Why is this damn table so low?? Your hoodie sleeves were pushed to your elbows, fingers numb and stiff from folding the third load of team jerseys on that way too low table. Your camera bag sat nearby on a stool, always close. Your phone buzzed again. 

You didn’t check it.

Well not on purpose but you still saw the messages pop up.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Just remember who helped you get in. ➤ You’d be nowhere without me. ➤ You’re welcome, by the way.

The screen dimmed. You exhaled slowly through your nose and turned back to the pile of laundry. Towels. Practice shirts. Warmups. More to do. Always more, just like at home the laundry was never ending.

“Jesus, Sunshine.” You hadn’t heard her come in, so to no one's surprise you flinched so hard that the stack of freshly folded towels was knocked over again.

Once your head snapped up you could see the blonde leaning in the doorway, still in sweats and damp hair from a post-practice shower. A protein shake in one hand, towel slung over her shoulder. Her expression shifted the moment she saw you: confusion, then concern.

“It’s so late already, what are you still doing here?”

You tried for a joke. It barely made it to your lips. “Look who’s talking. You’re still here too.”

She didn’t laugh. Or react at all, except for a raised brow that you knew meant she wasn’t in the mood, so you gave your real reason up. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That made Paige smirk, much to your enjoyment. “So you decided to cosplay as laundry staff?”

You laughed softly. “Someone’s gotta do it. Lord knows how many towels you guys go through in a single practice day.”

She looked around at the mess of fabric and unfolded towels. Then back to you as she stepped into the room.

“Sit somewhere real.”

“What is that even..? I’m sitting-” With an eye roll she ignored your protest before she pulled you up, “Not on a crate like a goblin. Come on,” and unzipped her jacket, shook it out, and spread it carefully across the folding table like a blanket, then patted it once.

“Sit here.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

No. No she didn’t.

Realizing you wouldn’t move on your own she dragged you down to her chosen place by your shoulders. The second your legs dangled off the table, Paige was already grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She handed it over (already opened of course) with a raised brow. “Drink.”

“I’m fine, I really don’t need-”

“Not what I asked. Drink.”

You took the water. Drank. Because something in her voice and something in her eyes made it impossible not to.

She picked up your fallen stacks of towels and sorted them into the shelf where they belonged, before picking up the next basket and sitting it down on the floor next to the table and started folding. No comment. No lecture. Just calm, methodical movements. She made neat stacks. You watched, still clutching the water bottle with both hands like it was keeping you upright. And maybe it was.

She didn’t ask questions. Just moved around you, efficient and silent.

It was strange. Not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar. Like watching someone speak a language you used to know but forgot to speak after not hearing it for so many years.

Eventually, she dug out a protein bar from her pocket and tossed it toward you without looking. You didn’t catch it. Nope. It hit you straight in the face before falling in your lap - and even though Paige tried really hard not to laugh, she failed miserably as she giggled into her fist. 

“Stop pouting and eat. You didn’t today.”

You looked at her, brows furrowed. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“Not an assumption, I know it’s a fact. I notice things.”

Your chest tightened, painfully. You looked down at the bar in your lap, thumb running over the wrapper. You didn’t move as your traitorous brain wandered. 

To Jared.

To his messages. To his tired voice on the phone the other night, telling you his chest was tight again. That the doctors still didn’t know what it was. That the stress was making him worse. That you working too much didn’t help. That he needed rest, not drama. That he was doing his best, even without a job, even when you made it ‘so hard.’

He was always tired. Always hurting. Always needing you. Needing your money.

So you stayed. Paid the bills. Covered his medications. Told yourself it was temporary. That when he got better, things would change.

He wasn’t cruel. Just sick.

And sick people lash out sometimes.

Right?

You hadn’t even noticed Paige sit beside you until her voice broke your cruel thoughts, “You still in there?”

“Mhmm, where else would I be?”, you hummed and nudged her shoulder with yours. 

“Somewhere happier, maybe?”

It was silent as you fiddled with the protein bar in your lap, before the blonde took it, opened it and held it to your mouth - refusing to take it away until you took a bite. The silence returned.

Your throat burned.

You looked down. “He said I should be grateful.”

A pause.

“That I’d be nothing without him. That he puts up with a lot.”

The words were quiet. Flat. Like you were repeating something you’d memorized a long time ago.Paige didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt. Just listening, her eyes focused solely on you. “He’s not well,” you added quickly, like it was a valid reason to be hurting all the time. “Always at doctors. Can’t work. He’s just… dealing with a lot.”

Paige stared ahead for a long beat.Then: “That’s not love.”

You exhaled, shaky. “He’s honest. He says I make things hard.”

“No,” she said. “I’m being honest. He’s being cruel.”

You looked at her, startled by the bluntness, not harsh, just firm. Anchoring and honest, not cruel.

“Someone who loves you doesn’t make you earn kindness,” she said. “They don’t twist things so you feel lucky to be hurt.”

You looked away.

“I didn’t think I was allowed to expect more.”

“You are.”

Silence. Heavy.

Then, barely above a whisper:

“How do you know?”

Paige’s smile was soft and sure, not smug. Just true.

“Because I’ve seen the way you take care of people. The way you show up. That’s what love looks like. And you deserve to be treated at least the same way.”

You blinked hard, eyes burning. Your shoulders curled slightly, not to hide, just to stay upright. Paige didn’t touch you. She didn’t need to.

She just kept folding.

—

You came home from a late night editing session at the Dallas Wings Staff rooms. It had been a good night, truly. Someone had ordered pizza and the whole evening was spent gossiping while trying to work. But something was off when you came home.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

There was no music, and no TV that played some dumb show Jared was melting his brain with. The only thing you could hear was the buzz of hallway lights even through the shut door. 

You shut the door behind you, softly, mindful of the other residents and the late hour. At the hallway bench you shrugged off the camera bags and clawed your way out of the damp hoodie from the walk home. 

You were late. Not by much, maybe an hour, and you didn’t have plans for the evening, but you were late nonetheless.  It was just too fun, and the editing crew had lost the feeling of time.

Stepping into the cold living room, you froze in place. The lights were off, the only thing giving light was the dull blue glow of a laptop on Jared's lap, casting shadows across his face as he sat on the couch.

Wait.

That was your laptop. Open on his lap.

And that… that was your journal doc he was reading.

The heart in your chest stopped, at least you were pretty sure of it. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice too calm. Not even on good days he was this calm. Jared didn’t look up right away, he just kept scrolling through the document. Reading more and more of your thoughts.

Your legs turned to concrete, or fused with the ground. Either way, something rooted you in place. “What.. uhm, what are you doing?”

Now he looked at you.

Smiled.

The blue light from the laptop illuminated him from below. Making him look even scarier than he usually does. 

“You’ve been real busy in here, huh?”

His voice was even as he tapped the side of his temple. You knew he meant busy in your head and the document he was reading. His voice was measured. No heat. That was worse.

“Didn’t know I was such a fucking villain in your head.”

You opened your mouth. No sound came out.

He stood and you were still rooted in that same damn place.

“I’ve marked some quotes I really liked,” held the laptop with one hand, and with the other, gestured like he was reading aloud on a stage “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll read them out to you.”

“I keep telling myself it’s not that bad, but I don’t know what ‘bad enough’ even looks like anymore.”

“I miss who I was before him, but I don’t remember what she looked like.”

“He doesn’t hit me. That’s the bar I’ve been setting my worth to.. he doesn’t hit me.”

After every sentence he read out loud he sent a pointed glance in your direction before finally snapping the laptop shut, the sound echoing through the dark living room.

“So that’s what we’re doing now?” he said, voice sharp, finally cracking. “You run off and play house with those girls, and then come home and write about how abused you are? Is that it?”

“I.. I didn’t mean..”

“No, say it. Come on. Say it to my face. You think I’m the fucking monster in your sad little Netflix drama?”

You shook your head quickly. Too quickly. “No. No, Jared, it’s not like that. I was just, just writing. I didn’t think you’d see it.”

“Of course not,” he spat. “Because I’m just the idiot you unload on when you’re not getting your ego stroked by Paige-fucking-Bueckers.”

Your breath caught.

He laughed.

“You think she gives a shit about you? You’re her project. Her pet. You think she’s not saying the same shit about you behind your back?”

“Stop.” Your voice cracked as tears started building in your eyes.

“Or what?” he said, stepping forward. “You gonna run away? Call Paige? Have her come rescue you like a good little golden retriever?”

He was close now.

Too close.

And suddenly your body remembered every red flag you’d buried under guilt and excuses. Every apology that felt like pressure. Every “you owe me” that bled into your spine. 

Your knees shook but you still managed to turn and walk out the door. Leaving him in the dark living room.

—

You couldn’t remember much of the run there, not how you grabbed the keys or how you got into the rehab room of the Dallas Wings training facility. The lights were dim, just barely peeking in through the window of the hallway.

The phone barely had any battery left as you sat on the padded table, hands still shaking. 

You already had opened her contact card. Paige. And you stared at it too long.

Not once had you called her first, never. Not even after those really hard days you just wanna cry about. Not even after Jared’s last big blow-up. But now? It was different.

You were shivering, scared and there was no one else you could call that would just.. show up. So finally you pressed call.

It only took two rings for her to pick up, even at 1a.m. 

“Sunny?”

You didn’t mean to start crying, you really didn’t want to but it just happened. Her voice was calm, steady and a little tired.

“Can you come get me?”

You could hear rustling on the other side, a blanket being tossed aside, “Where are you?”

“Training facilities, like in the, uh, the rehab area.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

She didn’t ask anything else.

Didn’t need to hearing your sniffles through the phone was enough to tell the blonde everything she needed. You sat there in the silence, breathing in short bursts, knuckles white around your phone.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel ashamed of needing someone.

So you waited.

Curled into yourself on the therapy table, shaking like a leaf. Running through rain in only a shirt might not have been a good idea… Your phone vibrated once. Just a soft, meaningless hum, but you didn’t check it, just stared at the ground and waited.

Until the door creaked open and then somehow, the room got even colder.

Jared.

“There you are.”

You slid off the table, heart in your throat, feet stumbling backwards before you even realized you were moving.

“How did you...”

“Come on, babe. This is your hideout? Thought you’d at least pick somewhere I hadn’t seen before.”

“Jared, leave.”

“No. You don’t get to run and then make me the villain I get to defend myself.”

He stepped forward. You stepped back.

“You’ve been whining in your journal about how sick I am. Poor you. Poor little girl carrying her broken man.”

He laughed. Cold and sharp like he always did. But this time it was even scarier.

“You ever wonder why none of those doctors ever called you back? Why you never saw a single goddamn bill?”

You froze mid motion, arms up trying to build distance between you both.

“I’m not sick,” he said simply, smiling now. “Never was.”

The world slowed and time stopped.

“Then… what, uh, what..” You were speechless. It couldn’t be.. Right? Surely this was just another really bad joke.

“You were useful. You paid for shit. Got me stuff I couldn’t get on my own. Covered rent while I took care of other things.”

Your throat closed. “What things?”

He tilted his head, cruel and casual. “Couple girls I was seeing needed help. You’re not the only one who likes to take care of people. I’m a real generous guy.”

That landed like a punch to the chest.

“You- you used me,” you whispered, tears stinging in your eyes.

“Call it sponsorship,” he said. “Me and the girls like to call you my ‘scholarship fund’.”

Just silence.

And then another voice. Low, flat, furious.

“Get. Out.”

It was Paige. You couldn’t say for sure, but the look on her face made you think that she’d been waiting outside the door for a bit, listening to what Jared had to say. Her voice was like stone as when she stepped into the room. Taking up the space between you and Jared.

You could see her body still trying to catch her breath, and she was a little sweaty. She ran here. For you.

“You don’t talk to her again. You don’t come near her again.”

Jared gave her a look like he was bored already. “You think she’s gonna stay with you? You don’t know her. She needs someone to fall apart on.”

“No,” Paige said. “She needs someone who won’t break her.” She took another step forward. “And you already did.”

For the first time (maybe ever), Jared didn’t have a comeback.

He looked at you. Maybe expecting you to flinch. To cry. To chase him. But you only looked right back at him and said, “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore.”

He left after that. Just turned and walked out. No apology. No second look.

And you stood there shaking, tired, cold, but breathing.

Then Paige was beside you.

She didn’t speak right away. She just stood close, quiet, until you could bring yourself to look up and meet her eyes. She didn’t look at you with pity, no this was admiration.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, cupping your face in her warm hands. “None of it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t ever have to go back.”

This might have been the first time that you realized that she was right. You didn’t have to go back. Not to him. Never.

—

The car ride was silent, not the uncomfortable ‘I don’t know what to say’ silence, just quiet. Tired. Paige hadn’t asked questions, Just dragged you out to her car, pushed you down into the passenger seat and gave you a blanket from the back of her car.

When she finally pulled over into her apartment lot she glanced over at you. “You good to come in?”

“You sped there.”

You didn’t really reply to her question but the blonde took you opening the door as answer enough. “I wouldn’t say ‘sped’ just, in a slight hurry,” she winked at you, your camera bag in hand.

Paige led the way inside, everything was low-lit and calm. There were no overhead lights that blinded you, and the hallway didn’t echo in that creepy way it did at your apartment complex. As she opened her own door a citrus-y smell wafted towards you, she must have let a candle on before she came.

She locked the door behind her and set your camera bag gently down on a chair by the door, and then asked, “Hungry?”

You could only nod, too busy looking around.

“Good,” she said, already heading toward the kitchen. “Sit. Shoes off. You’re home now. For as long as you need.”

That last part hit harder than you expected. Home.

You sat at the edge of the couch while she pulled out pots and ingredients like she did this all the time. Not just for herself, but for people she wanted to keep warm and full and okay, friends and family.

“Fair warning though, I am no master chef, but we won’t starve!”

Your phone buzzed again, even though you thought the battery had died when you were still at the training facility.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t even have to look. You knew it was him. No one else messaged you, especially not at this time. Not after Jared convinced you to cut contact with your family over a year ago.

Paige glanced over from the stove.

“That him?”

You nodded once, throat too tight. She walked over, hand out. “Can I?”

You didn’t hesitate to hand it over. Jared asked for your phone all the time, to look through it. But the basketballer didn’t read it. Didn’t scold. Just silenced it, powered it down, and set it face-down on her kitchen counter before plugging it in.

“You don’t need to hear from him tonight. Or ever again, if you don’t want to.”

You blinked quickly, looking away. “He’s going to be so angry.”

“He already is,” she said softly. “And it’s not your fault, and it’s also not your job to soothe that.”

You didn’t reply. Just pulled your knees to your chest and let your eyes roam around her apartment.

It was warm, and well lit.. cozy. Shoes were stacked by the front door, sweaters thrown over the couch, shelves filled with random books, picture frames and trophies. A photo on the fridge, next to a note with a date on it ‘pasta night - 06/28 :)’. That was a team night.

“Okay, uhm, water is cooking, might still take a while. Bathroom’s down the hall, if you wanna shower. The door locks and I set out fresh towels and some clothes. We need to get you out of the wet ones.”

You were halfway to tears again, and she hadn’t even done anything dramatic. Just kept giving you space. Kept choosing not to demand anything. And she kept being so incredibly nice.

You stood under the hot water until your skin went pink and you smelled like her body wash and expensive shampoo.

When you came back out she was sitting on the couch, two plates of food in front of her. She had also changed into a different hoodie, a dry one.

“Food’s still warm, there’s more in the kitchen if you want.”

You sat beside her, plate balanced on your lap, and took a bite.

It was the best thing you’d eaten in weeks. Not because of the recipe, because of the way it made your shoulders drop. She didn’t say anything further, just started to dig in. Not a single comment about how you should watch your portion size, or if you really wanted to eat ‘all that’.

You glanced over at her.

Paige, who had taken your phone without making you feel helpless. Paige, who gave you clothes, a bathroom, her bedroom if you wanted it. Paige, who never made you beg.

Jared would’ve sulked. Would’ve asked why you weren’t grateful. Would’ve asked for something back and even more in return.

You looked down at your plate, swallowed hard, and whispered: “Thank you.”

She didn’t make it a thing. She just said, “You’re safe now.”

—

Warm sunrays made their way through the window, gently waking you up in warmth. Gone was the grey sky and rainy clouds from the last couple of days. The bed was so comfortably and warm that you didn’t even want to get up, but ultimately the small of eggs, bacon and toast managed to get you out of the bed.

You’d slept.

Not fitfully. Not half-alert. Not with one ear trained for footsteps.

Just... slept.

When you finally sat up and stretched, the couch groaned softly beneath you. Your muscles ached in that gentle way that meant you’d actually rested. No buzzing phone. No tension in your neck or jaw.

Just peace.

You padded toward the kitchen, the hoodie sleeves dragging past your fingertips, hair a mess, mouth dry and eyes still sticky with sleep.

Paige was already at the stove, moving around in socks and some old basketball shorts, humming something low and tuneless. She glanced over her shoulder when you appeared in the doorway.

“Morning.” Her voice came out rough, low and a bit gravely, still laced with sleep. 

“I think I died.”

That made her grin. “Was it peaceful?”

You rubbed your face with both hands, then dropped into the nearest chair. “Mhmm.”

A minute later, she slid a plate in front of you: eggs, toast, something sweet on the side. Real food. A proper breakfast, not just a hurried protein bar like you usually had. She poured coffee into a second mug and set it gently in front of you.

You stared at the food for a beat before saying, “I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

“I don’t, but I know you love it.”

You snorted, but you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and just desperately hoped that the blonde didn’t notice.

After a few bites, you glanced at her. “I’m not used to this,” you admitted. “Being taken care of like this.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Well,” she said, “get used to it. ‘Cus I’m not going anywhere.”

You ate in silence, just a couple of giggles at how much she disliked coffee at every grimace.

Eventually, your voice dropped to a whisper. “I had enough saved to leave for a long time. I could’ve moved out, gotten my own place, months ago.”

Paige didn’t push. She just looked at you, steady and open. “Why didn’t you?”

Your gaze dropped to your plate. “Because I was scared. Not of him... not really. Just of what it would mean if I left and he didn’t even try to stop me. If he just let me go.”

You paused, shoulders curling in.

“I was scared of what that would say about me. That I gave so much to someone who never gave a damn back.”

Paige’s voice was low, certain. Her eyes told you she was being honest and not just trying to comfort you.

“It wouldn’t say anything about you. It would say everything about him.”

You looked up.

She hadn’t moved. Still steady. Still soft. Still here.

“You stayed because you cared,” she continued. “Because you loved him the way you wished he would love you back. That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your chest tightened.

“It made me feel stupid.”

“It makes you human.”

Your eyes burned. You blinked fast and stared hard at your coffee.

“I don’t know how to do this alone.”

She reached across the table. Not to take your hand, just to set hers down, palm up, close enough if you wanted it. “You’re not alone,” she said. “Not anymore.”

You hesitated. Then slid your hand into hers.

Her fingers closed around yours. She was warm, steady, grounding. She always had been. And that’s when it felt real. Like maybe you could actually begin again.

But this time not alone.

This was... something. Let me know what you think of this fic, it's a lot heavier then I usually write but I quite liked doing it.

Also, I have ideas for a fluffier part 2, where paige and reader like actually get together and shit

[itsstavy13]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 12

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6k

warning: language

hey gang soooooo sorry for the constant delays DBASHAHSA ive js been too lazy as its so fkn cold 😭 i didnt edit this so it might be a a lil outta place so um yurrrrr... anways hope u guys enjoy and thank u guys for ur patience !

‼️‼️this wasn’t edited

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

Paige stirred first, eyes fluttering open slowly, muscles stiff from the long day before but the first thing she noticed wasn’t the dull throb in her ankle.

It was the gentle weight of Azzi’s arm wrapped around her waist, her face tucked against Paige’s collarbone, breath warm and even.

Paige didn’t move at first.

She just stared up at the ceiling, heart full in a quiet way that felt peaceful and grounded.

Then Azzi shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent before her eyes blinked open too.

“Morning Az,” Paige said softly, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

Azzi blinked at her for a second, then smiled lazily. “Mmmm you’re still here.”

“Didn’t plan on sneaking out,” Paige said with a sleepy smirk.

Azzi yawned and nuzzled closer. “Good, cause you’re warm.”

Paige huffed a soft laugh, brushing a hand gently down Azzi’s back. “You drool by the way.”

Azzi pulled back, eyes wide. “What ?”

Paige grinned. “Kidding.”

Azzi gave her a light shove. “You’re lucky you’re crippled.”

Paige just chuckled, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Speaking of… I gotta go see the trainer this morning. They wanna check my ankle properly.”

Azzi propped herself up on 1 elbow, the smile slipping into concern. “Has it gotten worse ?”

“Nah,” Paige shook her head. “Just protocol. Gotta make sure nothing’s torn and that.”

Azzi nodded, then pushed herself fully upright. “Welp, let’s get moving then. You wanna brush first or me ?”

Paige swung her legs over the side of the bed carefully. “You go. I need to fish my toothbrush outta my bag anyway.”

Azzi walked over to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush, starting her morning routine while Paige limped over to her bag and dug around until her fingers closed around the familiar grip of her toothbrush and toothpaste.

Azzi rinsed and stepped aside with a grin. “Your turn limping legend.”

Paige rolled her eyes playfully and took her spot in front of the mirror. “Don’t make me throw hands at yoou.”

Azzi laughed as she started pulling her hair into a loose bun while Paige brushed her teeth, both of them moving in a quiet, easy rhythm like it wasn’t the first time they’d done this together.

Once they were done and Paige had stuffed her toothbrush back into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder carefully. “Alright, I’m gonna head to my dorm real quick, drop this off before I go to the facility.”

Azzi was already slipping her shoes on. “Lemme drive you.”

Paige blinked. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Azzi said, grabbing her keys from the desk. “But I want to. Easier on your ankle.”

Paige hesitated, then nodded, touched. “Ok. Thanks.”

They made their way to the door, still quiet. Right before Azzi opened it, she turned, puckering her lips.

Paige raised a brow, then smirked. “You asking for something ?”

Azzi didn’t answer, instead just kept her lips puckered.

Paige leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “There. Satisfied ?”

Azzi beamed. “Very.”

They stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind them.

The drive was only short as Azzi pulled up in front of Paige’s dorm building, putting the car in park as Paige shifted in the passenger seat, her bag resting across her lap.

“I’ll just run this up real quick,” Paige started, already reaching for the handle.

Azzi stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait—give me your key.”

Paige blinked. “What ?”

“I’ll take your bag in for you. You don’t need to be limping around more than necessary.”

“I’m fine,” Paige said, but her voice was half-hearted.

Azzi tilted her head. “Come on. Be lazy for once. Let someone do something for you.”

Paige hesitated, fingers brushing over the zipper of her duffle. “I don’t know. My room’s kinda messy.”

Azzi smirked. “Pretty sure I’ve seen worse. Plus, I’m not judging you. I’ve literally drooled on you, apparently.”

Paige snorted, then sighed in defeat, digging into the front pocket of her bag and pulling out the dorm key. “You better not snoop.”

“No promises,” Azzi said brightly, grabbing the bag and hopping out of the car.

Paige watched her jog up the front steps and disappear inside. She leaned back in the seat, rolling her eyes with a grin, heart light.

A few minutes later, Azzi returned, slightly flushed from the stairs.

“Bag’s dropped off. I didn’t even trip over anything.”

“You want a medal ?” Paige teased as Azzi slid back into the driver’s seat.

“Nah,” Azzi said, pulling back out onto the road, “but maybe just a quick kiss will do”

Paige glanced over with a teasing smirk. “If you say so.”

Azzi grinned, leaning over brushing her lips softly against Paige’s. The kiss was light and quick but it made Paige’s chest tighten in a good way.

Pulling back, Paige caught Azzi’s eyes and gave a small, satisfied smile. 

Azzi pulled into the pakring lot outside the training facility, easing the car into a spot near the front. The engine went low for a moment before she turned it off. The quiet settled in again.

Paige moved to undo her seatbelt, but Azzi glanced over. “You sure you don’t want help getting in ?”

Paige shook her head. “I’m good. I’ve limped through worse.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.

Paige looked at her for a moment, her fingers resting lightly on the handle. “Hey… thanks. For letting me stay last night. And for driving. And for… all of it.”

Azzi’s expression softened immediately. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “But I wanted to.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she leaned in slowly, and Paige met her halfway. The kiss was soft and simple. The press of lips, warm and easy, like it belonged there.

When they pulled apart, Azzi smiled. “You sure you’re ok ?”

Paige nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I am.”

She pushed the door open and stepped out carefully, grabbing the edge for balance. Azzi watched her go until Paige turned back, flashing 1 more look through the window.

The doors of the facility slid open as Paige stepped inside. She limped toward the training room, her steps slow but steady.

Inside, Aubrey and Caroline were already lounging by the front corner of the room, both of them scrolling on their phones.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Aubrey called, her gaze flicking up with a knowing smirk.

Caroline grinned. “Someone’s glowing.”

Paige rolled her eyes as she made her way over. “Relax.”

“Not judging,” Caroline said, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Just observing.”

“You two are so annoying,” Paige muttered, settling onto the treatment table while one of the trainers came over to take a look at her ankle.

The girls stayed nearby as the trainer asked a few questions, gently rotated her foot, and pressed along her tendon. Paige winced a little but gritted through it.

“Nothing torn,” the trainer said, finally straightening up. “But there’s some swelling we need to manage. We’re going to get you in a boot for at least three weeks—no games during that time. After that, we’ll reassess and clear you based on how it’s healing.”

Paige nodded, jaw tight but unsurprised. “Got it.”

As the trainer moved away to grab the boot, Aubrey leaned closer. “So… last night ?”

Paige didn’t look up. “What about it ?”

“Oh don’t play dumb,” Caroline said, kicking lightly at Paige’s uninjured foot. “You stayed at Azzi’s.”

“You’re acting like that’s news,” Paige muttered.

“It’s not,” Aubrey said, smug. “But details are.”

Caroline wiggled her brows. “Sooooooooo… have you asked her out yet ?”

Paige hesitated for a beat. “Yea.”

A beat of silence. Then both of them squealed.

“Oh my god,” Caroline practically shouted. “You finally grew a pair !”

“About time !” Aubrey added, smiling wide “What she say ?”

Paige smirked a little. “She said yes.”

“Of course she did,” Caroline said, flopping back dramatically into teh seat. “You two are disgusting.”

“We need to do something fun for the date,” Aubrey said, already slipping into planner mode. “Something cute. Low effort, since you’re kinda crippled for the tme being”

“Rude,” Paige muttered, adjusting the new moon boot the trainer was strapping on.

Caroline perked up. “What about a lil picnic ? Something private and sweet.”

“Oooooooo” Aubrey nodded. “Under that big tree at the great lawn ? That spot is always empty.”

“And we could help set it up,” Caroline added, already scheming. “You just show up and be charming.”

Paige tilted her head. “I like that. But how do we get Azzi there without her suspecting anything ?”

Aubrey’s smile turned mischievous. “Leave that to us. I’ll get KK and Ice in on it too. Caroline can tell Azzi she needs her help filming something for our team page. Then yea, walk her right to the setup.”

Caroline nodded, delighted. “It’ll be perfect. Blankets, candles, fruits, snacks…”

“And it’s lowkey,” Aubrey said. “Which is very you.”

Paige tried to play it cool, but her smirk gave her away. “You guys are really doing all this ?”

Aubrey shrugged. “What are friends for if not scheming for your romantic benefit ?”

“You know I could’ve just taken her to get food or something,” Paige said, half-laughing.

“Boring,” Caroline said. “This is memorable.”

Paige sat back as the boot was finally fastened, stretching her leg out and glancing down at it with a sigh. “Guess I’m out forra bit.”

“Yea,” Aubrey said gently. “But at least your love life is finally in shape.”

Paige gave her a look, but the corner of her mouth twitched up. “You’re an idiot.”

Caroline nudged Paige’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything. You just focus on showing up.”

“Yea,” Aubrey added with a grin. “Let us handle the magic.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first, instead just gave them both a look.

Because she trusted them with this.

“We’re doing it tonight,” Caroline said suddenly, clapping her hands once.

Paige blinked. “Wait, seriously ?”

“No time like the present,” Aubrey said, already unlocking her phone. “You think we’re gonna let this moment go dry ? Please.”

Caroline leaned over her shoulder, grinning. “Let’s start a group chat.”

Aubrey’s fingers flew across the screen.

Aubrey: date night is happening tn for lil paigey and its gonna be a surprise setup cs azzi dk 

Aubrey: we need candles, blankets, snacks 

Aubrey: u in ?

Caroline: location is at that massive tree on the great lawn 

Caroline: we want romance not chaos

Just as they hit send, the doors swung open and in walked KK and Ice, mid-convo and mid-laugh, both of them fresh from the recovery sesh they’d just finished.

“Speak of the devils,” Caroline muttered, hopping off her seat.

KK narrowed her eyes immediately. “Why do you three look like you’re about to commit something ?”

“We need you,” Aubrey said dramatically, standing to meet them halfway.

“Ok, now I’m scared,” Ice said, raising a brow.

“It’s for Paige,” Caroline jumped in, already bouncing with energy. “She asked Azzi out. It’s happening. Tonight.”

KK’s face broke into a grin. “No way. She actually did it ?”

“She actually did it,” Aubrey confirmed proudly. “We’re setting up a picnic for them. You in ?”

Ice was already nodding. “Fucken oath we are. Tell us what to do.”

“You’re on setup duty,” Caroline said. “Blankets, candles, flowers if you can find any.”

KK looked at Paige, who was still half-propped on the table. “You good with all this ?”

Paige just shrugged her shoulders, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Apparently I’m just showing up.”

“As it should be,” Aubrey said, tossing a cup into the bin. “We’re gonna get Azzi there by Carol telling her that she needs her help filming a vid for our page.”

“We’ll make it perfect,” Ice said, already plotting. “Golden hour, candles, whole vibe. She’s gonna lose her mind.”

“And you,” Caroline pointed at Paige, “better not mess this up. All you gotta do is sit, flirt, and not fall on your face.”

“I make no promises,” Paige deadpanned.

KK laughed. “You’re sucha dumbass. But this is kinda cute.”

“Shut up,” Paige said, half-smiling. “And thanks.”

“Let’s get to work,” Aubrey said, already leading the charge toward the exit. “Operation picnic is officially in motion gang.”

Paige limped her way out of the facility making her way back toward her dorm. The boot was clunky and annoying, but manageable. She reached out to her phone in her pocket and pulled it out, opening her chats with Azzi.

Paige: update: its not torn, js swollen

Paige: 3 weeks ina boot then they will clear me (hopefully)

She paused mid-step to adjust the strap, then added

Paige: it sucks, but couldve been worse ig

Paige: also js lyk that imma be kinda busy later so i might not be on my phone much

Paige: js a heads up

A second passed. Then her phone buzzed again.

Azzi: im glad its not worse

Azzi: thats still annoying tho

Azzi: do u need anything ?

Paige smiled faintly, leaning against a railing as she typed

Paige: nah im alg

Paige: u checking in is enough beautiful

There was a pause on the other end before Azzi replied.

Azzi: u r too cute 🫠

Azzi: srsly tho text me if u need anything later i mean it

Azzi: and rest ok ?

Paige: promise

Paige: talk soon 

She pocketed her phone with a grin she couldn’t hide, then picked up her pace as much as the boot allowed.

—--------------------------------------------------

It was later that day, in the late afternoon, and the big tree at the center of the great lawn was glowing softly in the golden light. Aubrey was crouched beneath it, a candle lighter in 1 hand and her phone propped up against a folded blanket, currently facetiming Paige who was still back in her dorm room getting ready after messaging what the gc what to bring. Or as Paige insisted, “supervising.”

“Ollllrightyyy, status update,” Aubrey said, turning the camera slowly to give Paige a view of the scene. “Blankets are down, candles are litty, food is set. We even brought that stupid picnic basket Carol got from target last year.”

The setup was actually really pretty. They had layered a few large cream and pink blankets across the grass, scattered battery-powered t-lights in lil clusters, and set out 2 small pillows to lean against. A couple of old string lights were tangled through the lower branches of the tree above, powered by a portable battery pack. In the middle, a big spread of snacks was already laid out—fruit, cookies, juice boxes (because Ice and KK insisted), chips, and of course, a container filled with strawberries and a tub of nutella.

“I swear to god,” Paige said through the phone, her tone dry, “if you forgot the nutella—”

“We didn’t !” Ice yelled from the side, holding up the jar. “I literally triple-checked the bag. You messaged us like five times.”

“I panicked ok,” Paige replied, shifting the phone slightly. She was lounging on her bed in baggy jeans and plain white shirt, her boot propped up on a pillow. Over her shirt she wore a knitted cream quarter-zip Ralph Lauren sweater, and her hair was slicked back into a neat bun and glasses sat on her nose. “I wasn’t about to let you idiots forget the key element.”

Just then, a loud rustle came from the tree above them.

“…what the hell was that ?” Aubrey asked, glancing up.

Ice blinked. “Wait. Where’s KK ?”

A second later, a thud shook the grass behind them.

“OHHHHHH SHIT,” KK groaned loudly, face-down in the grass. “MY SPINE.”

Everyone turned at once.

“BRO,” Ice wheezed, running over. “What were you even doing ?”

KK rolled over, wincing. “I was trying to hang the lights higher. Yall weren’t even looking—I almost made it.”

“You were in the tree ?” Aubrey stared at her in disbelief. “Why ?”

“I thought it’d be cool,” KK muttered.

Ice was doubled over, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You fell like a cartoon character.”

On facetime, Paige was shaking with silent laughter, holding her stomach. “I swear to god. Yall are gonna ruin the vibe before it even starts.”

“You’re welcome for the entertainment,” KK said, still laying on the grass.

“Also, um,” Ice said suddenly, trying not to laugh again. “KK may or may not have written a lil note and stuck it to—”

“DON’T TELL HER YET !” KK shouted, scrambling up.

“Oh my god,” Paige groaned. “What did you do ?”

Caroline snorted. “She stuck a condom packet to the bottom of the picnic basket with a sticky note that says ‘for when Paige gets horny” 

Paige slapped a hand over her face. “You’re actually all insane.” 

“Don’t worry,” Ice said proudly. “She won’t see it unless yall get real flirty.”

“I’m gonna die,” Paige said. “I can’t do this.”

“Oh, you’ll do great,” Aubrey said, turning the phone to face herself again. “Just channel that lil smile you do when you’re being awkward but trying to be hot. Works every time.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You literally do,” Caroline said.

As they kept bickering, Caroline grabbed out her phone and quickly typed out a message.

Caroline: hey can u meet me at the english dept ?

Caroline: needed help filming a promo vid for my team page but everyone is busy so i figured maybe u could help 😭

Caroline: dress comfy but nice cs i might need u in the vid 

Caroline: also can u bring ur polaroid for some bts flicks ?

A moment later, her phone buzzed.

Azzi: ofc carol

Azzi: omw in 15

Azzi: ill bring the cam 😛 

Caroline grinned. “She’s in. Told her it’s a promo. She thinks I’m filming for the team page.”

Aubrey fist-pumped. “Leshgooo.”

“Yall ready ?” Ice asked, munching on a cookie.

Paige adjusted her glasses and nodded at the screen. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Then let the romancing begin,” Aubrey said grandly, spinning the camera around 1 last time to show off the now-flawless setup under the tree.

The scene was set. The sun was dipping low and the little lights twinkled gently in the branches above.

Now all that was left was for Azzi to show up.

After hanging up the call, Paige took 1 last look in the mirror, and exhaled through her nose. Her glasses slid slightly down her nose as she moved, and she pushed them up again before grabbing the bouquet she had requested Jana to pick up for her and dropped off earlier that afternoon.

It was huge.

Dozens of pink and red tulips spilled out from a thick wrap of white kraft paper, tied off with an oversized soft-pink ribbon. Tucked under her other arm was a frozen lego set she’d also asked Jana to pick up.

She adjusted the bouquet in her arm, slipped her phone into her pocket, and carefully made her way out the door—limping slightly from the boot but managing. Her pace wasn’t fast, but her heart definitely was.

The setup was there, untouched and glowing softly, just waiting.

As Paige approached, she could tell that KK, Ice, and Aubrey had already cleared out. Everything was exactly as it had looked on the call, clean, warm and romantic. The t-lights flickered gently, and the bouquet in her arms matched the palette perfectly. It looked like it had been made for this moment.

Paige knelt slowly wincing just a little and carefully set the lego box beside the blanket. She kept the bouquet cradled gently in her arms, holding it close as she took a deep breath. The scene felt surreal. Intimate. Soft in all the ways Paige usually wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed.

Caroline: shes hereeeee 👀

Caroline: js got to the english dept

Caroline: gave her the whole “i need u to be my creative director” speech HSHSHAHSH

Caroline: she bought it tho

Caroline: omw now

Caroline: be rdy to seduce rizzler

Paige stared at the last text, then snorted quietly as she pocketed the phone and stood a little straighter, smoothing the front of her sweater and adjusting her glasses again. Her stomach fluttered in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Caroline and Azzi moved together through the quiet campus grounds, their footsteps light against the soft grass. Caroline was chatting, glancing around as she walked, clearly on the hunt for the perfect spot to film the “promo.”

“I was thinking maybe somewhere with good natural light,” Caroline said, her eyes flicking up to the branches of a nearby tree, where the string lights still twinkled faintly in the early evening. “Somewhere cozy but not totally obvious, you know ? Like, the kind of place that feels chill but still looks professional.”

Azzi nodded, her camera hanging casually from her shoulder. “Yea, I get that. Like a secret little spot or something ?”

“Exactly !” Caroline grinned. “I want the shots to look spontaneous but still kind of put together, you know ? Like casual but cute.” She laughed softly, then glanced over at Azzi. “That’s why I needed your eye on this. You always get the angles right.”

Azzi smiled, brushing a curl behind her ear. “You sure I’m the right person for this ?”

“Totally,” Caroline said with a nod. “You’ve got the best taste. I trust your vision.”

They rounded a gentle bend in the path, the glowing light filtering through the leaves above. Azzi’s gaze drifted ahead, catching sight of the cluster of blankets and twinkling lights beneath the tree.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening as she saw Paige standing there, the bouquet of tulips cradled gently in her arms, the lego set resting on the blanket nearby.

Caroline’s voice dropped a notch. “There she is.”

Azzi blinked, disbelief flickering over her face as she took a slow, steadying breath. She wasn’t sure if this was real or some kind of dream.

Caroline gave a small, knowing smile and then, without another word, spun on her heel and jogged lightly away down the path, disappearing out of sight before Azzi could ask questions.

Azzi’s heart hammered as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Paige’s eyes met hers, a soft, genuine smile spreading slowly across her face.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Azzi’s arms wrapped tightly around Paige, pulling her close in a long, lingering hug.

Paige rested her head gently against Azzi’s temple and pressed a soft, tender kiss there.

When she pulled back just enough to meet Azzi’s gaze, her smile deepened, warm and a little shy.

Carefully, Paige extended the bouquet toward Azzi.

Azzi stared down at the flowers in her hands, then back up at Paige. “Wait… what is this ?” she asked softly, voice still catching in her throat. “I don’t—how did you even—”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, cheeks flushed. “Ok, so full credit where it’s due, this was not me at all.” She stepped forward, slowly reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind Azzi’s ear. “Caroline and Aubrey masterminded the plan. KK and Ice handled the setup—Well, KK nearly died trying to hang lights. And Jana came through with the bouquet and the lego set.”

Azzi blinked. “Wait. Lego set ?”

Paige nodded toward the blanket. “Frozen. I brought it in case I started rambling or got nervous.”

Azzi laughed, hugging the flowers tighter. “You planned a side quest ?”

Paige grinned. “I always do. It helps.”

Azzi opened her mouth to say something else, but Paige gently interrupted her with a wave of her hand.

“Wait. Before we do anything else…” She carefully reached out and slipped the camera from Azzi’s shoulder. “Can I take a picture of you ? Right there. With the bouquet.”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “Me ?”

“No,” Paige deadpanned. “The tree. Yes, you.” Her voice softened immediately. “You look… really pretty right now. And I want to remember it.”

Azzi bit back a smile, her ears tinged red, but she nodded and moved slowly toward the blanket. Paige motioned with 1 hand, adjusting the angle a little.

“Ok, stand just to the left—yea, like that. Hold the flowers a little higher. Ok, now smile. A real one.”

Azzi raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean ?”

“You know what it means,” Paige teased, squinting through the camera’s viewfinder. “The one where your nose scrunches a little, your eyes get soft, and your dimples are deeper than normal.”

Azzi exhaled, her face relaxing into exactly that smile, and Paige snapped the picture. The photo slid out of the top of the camera with a soft sound. Paige grabbed it gently and waved it in the air to help it develop.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

Azzi turned back toward her, still holding the bouquet, her expression somewhere between bashful and glowing. “This is… a lot.”

“I know.” Paige slung the camera back over her own shoulder and reached for Azzi’s free hand. Their fingers laced together like muscle memory, like it had always been that easy. “Come sit ?”

They walked to the blanket hand-in-hand, settling down slowly on the pillows. Paige carefully stretched her injured foot out in front of her, leaning slightly to face Azzi.

Azzi was glancing around at the lights, the snacks, the way the wind barely moved the trees above them. Her voice was small when she spoke. “Why you agree to this ?”

Paige tilted her head. “Because I like you,” she said honestly. “Like… a lot. And I wanted you to feel it.”

Azzi blinked hard.

Paige leaned forward slightly. “Also,” she added quickly, “you look beautiful. Like so stupidly beautiful I actually forgot half the stuff I was gonna say when you walked over.”

Azzi covered her face with one hand, grinning. “Stop.”

“I won’t,” Paige said easily. “You deserve to hear it.”

A soft moment passed between them, then Paige suddenly reached into the picnic basket, rummaging through a cloth napkin before pulling out a small plastic knife and the large container filled with strawberries.

Azzi’s eyes widened. “Hold on… what is that ? ”

Paige grinned, holding the container. “Strawberries. Anddddd…” she twisted the lid off the nutella, setting both in the center between them “the main bit.”

Azzi gaped. “Wait. No. You remembered ?”

Paige shrugged like it was nothing. “You mentioned it during our last tutoring session. Something about how it was your go-to snack and craving.”

“I didn’t even think you were listening—”

Paige gave her a look. “Az. You talk, I hear everything. Plus, I’ve got a good memory,” Paige said, grabbing a strawberry and using the knife to scoop up some nutella to spread on it. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Azzi stared at her for a long moment, her heart full to the brim. Then quietly, she leaned over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Paige’s cheek. Paige stilled, her face blooming pink under the touch.

“Thanks,” Azzi whispered. “For remembering. For all of it.”

Paige reached for another strawberry, but she wasn’t looking at the food anymore. Her gaze was locked on Azzi’s. “Anytime,” she said, and she meant it.

—--------------------------------------------------

They were halfway through the other snacks sitting close now, shoulders pressed together, Paige half-reclined against a pillow with Azzi curled gently into her side. The breeze had cooled just a little, but the lights above flickered warm, and the soft buzz of bugs in the distance gave everything a peaceful hum. Azzi was feeding Paige a bite of a cookie while Paige retaliated by smearing the tiniest bit of nutella on the tip of Azzi’s nose, laughing when she groaned in protest.

“You’re the worst,” Azzi grumbled, swiping her finger across her nose and licking it off with a glare that lacked any real heat.

“I’m literally the best,” Paige replied smugly, adjusting her glasses with her free hand. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Azzi rolled her eyes fondly, then leaned forward to reach for another snack, lifting the edge of the picnic basket to dig underneath when something small hit the blanket with a quiet but unmistakable slap.

Azzi froze.

Paige blinked. “What was that ?”

Azzi reached down slowly… and her eyes widened.

It was a condom packet taped to a folded sticky note. In KK’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting were the words:

" FOR WHEN PAIGE GETS HORNY ;) "

Azzi went completely still, eyes darting up to Paige like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or combust.

Paige’s entire face turned red. “OH MY GOD,” she burst out, nearly choking on air. “I forgot KK did that—”

Azzi looked like she was trying not to laugh and scream at the same time. “WHAT ?!”

“I swear to God,” Paige sputtered, dragging a hand down her face. “It was this whole—she thought it was funny—I didn’t even think it’d actually—”

Azzi held up the condom. “She taped it ?”

“Yes.”

“With a note ?”

“Yes.”

Azzi stared for another long second before dissolving into a loud, wheezy laugh, falling sideways against Paige’s shoulder, clutching the sticky note. “They are insane.”

“I know,” Paige groaned, half-laughing now too, her arm winding around Azzi’s back to hold her closer. “They’re actually feral.”

Azzi wiped her eyes, still laughing. “I cannot believe this was just chilling at the bottom of the basket. Like some kind of weird prize.”

Paige rested her chin gently atop Azzi’s curls, her voice dry. “Congrats, you found the secret boss level.”

Azzi snorted, then stilled for a second, thoughtful. “Hey… can we build the set now ?” Her voice softened as she turned her head slightly. “And maybe take more polaroids ? Like… a bunch ?”

Paige tilted her head, her hand drifting down to Azzi’s hip. “Of course, beautiful.”

Azzi’s smile bloomed instantly, and she shifted to sit up, tugging the box toward them while Paige pulled the camera from where it was tucked beside the blanket.

They started slow by unboxing the set, sorting through little blocks. Azzi nestled herself between Paige’s legs, her back against Paige’s chest, Paige’s arms loosely circled around her as they both leaned into the project.

At some point, Paige grabbed the camera again and held it up facing them. “Ok, look here.”

Azzi turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing Paige’s jaw. “Wait—what face do I make ?”

“Literally any,” Paige said. “You’re perfect.”

Azzi made a kissy face out of protest, and Paige clicked the shutter just as they both broke into laughter.

The photo developed slowly, tucked beside the 1 Paige had taken earlier. 2 now. Side by side. Both unmistakably them.

They built, they laughed, they snacked some more—Azzi spreading butella on the strawberries and teasingly holding them just out of Paige’s reach until she gave in and took a bite with a low, pleased hum.

Eventually, as the light faded even more, Azzi curled up tighter against Paige again, her hands still half-full of Lego bricks.

“Tonight feels unreal,” she whispered, head tucked beneath Paige’s chin.

Paige pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s real,” she murmured. 

Azzi had just clicked a piece into place when she felt Paige shift a little behind her, the warmth of her arms loosening slightly but not letting go.

“Hey,” Paige said quietly.

Azzi turned her head. “Yea ?”

Paige took a breath, eyes soft behind her glasses. “I know this is kind of random. But I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to say this right.”

Azzi smiled gently. “Say what ?”

Paige looked at her, heart in her throat. “You make everything feel easy. Even the stuff that usually makes me want to shut down or disappear… you just show up, and suddenly it’s lighter.”

Azzi’s expression softened, her hands still.

“I didn’t plan on meeting anyone right now,” Paige continued. “Definitely didn’t expect to be out here, covered in lego and nutella-strawberries, falling for someone who makes me feel like this. But I am.”

Azzi blinked, breath catching.

“So,” Paige said, voice quieter now. “I was wondering if… you’d be my girlfriend ?”

Azzi stared at her for a second, lips parting, like she was still catching up. Then, slowly, her face lit up.

“Yes,” she said, a little breathless. “I want that.”

Paige’s smile grew, full and real.

Azzi reached for her hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “I didn’t expect any of this either. But you… you make me feel safe. And wanted. And kinda dizzy in the best way.”

Paige bit back a grin.

“I really like you,” Azzi said. “Like a lot. And I’ve been trying not to fall too fast, but I don’t think I’m doing a great job.”

Paige leaned in, forehead brushing Azzi’s. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m right there with you.”

Azzi smiled, eyes closing for a beat. “Gimme kiss.”

And Paige did soft and certain and slow. Right there on the blanket, under the fading lights and scattered Lego pieces.

—--------------------------------------------------

Later, the stars were fully out, scattered soft and quiet across the night sky.

The blanket was a happy mess filled with half-finished snacks, empty juice boxes, cookie crumbs, and a bunch of  fully developed Polaroid photos tucked safely off to the side. And right in the middle of it all sat a completed castle, proudly built and slightly crooked, with Azzi and Paige leaning back to admire their work.

Azzi let out a satisfied sigh, still nestled between Paige’s legs, her back resting against Paige’s front. She held the bouquet gently in her hand, the soft pink ribbon trailing across her lap. Paige’s arms were wrapped lazily around her waist, their fingers linked just above the blanket.

“I can’t believe we actually finished it,” Azzi murmured.

“I can,” Paige said, grinning into the side of her neck. “We’re a power couple now.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Only for you.”

Paige reached for her phone, still holding Azzi close, and raised it slightly. “Hold still for a sec.”

Azzi turned her head halfway, her lips brushing Paige’s cheek. “Why ?”

“Because,” Paige said, “I wanna rmember this forever.”

Azzi’s smile turned soft, and she shifted just enough to kiss Paige gently with her free hand lifting to cup her cheek, bouquet still in the other. The camera clicked just as their lips met, the photo capturing the moment of Azzi pressed into Paige’s arms, the flowers in frame, the lights twinkling gently above.

Paige stared at the photo for a second before tapping her screen a few times, adding it to her close friends story. The caption was simple and warm:

“girlfriend era 🫠💗”

A few moments later, her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

Aubrey: IM SCREAMINGGGG 😭 

Aubrey: FINALLYYYYYYY  I LOVE LOVE

Caroline: my subtle matchmaking career has peaked. this is my legacy🙂‍↕️

Ice: yall r SO FKN CUTE its so disgusting

KK: real question… did the lil basket gift come in handy orrrrr whaaaa 👀😈

Paige snorted, burying her face into Azzi’s shoulder.

“KK’s asking about the stupid condom,” she mumbled.

Azzi wheezed. “Oh my god.”

Another buzz.

Jana: THE BOUQUET LOOKS SO GOOD WITH YALLLLLL 🥹 shes holding them so sweet imma cry

Paige grinned. “Jana’s emotionally attached to the bouquet now.”

Azzi held the flowers up slightly, cradling them to her chest. “Tell her they’re safe. I’m protecting them with my life.”

Paige kissed her on the cheek again. “You’re the cutest person alive.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Am I your favourite person now ?”

Paige leaned in, smiling. “Always have been and always will be.”

There was a soft pause, then Azzi turned a little more in her arms and tucked her face against Paige’s neck.

“Thanks for tonight babe,” she said, voice low and warm.

Paige froze for just a second. Then her smile grew impossibly softer.

“Anything for you baby.”

Azzi looked up at her, wide-eyed and glowing. “Ok, I like that.”

“Me too,” Paige whispered, leaning in for another kiss, slow and easy.

And beneath the trees, surrounded by messy snacks and their completed set  and polaroids, Paige and Azzi stayed wrapped up in each other—warm, tangled, and very much in their girlfriend era.

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

[itsstavy13]

SLOW SIMMER - THREE

dallas!paige x privatechef!azzi

note: i love tlou2 sm like i can’t stop playing lol

anyways here you go!

———

paige was still getting used to azzi living in her home. it wasn’t the worst thing ever—obviously, because paige had been tearing up every meal since azzi got there—but it still felt… different having someone else in her space. not a bad different. just… different.

azzi wasn’t loud. something paige would forever be grateful for. the chef mostly kept to herself unless she wanted to socialize, and paige respected that.

which is exactly why, when dijonai, maddy, lyss, and arike said they wanted to meet “the chef,” paige hesitated. her teammates weren’t exactly… subtle. she didn’t want to overwhelm azzi or scare her off before she really got comfortable.

so yeah, she was definitely gonna talk to azzi about it first.

-

azzi was currently getting ready to go to the store, wanting to restock before anything got too empty. she had on something simple—black baggy jeans with a white top. the weather was nice today.

her goddess braids were pulled back into a low ponytail, a few soft curls framing her face. she looked cute.

she slipped on her crocs, grabbed her keys, and made her way to the door. when she stepped out, she saw paige on the couch, eyes glued to the tv—probably watching the white lotus again.

paige turned her head at the sound of azzi’s footsteps and smiled softly when she saw her. “heading to the store?”

azzi gave a nod. “yeah, gonna restock early. you doing anything later?”

paige shook her head. they had an early practice this morning, so the rest of her day was wide open. “nah, i’m free.”

“i don’t know how long i’ll be, but i’ll text you when i’m on my way back,” azzi said, letting out a small laugh as she scratched at her neck. “might need help though.”

paige sat up a little straighter. “no, yeah—of course. just let me know when.”

azzi nodded once more, hand on the doorknob. “see you later.”

“bye, fudd,” paige said, her voice soft.

the door clicked shut behind her.

paige leaned her head back against the couch, letting out a soft breath through her nose. the apartment was quiet again, but not in a bad way. she actually liked the new routine—waking up to the smell of something good in the kitchen, running into azzi in passing, sharing random little conversations between meals and naps.

it was weird. but it was also kinda… nice.

meanwhile, azzi made her way through the store with practiced ease. she was focused, going aisle by aisle, checking her notes app and glancing at prices. she wasn’t just cooking for herself anymore—this was paige bueckers, and azzi wasn’t about to mess anything up.

as she turned into the produce section, reaching for a bunch of cilantro, she heard a small gasp behind her.

“oh my god. allie.”

“no way. is that—?”

azzi turned slightly, already catching the familiar glimmer of recognition in both of their eyes.

“you’re azzi fudd, right?” one of the girls asked, her voice a little too loud for how quiet the store was. azzi smiled softly, nodding.

“yeah, that’s me.”

“we love your cooking account. like, seriously. that chicken parmesan you posted a while back? we tried to make it and failed miserably,” the other girl—caroline—gushed. allie just nodded beside her, clearly starstruck.

azzi laughed, “thank you, that’s sweet. and hey, cooking’s like hooping. takes practice.”

the two fans exchanged glances. “can we get a picture?”azzi didn’t like saying no to people who showed her support so she immediately nodded her head. “Of course, come on,”

they took the pictures and looked at the girl. “i’m guessing we’re gonna be seeing you a lot more?” the brunette asked. azzi chuckled before nodding her head. “yeah, maybe.”

they offered to bag her groceries when she checked out, which made her chuckle. “you don’t have to do that,” she said, but they insisted.

“it was a pleasure to meet you, azzi. we’ll see you soon?” they asked hopefully. azzi laughed softly before turning to her car. “see you ladies soon!” she called over her shoulder.

she could hear them giggling when she reached her car, making her heart warm.

by the time she made it, her phone buzzed.

paige

you good?

azzi smiled, brushing a curl from her forehead.

azzi

yeah, almost done

headed back now

paige

cool

i’m up if you need help

azzi stared at the screen for a second longer, heart doing a little flip. she didn’t expect her to check in like that, but it felt… sweet.

azzi

i’ll be home in 10

have those arms ready

paige

lol bet

azzi slid into the driver’s seat, still feeling the leftover warmth from the fan interaction. she pulled out of the parking lot and glanced up at the sky, soft blue and cloudless.

she still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

living in paige bueckers’ house.

cooking for her.

getting texted by her.

yeah… she really was starting to like it here.

-

azzi pulled into the driveway with the music low, humming along to the track playing through the speakers. the bags in her trunk weren’t too heavy, but she still appreciated the idea of help—especially when it came from someone who actually offered, not out of obligation.

as she opened the front door with her hip, balancing one bag on her forearm and another in her hand, she was met with the familiar smell of a candle paige must’ve lit. sandalwood and something warm.

“i’m back,” she called out, her voice carrying through the quiet apartment.

paige emerged from around the corner, hair pulled up in a bun now, wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. her feet were bare with slides and her energy was relaxed.

“perfect timing.” she walked over and immediately took the heavier bags from azzi’s arm, brushing past her gently. “you didn’t even text me,” she added, glancing over her shoulder.

“i was about to,” azzi smirked. “but then i figured i’d just surprise you.”

“you really out here trusting me to not be napping.”

“yeah well… if you were, i would’ve woke you up,” she said with a playful shrug.

they moved together in quiet rhythm, unloading bags and putting things away. azzi pointed out a couple new ingredients she picked up to experiment with, paige nodded along, eyes half-focused but still listening.

azzi sighed, the two of them finished stocking up the kitchen. “okay, go do something while i figure out what we’re gonna eat.” she told the woman.

paige just smiled before heading towards her room. “what would i do without you, fudd?”

“you’d probably still be eating take out.”

paige laughed.

-

after a couple hours, she found azzi in the kitchen, barefoot, hair pulled back, quietly focused on chopping up something that smelled incredible. garlic, maybe butter, a little spice—paige wasn’t sure, but it was working. her mouth watered on instinct.

“hey,” paige said casually as she leaned against the counter.

azzi looked up, giving her a soft smile. “hey.”

paige rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly realizing this was the first time she was actually nervous to talk to someone in her own house. “so… my teammates kind of want to meet you.”

azzi paused her chopping. “oh?”

“yeah,” paige exhaled, watching her reaction. “they’ve been bugging me since the first day i mentioned you were a chef. they’re curious.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching with a barely-there grin. “and by curious you mean hungry.”

“basically.” paige laughed. “but also nosy. they’ll want to ask a million questions. get all up in your space. it’s not… quiet.”

azzi leaned back on her heels, wiping her hands on a towel. “you worried i’ll run?”

paige shrugged, smirking a little. “i’m not saying i wouldn’t be sad if you did.”

azzi chuckled. “i’m not going anywhere, bueckers.”

paige tried not to look too pleased at that. “so… is it cool if they come over tomorrow night?”

“sure,” azzi said with a nod, turning back to the cutting board. “but if they’re gonna be that loud, they better eat every last bite.”

paige grinned. “deal.”

paige made her way to her room. she immediately texted the group chat back.

fly 🪽 fly

dijonai

so… what’d she say?

paige

she said she’d love to meet y’all.

i’m begging—please don’t scare her away.

maddy

tell that to nai and lyss.

you know they be doing too much sometimes.

lyss

oh please.

i’m a really chill person.

paige

try again.

lyss

whatever.

arike

i know what and what not to do when i’m first meeting someone.

trust me.

paige

whatever y’all say.

just be here

and please dress nice

arike

damn p.

safe to say you want us to impress your girl.

paige

she’s not my girl.

dijonai

not yet, that is.

it’s okay, you’ll realize it soon.

paige

bro.

i promise i’ll tell her y’all bailed.

maddy

ALRIGHT chill 💀

paige was chuckling at her phone, fingers still scrolling through the chaos in the groupchat. she sometimes hated her teammates—but mostly, she loved them. they were ridiculous, sure, but they were hers.

she reread arike’s message about “impressing her girl” and rolled her eyes, even though her lips tugged into a smile. azzi wasn’t her girl. not in the way they were all hinting at. and yet… there was something there, something warm and quiet that settled in her chest when she thought about her.

the way azzi hummed while she cooked. how she always asked if paige had eaten before thinking of herself. how she smelled like she belonged—like vanilla and coconut and the soft comfort of home.

paige set her phone down, leaning back into the couch with a soft sigh. her team was relentless. but maybe, just maybe, they weren’t that far off.

“paige! food’s ready!”

the call pulled her from her thoughts like a tether. she sat up quickly, glancing once at her phone before tossing it onto the cushion beside her. as much as her team liked to tease, they weren’t wrong about one thing—azzi’s food was something to look forward to. every time.

she stood, stretching briefly before heading toward the kitchen. the closer she got, the stronger the scent hit her—something savory, warm, and laced with herbs she couldn’t name but already craved.

“what’d you make this time?” she asked as she rounded the corner.

azzi was standing by the stove, apron tied around her waist, a soft smile on her face. “you’ll see. just sit down.”

paige raised a brow. “you hiding it?”

“i’m presenting it.” azzi corrected with a playful roll of her eyes. “you ever let a chef have their moment?”

paige held up her hands in surrender, grinning. “alright, alright. i’ll wait.”

but not without staring just a second too long. not at the plate—at her.

azzi felt it too—paige’s stare lingered a beat longer than usual, and while she didn’t look up right away, she definitely noticed. her fingers were careful as she plated the food, placing everything just how she liked it. she worked in silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. it felt full. warm.

“okay,” she finally said, sliding the plate in front of paige. “chicken shawarma with lemon rice, garlic roasted carrots, and a little cucumber-yogurt salad on the side. fresh naan too, because… why not?”

paige blinked down at the plate. “azzi. what the hell.”

“what?” azzi bit her bottom lip, holding back a smile. “too much?”

“no,” paige muttered, picking up her fork. “you’re trying to ruin takeout for me forever, huh?”

azzi finally let the smile come through. “that’s kind of the job.”

they both laughed softly, and paige took her first bite. her eyes closed dramatically.

“i’m serious,” she said after a pause. “you’re dangerous.”

azzi shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. “you already knew that.”

paige opened one eye, smirking. “no, i didn’t. but i’m learning.”

paige set her fork down for a second, resting her elbow on the counter and letting her chin fall into her hand. “and i’m guessing there’s a lot more i don’t know yet.”

azzi leaned back slightly, arms folding as she smiled—this slow, subtle thing that made paige’s chest feel warm. “probably,” she said. “but i’m not that complicated.”

“you sure about that?”

azzi tilted her head, “are you?”

paige let out a soft laugh, a short exhale through her nose. “no,” she admitted. “not even a little.”

“then i guess we’re even,” azzi murmured, voice quiet but steady. she turned to grab her own plate and joined paige at the counter.

it was quiet again—but this time it felt intentional, like they were both letting the moment settle.

comfortable. warm. just enough to make azzi wonder what else paige might want to learn.

then—

azzi remembered.

jon’s text.

“hey, my brothers are like huge fans. they wanted a picture… if that’s okay?”

paige nodded her head quickly, “of course.”

paige straightened up in her seat a little, wiping her mouth with the napkin even though there was barely anything there. “how do you wanna do it? you want me to come over there?”

azzi shook her head, already pulling her phone out and walking around the counter to stand behind paige. “no, you stay. this’ll be quick.”

she opened her camera app and flipped to the front-facing lens, angling it just enough to catch them both. paige leaned in slightly, a relaxed smile tugging at her lips. azzi snapped the picture, then two more just in case, paige’s smile growing wider with each one.

“got it,” azzi grinned, scrolling through them quickly before sending one to the group chat with her brothers.

azzi

boom

y’all better not make this weird

jon

😭😭😭 YO

jose

that’s crazy. actual legends only.

tim

tell her we said thank you!

and also ask her if she hoop too 👀

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

“they’re happy,” she muttered, locking her phone.

“i gathered,” paige chuckled. “do you hoop too?”

azzi looked at her with a smirk. “no. i just feed the ones who do.”

paige raised a brow, clearly amused. “lucky us.”

-

the next morning started slower than the last. sunlight spilled through the apartment windows, painting warm stripes across the hardwood floor.

paige was still in her room, probably just waking up, and azzi was already in the kitchen. this time, she moved a little slower, humming something under her breath as she sliced strawberries and placed them into a bowl.

she wasn’t rushing to cook — today felt lighter. easier. she made some toast, scrambled eggs, and those crispy-edged pancakes again because… why not?

she’d just finished plating everything when soft footsteps echoed down the hall. azzi didn’t turn — she already knew who it was.

“god, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to the kitchen smelling like this,” paige said as she sat down.

azzi chuckled, plating the food and handing it to her. “get used to it, bueckers. it’s not changing anytime soon.”

paige grinned, popping a piece of egg into her mouth. azzi was already tidying up, starting on the dishes right away.

“should i wear something fancy for tonight or…?” azzi asked curiously, glancing over her shoulder. she took first impressions seriously, but she didn’t want to go overboard either.

paige sipped her orange juice before answering. “you can wear whatever you feel comfortable in. i told them to wear something nice, though.”

azzi nodded, making a mental note. she probably wasn’t going for a dress, but a clean, put-together outfit should do the trick.

“did they want anything specific, or what?”

paige finished up her breakfast, her tongue gliding over her lips. “surprise us. they’ll like whatever.”

azzi smiled, a little spark of excitement in her eyes. “okay, challenge accepted.” she started clearing the counter, already running ideas through her mind.

paige watched her for a moment, feeling a warmth she couldn’t quite explain. maybe it was the way azzi took pride in even the smallest things. or maybe it was just the quiet comfort of having someone like her around.

“you know,” paige said, her voice softening, “i’m glad you’re here.”

azzi paused, looking up with a small smile. “me too.”

paige just looked a bit longer before standing. “thank you for breakfast. i’m gonna go shower.”

azzi nodded as she washed her hands. “i’m gonna go shower too. you’re welcome, by the way.”

paige smiled, making her way toward her room. “you’re a blessing, fudd!” she called over her shoulder.

azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head to herself. the quiet moments like these made everything feel a little more like home.

-

“i’m excited to meet her!” maddy beamed as she sat in the passenger seat, her legs criss-crossed while dijonai drove and lyss lounged in the backseat, scrolling through her phone.

“don’t scare her off,” dijonai warned, glancing over with a smirk. “paige actually likes this one.”

“likes her?” lyss repeated, eyes flicking up. “i thought she was just her chef.”

“exactly,” dijonai said with a pointed look through the rearview mirror. “and paige don’t just like anyone being in her house.”

maddy laughed, kicking her feet a little. “well now i’m even more excited.”

“you just want free food,” lyss muttered.

maddy turned and grinned. “yeah… and to meet the girl who somehow got paige to act like a softie.”

paige was currently setting up her playstation in the front room, knowing arike and lyss would definitely want to play with her the moment they walked in. she had already cleared off the coffee table, made sure the controllers were charged, and even tossed a few extra pillows on the couch just in case they stayed longer than expected.

she glanced at the time—still a little early—but she liked being ready. and if she was being honest, having everything in place also kept her from overthinking.

she tried not to admit it out loud, but she really wanted the night to go well. for azzi’s sake. and… maybe for hers, too.

azzi came out her room with an outfit she thought was good. tongue tied tinted flared jeans with a black tube top that shaped her body perfectly. she put her braids in a half up half down style while still keeping it out of her face.

she did a bit a make up before stepping out of the room. “paige, is this okay?”

paige turned around and froze, the hdmi cord in her hand completely forgotten. her eyes dragged slowly from azzi’s jeans to the way the tube top hugged her figure, then up to the soft, confident look on her face.

“uh…” paige blinked, almost forgetting how to speak. “yeah. yeah, that’s definitely… okay.”

azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “you sure?”

paige coughed and nodded, setting the cord down. “positive. they’re gonna lose their minds.”

azzi smiled, walking further into the room. “not too much, though. i don’t wanna give your friends a heart attack before dinner.”

paige smirked. “well, no promises when dijonai sees you. she has no filter.”

“great,” azzi said, tugging lightly at her top and glancing at the setup. “you almost done?”

“almost.” paige cleared her throat and turned back around, cheeks still a little pink. “but now i gotta keep them from embarrassing me.”

azzi grinned, settling on the couch. “that’s not my job. i just cook.”

“you say that now,” paige muttered, plugging in the last wire, “but i got a feeling they’re gonna like you even more than your food.”

azzi smiled quietly to herself, not denying it.

their conversation was cut short when loud knocking echoed through the apartment, followed by overlapping voices and laughter right outside the door.

“that’s them,” paige muttered, already making her way over.

azzi stood, brushing her hands over her jeans and taking a quiet breath to center herself.

as soon as paige opened the door, chaos poured in—dijonai was the first one through, talking mid-sentence with a grin on her face, followed by maddy, arike, and lyss, all talking over each other.

“damn, paige, you didn’t tell us your place looked like this,” arike said, stepping in and looking around.

“arike, you’re hella late.” dijonai spoke.

“where’s the chef? we came for the food!” lyss teased, scanning the room dramatically.

azzi offered a small wave, standing by the couch. “hi. that would be me.”

they all turned at once, and for a second, no one said anything.

then—

“ohhh, okayyy, paige,” dijonai said, smirking.

“this who’s been feeding you?” maddy asked, already grinning. “yeah, we see the vision.”

paige groaned. “y’all—please.”

azzi just laughed, the nerves slowly fading under the sound of their teasing. they were loud, sure—but it felt more like energy than chaos. and she could work with that.

“we’re just saying, girl, you are beautiful,” maddy said, plopping down at the island with a wide smile. dijonai slid into the seat beside her, nodding in full agreement while the others lingered nearby, still checking out the space.

azzi blushed, ducking her head for a second before meeting their eyes again. “thank you. you’re all very beautiful too!”

“don’t gas us,” arike grinned, crossing her arms. “we came here for food, not compliments—though we’ll take both.”

“speak for yourself,” lyss said, eyeing the kitchen like it was a five-star restaurant. “i’ve heard too much about your cooking, i’m ready to be converted.”

paige leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a soft smile. they weren’t scaring azzi off—if anything, she was handling them with ease.

azzi looked around at the girls, her nerves gone. “well, y’all are in luck. i made a few things already. appetizers first?”

“you’re a queen,” dijonai nodded, already sitting up straighter.

paige raised an eyebrow, nudging her with a smirk. “what happened to manners?”

dijonai grinned. “please, chef fudd. feed the people.”

azzi laughed, already turning to grab the plates. the room buzzed around her, light and full of warmth. she could get used to this.

azzi set a few plates on the island—mini crab cakes with a spicy aioli, baked mac and cheese bites, and fresh caprese skewers. everything looked golden, colorful, and just the right amount of fancy without trying too hard.

“oh, she’s not playing,” lyss muttered under her breath, already reaching for a skewer.

“hold on, hold on,” maddy said, pulling out her phone. “this is too pretty not to post.”

“not you trying to soft launch azzi’s food before even tasting it,” paige teased from the other side of the island.

“girl, this food soft launching itself,” dijonai said with a mouthful of mac and cheese bite. “azzi, you tryna marry someone, or…?”

azzi turned, feigning confusion. “what?”

“you cooking like you tryna wife somebody up,” arike added. “this ain’t normal behavior.”

azzi laughed, cheeks warm again. “well, it’s just what i do.”

“nah,” lyss said, shaking her head after biting into a crab cake. “this is talent. dangerous talent.”

paige caught azzi’s eyes from across the island, a smile tugging at her lips. azzi didn’t say anything—she just offered a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. but the way everyone was looking at her said otherwise.

and as the group kept eating, talking, and laughing, paige felt herself relax even more. they liked her—just like she knew they would. but something about seeing azzi fit like this?

that made her stomach flutter. and not from the food.

“the main dish should be ready in a few, sorry for the delay,” azzi said softly, watching everyone enjoy the appetizers with a small smile.

dijonai waved her off. “oh, girl, you’re fine. i wanna get to know you more anyways.”

maddy nodded in agreement, already nibbling on another bite. “yeah, no complaints here. you could take all night if you want.”

“it gives me time to beat paige and arike’s ass in 2k,” lyss chimed in, already making her way toward the living room with a confident bounce in her step.

paige and arike locked eyes from across the island, mirroring each other’s unimpressed expression.

“she delusional as hell,” they said in sync before cracking up, both of them following lyss with zero urgency but all the intent to humble her.

azzi just laughed under her breath, feeling the ease in the room. dijonai stayed at the island, watching her with genuine curiosity.

“so what made you start cooking like this?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the counter.

azzi wiped her hands on a dish towel before answering, “honestly? it started with my mom. she used to make me help with every meal growing up. by the time i was sixteen, i was cooking for my whole family.”

“see, that’s what i’m talking about,” dijonai said with a grin. “you got a gift.”

azzi smiled, just a little shy but still proud. “thank you. i just… really love it.”

“well, keep loving it,” maddy added, popping the last mac bite in her mouth. “’cause we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

azzi laughed, her eyes flicking between maddy and dijonai. “you say that now, wait till y’all get tired of me being all in the kitchen every five seconds.”

“never,” dijonai said quickly. “you feed people. you could walk around here narrating your whole life and i’d still be like, ‘what’s for dinner?’”

“facts,” maddy added. “you don’t understand what you’ve done to us already.”

azzi shook her head, her grin widening. “y’all are dramatic.”

“nah, paige been acting different since you moved in,” dijonai said, sitting up straighter. “girl be smiling at her phone and everything. smiling. you know how rare that is?”

azzi’s eyes widened slightly, her voice quiet but playful. “oh yeah?”

maddy nodded, sipping her water. “mhmm. we’ve been clocked it. we were like ‘who got miss bueckers giggling?’ turns out it was you.”

azzi glanced toward the living room where paige and the others were now yelling at the tv screen. her face warmed, but she played it off, going back to the stove. “well… if it’s the food making her smile, then i’ll take that as a win.”

“sure,” dijonai said with a smirk. “let’s pretend it’s just the food.”

azzi didn’t say anything else, but the slight shake of her head and the way her smile lingered said everything. the kitchen smelled like garlic and spice, laughter echoed from the living room, and for once… it didn’t feel like work.

it felt like belonging.

“what’s cookin’ anyway?” maddy asked, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned over the island.

azzi stirred something in the pan before glancing back at them. “garlic butter salmon, lemon roasted potatoes, asparagus… and a honey glaze for the salmon on the side in case y’all like a little extra sweetness.”

dijonai blinked. “girl. girl. you tryna make us propose or what?”

azzi laughed, shaking her head as she plated the roasted potatoes onto a serving tray. “nah, i just want y’all to leave full and happy.”

“you already checked one of those off,” maddy said. “if this salmon hits like those crab cakes did, i’mma cry.”

“don’t be dramatic,” azzi teased, placing the tray in the warming drawer.

“i’m dead serious,” maddy said. “i got no shame. tears will be shed.”

from the living room, they suddenly heard lyss yell, “yo! what kind of cheat code did paige just use?!”

paige’s laugh followed immediately. “get better, lyss!”

“don’t let her talk to you like that!” arike shouted, though she was clearly laughing too.

azzi glanced toward the sound, and dijonai caught the way her smile softened. “they really like you, you know.”

“they’re cool,” azzi said, her tone low and fond. “i didn’t expect to feel this… comfortable. it’s only been a few days.”

“sometimes it don’t take long,” dijonai shrugged. “you fit in easy.”

azzi looked back down at the salmon, flipping it gently in the pan. “thanks… really.”

“we mean it,” maddy added. “this group? we don’t click with everybody. but with you—it’s natural.”

azzi stayed quiet, her chest warm. natural. she liked the sound of that. she glanced down at the salmon, then over her shoulder where the girls laughed like they’d known each other for years.

maybe it really didn’t take that long. maybe sometimes, it just clicked.

azzi plated the salmon carefully, brushing a thin layer of the honey glaze across the top of each fillet. the warmth in the kitchen wasn’t just from the stove—it was from the feeling settling in her chest, soft and steady.

behind her, dijonai and maddy were still chatting, but the energy had mellowed, like even they could feel it. something about the way azzi moved, so sure of herself in someone else’s home, but still gentle with it.

“alright,” azzi said after a beat, wiping her hands on a clean towel. “main course is done.”

dijonai and maddy both sat up straighter like kids in a classroom.

“you want help carrying it over?” maddy asked.

“nah, i got it. y’all relax.”

azzi moved with ease, bringing over the trays one by one and setting them on the island—salmon glistening under the kitchen lights, potatoes golden and crisp, asparagus sprinkled with sea salt and lemon zest. the whole apartment smelled unreal.

“what’s that smell?” paige’s voice came from the living room, footsteps following fast.

“heaven,” lyss answered before azzi even said anything.

the rest of the girls trailed in, their eyes immediately locking onto the food.

“oh hell yeah,” arike grinned, already heading for a plate. “this look like a celebration.”

paige didn’t say much at first—just stood there quietly, taking it all in. the way her teammates were hyped, the way azzi stood confidently beside the island, apron still tied around her waist, a little flour on her forearm.

“you’re insane,” paige finally said, almost under her breath. “this looks… perfect.”

azzi met her eyes, shrugging lightly. “just doing my job.”

paige held her gaze a second longer, then grabbed a plate. “you’re doing it too well.”

“then i’m doing it right,” azzi said with a small smirk, finally stepping back to let everyone dive in.

the kitchen filled with compliments, laughter, the scraping of chairs, and the clinking of silverware. azzi stood off to the side for a moment, watching it all, letting herself breathe it in.

this wasn’t just work anymore.

this was hers.