latenighttalkinqwp

[latenighttalkinqwp]

Private, Not a Secret

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x mom!teammate!Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: Three-year-old Eliza accidentally exposes your relationship with Paige

🏷️: @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

Flashback: UConn – 2024

Before Eliza. Before the Wings. Before our lives bled into press conferences and highlight reels, it was just me and Paige.

Teammates. Best friends. Roommates.

And, secretly, something more.

We didn’t call it anything then. We were still sorting through the mess—my breakup, her uncertainty, the heavy weight of my world as a young mom and her world as the face of UConn basketball.

But there were looks.

Glances too long.

Fingers brushing.

Late-night study sessions that turned into me curled into her chest on the futon. Whispers in the dark.

People talked. Of course they did.

“Y’all got that best friend chemistry,” fans would say with side-eyes.

“Paige don’t even look at the rest of y’all like that,” Azzi teased once.

Even Coach had given us the look.

But we never confirmed anything.

Not when Paige kissed my forehead during Senior Day.

Not when fans spotted her helping me carry Eliza’s stroller out of Gampel Pavilion.

Not when she showed up every time Eliza had a daycare performance, even during away stretches.

And definitely not the night I called her crying.

March 2023.

One Year Before the Drafts, well mine, Aaliyah and Nika’s.

“Paige,” I sobbed, my voice shaking over the phone. “I need you. I need you now.”

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t wait for the details.

She just came.

She showed up outside my apartment at 2:14 a.m. in a hoodie, slides, and a fire in her eyes I had never seen before.

“Eliza’s asleep in the room,” I whispered when I opened the door. “He—he didn’t hit me. But he… he got close.”

Paige pushed past me. Scanned the living room. Saw the overturned lamp, the shattered glass, my shaking hands.

“We’re leaving,” she said. “Right now.”

She packed my stuff in silence. Cradled Eliza so carefully you’d think she was made of glass. Took me to her place. Tucked us both in her bed. Held me all night.

She never made me say it. Never made me explain.

But that night? That was the beginning.

Present Day: May 27th – Dallas vs Connecticut (Away)

Fast-forward to now, and life looks a whole lot different.

I’m a rookie on the Dallas Wings. Eliza is almost four, and insists on wearing her “Game Day Glitter Bows” no matter where we are. And Paige?

Well, Paige Bueckers is still Paige Bueckers—but she’s also mine.

Quietly. Carefully. Comfortably.

She’s still got the same handle, the same clutch gene, the same habit of chewing on her jersey when the game gets tight.

But now she’s got Eliza on her hip during walkthroughs. She’s got juice boxes in her locker. She’s got a daughter who—though she didn’t birth—adores her with her whole tiny heart.

And tonight? The whole world’s about to see that.

We’d just pulled off a tough win against Connecticut.

A blow out.

Gritty.

And both Paige and I were tapped for media post-game.

Eliza, high on fruit snacks and sleepy from the late start, was attached to my hip as I walked into the press room.

“Y/N,” the media rep whispered. “She coming too?”

I gave a look that said, when is she not?

“She’ll be good,” I promised.

Good was subjective.

Eliza spent the first six minutes of the conference crawling between me and Paige.

One second she was in my lap, head resting on my chest.

Then she’d hear Paige’s voice and reach out like she was being pulled by gravity.

“She’s got two favorites,” I joked into the mic.

“And neither of them are Arike,” Paige added, grinning.

Eventually, she landed on Paige’s lap and stayed.

Head tucked under Paige’s chin.

Thumb in her mouth.

Fingers clutching the sleeve of Paige’s jersey.

And that’s where she stayed.

Right until the very last question.

I barely made it through the gym doors next practice before DiJonai was in my ear.

“Lookin’ like a lil’ happy family in that press room,” she sang.

“Oh my God—”

“She had her thumb in her mouth, Paige rubbing her back—y’all were one white picket fence away from a Hallmark movie.”

“Please,” I groaned. “Let me live.”

But they didn’t.

Aziaha had screenshots.

Arike had GIFs.

Someone made a TikTok slideshow with the caption: “When Mommy and Mama hoop professionally 😭💍” and it had 1.2 million views.

“Could’ve been worse,” Paige whispered during stretches, leaning down beside me. “She could’ve called me mommy.”

I snorted. “One day. Just you wait.”

She winked. “I’ll be ready.”

June 17th – Home Game vs Golden State Valkyries

The moment Paige faced grimaced first quarter, I knew she’d been hurt and I was right once she walked over to me during the time out. Deep gash on her forearm—nothing serious, but enough to warrant tape and attention from the trainers.

She didn’t even flinch. Of course she didn’t.

Paige was all poise and sharp edges when the whistle blew.

But off the court? She was a puddle where Eliza was concerned.

So after we won—and media duty hit again—I didn’t even bother asking if Paige would come to the presser.

Eliza curled into my side as we sat down.

Paige leaned over, ruffled her curls gently. “You sleepy, baby girl?”

Eliza nodded. Barely.

She didn’t even move until a reporter asked, “So—Paige, Y/N—how does it feel seeing so many fans ship you two together? Especially since that Connecticut game almost a month ago. There’s even talk about edits, baby names, the whole fantasy family vibe…”

I opened my mouth.

To speak.

To come up with a scapegoat, til.

“Mommy,” Eliza said softly.

Paige and I both looked at her.

“Yes, baby?” I answered.

But Eliza was looking at Paige.

“Mommy hurt,” she whispered, pointing at Paige’s wrapped forearm.

Paige blinked.

So did I.

“Oh,” she said, smiling softly. “Yeah, baby girl. I got a scratch. But I’m all better now, okay?”

Eliza frowned. “Mama and I kiss it better for yous, Mommy.”

She leaned forward and pressed a sleepy kiss to Paige’s bandage, right over the gauze.

I felt the room shift.

Reporters stared.

Cameras zoomed.

And Paige?

She just melted.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered to me, voice low, warm.

But Eliza turned to me, her eyes already drifting closed. “Mama kiss it better. Mama kiss make things better.”

So I did.

I leaned forward and kissed Paige’s arm—soft, lingering.

Paige flexed it playfully, grinning. “See? All better now.”

The reporter, flustered, coughed. “W-Well. I guess that answers that question.”

Paige chuckled. “Yep. I’d say so.”

Eliza, of course, had fallen asleep again in Paige’s arms.

Later That Night.

The internet lost its mind.

“Mommy Paige” trended. So did “Kiss It Better” and “WNBA Family Goals.”

Clips of me and Paige at UConn resurfaced.

Paige holding baby Eliza after one of our games.

Me wiping sweat off Paige’s forehead on the bench.

Us sharing the same water bottle while sitting on the bench during an intense game.

Paige whispering something in my ear after I dropped 20 on senior night.

Speculation turned into timelines.

People tried to figure out when we started dating.

When Paige became Eliza’s second parent in all but name.

But we said nothing.

We didn’t need to.

Because Eliza knew.

Our team knew.

The people who mattered already saw the way Paige reached for me in quiet moments.

How Eliza lit up when Paige walked into a room.

How I looked at Paige like she hung constellations every night just for me.

“Think we’re gonna have to say something soon?” I asked Paige as we curled up on the couch that night, Eliza snoring softly between us.

“Nah,” she murmured, kissing my temple. “Let ‘em wonder.”

I smiled.

Because Paige wasn’t just part of my story.

She was our story.

And Eliza?

She had two mommies.

Whether the world knew or not.

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                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

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being fed

Pazzi x reader fics comin sooooooonnnnn

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away at camp until friday- will try and post a blurb wednesday but no promises !!

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tiktok trends with paige! pt. 13

based off of this tiktok trend!

“so- just read the list i have in front of you and say if you think it’s bare minimum or princess treatment. if you answer wrong, i squirt you with the water hose!” you giggle, turning on the video and holding up the hose. paige gulps, adjusting her hips. “buying you coffee whenever i’m out- bare minimum.” she looks up, ready to defend herself from the water. “good answer.” you nod.

“paying for your nails? bare minimum. i do that anyway.” she flips her hair over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out whenever you nod. “girl- put the tongue away before i squirt this on you.” paige raises an eyebrow, “anyways buying her flowers just because…bare minimum. duh.”

“getting you a dog- princess treatment.” you roll your eyes, turning on the hose. “BARE MINIMUM BARE MINIMUM-” she yells, trying to run away from the jet. she gasps for air, moving the wet hair from her face. “writing her love letters- princess treatment.” she holds her hands in front of her face, waiting for the water. “yeah- i actually agree with that one.” paige claps, before looking back down at the paper. “putting her towel in the dryer so it’s warm whenever she gets out of the shower…..princess treatment” she looks up at you, screaming when the hose hits her in the face. “BABE- WE HAVE A HEATED TOWEL RACK.” paige coughs, wiping the water off of her head. “doing the dishes- bare minimum.”

you nod, laughing at how she was clutching the paper. “tying her shoes whenever the come untied? uh…princess- BARE MINIMUM.” she screams, getting up and running away from you. “i’ll update you all on if paige is still alive later.” you stop the video, chasing after her with the hose. “MADISON GET BACK HERE.”

- thank you so much for reading all the way through! find more like this on my masterlist! likes and reblogs are appreciated 💘

- i literally love this trend omfg. but hi babies happy sunday!!!!!

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crying btw

Hold Me Down

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : W! Sonia x W! Reader

𝗪𝗖 : 2.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : none

a/n : I love love loveeee writing for sonia citron. Please send me more requests if you have any in mind! (Requested by 🏷️ @jupitermoonbaby )

Today’s a big day! It’s the Washington Mystics facing off against the Atlanta Dream, which means you’re gearing up to play against your girlfriend, Sonia. It’s kind of a hilarious situation, really. She’s out there guarding you like you're just another player on the court, no softness in her eyes, no hint of affection, and definitely no sign that you two are anything more than fierce competitors. It’s almost funny how everyone can see the tension, how tough she looks while she swipes the ball from your hands without a second thought. But deep down, you know her way better than anyone else ever could. You see past the intense exterior she shows to the world. You see the real Sonia, the one with the soft bubbly, personality hiding beneath that tough facade.

Rewind to your freshman year at college when you first crossed paths at tryouts for the women's basketball team at Notre Dame. At first glance, you thought she might be more than a little intimidating, her personality seemed as unyielding as it gets, and you figured it might be hard to connect with her. But oh girl, you were wrong! Once you started hanging out and getting to know her better, it was like peeling back layers of an onion to find a sweet little softie hiding beneath all that bravado. Just a few months later, you two hit it off and officially became a couple, excitingly revealing your relationship to the world. Friends and teammates were thrilled for you both, cheering at how perfect you seemed together.

On the court, your chemistry was undeniable. It was as if you and Sonia were playing with a shared brain. Every assist you made led directly to her shots, and she reciprocated flawlessly, wherever one of you went, the other was right there, almost like you were glued together. It felt like a beautiful dance, and everyone noticed how well you performed as a duo. But then came graduation and the real test of your relationship. With the draft coming, decisions had to be made. Sonia was picked by the Mystics, and you ended up with a spot on the Dream, which meant, unfortunately, that you would both be heading in different directions.

Now, that separation? It’s been tough on Sonia. Back in college, she followed you everywhere—literally, she’d tag along even when you were off doing earthly things like, well, using the bathroom!

You still remember one time when you grabbed a roll of toilet paper and said, “I’m going to poop. Alone.”

She blinked. “Why would you go through something like that without me?”

You stared. “Sonia. It’s pooping.”

She trailed behind anyway. “I’ll wait outside the door. We can talk.”

“Girl-”

“Babe, emotional support isn’t limited to public spaces.”

You shut the door.

“Let me know if you need anything. Like a wet wipe… or moral encouragement!”

You nearly screamed.

Another time, you tried sneaking out of your dorm early for a 6 AM solo workout.

You quietly closed the door, tiptoed down the hallway, turned the corner—and screamed.

Sonia was already standing there, in full gear, holding two granola bars.

“Going somewhere without me?” she asked, deadpan.

You blinked. “How did you even know?”

“I sensed a disturbance in the girlfriend force.”

One time you said, “I think I need some space.”

She gasped, stepped back dramatically, and said, “Is this enough?”

You sighed. “Sonia, we’re still holding hands.”

“Exactly,” she grinned. “Just like you wanted.”

One night in college, Sonia showed up outside your dorm with a backpack, a blanket, and exactly one sock.

You opened the door. “Sonia. Why are you barefoot?”

She looked up at you like a sad puppy. “I miss you. Can I sleep over? I brought my emotions.”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t we just hang out for seven hours?”

“Yes, and it was the best seven hours of my life,” she sniffled. “But then I remembered I have to sleep alone, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I’m very delicate.”

You sighed. “You live two floors down.”

She held up the blanket dramatically. “Two floors too far.”

Distance has never been her thing. You figured you could manage the long-distance relationship, but for Sonia, it’s a different story. On that dreaded day when you both had to part ways, she was practically on the verge of tears, FaceTiming you non-stop, telling you every second about how miserable she felt without you. To everyone else, she’s this tough, cold powerhouse on the court, but you know the real her—soft, clingy, and head over heels in love with you.

By the time the game rolls around, the arena is buzzing with excitement. You can’t help but smile with pride as Sonia nails a three-pointer, bringing the crowd to its feet. It’s both of your first pro games, and as intense as it feels to be opponents, you sorely miss her. Months have passed since you last saw each other after the draft, and between training sessions and busy schedules, it’s been nearly impossible to find a free moment together.

During the halftime break, you catch a glimpse of her looking your way—her eyes searching for you, but she can’t break away since you both need to stick to your respective locker rooms. The Mystics are up by ten points, and honestly, you’re torn. Do you feel bummed because your team is lagging behind, or are you happy to see Sonia killing it as a top scorer? Then your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, gorgeous. I can’t wait to spend time with you later (づ￣ ³￣)づ” That adorable text from Sonia instantly puts a smile on your face.

Finally, the game wraps up with the Mystics taking home the win. You try your best to look disappointed, but inside, you’re beaming with happiness for Sonia’s success. After packing away your gear in the locker, you hear the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Turning around, you’re met with Sonia running toward you, grinning like a kid in a candy store, her arms wide open for a hug.

“Babbyyyy!” she shouts with an excitement that nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs as she envelops you in her embrace. You can’t help but laugh, pushing her away just slightly so you can catch your breath.

“Oh my god, Soniii!” you chuckle, both of you lost in that moment of pure joy and connection. Even amidst the competitive spirit of the game, it felt like home to you, and that made it all worthwhile.

“Oh my gosh, I’ve missed you so much!” Sonia exclaimed, her tall frame leaning in as she showered your face with soft kisses, smothering you in playful affection. She started to affectionately sniff every inch of your face and neck, making you giggle uncontrollably from her exaggerated antics.

“Stop! You’re going to wipe my face off!” you laughed, trying to gently push her away, though there was no seriousness behind your words.

“I just can’t help it! I’ve missed you way too much!” Sonia replied, her voice full of genuine longing, as she enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you tightly as if letting go would somehow tear the universe apart.

“Hey, could I crash at your place for the week?” she asked, her voice adopting that cute, pleading tone that always melted your heart. “We’ll head back to Washington after our game next week,” she added, a hopeful look in her eyes. How could you even think of saying no? It had been ages since you two shared a real moment together. You nodded eagerly and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips, which only widened her infectious grin.

As you drive to your apartment, Sonia was already buzzing with excitement, rattling off a list of all the things she wanted to do with you while she was in Atlanta. “Okay, first off, movie night! I’ll handle dinner, and then we absolutely have to go bowling! Oh, and let’s catch the sunset while having a picnic—it’ll be so romantic! And how about we try making some TikToks together? That could be hilarious!” The excitement in her voice was contagious, and you couldn't help but chuckle in response.

“Yeah, I think we were planning on that already,” you said, matching her vibe.

“I seriously miss you—like, a lot,” Sonia admitted again, making it sound heartfelt as if it were the hundredth time she'd said it. “And I miss you, too,” you assured her, your eyes sparkling with love as you gazed at her.

“You know, back in my apartment in Washington, sometimes I just wish I could magically go back to college so I could be with you every single day,” she confessed, her voice quivering slightly. The way she spoke made your heart ache a little.

“I get that, but hey, at least we still manage to see each other,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Barely,” she shot back, her hands tenderly caressing your thighs while her other hand expertly controlled the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but tease her a bit.

“Look at you, all soft and cuddly, when just the other day, your teammates were calling you the one with the poker face!” you chuckled, recalling those Instagram reels where everyone couldn’t help but agree that Sonia was the queen of the serious look. At your playful jab, she rolled her eyes dramatically, giving in to laughter.

“Shut uppp!” she said, playful annoyance dancing in her eyes.

“Well, I want to be the only one who gets to see this clingy side of you,” you remarked, which made her cheeks flush with joy.

Sonia tapped your leg lightly. “Okay, but like... be honest. Were you actually trying to break my ankles on that crossover in the third quarter?”

You laughed. “Please, I did break your ankles. I saw your soul leave your body for a second.”

“Oh my god, rude!” Sonia gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “I let you have that. Out of love. It was a gift. You’re welcome.”

You smirked, turning toward her. “A gift? Babe, your knees buckled like a folding chair.”

Sonia snorted, swerving a little as she laughed. “Shut up! You wanna walk home?”

“I dare you,” you shot back, grinning. “You’d last two minutes without me. Three, tops. You’re clingier than my sports bra after practice.”

“Rude and accurate,” she said, poking your thigh. “I missed this. I missed you. Like, seriously—it’s been so dry without you. My plants died. I started talking to my vacuum. Her name’s Sheila.”

You burst into laughter. “Oh no, not Sheila!”

“Sheila’s loyal. Unlike someone who crossed me over in front of thousands of people!”

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you both hurriedly took a shower and brushed your teeth, just like an old couple in a romantic comedy. Then, you plopped down on the couch, wrapping yourselves up in cozy blankets while picking a movie to watch. It felt so right, like no time had passed at all. The warmth of her presence brought you so much happiness, and you could hardly believe how easily your bond remained unbroken even after months apart.

You had barely hit play before Sonia was already inching closer, wrapping herself around you like a human scarf.

“Babe,” you said, laughing. “You’re literally on top of me.”

“That’s because I’m cold,” she mumbled, already halfway buried under your hoodie.

“We’re under two blankets.”

“Cold... emotionally,” she deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your position as she dramatically draped her leg across yours like a possessive octopus.

“Can you breathe?” you asked.

“Don’t need to,” she replied. “I’m living off your love now.”

You snorted. “You’re so clingy.”

“I’m not clingy,” she said, tightening her grip. “I’m... efficiently attached.”

You laughed, brushing a crumb out of her hair. “Did you just snack in my hoodie again?”

She looked up innocently. “Maybe. You’re my emotional support pantry.”

While Watching the movie Sonia pointed at the screen. “You’d totally survive this horror movie. You’d throw me at the killer and run.”

You playfully acted shock. “Excuse you, I’d be the one saving you. You’d trip on literally nothing.”

She nodded solemnly. “Facts. I tripped during warmups today.”

You cuddled closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll always pick you up.”

She paused, looked at you with a soft smile, and whispered, “Promise?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Hours passed and you felt thirsty, you shifted slightly, trying to wiggle free. “Okay, I need to get up and grab some water.”

Sonia immediately tightened her limbs around you like a boa constrictor. “No.”

“Babe—”

“You leave, I die.”

You blinked. “You’ll be fine for two minutes.”

“I won’t!” she wailed, dramatically burying her face in your neck. “Do you want my ghost to haunt this couch?! Is that what you want?!”

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “I’ll literally be ten feet away.”

“And that’s ten feet too many,” she sniffled. “Please. I’m fragile. Like a croissant. A sexy, emotional croissant.”

You stared at her. “...Did you just call yourself a sexy croissant?”

“I contain multitudes.”

Eventually, you negotiated, you got up to grab the water, but only after making Sonia a little blanket burrito and promising to yell “I love you!” from the kitchen every 10 seconds.

You only made it five seconds before she yelled, “I miss you!!”

When the movie was about to end you noticed that Sonia had dozed off in your arms, her head nestled comfortably against your neck. A smile crept across your face as you realized how perfect the moment was, your heart felt like it could burst from happiness. Gently, you reached for your phone and snapped a quick pic, capturing the cozy scene of Sonia holding you close, both of you lost in your own little world. Just moments after posting it on Instagram, your phone blew up with notifications, each one more amusing than the last.

“Soni, this isn’t you!” one fan joked in the comments, while another chimed in, “Sonia the koala?” and yet another quipped, “Is this really Sonia? Or is this AI?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the playful comments flooding in. Eventually, you turned off your phone, sinking back into the comforting embrace of your girlfriend until sleep gently took you both, wrapped up in each other.

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me every 5 seconds when i remember what azzi posted

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wings win, paige first tech, pazzi hard launch

WE’RE SO UP

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It should have been incredibly clear already, but I would like to once again make it very clear, that if you voted for the current US president, you are not welcome on my page.

This is not a safe space for you by any means and quite frankly I wish you nothing but ten times the pain and misery that the president you voted for is about to cause in the Middle East. You have and will continue to have blood on your hands.

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If you don’t already follow Coach Jackie, you should 😭🥹 she’s just as excited as we are!

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Why did the Valkyries repost this im fucking dead

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congrats to nailyssa for starting their family!!! she’s so beautiful 🥺

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Tell Them Hoez We Go Together

Flaujae x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: y’all been inseparable since The Rap Game—two talented, chaotic, ride-or-die besties who swear you’re not together… even though y’all act like it.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~ 1.4k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: best friends to lovers energy, slice-of-chaotic-life, slow-burn (kinda), heavy unserious vibes with soft undertones

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Language, suggestive jokes, emotionally co-dependent best friend dynamic that’s 10/10 gay coded, public Instagram Live chaos, soft touches, dumb arguments

I don’t knock when I show up at Flau’jae’s house. That’s my second home. Her mama call me “daughter,” and I answer to it. I just walk in, grab a Capri Sun, and talk shit.

Today, I was dramatic about it. Left my daddy house like the world was ending just ‘cause he ain’t let me borrow the car.

“Bald-headed ass always wanna leave when I got plans,” he said.

I gasped. “ME?! Bald?!” Then grabbed my tote and stormed out like I was in a Tyler Perry film. My daddy didn’t even chase me. Just yelled, “Close the damn door!” as I walked out fake-crying.

Ten minutes later, I’m laid directly on top of Flau’jae, stretched across her like a blanket she didn’t ask for. She on her stomach, scrolling. I’m draped across her back like laundry. Ain’t said hi, ain’t asked if she busy. Just climbed on like a spider monkey and got comfortable.

“Girl, you heavy as hell,” she mumbles, trying to shift.

“Shhh,” I whisper dramatically, “I’m grieving.”

“For what?”

“My father called me bald-headed.”

She laughs so hard I bounce. “I BEEN saying that though. He just beat me to it.”

“Wow. That’s crazy. You used to be my friend.”

“Still am. But you still bald.”

“I’M. NOT—BALD, FLAVIA.”

She keeps laughing. Her phone’s still in her hands, and I’m watching over her shoulder, commenting on everything like it’s my screen.

“Ouu, who that?”

“Not you.”

“Damn, she thick. Double tap it.”

“No.”

“I’m finna block her.”

“Touch my shit again and I’ma body slam you.”

We go back and forth for like ten minutes before she finally tries to push me off.

“Get off me. I’m hot.”

“You hot all the time. Your body just like that. Accept it.”

She sighs, deadpan. “You tryna give me a heatstroke?”

“I’m tryna give you love,” I say, kissing the back of her neck real fast before she can dodge.

“Girl, bye.”

We quiet for a little bit. I rub her back absentmindedly. She scrolling. I’m scrolling. Actually, we scrolling her phone. But I’m logged into my TikTok on it because she forgot to log out of mine on hers. So we’re just being toxic at this point. Two accounts. One brain cell. No boundaries.

Then she shifts again. “You eat?”

“Mmhmm. Your mama fixed my plate.”

“You say thank you?”

“I moaned, Flau. I said mm-mm-MMMM. That woman know what it mean.”

“Yo ass gon’ get slapped tryna flirt with my mama.”

I gasp again. “It’s called manners, dummy.”

“She made lemon pepper wings too?”

“Yup.”

“…She gave you the flats?”

“All of them.”

She groans into her pillow. “I ain’t even get none yet. This favoritism crazy.”

“Don’t be mad your mama love me more.”

She goes quiet, then all serious: “I’ll stab you with a Capri Sun straw.”

“I’d survive. You ain’t built like that.”

Flau grabs her phone again and opens IG Live like we ain’t been clownin’ for the past hour. She lays back down, angle slightly tilted so she looks fine but not too fine. Like the “yeah I just woke up but I’m still cuter than you” vibe.

“Damn,” she mutters, loud enough for the mic to catch. “My back tight as hell. You know how to massage or you just loud?”

“Girl please,” I say, already moving to straddle her lower back. “Watch these hands work.”

The chat starts blowing up immediately.

— y’all always touching each other 😭

— who massaging u???

— we not believing the “bestie” story no more

— she built like a girlfriend not a friend

— she licking her lips too 😭😭

Flau just smirks, scrolling. “They say you look thirsty.”

“I am thirsty. For your mama’s sweet tea. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Oh okay,” she says, not looking up. “I thought you was finna say something dumb.”

I lean down real close to the mic. “I am dumb.”

She slaps my thigh. I gasp. “Did you just abuse me on Live?”

“Abuse? Girl, you weigh 300 pounds.”

“300?!? I weigh 155. How YOU doing!.That’s toned ass and drama.”

She laughs again. Then fake whines, “My back hurt though. Rub that little part—no, no—not there! Lower. Ouu okay. That’s the spot.”

We both fall silent while I work her muscles. Chat still going wild.

— no one told y’all to be this cute

— they playin house real bad rn

— someone said “toned ass and drama” 😭

— lowkey? She massaging her like they in love

After a while, I speak up. “You ever gon’ take me serious?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you ate my wings and then flirted with my mama in her bonnet.”

“That’s sexy behavior. I’m wife material.”

“You wife my plate, that’s what you did.”

We both bust out laughing. Eventually, I stop massaging and just lay back down across her. Phone still propped, Live still running, and the chat now saying we fell asleep mid-argument like a damn couple.

“You wanna go out later?” I murmur against her shoulder.

“Where?”

“Ion know. Walk around Walmart. Touch stuff.”

“Romantic,” she says. “You better buy me some more chips hungry ass.”

“I’ll buy you the Hot Cheetos.”

She turns her head, eyes squinting at me with fake suspicion. “What you want?”

“Nothing.”

“You want coochie.”

“I always want coochie.”

Flau’jae’s mouth drops open in slow disbelief. “No.”

I pout dramatically, playing with the hem of her shirt. “What if I ask nicely…you’ll give me some… a crumb…a nibble if I may.”

She turns her head slow like a horror movie. “I’m finna make you go home.”

“Wow.” I blink up at her, fake-hurt. “After everything I’ve done for this family?”

“You ate the last wing and drank my mama sweet tea out the pitcher.”

“I said I was grieving!”

She ignores me. Now she on her back, arm flung over her forehead like somebody’s auntie with a headache. I take that as an invitation and reposition myself instantly—laying right on her chest like I’m posing for a 2000s glamour shot. One leg up. Cheek pressed to her collarbone. Hand under my chin like I’m modeling for Jet magazine.

“You good?” she asks, eyes closed.

“Living,” I sigh. “I feel safe here.”

“You gon’ get heat rash. I’m sweating.”

“And I’m absorbing your essence. That’s love.”

She lets out the world’s longest sigh.

The Live still running, by the way. They been witnessing this whole domestic mess. Comments scrolling faster than we can read.

— a nibble is crazy 😭

— that pose giving “Back That Azz Up” music video

— can’t believe this not a relationship??

— I want what they have 🥹

I sit up a little, just to scroll through the comments. “They saying we fake. Like we don’t love each other fr.”

“Do you?”

I pause. Look at her.

“Yeah,” I say, soft now. “But like… not in a clingy way. More like ‘we been stuck together since kids and now you part of my bone marrow’ type love.”

She chuckles under her breath. “Not bone marrow.”

“It’s giving lifelong. You get on my nerves but I’d still fight a church usher over you.”

“A church usher is crazy.”

“She grabbed my arm, Flau. She asked if I had gum. That’s assault.”

She shakes her head, still laughing. “You need help.”

“I need affection,” I whisper, slowly lowering my cheek back to her chest like a weighted blanket in distress.

She side-eyes me, brushing a hand over my hair, real soft like she don’t even notice she doing it.

I hum. “See? You do like me.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Mmhmm,” I smile, “then go ‘head and give me a little—”

“Get off me.”

“But I’m just—”

“Off. Me.”

I slowly roll away with a dramatic sigh like I’ve been banished from the kingdom. “Fine. Just know when I blow up and put this moment in a song, I will exaggerate and make you the villain.”

“Oh, I hope so,” she says. “Make me sound fine though.”

“I always do.” I grin. “You the love interest and the heartbreak. Dual role.”

She flips her bonnet down like a hood. “Denzel who?”

We both bust out laughing, wheezing into the comforter like fools.

— not Denzel who 😭

— they need a podcast

— that’s marriage without the trauma

— I want y’all to kiss so bad but I respect the plot

I peek up from the blanket and whisper to the camera, “Plot twist: we already did. Y’all just ain’t see it.”

Then Flau tackles me with a pillow so hard the phone falls off the bed and ends the Live.

Just us. Delulu, deranged, and a little in love. Not together. But definitely not apart.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264

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They got the beautiful princess panel going on at Fantics

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if you think relationships are based off how much someone posts, please do not ever be in a relationship.

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inesss

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998 this morning and now im down to 959… so u guys hate me ???